The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - James (6 page)

"True."

The way he said it, so sure, so confident, of her and of her reaction to him, made her eyes narrow into slits.

"One day you'll pay, Marcus, very dearly for this."

He caught her to him and kissed her hard and fast.

She couldn't help but respond.

When he lifted his head, his mouth kicked.

"I have chosen well."

His voice was a seductive hum through her system, her blood.

"I will see my parents die," she said, speaking her darkest thoughts.

"Yes, but you would have in any case."

"Logically, I know. But still..."

Grief was a frantic and wild savage inside of her.

"It hurts to lose a loved one. I understand."

"Do you, Marcus?"

"Yes. I am not a monster."

"You are not a man, either," muttered Anais. Now her eyes held his as determination gripped her heart. "No matter how long I love. No matter what you to do me. My heart will always remain a human heart. So suck that up, vampyre."

Her words didn't appear to faze him.

"A human heart that belongs to me, Anais. You are
mine
. I look after what's mine. Never forget it."

No woman would hear those words of possession and not thrill to them. Even as his arrogance made her want to punch him right in the mouth.

"I
belong
to me."

Those blue eyes seemed to light up from within.

And again she was reminded that this man was not human, so she would be certifiably insane to even seek to change him.

"Wrong, newborn. You are, and ever will be, mine."

He'd been married for less than a week, and already Marcus couldn't imagine life without his Anais. The woman never failed to surprise him. He couldn't help it, in spite of the ache of need between his legs, his face split in a wide grin. Watching those sulky dark eyes, that petulant mouth, he realized that he was truly
happy
for the first time in his long and varied life. He'd had happy moments in his life, of course he had. But this happiness was different, it was soul deep and true. The grin slipped from his face. If anything happened to her, or if he lost her, the mere thought made him shudder. He knew he'd never recover. He'd be broken in ways he daren't even contemplate.

His vampyre's protective instincts rose within him.

No matter what it took, he'd always ensure her safety, her security.

The key would be to manage it in such a way that wouldn't offend her perceived right to self-determination, to make her own decisions. At the moment she was in no fit state to make any decisions. These days the only place they truly became one was in bed. And right now Marcus figured bed was the best place for make-up sex.

His plan to make wild and passionate love to his wife was rudely interrupted by the ringtone of his cell phone.

With a reluctance that made his wife press a kiss to his neck, Marcus reached for his cell and listened to his brother James' disjointed words. He listened with mounting horror at what had happened to Charlotte.

He released Anais, fired questions and found his heart in his throat.

Dear heaven.

"What is it?" asked his wife, her dark eyes glued to his face.

He ended his call and simply stared at her.

"It's Charlotte. James took her vein. And something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. She's in theatre and fighting for her life in a specialist vampyre hospital in San Francisco. I must go to him."

Anais had a lot of time for James Gillespie.

She hadn't met Charlotte yet, but she'd heard plenty of good things about her.

"I'm coming with you."

Rushing into her closet, she dragged on black jeans, a matching sweater, black leather boots and jacket. As she quickly tied up her hair, she turned to Marcus and realized he hadn't moved.

The worry and anxiety was clear to see in his eyes.

Oh God, he loved his brother so much.

Stepping into him, Anais wrapped her arms around the man she loved and gave him the only thing she could, comfort, as she hugged him tight.

"Poor James, he was so conflicted about what to do about Charlotte, Marcus. And now this."

Marcus placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head back to look deep into her eyes.

"It might be a very long haul with a bad outcome. Are you sure you are up to this?"

"Of course. James is family. At times like this families stick together."

This was hell.

James Gillespie had lived for over two hundred years. He’d seen the worst of humankind and he’d seen the best of it. Human beings never ceased to amaze him with their capacity for pure love and their capacity for pure evil.

But this was pure torture of another variety altogether.

Charlotte was in surgery in the special medical wing built for their kind deep in the catacombs under the headquarters of Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch, in San Francisco.

The journey from their home in the private ambulance had been a living nightmare.

Charlotte's heart had stopped beating twice.

He’d always thought Saira Pattullo was an arrogant pain in the ass. But the medic had fought a bloody battle for dominion with the
‘Angel of Death’
(whisper his name) himself to bring Charlotte back from the brink time and again. By the time they arrived at the hospital James wanted to adopt Saira as an honorary sister. She’d been fucking amazing.

When a person has the potential to live for hundreds of years, the passing of time takes on a new meaning. In many ways time becomes less important. However, now James felt like punching his fist through the loud tick, tick, tick of the black and white clock on the wall. Five minutes felt like five weeks. And Charlotte had been in theatre for almost eight hours.

His throat closing with the need to sob like a fucking baby, James closed his eyes tight and sent up a fervent prayer for patience as he started yet another round of bargaining with God.

The sound of footsteps approaching fast had him open his eyes.

Marcus and Anais came through the door.

And hot on their heels was Ezekiel.

The memory of his last conversation with the witch brought him to his feet.

Ezekiel was
just
the person he needed to pound on and release some stress endorphins.

His vampyre rose with a feral growl and Anais placed herself between him and the witch.

"James." She placed her hand on his chest, right on top of his broken heart, and looked up into his face. "He’s here to help us."

James stared down into the beautiful face of his sister-in-law and blinked. Something in her dark eyes, something that calmed him, made him take a very deep breath.

"What can
he
do?" he growled like a very hurt and very angry big bear.

"Saira needs my help," drawled Ezekiel in a tone that made James move to pass Anais and beat that good-looking face to a bloody pulp.

As if she’d been conjured up out of thin air, Saira dressed in theatre scrubs appeared at the door.

"Good, you’re both here. Come with me."

Anais and Ezekiel moved to leave but James had had enough.

"Hold it. Hold it. What the
hell
is going on?"

Saira merely indicated where Anais and Ezekiel needed to go before she returned to James and Marcus.

Now she turned a pale face with tired eyes to James.

"I don’t have time for this. Do you trust me?"

Shit.

"Yes. Yes, I trust you."

She gave a single nod of approval. "Then let me do what needs to be done to save your wife."

As she turned to leave, James’s anguished cry had her turn back.

"Christ, Saira, give me a crumb, something. I’m going stir crazy sitting here."

Saira stared at the floor before guarded eyes rose to meet his. "A nurse will be along to take blood from you for urgent tests."

"Sure, anything."

"We need to see if it’s your blood that has poisoned her."

His head jerked back as if she’d slapped him.

"Poisoned?" he whispered.

"That’s what it looks like. Her liver, spleen and kidneys are compromised. Her vampyre is a tough cookie and doing all it can to heal her. However, her vampyre is also making it almost impossible for us to keep her sedated. I’ve never seen anything like it and neither has the lab. That’s why I need Ezekiel. He’s trained in natural healing. And Anais is an empath and recently gone through a similar process. Charlotte’s human side is terrified and I need Anais to keep her calm. I know you're not happy about Ezekiel being here, James, but at this point I’m willing to work with the devil himself."

She gave a quick nod to Marcus and left in a hurry.

Mind reeling, James didn't feel a thing when a Centuri medic entered and quickly and efficiently took three vials of his blood.

Marcus organized fresh coffee and a couple of bags of hemoglobin. They needed to keep their strength up.

He felt his brother’s strong hand on his nape, the finger squeeze of support.

"I’m so sorry, James," Marcus said and sat in the chair next to him.

And God help him, James found his cheeks wet.

Once he started weeping like a pussy he couldn’t fucking stop.

"I did this to her. My blood has poisoned her. Why the fuck didn’t I listen to my gut? I
knew
we should have let her be." Pressing fingertips hard into his eyeballs, he listened to the unremitting tick, tick, tick of that Goddamned clock as his brother again squeezed the rock hard tendons of his neck.

"You do not know for certain your blood has poisoned her. There might be another explanation. Charlotte will get through this. She is a strong woman."

James shook his head, too torn by guilt and regret to even listen to words he felt were nothing more than platitudes. Words of one loving brother to another.

"I'll never forgive myself for this. I knew what had happened to you and Anais. That should have been a warning to me, but instead I didn't take care with her. My stupid pride was hurt. I've let her down."

Eventually, when he lifted his head, eyes trained on the clock on the wall, James realized he was in the middle of the toughest endurance test of his life.

Then the door flew open and a wild-eyed Anais stood there.

"Hurry James. We need you."

Charlotte was swimming in an ocean of utter agony.

Every single bone, every single muscle, in her body hurt so badly she could barely breathe.

Someone was drilling holes in her skull and she whimpered, which made the
thing
, the monstrous creature that had taken over her physical body, her heart, her soul, turn to snarl at her. The creature's eyes were blood red, the features a horrific caricature of her own face.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

"She is you,"
a deeply male voice answered.

The pain disappeared in an instant.

And she wondered if her soul had left her body. At least that’s what it felt like. Now Charlotte stood to the side of the gurney in the operating theatre. Her physical body was lying under a forest of dark green cotton sheets as Saira Pattullo and a team of men, dark haired medics, battled to save her.

Standing beside her was the biggest man she’d ever seen in her life. He was dressed in theatre scrubs and his deep brown, almost black eyes, staggering in their intensity, met hers over his mask.

"My name is Ezekiel." He nodded to a beautiful woman next to him, also dressed in scrubs. Charlotte knew she was Anais Walker. She worked for Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch. "And this is Anais, Marcus’s wife. We are here to help you."

Assimilating the new information that Marcus and Anais were married, Charlotte nodded. Then asked the question uppermost in her mind. "Am I dead?"

Ezekiel shook his head as his gaze flicked over her body lying on the gurney.

"Not yet." Those eyes snapped back to her. "Your liver, kidneys and spleen are compromised. Can you tell me anything new or unusual foods or liquids you’ve ingested over the past couple of weeks?"

A picture flashed into her mind of what she’d done to her husband. How she’d ripped at his throat, how she’d shredded his skin with fingers that horrifically had turned into claws.

"Oh God. I killed James," through a wail of utter terror the words were torn from her throat.

Her body began to shake as she stared in horror at her fingers and flexed them.

Anais moved and put her arm around her waist.

"James is absolutely fine," she said.

Charlotte heard the sincerity in that soft and gentle voice, but she didn’t believe her.

"I want him. I want James," she cried.

Ezekiel, placed his hand on her shoulder and the panic fled, replaced now by a numbing sensation that appeared to suppress the too many emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

Her frantic heart and mind slowed.

"Anais will fetch him just now and bring him to us. Do not torture yourself for no reason, Charlotte. It is imperative you answer my questions. What liquid have you ingested recently?"

Another shudder made her close her eyes tight.

"I bit James. I... I drank his blood," she whispered brokenly.

The strong hand on her shoulder gripped her harder.

"Before that. James has been in China. The damage to your organs is systemic. Try and remember. Where have you been? Did someone give you something unusual to eat or drink?"

Before she could answer him, James arrived in the theatre with Anais.

He moved immediately to be near the body on the gurney. The look of sorrow on his wonderful face nearly brought her to her knees and Charlotte thought her heart would break into a thousand pieces.

With a relieved sob, Charlotte moved to touch her husband and snatched her hand back when it disappeared through the cotton of his scrubs.

Oh my God.

"I am dead," she whispered.

Anais moved again to support her.

"No. Ezekiel is a... healer. He has taken part of your soul from your body. We needed to speak with you."

None of what Anais said made any sense.

Charlotte shook her head and stared into the young woman’s dark eyes.

"How can you speak to me, see me, and James can’t?"

"I am an empath and I’m here to assist your transition. Help us help you. What have you been drinking?"

Transition?

What transition?

But before she could ask the question, the memory of the wine Eleanor had given her and how it tasted like the blood she’d taken from James slid into Charlotte's bewildered and confused mind.

"Wine. I’ve been drinking a rare claret."

Ezekiel’s eyes burned into hers. "Where did you get it?"

There was no point in being embarrassed over something that had backfired on her so spectacularly.

"From Dirty Little Secrets."

Anais cocked her head. "What’s that?"

"It’s a women only club downtown."

"Who runs it?" Ezekiel wanted to know.

Charlotte was loathe to tell them. The implication had been made very clear by Eleanor that the whole point and success of the club was its secrecy.

Anais took her hand and squeezed.

"Charlotte, if we are to help you, it’s very important you tell us everything."

"My friend, Eleanor Pattullo."