Marcie and I shared the same coloring. I was taller than she was, however, and not nearly as curvy. She had a tendency to smile a lot more than I did, the expression in her blue eyes normally one of peace and contentment. I don’t think anyone could say the same about me.
Right at the moment Marcie didn’t look peaceful or contented. I think she was having a hard time holding it together. Her hands gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles were white. She stared up at the ceiling wide-eyed and she was so tense she reminded me of a taut wire just before it snapped.
“What is it, Marcie?”
I wanted to explain what I’d seen, but I had the feeling she knew. Just like I think Mark knew, too, because he came and stood between us. Not to separate, but to support.
For a minute I thought she wasn’t going to answer me, but she finally turned her head and looked at both of us, the lack of expression on her face chilling me as nothing else could have. It was as if Marcie had been frozen.
“Il Duce,” she said in a soft, expressionless voice. “Niccolo Maddock, a Master vampire.”
I’m not up on society. I don’t know who the movers and shakers are in San Antonio. The only names or personas I’m familiar with are from Fiesta activities, the San Antonio Stock Show and Rodeo, or the other functions where my father featured prominently. But even I had heard of Niccolo Maddock, mystery man.
He was the leader of the vampire contingent in Texas, but no one had seen him for years. Just breathing his name, however, made people shiver. Evidently, Maddock was one of those people who managed to get things done behind the scenes. You never saw him, but you were aware that he was there in the background, a shadowy figure who managed to be scary not only because he was a vampire, but because of all the rumors that swirled around him.
There are times when I’m not the sharpest shovel in the shed, and this was, regrettably one of those times. My only excuse was that I’d been drained nearly dry. It was as good a reason as any for my foggy thinking.
I remembered the lecture I’d been given prior to my transfusion. Marcie and her husband were creating an army of sorts, people who were linked to Marcie and would come to their family’s defense if they were ever attacked by vampires.
Vampires headed by Maddock.
Maddock didn’t want me and it didn’t matter to him that this was my home. He wanted Marcie. Marcie, who never left the castle after dark. Marcie, who normally had a team of bodyguards surrounding her. Marcie, who had come to save me at great cost to herself.
“Well, hell,” I said. “I don’t think so.”
Marcie might be a witpire, but Mark and I were Weres and that counted for something. Weres could be belligerent and aggressive. In our culture such behavior was frowned upon unless there was a threat that needed to be addressed. Then we shed our civilized suits and became warriors.
Marcie was not going to be rewarded for saving me by losing her life.
Okay, maybe I wasn’t one hundred percent yet, but I was super pissed. I might not have been able to battle my brother but I’d been a few pints low. My tank had been topped off, in a manner of speaking. I could damn well fight Maddock now.
Whether or not I could win was another thing.
I propped myself up on my elbows, feeling the room spin around me for a few revolutions. At least the nausea was gone and I didn’t feel like the shell of myself anymore. I was, however, covered in blood. I was still in my scrubs, but they were a mess. Evidently, Austin’s companion had been lousy at transfusions.
I looked over at Marcie. She was lying there with her eyes closed, breathing deeply. I wondered if she was saying a mantra to herself, something that would give her courage.
If so, she needed to share it.
“If you’re part vampire, then why does Niccolo Maddock want to harm you?”
Why was Marcie afraid that he was planning a siege on the castle? Now was probably not the time for answers, but I didn’t retract the question.
Without opening her eyes, Marcie said, “Because I gave him rabies.”
Well, damn, I hadn’t expected that answer.
“Rabies?” Mark asked. “And he survived?”
“In a fashion,” she said, opening her eyes and slowly sitting up. She waved Mark away when he would have assisted her. “He mutated. He used to be a handsome man. A courtly one. I know that he had at least one mistress and was rumored to have many more. I doubt they’re still with him now. From all accounts, he’s a horror.”
Oh goody. A deformed vampire was beating on Graystone. More than one vampire, if all the thumps and bumps meant anything.
I knew what most people knew about vampires and nothing more. Once upon a time they had a great deal more freedom than they do now. Like Weres, they were constrained by their own society and unlike Weres – who were not officially recognized or even unofficially acknowledged – they were also limited by their own laws.
“I thought vampires had to obey certain rules,” I said. “Things like thou shalt not suck a human dry.”
“They do,” she said. “You might say that Maddock doesn’t care in my case.”
“So he’s essentially issued a fatwa against you. Doesn’t he give any thought to the punishment?”
She smiled, and I thought it was one of the saddest expressions I’ve ever seen.
“We have a history, Maddock and I. He wanted to impregnate me. When that didn’t work he wanted to take all my blood. Now I truly think he believes I could cure him.”
I didn’t have a damn thing to say to that.
“I doubt he’d be punished for whatever he did. He’s broken so many laws over the years that would have meant death for any other vampire. Maddock seems to be very connected with friends in high places.”
I had to hand it to her. I had my share of people who didn’t like me. I think almost everyone does. You can’t charm all the people all the time. But on a scale of one to ten when it came to adversaries, Marcie had hooked herself one that registered at least a hundred twenty.
“So what do we do?” Mark asked. “Go on the offense? Or just keep them from getting inside Graystone?”
“Make it through until morning,” she said. “If we can.”
And if we couldn’t? If they got inside the house, what did we do then?
I didn’t quite know how to ask the question. Luckily, I was in a room with people who could hear my thoughts.
Mark glanced at me. I wish I could say that I was immediately reassured and confident that we were going to survive this. But in his gaze was a degree of realism I couldn’t ignore.
We were in deep doodoo.
Marcie slid off the table and stood, looking like she was about to fall down and stay there. A minute later I also stood, in a way. I was draped over the massage table and hoping that it held up.
The thumping was louder, almost as if Maddock had sonar and was testing to see exactly where we were.
I was sticky with my own blood. Kind of like a vampire popsicle. Maybe it was the smell of all this blood that was attracting Maddock and whoever was with him. From what I knew vampires never went anywhere without a contingent of fellow vamps. Evidently, they didn’t like their own company very much.
The thump came again, harder this time. The whole side of the house seem to shake and that was saying something since Graystone was built of brick and stone. Why hadn’t I invested in a shock system? Something that would zap vampires if they pummeled my house.
Because.
Because I’d never given one thought to vampires.
Because I’d never considered that they’d want to get into Graystone.
Because I’d never once thought I’d go to war with a bunch of them.
Was it just yesterday that I was so naive?
We were SOL. Two members of our army of three were still wobbly. Mark was the only one who hadn’t been drained.
“You’re sure silver doesn’t affect vampires?” I asked.
“I’m sure,” Marcie said. “Neither does holy water, crucifixes, or making the sign of the cross.”
That was depressing.
“What’s left?” I asked.
“Destroy their brains.”
I had a mental vision of a cannon ball decapitating Maddock. Too bad I was fresh out of cannons.
“And that’s it?”
“Pretty much. They’ve evolved. Certain blood diseases affect them, which was why I tried rabies. But that’s about it.”
I knew that vampires didn’t really die die. I mean, they were already dead. Up until this moment I hadn’t realized they were so difficult to kill, in a manner of speaking. A few books on vampire lore stated that they had regenerative properties, but when I asked Marcie, she only shook her head and smiled.
“If you cut off a vampire’s hand, it doesn’t grow back. As a matter of fact, impairment of any sort offends them. They’d much rather put one of their own into the sunlight than endure the indignity of seeing a flawed vampire.”
Maybe that’s why all the vampires I’d ever seen were all beautiful creatures.
“Then how does Maddock escape?”
She smiled again. “There’s that power thing again. And the fact that he doesn’t allow himself to be seen.”
Unless there were extenuating circumstances, like coming after Marcie.
In all honesty, I didn’t want to see him in the flesh. I tried not to think about vampires. The idea of them offended me on a basic level. I was a Furry, a creature who was one with nature. Vampires were the antithesis of that. They defied natural law. They didn’t die yet they had to feast on the blood of living creatures in order to survive.
Marcie was the only vampire I’d ever met — not that I’ve met all that many — who didn’t creep me out. I liked her. Even more, I respected her. Especially now after she admitted that she’d tried to kill a super duper vampire by giving him rabies.
“Does he foam at the mouth?” I asked.
She stared at me for a few seconds. “I think he does.”
“I need to make sure the Brood isn’t around him,” I said. “Just in case he’s contagious.”
I glanced at Mark. “Are they still on the porch?”
He nodded.
I walked with measured — and counted — steps to the door. Everything was done carefully: breathing, thinking, any movement at all. It was like my body was continually taking readings.
Commence forward motion: legs semi-steady.
Lungs full, exhale.
Thoughts escalating, calm panic.
I was definitely not feeling like myself. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of that was being nearly drained by my Were chauvinist brother and how much was the double transfusion from a witpire.
I would ponder the situation later, after Maddock stopped beating on my house.
As I took one step after another, it occurred to me that I shouldn’t be all that judgmental about vampires. After all, I’d gotten a transfusion from one. Not once, but twice. Did that make me part vampire?
The answer shocked me to the core.
Of course I was part vampire.
Well, damn.
Mark was suddenly at my side. I wondered if he’d figured out we were like Maddock, but I didn’t get a chance to ask him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.
“To get the Brood,” I said. “I want to bring them into the house.”
“I’ll get them. You stay here.”
I shook my head. “Not in the attic,” I said. “We can’t see anything from here.”
“Nor can Maddock see in,” he said.
That was a reasonable remark and a point I hadn’t considered. Yet I felt blind in the attic. I wanted somewhere safe, but not where I felt trapped. There had to be a better spot in Graystone.
“The Clan Hall,” I said. “First floor. The windows are reinforced.”
The room was decorated like a medieval solarium with arched doors, window seats, and stone floors. It was also connected to the Armory and I had a feeling we were going to have to use everything at our disposal. If bashing in their brains stopped vampires, then we were well stocked.
I felt like a Chihuahua with an attitude. Frankly, I’ve never met a Chihuahua without an attitude. Maybe it was the Napoleonic complex gone wild. They were small but occasionally terrifying. I say that as someone who’d been bitten by more Chihuahuas than any other breed.
Grr.