Angel's Pain

Gregor pulled through the gates, and headed along the drive and up to the mansion, not stopping until he was all the way to the front door. His son was shivering-despite the fact that the car's heater was blasting full force-and still soaking wet. And yet the boy's attention was fully on the pathetic bundle of flesh and blood in the backseat.



Crisa hadn't regained consciousness. Gregor wasn't sure she ever would. He glanced at his son and honestly hoped he could save the girl. Sure, she might present a problem later on. Matthias's loyalties would obviously be divided, and she might undermine Gregor's authority. But he was fairly certain he could bring her under control, with or without a toxin-seeping chip in her brain. And if not, he would simply kill her.



Hell, given the childlike mind of the girl, he could probably make her into his most devoted worshipper. The way he'd tried to do with Briar.



Too damaged, that one. Too deeply hurt and furiously seeking vengeance. Too angry. She would destroy anyone who got too close to her, turn against them all one by one. Reaper would soon find that out. She would betray him. She hated men, all men, and it was too late to turn that around.



The damage was done.



Gregor opened his door and got out, moving quickly to the rear door to fetch Crisa. He gathered her up into his arms as carefully as he could, and, with Matthias running ahead to open the mansion's doors, he carried her inside.



Matt headed for the stairs. "The bedroom next to mine?" he asked.



"No, we need to go downstairs, not up."



Matthias stopped in his tracks and turned, and the look he sent his father was one of such maturity and such raw fury that Gregor wondered if he'd made a severe mistake.



He glanced down at the woman in his arms. Was she going to cause problems between him and his son?



"You can't put her in a cell, Dad. She's not one of your prisoners, okay? She's my friend."



"I'm clear on that. And we haven't been in this place long enough for you to know all its quirks, so I'll forgive your misjudgment of me. Once, Matthias. Once and only once. And I won't have you forgetting who is in charge here."



Matthias pursed his lips hard, as if he had to press them tight to keep from speaking his mind, or worse.



At least he was showing some restraint. He clearly meant to do what he thought was right, though his motives might be in error.



Gregor carried the woman toward the doorway that led to the basement stairs, leaving his son with no choice but to rush along in his wake. Once he reached the door he stopped and nodded once, firmly, ordering Matthias without a word to open it.



"Why the basement?"



"If you get the door, I'll show you. But I have no intention of justifying or defending or explaining my decisions to you prior to making them. It's decided. I speak, you obey. I told you I'd save her if I could. Unless you want me to withdraw that promise, I suggest you fall into line, young man, and obey without question, the way you've been taught to do."



The rebellion that gleamed in the boy's eyes made Gregor swell with pride at the same time that it troubled him. He had a feeling that if he did toss Crisa into a cell, his son would do everything in his power to get her out. He just might manage it, too.



He was becoming a man. It would be harder and harder to keep him in line. Maybe keeping Crisa would turn out to be more useful than he'd imagined. He could use her to keep his son loyal. Threaten her, hold her safety over the boy's head. Yes, this could work to his benefit in the long run.



But first he had to save her.



He reached the bottom of the stairs and went through another door there, leading the way through parts of the basement the boy had never seen before, he knew. Pausing outside a large steel door, he turned slightly. "Take the key from my back pocket and unlock this door. Then you'll see why I want her down here."



Matthias obeyed, finding the key and then unlocking the door. He pushed it open and stepped inside, quickly finding the light switches and throwing them.



The entire room lit up, fluorescent tubes flickering to life in the ceiling, one after the other, illuminating the fully equipped laboratory in all its glory. Glass-fronted cases filled with chemicals, liquids and powders, lined one wall. The other three were filled by counters, one of which held a stainless steel sink with oversized faucets. The rest held microscopes, burners, test tubes and vials. In the center was a semicircular desk, the entire surface taken up by computers and monitors, and stacks upon stacks of files-those he'd taken from Dwyer's place. He'd only found this room recently, and even he couldn't work fast enough to have identified most of the equipment in here, much less have learned to use it all.



Marquand had left most of it. The rest was what he'd confiscated from Dwyer's place.



Gregor looked around for a suitable place to put Crisa. There was no bed, but there was a gurney, off in a corner, near a doorway to a smaller room he hadn't even checked out yet. So he carried her to it and laid her down.



Then he turned to Matthias. "I'll have some of the drones dismantle a bed from upstairs, bring it down here and put it back together for her. You can supervise, if you want. If she's down here where the equipment is, and the notes, it'll be easier to figure out what to do for her and how to do it in time."



Matthias frowned, tipping his head to one side. "Do you know what's wrong with her, Dad?"



Licking his lips and glancing at the unconscious vampiress, pale and twitching, Gregor nodded. "Let's check this room out while we talk, hmm?"



Matthias buckled Crisa safely onto the gurney, so she wouldn't roll off. Then he joined his father in entering the second room.



Gregor found the lights and turned them on. The room was white and stark, but it contained a perfectly usable hospital bed, an IV pole and a functional nightstand. "I guess we won't need the drones after all, will we?"



"Maybe just some clean sheets and blankets," Matthias said.



"You can take care of that while I start going over Dwyer's notes."



"Yeah. Right after you tell me what you know. I know you know something."



Gregor narrowed his eyes and wondered, not for the first time, if his son were more than just intuitive. "Matthias, Crisa has a chip in her brain. It feeds a signal via satellite into a remote computer. The person on the other end can tune in to her and see what she's seeing, hear what's hearing, and also speak to her. They can control her, more or less."



"And cause pain when she doesn't do what he says?"



Gregor nodded.



"Why would you do that to her? I mean, before she even met me. Why would you-"



"You're jumping to conclusions. I'm not the one who put it there. The CIA did that. Derrick Dwyer ordered it. He was the one controlling her, right up until the day



I captured him. I went back and got his computers and all his notes. Until I actually fired up the machine and saw it working, I had no idea about any of this."



"But you used it. You used it to hurt her."



"And I'd do it again to get my son back where he belongs, Matthias. But what I did to her isn't what's wrong with her now.



Dwyer's own notes told me the chip would begin to decompose, and as it did, it would release toxins into her brain and bloodstream. That's what's killing her."



"K-killing her?" Matthias's eyes grew damp.



"People die, Matt. Vampires die. It's a perfectly common event, not one to get emotional over. Buck up."



Matt swallowed hard, his Adam's apple swelling and receding.



"We're going to need to get the chip out, then get some kind of medication into her to clean out those toxins. I just need to review the notes. I'm sure there are some kind of instructions somewhere."



"You need to...you're gonna...cut into her brain?"



"Well, someone has to."



"But you're not a doctor!"



"Well, no. I'm not sure we have time to find a doctor we can trust, though I'd certainly prefer that, if it's possible." He sighed.



"We'll make do with what we have, all right? And in the meantime, you go up and get the clean sheets and bedding, bring them here, make up this bed and get her moved into it. I have-" He glanced at his watch. "I have just over an hour before daylight, and I need to spend every minute of it poring over those notes if I'm going to have any chance at all of saving her. And on top of all that, I've got to be sure we're prepared for her friends. They'll be coming after her. And I doubt they'll believe I'm trying to help her."



Matt looked up sharply. "Her friends?"



"If they were coming tonight, they'd have been here by now," Gregor said. "They'll attack us tomorrow night, though, Matthias.



I'm sure of it. And there's no way to know if they'll arrive before we fix her up, after, or even during the procedure." He sent a mournful look Crisa's way. "Their well-intentioned rescue efforts could end up killing her." Then he shook his head and sighed deeply. "We'll do what we can. Go on now, get that bedding down here."



Reaper showered quickly, and when he exited the bathroom, wearing a borrowed Turkish robe that felt like heaven, he found Briar on the bed. She was lying on top of the covers, her back against the headboard, her face in a fashion magazine.



She wrinkled her nose and said, "Stilettos. God, I hate the things. Who would wear them, anyway?"



"Topaz, I imagine."



She lifted her head. "Nice robe," she said.



"There's a matching one hanging in the bathroom. Help yourself."



"Oh, I intend to." She tossed the magazine on the bed and got up, then headed into the bathroom.



"Any interesting articles?" he asked as she passed him.



"Oh, hell yes, if you want to know what little black pumps are in and which ones you might as well be shot as to be seen wearing. I found it was kind of a fun game to try to pick out the differences. So far, I only found one."



"And what was that?"



"The in shoes cost five times what the out ones do." She rolled her eyes. "What I don't get is how you can be smart enough to make that kind of money, yet dumb enough to believe that kind of garbage and blow it on such baloney."



He smiled to himself as the bathroom door closed behind her; then he went through the house, locking all the doors and windows, lowering all the shades, drawing all the drapes. He returned to the bedroom, and spent extra time and attention on those windows. He took several heavy blankets he found in a trunk at the foot of the bed and tucked them around the drapery rods. He located duct tape and used it to affix the edges of the blankets to the walls, so no light would spill through. And the whole time he listened to the shower running and imagined Briar standing naked beneath its spray. Her smooth skin all pebbled with droplets. Tiny rivers of water running down her body. Over her spine, trickling over her thighs, spilling over her breasts.



Dripping, maybe, from a taut nipple.



He closed his eyes and suppressed a groan, then pulled back the covers and got into the bed.



The shower stopped. He wondered what was going to happen between them, if anything. She opened the door and stood there, staring at him.



She hadn't bothered with the robe.



He stared at her. She was naked, completely naked, and her hair, black and curly and wild and wet, dropped and tangled over her shoulders like the untamed thorny vines of a wild rose. And the water beaded on her skin just like he'd been imagining.



She'd barely dried off.



She kept her eyes on his, though his were everywhere but on hers, as she walked slowly closer. She stopped beside the bed, yanked back the covers, stared down at him, hard as hell already, and then she licked her lips.



"I didn't think-" he began.



"Don't think. Just fuck." She put one leg over him, straddled him and lowered herself until she could rub herself over his erection. She was sitting upright, and he wanted her closer. He wanted her against him. He wanted to kiss her.



He put his hands on the small of her back, but when he tried to pull her forward, she held herself stiff. She didn't like intimacy.



Kissing. Embraces. Foreplay, even. Just the act. Just that and nothing more.



But this time he wanted it his way. Because he had a feeling it might very well be the last time for them.



She would leave once Crisa was safe. He knew it right to his gut.



So he clasped her hips in his hands and held her, and then he drove into her so hard and so fast and so incredibly deep that it knocked her for a loop. A cry was driven from her lungs, and the sensation, so sudden and unexpected, weakened her, so that her body went lax.



He tightened his arms around her instantly, yanking her forward until her chest lay atop his, and then he kissed her. He took her mouth with his, and he kissed her as if he could never get enough. He put his tongue inside her, tasted everything she was, and then he tasted more.



He tasted the salt of her tears as they rolled down her cheeks to her lips. And he didn't ask why, because he knew she wouldn't answer. He just kept kissing her, kept driving into her, kept holding her flush against him, kept taking all she had to give, until there was no more.



They climaxed together, swallowing each other's screams of pleasure, their mouths still melded.



And when the sun rose, that was the way they slept. Locked together. Him inside her, buried deep. Her utterly relaxed on top of him. His arms holding her tight.



He felt the day sleep stealing over him, and he kept running his fingers through her hair until he lost the ability to move them at all. He thought about telling her that he just might love her. And then he decided that would be the surest way to send her running away.



And even though he was certain she was going to leave him anyway, he thought there might be a chance, if he were very careful with her. There might be a chance she would stay.



Night fell. Briar woke in Reaper's arms and experienced a rush of emotions so intense they overwhelmed her. She lifted her head to look at him, startled and frightened by the power of them, and then, as he stared back at her, a tender smile taking shape, she rolled away from him and got to her feet.



"Briar?" He sat up in the bed, even as she began to put her clothes on. "Are you okay?"



"Why wouldn't I be?"



He was frowning, watching her dress, working up to saying something. He probably wanted to talk about...last night. This morning. Them. Feelings and sex and all that sappy bullshit. But before he could begin, she turned, buttoning her blouse, and said, "We need to get going, Reaper. Time is short. And your friend Eric will be here soon."



"So will the others, if I know them," he said. "I might as well call them on the way back to the motel and give them instructions."



He hesitated, sighing deeply, then got up and got dressed, and the two of them drove back to the motel. They entered the room without a key and found Dwyer sipping whiskey from a short fat glass.



He hadn't shaved, and Briar didn't think he'd showered, either. He wasn't ripe, but it was obvious to her heightened senses.



"Nervous, are we?" she asked.



He glanced at her, said nothing and took another swig. There was a knock at the door that made him jump. The ice cubes clattered against the glass.



Reaper opened the door, and a vampire walked in, dressed all in black. He took in the room with a single glance, then focused on Reaper and extended a hand. "Eric Marquand," he said.



"I'm Reaper."



"Rhiannon speaks very highly of you." And then, to Briar's surprise, he shot her a warm smile. "And even more highly of you, if you're Briar."



"I am. But I'm surprised Rhiannon had anything nice to say about me."



Eric lifted his brows. He had an aristocratic face, and he was shorter than Reaper, handsome in a more traditional way. He seemed...sophisticated, with an old-world sort of style. He felt old, very old. Not as ancient as Rhiannon, but very old. The power that exuded from him was almost palpable.



"Rhiannon sees in you a reflection of herself," Eric Marquand said. "And believe me when I tell you, there is no one she thinks more highly of than herself." Then he glanced at the unshaven mortal, who sat trembling and drinking. "And this would be...?"



"This is Derrick Dwyer," Reaper said. "I worked for him during my CIA days. He's been trying to get me back, and Gregor was one of his projects. As is the chip in Crisa's brain that's slowly killing her. "



Eric's pleasant expression turned dark. "And he is here with us and still breathing, why?"



"Because he knows how to remove the chip."



"And you trust him to do that?"



Dwyer lifted his head. His voice low, he said, "I never intended to leave it in place long enough to do the girl any lastin' harm. I don't enjoy hurtin' people."



"Just doing your job, I imagine." Eric barely glanced at him, his attention returning to Reaper. "I ask you again, do you trust him?"



"No," Reaper said. "But if there's even the smallest chance he can help us save Crisa..."



"Understood. Well, let's get to it, then. I'll tell you about the place as we go. You said something about others joining us here?"



"Yes," Reaper said. "They'll be here within the hour. But I've instructed them to wait for us elsewhere."



Briar frowned at him. "Did you tell them that Ilyana's son is with Crisa?"



Reaper met her eyes, shook his head. "We'd never be able to keep her from going there if she knew. Though I'm sure she's already speculating that Matt is with his father. I just...I don't want the others at risk if we can avoid it."



"Just as well," Eric said. "If we get into trouble, it will be good to have someone on the outside who can help." He glanced again at Dwyer. "Is he coming with us?"



"I'd rather wait here," Dwyer said. "If Gregor gets his hands on me agai-"



"He's coming with us. I don't know how far gone Crisa is, and if she needs immediate action, he'll be of help."



"We'll need to get her to a surgeon," Dwyer said. "Insertin' the chip was far simpler than removin' it is goin' to be. And I'm no brain surgeon."



"I can do the surgery, if necessary," Eric said.



Everyone looked at him then, surprised. He shrugged off their awe and opened the door. "I've been studying science and medicine for more than two centuries, after all. Let's get going."



"One thing you need to know before we leave," Reaper said. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small tranquilizer gun, then handed it to Eric, who looked at it oddly. "You may need to use this. On...me."



Eric glanced up at him, then nodded slowly. "In case someone uses your trigger word to send you into a murderous rage, you mean?" When Reaper seemed startled, he went on. "Rhiannon warned me about your...condition. She wouldn't have sent me to you without telling me." He looked around the room. "How many know the trigger word, Reaper?"



"Everyone here except you. And Gregor knows it, as well."



Eric frowned. "Perhaps you're the one who ought to stay behind, my friend. It seems as if you're putting yourself at greater risk than any of us by going there."



"Not me. But anyone within my reach. Don't hesitate to use that gun if you need to. Don't...let me hurt anyone."



Briar looked at Dwyer, her eyes narrow. "I don't think you would ever hurt anyone you truly cared about, Reaper. Not even in that state. Do you agree, Dwyer?"



Dwyer looked at her with a puzzled frown.



"We both know that's not true," Reaper said.



"Do we?" She looked at him, but her eyes went right back to Dwyer again. "Do we really?" Roxy was driving, with Ilyana on the passenger side, when she hung up from Reaper's call. "We have some specific and challenging instructions from Reaper. And not a hell of a lot of time to carry them out."



"Has he seen my Matt?" Ilyana asked, her tone hopeful bordering on desperate.



"No. Not yet. But if your son is with Gregor, as you suspect, you should be seeing him before this night is out." Roxy licked her lips. "As long as all goes according to plan."



"What's the situation, Roxy?" Topaz asked from the back of the van.



"Gregor has Crisa. Rhiannon's friend, the vampire scientist Eric Marquand, is with Reaper and Briar. So is Reaper's former CIA boss, Derrick Dwyer. They plan to go into Gregor's hideout tonight."



"Why the hell is he taking a CIA agent in with him?" Seth demanded. "He knows the guy can't be trusted."



"Dwyer knows about Crisa's condition. The bastards implanted some kind of chip in her brain when we were in Mexico. It was supposed to go into one of you. They got the wrong vampire, then lucked out when we took her in. They tracked us through the chip. I don't know all the details, but apparently, if the thing isn't removed soon, it'll kill her."



"Those animals," Jack muttered.



"They're going to try to get her out of there and bring her to us. Marquand can do the surgery. Dwyer knows the details.



Between the two of them, they might be able to save her. But we're going to need a safe place with medical equipment to pull it off."



"And how the hell are we supposed to get that?" Topaz snapped. "Pull it out of our-"



"Jack's going to help us out there."



"I am?" Jack asked.



"Yes. And here we are." Roxy pulled the van into a driveway of a one-story brick structure with a sign on the front that read



Byram Health & Wellness. She drove all the way around to the rear of the building and shut the engine off.



"Jack, we need to disable the locks and any alarms so we can get inside undetected. The rest of you need to be on constant alert, scanning the minds of anyone who comes near, so you'll know if anyone figures out what we're up to."



"And if they do?" Topaz asked.



"We don't have to hurt anyone, do we, Roxy?" Vixen slid closer to Seth and clasped his hand.



"I hope not," Roxy said. "Anyone catches on, we're just going to have to bring them inside and keep them quiet until this thing is over."



"Police included?" Seth asked. He sounded alarmed at the notion. Roxy simply nodded.



Jack rubbed his hands together and smiled. Then he looked at the worry on the faces of his comrades and lifted his brows.



"What?" he said. "This is going to be fun."



"Let's do it, then." Roxy opened her door and started to get out.



Jack put a hand on her shoulder to stop her.



"Just a sec." And he pointed. She looked and saw the video surveillance camera mounted above the entrance. It would catch anyone entering or leaving by the main door. "Better let me handle that first. We won't show up on tape, of course, but you and Ilyana will."



"Let's do as little damage as possible, Jack," Roxy told him.



"If you insist." He was whistling as he got out of the van and walked up to the camera. One little jump, to reach it, and he easily tilted its lens upward, so it was focused on the night sky and nothing more. Then he turned his attention to the door.