Chapter Twenty-Nine
Naura burst through Vaulcron’s door without bothering to knock. “You are on the television, brother.”
Vaulcron sprang from the bed, grabbing the remote as he rushed across the room to the couch.
Abbie, Hauke, and Tony came barreling in as well, taking up every available seat in the room.
Vaulcron flipped on the television. “What channel is it on?”
“The American channel,” Oz announced, hurrying in and facing the big black screen. He glanced at Vaulcron. “Channel eight.”
Vaulcron scrolled to the correct channel, his jaw dropping when his face came into view on the screen.
His gut tightened with pain as Mallory’s voice echoed throughout the room, but nothing prepared him for the sight of her beautiful face.
Sorrow rolled through him like the waves of an ocean, sweeping back and forth and taking his breath.
Vaulcron bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from howling her name.
“She did it,” Tony blurted, pulling Vaulcron out of his grief-induced suffering. “Mallory Cahill, has just exposed the president of the United States. Holy shit, she’s a hero.”
“If she yet lives,” Vaulcron growled, jumping to his feet.
“She lives.”
The whispered words came from the open doorway. Every head in the room swung in that direction to find Amy standing just inside the room, her hand resting on Zaureth’s arm.
“You have spoken with her?” Vaulcron knew he sounded desperate, but he couldn’t keep the anguish from his voice.
Zaureth led Amy deeper into the room. She patted his hand before turning her gaze in Vaulcron’s general direction. “She is okay for now. She wanted me to tell you how sorry she is for everything, and that your people will be safe for the time being and better off in the long run now that she’s gone.”
Vaulcron’s heart felt as if it cracked in half. “She will not be returning, then.”
“It doesn’t look that way,” Amy admitted in a quiet voice. “I’m so sorry.”
Vaulcron glanced around at the somber faces scattered throughout his living quarters. “I would like to be alone.”
Everyone got up at once and filed toward the door. Zaureth and Amy were the last ones to leave. “Please don’t hate her,” Amy pleaded, moisture filling her light blue eyes. “She only did what she thought was best.”
Vaulcron fought his own emotional battle. “I do not hate her, Amy. She is my heart. My mate. She left me to return to her world. A world that has no place for me. Now, I must try to find a way to survive, to live without her.”
Zaureth guided an obviously distraught Amy into the hall, closing the door behind them and leaving Vaulcron alone to grieve in privacy.
He sat back down in front of the television, watching as the faces of Incola victims filled the big screen.
Vaulcron had never witnessed anything like it. The blood-filled eyes, blisters, and yellowing skin took away from their humanity somehow, leaving them skeletons of rotted flesh and death rattles.
He switched off the television, imaging Mallory back in the States, dwelling among the sick ones. What if she somehow came in contact with that virus? She had no protection against it and would surely die if she became infected.
Vaulcron ran a hand through his hair and headed for the door. He would go after Mallory whether she wanted him or not. Once the danger had passed, he would let her go, if she so desired. Until then? She would stay by his side.
He stalked down the stairs, bursting into the lobby and nearly running into Tony.
“Don’t do it, Vaulcron. They’ll be expecting you this time. You’ll never make it to shore.”
Vaulcron’s lips peeled back over his fangs. “I have to go. Mallory is completely alone out there. She needs my help.”
“You can’t expect to just arrive on the beach and snatch her up, Vaulcron. You don’t even know where she is.”
Vaulcron pinned Tony with an angry stare. “If it were Naura out there. What would you do?”
Tony closed his eyes in defeat. “Fine. But I’m coming with you.”
“No,” Vaulcron snarled, “I go alone.” He pushed past Tony and stormed out the double doors toward the beach beyond. He had a long swim ahead of him, and he’d wasted enough time already.
Oz lounged on the beach, swinging his leg from the side of a reclining chair as Vaulcron arrived at the water’s edge.
Vaulcron took a breath for patience as the native Cuban straightened to his full height. Being only a couple of inches shorter than Vaulcron, Oz wouldn’t have trouble intimidating a normal man. Not Vaulcron. “What are you doing out here, Oz?”
“Waiting for you.”
“If you think to stop me from leaving, it will not work.”
Oz held up a small set of keys. “I am not here to stop you, Vaulcron. I’m here to give you a ride.”
Vaulcron eyed the keys. Taking the boat would get him to Florida a lot faster than swimming. “Okay. I do not want you endangered, Oz. If you would take me as far you can while sailing under their radar, I would much appreciate it. Are you ready?”
The corner of Oz’s mouth lifted. “I was born ready.”