Chapter Thirteen

 

 

 

 

 

As the acrid scent of burning petrol and the unmistakable heat of an open fire filled his penthouse, Alaric pulled Ashlynn into his arms, jumped out of bed, and set her by his closet as he grabbed clothes for both of them. Shoving a pair of sweats and jacket in her hands, he ordered, “Put these on,” while shoving his legs into a pair of jeans and his feet into his boots.

Grabbing her shoes, he wrapped his arms around her waist and headed out onto the terrace, going down the same fire escape he gone up the night before. Calling to Ruari, glad his friend lived next door above The Galley, Alaric ordered, “Call the fire department. CRAVE is on fire.”

Stepping onto the concrete of the alley behind the club, he dropped Ashlynn’s shoes and set her feet next to them as he called to Sampson, “Come now. There’s a fire at the club. Bring Axel.”

Not waiting for an answer, he quickly scrolled through his contacts, hit the one marked MATEO and before the newest Enforcer could even say hello, snarled, “My club’s on fire. Come do your job.” Disconnecting the call as the other Vampire was speaking, Alaric handed the phone to Ashlynn and pointed to the covered porch on the backside of The Galley.

Hearing the sirens at the precise moment Ruari appeared, he wrapped his fingers around Ashlynn’s upper arms, looked her right in the eye and for the only time in his life he could ever remember, the ancient Vampire begged, “Please don’t follow me into the club. I can hear your thoughts. I know that you plan to be right by my side, but I cannot do what I must if I am worried about your safety.” Motioning with his head, he added, “Go over there. Stay out of harm’s way. I will come for you.”

He could feel her resistance, her need to help and immediately appealed to the Healer within her. “In the closet in The Galley, there’s a large first aid kit. Go get that and help any who are injured. Your handprint is already programmed into the ID pad at all the entrances.”

Smiling as his astounding Bloodmate turned and rushed away, Alaric followed Ruari through the backdoor of CRAVE, into the supply closet and grabbed a huge fire extinguisher. Each walking through one of the sets of double doors that led from the kitchen into Silk Fantasies, the ancient Vampire stopped cold as a familiar scent, one he hadn’t encountered since leaving the bonny shores of Scotland in 1716 rose over the dark, billowing smoke.

“Can you smell that?” He asked Ruari, careful to keep his mental blocks locked tight as he sprayed white foam from the hose attached to the fire extinguisher in his other hand.

“You mean the rancid smell of Scotch malt, Buckfast, and a fuckin’ useless, traitor of a Vampire?” Ruari yelled above the roar of the fire, quickly answering his own question, “Yeah, I smell the son of a whore, but I can’t see him, and the scent of human blood is much stronger.”

Putting the flames wherever he could, Alaric crossed the huge dancefloor making his way to the bar where he could see the outline of his Second through the haze of smoke and falling ash. Looking behind the scorched wood and soot-covered granite he could barely believe his eyes. There, decorated with thousands of scorched, bloody white rose petals was a sickening pile of drained human torsos and severed arms and legs.

Moving closer, shocked at the extra attention the killer had shown by creating a perimeter of wet bar towels around the bloody body parts, making sure they were not engulfed in flames before they could be found. Pounding footsteps and orders hollered through a megaphone drew Alaric’s attention as the firemen came through the front and back of the club dousing the fire with gallon upon gallon of water.

Working alongside the first responders for countless hours, Alaric, Ruari, and Sampson helped to extinguish the blaze until Mateo finally arrived, asking them to meet him outside. Walking through the ruins of his club, the smoldering remains of one of his most profitable businesses, Alaric led the way out the back, thanking his employees who had shown up with water, Gatorade and food for all the firemen and EMTs who fought to save their place of employment.

Shielding his eyes from the late afternoon sun, Alaric looked all around for Ashlynn, calling to her as he walked towards Mateo and the others. Not worried when she didn’t answer, assuming she was at the First Aid station the EMTs has set up at the back of The Galley he stopped next Ruari and asked, “What do you need? As you can see, we’re a bit busy here.”

“Yes, and I’m very sorry for the loss of your club and for those who were indiscriminately hacked to bits by the rogue. We have determined this is the work of one Vampire and you are his target.”

Mateo was scrolling through his phone not making eye contact until Alaric snarled, “You fucking think so, Mat?” He purposely used the Enforcer’s nickname just to piss him off. “You think I’m the target?” He glared at the Enforcer as he pointed at what was left of CRAVE. “Let’s see, he’s done everything but write down the address to every murder. He’s used my family’s crest, my grandmother’s ring, the tartan of my Clan and written a note in Gaelic with one of his victim’s blood.” Taking an aggressive step forward, furious that the Directive had let it get as far as they had, he roared, “Now, why the fuck are you wasting my time instead of catching the crazy motherfucker.”

“So, you know who it is?”

Mateo looked shocked, making Alaric think about ripping the Enforcer’s head from his shoulders and throwing it into the few flames still burning at the corner of his club. Poking Mateo in the chest, he ground out, “It’s got to be Androu. It can be no other. I told you I couldn’t locate him, that he wasn’t responding, and that he was the only other who would have had access to Brygid’s ring. What the fuck are you waiting for?”

Unfortunately, Alaric never got to hear Mateo’s response as one of the younger firemen came running out of the club, holding a small metal box and calling to him. Turning towards the man in silver fire gear with a respirator hanging around his neck, the ancient Vampire waved his hand, stepping away from Mateo and holding out his hand.

“We found this beside the bodies,” the fireman stated, handing Alaric the box. “It’s so scorched there won’t be any fingerprints, so the Captain said I could bring it to you. I made sure it was cool enough to handle.”

“Thank you so much,” Alaric forced a smile. “Please be sure to get something to eat and drink and tell all your mates.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Turning back towards Ruari and Sampson, ignoring Mateo, Alaric opened the box, lifted out a stack of pictures that were laid face down with a large scrolling script inked on the back. Reading the words, his blood ran cold, and his rage caught fire. “A Bloodmate for the traitor. This simply cannot stand. Bring me what you took all those years ago and you may retrieve the body of your beloved where the bodies of the freed African-Americans were laid to rest.”

Dropping the box and racing to The Galley, Alaric immediately saw that Ashlynn was frighteningly absent from the scene. Slamming his hand against the ID pad, he nearly ripped the heavy mirrored-glass door from its hinges as he raced to find his Bloodmate as dread filled his soul.

Stopping dead in his tracks as the scent of Ashlynn’s blood smacked him square in the face, he gaped at what used to be a stark white wall leading to the vault and read the words painted in his Bloodmate’s blood aloud, “A thabhairt duit, Deartháir.”

Walking straight to the farthest corner of the building, he stepped into the private elevator, pushed the button marked U and as he descended to the underground garage only very few knew existed, the enraged ancient vampire whispered, “Aye, to me it is, Brother, and may God have mercy on your soulless hide when I find you.”