Vampire So Vengeful (Boston Vampires #2)

Chapter 1

One

Boston, Massachusetts, Present Day.

The murmur of voices sharpened, cutting through the quiet.

“—Let me in.”

“I can’t. Antoine’s orders.”

Cally jolted awake at the rising tension outside her door. No, not her door; the door to Antoine’s bedroom.

He wasn’t beside her. The bed was empty where he’d lain, the sheets cool to her touch.

Memories of the night before made her smile; his mouth, his hands, the weight of him. She wanted to wrap that feeling around her. Where was he?

The voices outside pressed in. The first sounded like Gabe’s. What was he doing here? The second was Noah’s, and he wouldn’t keep Gabe out for long if the vampire was determined.

She pushed the duvet off and rose to see what the commotion was—before it escalated. And before Gabe burst in.

Yesterday’s clothes lay crumpled and damp on the floor, likely still reeking of Minh’s scent. Antoine’s dressing gown was draped over a chair, casually discarded. It hadn’t been there last night, she was sure of it.

A firm knock on the door. “Cally?” Noah’s voice.

“Just a moment.”

She ran her fingers through her blonde hair, tidying it as best she could. The dressing gown was too large on her, but pulled carefully tight, it would be decent enough. She needed to find a solution to the recurring clothing problem that didn’t involve borrowing Antoine’s or wearing yesterday’s.

Getting her own drawer in the vampire’s bedroom? The notion didn’t bother her as much as it once would. Hell, it didn’t bother her at all.

She opened the door before Noah could knock again. Both men bristled with whatever argument had preceded.

A chair sat in the hallway, suggesting Noah had spent the night there, and he was dressed in the same jeans and T-shirt he’d worn the day before.

His sandy hair was mussed, his usual easy demeanor drawn tight.

Gabriel was in slacks and a silk shirt, pressed and pristine, wavy dark hair immaculate, his polished appearance only adding gravity to his grim expression.

“What’s happened?” she asked, looking between them, her pulse thudding with foreboding. “Where’s Antoine?”

A muscle twitched in Gabe’s jaw. “I was rather hoping you could tell me that.”

“I thought he was here. He was with me last…” She narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on, Gabe?”

“You can sense him, right?” Gabe pressed, urgency creeping into his voice. “You can find him?”

The set of his shoulders and the haunted look in his green eyes made her stomach twist. She reached for the bond, and it tugged east. “Yes, I can sense him.” She pointed. “That way.”

The question had clearly been everything. Gabe’s shoulders dropped, his chest finally loosening, and his eyes shut with something too raw to be called relief. “Do you know how far?”

“No, it doesn’t work like that. Direction only.”

He nodded, unsurprised. “I have some bad news, Cally. Antoine has been…” He grimaced as if in pain. Then he braced his shoulders, took a breath, and finished his sentence. “Antoine has been entombed.”

Beside her, Noah sucked in a breath.

“What does that mean?” I sound calm. Why do I sound calm?

“Buried alive.”

She shuddered, unsure whether it was his tone or the words themselves. “An accident?” It didn’t make sense. He was with her only a few hours ago.

“No,” Gabe said bluntly. “The Curia summoned us. They learned that Antoine fed from Minh, and have entombed him as a punishment.”

Her chest tightened, breath catching sharply in her throat. “For how long?”

“Forever,” he replied, watching her. “Unless he escapes.”

The world tilted and Cally gripped the doorjamb, her fingers digging into the wood. This was punishment? This was justice? Minh had deserved everything he got.

“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. “Until he escapes, you say? He’s about to escape. We’ll leave as soon as I’m dressed.” She looked to Noah. “Would you please ask Marcel if he has something I could wear?”

Noah ducked his head. “Zoey’s here. She’ll have clothes.” He headed off down the hallway and around the corner, and Cally heard him knock on a door.

It took effort to keep her expression neutral as she addressed Gabe. “Thank you for bringing this message. Are you going to help?”

“Yes. You won’t get him back without me.”

Some of the pressure eased from her chest. “Thank you.”

“It won’t be easy,” Gabe added. He grinned without humor, baring his teeth. “But they don’t know you can track him.”

She forced her voice steady. “Will they stop us from rescuing him?”

“Yeah, if they know about it.”

“Will he be guarded?”

Gabe shook his head. “No point. They’ll have buried him deep and left him.”

“If we can get him out without their knowing, we could run, perhaps.” Would Antoine agree?

Gabe smiled thinly. “According to our laws, if Antoine escapes—through any means—the punishment is deemed complete. He’ll be free to continue as he did before.”

“That sounds too easy.” Cally frowned. “I can’t see them abiding by that.”

“Roberto will find another way to attack him, I expect. Leonard, Jorge and the others won’t care—the Curia will see it as finished. Belle said she was going back to Europe.”

“She was there?” Belle had promised to aid Antoine, but that wasn’t something Cally could share with Gabe. “Did she say anything?”

“She did, actually,” Gabe said, surprise in his voice. “She was the one to insist that escape was an end to it.”

Well, I suppose that counts as help.

Noah appeared around the corner, arms laden with clothes. At least two pairs of jeans, T-shirts and a large hoodie. “Zoey is about your size. I hope some of this will fit.”

“Great. Five minutes to get dressed.” Cally turned for the bedroom door, then winced. “Gabe, another favor. I don’t think we have a car right now.” She looked to Noah. “That right?”

“Yep,” he confirmed. “Marcel’s was destroyed on I-93, you blew up Antoine’s Lambo, and I’ve no idea where the Audi is.”

“Impounded,” Cally said, then muttered, “I didn’t blow up the Lambo.”

“It’s fine,” Gabe said briskly. “I’ll drive.”

“Five minutes then,” Cally repeated. She wanted a shower, but it could wait until they’d rescued Antoine.

He could scrub her back.

*

“Still east?” Gabe asked as he drove.

“Still east.” It was pretty much all Cally had said since they’d left.

She was in the back, staring out of the heavily tinted window. Noah was up front beside Gabe, Zoey was on the other side, and Eve had insisted on coming. She was in the middle, as the smallest.

“Where are we?” Eve asked, brushing back a stray curl of her auburn hair.

“City Point,” Gabe answered grimly.

They pulled into the Castle Island parking lot, and Gabe killed the engine.

Cally opened her door and got out, not waiting for the others.

It was overcast, the clouds angry and lit with the yellows and reds of sunrise, and the wind whipped at her hair.

Ahead, Fort Independence sat on its small hill, but she followed Harbor Walk around the side, down onto the fishing pier that extended into the water.

Their bond still tugged east, out over the ocean. There were harbor islands, but Cally was under no illusion. She knew, now, where they’d put him.

The others caught her up. Noah leaned on the rusted barrier beside her, staring off into the distance.

“He could still be on one of the islands,” Eve tentatively ventured, but no one responded.

“Can you reach him?” Cally asked Noah.

“No,” he said, his voice quiet. “I’ve been trying since we left the house.”

She nodded; he’d have told her if he could. She turned to Gabriel. “Can he breathe underwater?”

“No.” Gabe winced, adjusting his sunglasses, and then turned his back on the horizon where the sun peeked over. “He won’t drown. Well, technically, I guess he will. But it won’t kill him.”

“He’s alive down there?” Eve’s hazel eyes were round with horror.

“How do we get him back?” Cally asked of no one in particular.

“It depends how deep he is.” Noah kicked the chain fence, and it rippled along the pier with a rattle of protest.

“He’ll be deep.” Zoey stated what they all knew.

“I have a yacht,” Gabe said slowly. “Some of my thralls have naval experience.”

Noah glanced at him. “And the equipment?”

Gabe shook his head. “Not for anything beneath a hundred and fifty feet.”

“How deep is it?” Cally asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Zoey?” Noah prompted.

“Five hundred to a thousand feet,” Zoey answered.

“Depending on how far out they took him.” She grimaced.

“If they went far enough and dropped him off the edge of the continental shelf, you could add a zero to that. I don’t think they would though,” she added hastily as she saw Cally’s expression.

“It’s a hell of a long way to go when the water here’s deep enough already. ”

“Aren’t you an encyclopedia of surprise?” Gabe drawled.

Zoey shrugged. “Six years on subs out of Groton, Connecticut.”

It served to emphasize how little Cally knew of Antoine’s thralls. Zoey and Noah weren’t here of their own free will; how could she have forgotten that? The discomfort that had somehow faded returned with a vengeance.

“Yay, we have a submarine expert,” Eve said. “Finally, some good news.”

“I won’t be any use,” Zoey demurred. “I mostly did security with some routine maintenance.”

Cally stared out over the ocean, watching the sun rise; the deep reds stained the clouds like blood. She tightened her arms around herself. “How the hell do we pull Antoine out of a watery grave a thousand feet down?”

No one had an answer.