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A Tempest in the Night.
by K. R. Wilson.
Prologue
Alec Vladimir Sinclair-Wulf sat at the head seat of the Haemo High Council. The Council he inherited from his grandfather the previous King of Vampires gasped in amazement, shock, and disbelief. He knew it would get worse. He felt the collective shudder in the conference room. Nosferatus and the human looking vampires became ill at ease over the nomination.
"Daedalus Sqourakis will make an excellent Enforcer, and I stand by my nomination."
"I second that nomination." His wife, Tania Williams, the new Queen of Vampires, was his staunchest supporter and fighting partner. She agreed with his decision, even when he had doubts, and he had a few. But, he couldn't forget how good it felt to fight along side his long-lost younger brother.
He shut out the stir of voices both mental and auditory in the room and thought back only a year ago, when they'd fought side by side against the latest rival group the Jacquerie...
Daedalus was sleek, bathed in black, and silently stalked and killed his targets like a panther hunting prey.
With his sword, a beauty of a weapon, he swathed his way through the rival vampires, dispatching the enemy without so much as a blink of an eye. To watch him was to watch someone awe-inspiring. He is beautiful, deadly, and c.o.c.ky... Yes, he had that smile that said, "I can do it. Just watch me, but don't get in my way..."
Alec and Tania stood outside the abandoned church in Jamaica, Queens directly under the Long Island Railroad. She was on one side of the heavy, ornate door and he was on the other. Alec gave his wife a critical look. "You shouldn't be here," he whispered.
"I don't do the Stepford wife thing very well," she whispered.
She didn't. She liked to fight, and she was good at it. She liked getting physical. He'd discovered when he found her half-dead from a beating she'd received from an irate client's husband. She gave as good as she got, but she wasn't strong enough to defend herself totally. Her former job as a Battered Woman's Court Advocate had been demanding and dangerous. She reveled in it. Now as Queen she fights along side him, but at a terrible cost. She wants to have his baby, and he is terrified she'll die before that happens.
She raised her sword in the air, and the equivalent of a human heart attack came on.
The air rippled around Alec. Power flowed and danced over his skin. His brain tingled. From his third eye, he saw a figure in black racing toward them in a deadly charge. Tania is more vulnerable. She was closest to him and was aware of the coming attack. "Why don't you let me handle this?"
Tania shook her head and raised her hand halting him. She'll never change and she'll never let him keep her inside a safe bubble.
With vampiric speed faster than any human eye can see, but detectable by vampires, the stranger jumped over their heads onto the brick wall above them.
Alec raised his sword at the stranger. The tip of it rested on the vampire's esophagus. If he falls, he'll embed himself on the sword through the throat.
Tania grasped his hand before he dangerously moved it. Blocks of thought flowed into his mind from her. He's on our side, Alec.
How do you know?
Wickedly, the stranger smiled, and with his fingertips touched the pointed edges of Alec's sword and pushed it to the side. Alec's face almost cracked a smile at the stranger's guts. He's entertaining, dead, but entertaining.
With his gloved hands, the stranger grasped the molding on the doorway, somersaulted down landing without a sound on the crumbling cement stairs. The c.o.c.ky smile remained on his face. His hair, parted on the side, pointed in every direction. He was dressed in skin-tight black from neck to toe. A cowl wrapped his neck. A mask, maybe. Pleated armor material adorned his broad shoulders. The rest of him was covered in a black breathable flexible material. Where Alec's body was long and muscled bulk, the other's was long, lean, and powerful, with burly legs. "h.e.l.lo, Tania."
"Your Highness," Alec reminded him, his eyes trained on Tania. She smiled warmly. Alec glowered at the stranger. His obvious attraction to his wife angered him. "Who are you?" Alec whispered.
"Alec, I'm hurt. Don't you see the resemblance?" he asked in hushed tones and feigned indignation. "I'm you're long-lost brother from Santorini."
"Daedalus?"
What held Alec riveted was the younger stranger's face. Though his piercing violet eyes reminded him of Radu, his face was Greek. His Romanesque nose, cupid-bow lips, cleft chin, and olive-skin made a startling effect. His close-thatched wavy, black hair combed over his forehead not so much for effect but for immediacy. All of his weight leaned to the left side, his body curved towards the door. Alec marveled at his brother's feral beauty.
"Long time no see," Tania said.
Daedalus had never returned his letters. Alec had hoped he was still alive, and now he had his proof. "Good G.o.d!"
Daedalus merely smiled, lowered his head, and silently loaded two guns. "I hear you've been having problems with these jerks."
He was efficient with guns as well. In less then five seconds, they were both fully loaded. They were no ordinary guns. Bullets never slowed vampires down.
"Two of the newest members of the Haemo High Council are being held here," Tania whispered. "Upstairs in cages- probably starved to near death. Those a.s.s-"
Alec cut his wife off. "Women should not curse."
Daedalus shook his head and sighed in a lazy, irritated tone. "You two should have security to handle this." With one powerful kick, the doors burst open. Gunshots rang over their heads.
The Jacquerie scattered like mice running from the exterminator. Daedalus ran towards them firing at anything that moved with deadly accuracy.
Alec swung his sword. Heads rolled.
Tania jabbed, puncturing bodies.
Alec caught sight of Daedalus' blur running up the stairs. He followed, willing to take a back seat to watch Daedalus in action.
Alec? Watch your step. The floors are fragile.
Startled Alec stepped back but not because of the floor. It was difficult for any vampire to communicate with him telepathically without him opening a pathway for them. Daedalus had breezed through his defenses as if he blithely walked through an open door.
They're in here. Doors locked.
Daedalus put his gun in the holster then unsheathed his sword.
Ready?
Always.
Daedalus kicked the double doors open. Two thugs ran towards him swinging swords. Daedalus sheathed his sword, produced six silver round star-like discs and tossed them at the thugs. They went down, bleeding out.
Tania came up behind him, ran to the hostages. They were in cages. Their eyes were sunk in-hollowed with pinpoints of light in the middle and their skin yellowed-starved of blood. Tania grasped the lock of one cage and bent it, breaking it in two. She did the same with the other. "The three of us will have to donate blood."
Daedalus walked forward making a gash in the inside of his palm. "I hope they won't mind getting furry," he said.
BOOK ONE
Chapter One
A year later or there abouts...
Ilida Davis loved and hated these moments. Teenagers came here sad, addicted and lacking something to help them through life's obstacles. At Tilly Drug and Substance Abuse Rehabilitation House or Tilly House, where she worked, it was her job to help them pick up the pieces and give them the skills to beat their addictions. Every sixteen weeks she and the other therapists talked, played, counseled the kids and their families, and then let them go back into the frightening world to be tested.
It was necessary, but in that short time she bonded with them and it hurt to see them leave, as it did now. Ilida's exit session with Becca, a s.p.u.n.ky young Jewish woman, had just timed out. Her parents were waiting and Ilida wanted to escort her to them.
In her orange, goose-down jacket, Becca fought back tears.
Ilida held hers in as long as possible but ultimately the river flowed. "Oh s.h.i.+t! Becca, you're going to make me cry and I have my period."
The teenager's hazel eyes glazed over with flooded tears as she laughed. Ilida rushed over to hug her. .Long, thick, brown ringlets enveloped her.
"You're going to do well," Ilida sniffed. "You'll finish the twelfth grade. So what?" She waved her hand dismissively. "You're graduating later than your friends. Big freakin' deal! Remember, they influenced you to get on drugs in the first place, so make new, positive friends. You have your whole life ahead of you now." Ilida blew then wiped her nose. She handed Becca tissues.
Then Ilida gave her the whole box. "Oh, here."
"Ilida, you keep doing that," Becca said smoothing her hair back.
"Doing what?"
"You're like my mom or something always taking care of me. I'm going to miss you the most."
She handed Ilida back the box of tissues. Ilida pulled more tissues out and blew her nose, then placed the box on her desk, knocking over her name plaque.
"I'm going to miss you, too. Remember, if you have any problems, call me. And you'll be back, not to do this all over again, but as a counselor one day."
Her eyes were wide with fear and excitement. Ilida placed the fire back in her bones. Yes, the teenager was determined to make it and she would. But the young woman, soon to be former rehab resident, was still scared.
Ilida held her at arms length. She wasn't supposed to go this far. This wasn't ethical but Becca, like all the others, deserved a chance to live drug free. Just to live free was a privilege. The power was still there even if Ilida was lax in using it. "Listen to me. You will succeed won't you?"
Ilida's heartbeat matched the rhythm of Becca's. Her eyes glazed over. It was a subtle change. Something meant to work on the subconscious level and effective. "Won't you, Becca?" she pressed.
"Yes," Becca said in a monosyllabic tone.
"Now let's go to your parents."
Ilida released the hold on her mind. The teenager blinked then swayed on her feet.
"Whoa, Becca?"
"I'm okay. Got a little dizzy there."
"It's all the excitement. Come on. Your folks are waiting."
Ugh! The sunlight. The backs of her eyes ached. She squinted to block the light. It was just the device to kick her headaches into gear. Becca ran to her parents. They embraced her warmly. Becca's mother mouthed a thank you. Ilida smiled back at her, happy that she could help Becca. They were waiting by their car, so were some of the friends Becca made at Tilly House and the other counselors, including Beverly.
Ilida stood back watching Becca for any residual signs of the hypnotizing--none where there. She hadn't lost all of her powers at least.
She smirked derisively. She wanted to lose them. Lose the powers, lose the headaches, gain normalcy. Oh, to not be a freak! Even then, the pain began to advance to the stage like an imperious actor who knows his craft and can't wait to show it off. She felt movement beside her.
"Where's your coat?" Beverly whispered so that only she would hear.
Beverly was an expert recreational therapist and requisite busybody but only when it came to Ilida's life. Since college Beverly had appointed herself Ilida's s.e.x counselor, slash dating guru, slash, underscore, mother.
"I left my coat in the office."
Beverly took the mother thing seriously. She regarded her with squinty eyes and one side of her mouth turned up. "You're going to catch a cold."
"I've never had a cold in my life." It was true she'd never been sick with the cold or flu-never missed a day of school or work. Was it another sign that she wasn't like everyone else? Or was she merely blessed with a powerful immune system?
"Sometimes you can be a strange chick."
Most of the time, she didn't want to hear that. "Gee, thanks a lot, Beverly."
Becca got into the car with her parents. The counselors and the remaining residents ran back into Tilly where it was warm. Ilida watched the car turn the corner and drive away. Her heart was happy but also filled with sadness knowing she would miss Becca. She rubbed her arms, feeling the cold now, and ran in behind the residents.
She hurried to her office and closed the door. She had three window shades to lower. As she approached the first window shade, she sensed her over-protective roommate coming closer. She recognized the blurred image behind the window of her door.
"Ilida?"
"Headache." She hoped Beverly would leave her alone, but that wasn't Beverly's style.
The door opened and Beverly stuck her head in. You could see her curtain of relaxed ringlets before her face. "When are you going to get checked out?"
"I will soon." Her doctor, her father, would only order a battery of tests for her then he would catch onto why she was having headaches. Franklyn Davis would have no mention of psychic powers, not when it came to his daughter. That part of her made her father uncomfortable. After growing up under the "medicine is logical, paranormal is illogical and creepy" umbrella, she tended to shy away from her psychic powers.
"You told me soon last week, too."
"Okay, I know. I just need to rest my head."
And that wasn't enough for Beverly. She crossed her arms, obviously unconvinced "Oh my G.o.d! Please, Beverly." Ilida could hear Beverly's spiked heel boots tap the carpeted floor once, twice then she stepped back into the hallway and closed the door behind her.
Her shoulders relaxed. Man alive! Thank you! She pulled the remaining shades down; sat behind her desk and let her head drop. Folders and papers littered her desk, but she didn't care. Nothing mattered when her head split open like this.