Chasing Shadows(32)

“Just tell him it’s a business expense,” Lochlan said at last. “He’s the one who wants you to track down Vivian Drake’s source, right? Tell him you recruited me to help, and I found a lead that requires a trip to Ireland because the contact will only speak to us in person.”

“Then why can’t you ask him and I just meet you at the airport?”

This time Lochlan growled. “Saphrona, you are hopeless. This feud between you cannot go on forever, damn it,” he said.

“Technically it can,” I countered. After a moment of silence from his end, I sighed resignedly. “I… I appreciate the suggestion, Lochlan. It would make things go faster, but I’ll pass. We’ll just have to take the next earliest flight to Ireland, even if it’s a day or two from now. It’s fine.”

Another moment of silence passed, and then, “Don’t. I’ll ask him.”

And then he hung up.

“Shit,” I mumbled, absently handing the phone to Mark so he could hang it up. He did that, and then raised a hand to rub my back soothingly.

“What is it, Saphrona?”

I crossed my arms over my knees and laid my forehead on them. “One of Lochlan’s contacts knows of a psychic in Ireland who may be able to give us some answers. Getting a commercial flight on this short a notice might take some time—days, even. He…he actually suggested I ask Diarmid for the use of his plane.”

“Your father has his own plane?” Mark queried, and I nodded. “Well, I do see the practicality in asking him, but honey, I’m on your side with this. If you don’t feel comfortable asking him, don’t do it. If we have to wait a couple of days to get there, then we wait a couple of days. It will make it easier for you to arrange for someone to come and take care of the animals while we’re gone.”

I turned my head so I could look at him. “Lochlan said he would ask,” I mumbled, and as if on cue, the phone rang again.

Mark reached over and picked it up. After the customary “Hello” he nodded a few times, said “Uh huh” a few, and then hung up.

“Lochlan said the plane will be ready for us within the hour, and he’ll meet us at the airport,” he told me.

That was fast, I thought as I sat up straighter. “He actually did it? Got Diarmid to lend us the use of his precious Gulfstream?” I wondered incredulously.

“Apparently,” Mark said with a shrug, reaching over to switch on the bedside lamp before getting out of bed. “I’m gonna let Juliette know as soon as I’m dressed. More than likely she’ll want to come with us.”

At the mention of his sister, I smiled for the first time. “No doubt,” I agreed, turning in the bed so that I was facing the side he had slept on. “As protective of you as she is, I would fear her squirrely wrath upon our return were we to take off without at least telling her of our intentions.”

“Squirrely wrath?” Mark queried with a laugh, as he rummaged through one of his boxes for clean clothes.

I chuckled. “When we get back I’ll introduce you to my pal Foamy the Squirrel,” I said, reaching for the phone.

After apologizing profusely for waking him when I called, I reported to my nearest neighbor, Harry Mitchell, that I had to leave town for a family emergency, and could he have his boys come take care of the animals for me, as they had done before? It was an arrangement he and I had made some time ago, since we were on friendly terms and I worked my farm alone. He was especially grateful to me that the pig I’d sold him two years ago had won first place at the county fair, and second at the state fair livestock show.

Thanking Harry and hanging up, I rose and gathered my own clothes, laying them out on the bed before heading for the bathroom to shower. Mark, noticing what I was doing, followed me, and of course we were unable to resist a repeat of yesterday’s bathing exercises. When we exited the shower half an hour later, both of us clean and refreshed and limbered from the sex, he was slightly woozy from the loss of blood he had allowed me to drink, and I felt fantastically energized.

“We should get going,” Mark said when we got downstairs and I began to gather things to make breakfast.

I shook my head. “Mark, the fact that you are okay with me taking a drink from you at all still amazes me, as does my ability to control myself to keep from taking too much. Because you do that, because you take care of me that way and trust me that much, I’m going to take care of you this way. You’ll replace the blood faster if you eat something.”

“I feel fine,” he said stubbornly. “Loch said—”

“That plane isn’t going to go anywhere without us,” I said. “I’m fairly certain my brother will understand the need for sustenance on your part.”

“Fine. I’ll go and get Juliette,” he said, then walked out the back door.

I sighed, then went downstairs to the basement, where my deep freezer was. Although what I had drank from Mark would keep me up and buzzing for hours yet, I nevertheless wanted to keep myself in the habit of drinking animal blood—it wouldn’t be right for me to depend solely on Mark for that portion of my diet. When I was back upstairs with a bottle of frozen cow’s blood in my hand, he and Juliette had come in. She informed me as I put the bottle in the refrigerator that after Mark had told her where we were going, she’d taken it upon herself to call for some backup.

“Backup?” I queried with one eyebrow raised.

Juliette nodded. “Yup. One of my packmates will be meeting us at the airport to act as extra security for Mark.”

Mark groaned and I looked over at him. “Jules, I hardly think that’s necessary. It’s just going to be the three of us and Lochlan,” he told her.

“Going to see some psychic who is the consort of vampires,” she said pointedly.

“You don’t know that.”

She gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Mark, who was it that told you about this person? A vampire. Who told him? Another vampire. Which leads me to conclude that our contact in Ireland is the same or yet another vampire.”

“Didn’t we already agree that the vampire community finding out about me was inevitable? Hell, that guy at the theater’s probably already told all his friends that he ran into a delectable morsel he nearly had a taste of.”

“And now wants to kill,” she added. “Until such time as we can be sure they all understand you are off limits, I’m not taking any chances.”

“Far be it for me to act paranoid, hon,” I said as we finished preparing another meal of bacon, eggs and toast and sat at the table to eat it, “Juliette has a point. There’s also the chance that my father’s flight team are vampires. It really is best to be cautious, especially when it comes to anyone associated with Diarmid Mackenna.”



*****



At twenty past five in the morning, I pulled my Ford Explorer SportTrac to a stop next to the private hanger owned by the Mackenna Corporation, where Diarmid’s biggest extravagance, a Gulfstream G650, was already waiting for us outside, fueled and ready to go. Lochlan came out of the open cabin and hurried down the steps as a hefty-looking fellow I instantly knew to be a shapeshifter emerged from the Jeep I had parked next to, and as Mark, Juliette, and I got out of my truck, they both approached, eyeing each other warily.

Juliette quickly introduced us to Jake Anderson, whose animal form, he informed us with a smile, was the Alaskan Malamute. I introduced Lochlan to Jake and started for the plane.

Lochlan grabbed my arm. “Sis, I came out here to warn you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

“Let me guess, the crew are all vampires?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Actually, no, not for a trans-Atlantic flight, but… Saph, I swear I tried to talk him out of it.”

As he spoke, a figure appeared in the open hatchway of the plane, and I felt my spine stiffen for the second time that morning.





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Eleven





Diarmid Mackenna, dressed as always in a crisp, custom-tailored—and no doubt outrageously expensive—Italian suit, descended the steps of his plane slowly, his gaze never wavering from the five of us. As he came closer, I was not blind to the widening of his eyes nor the flare of his nostrils. Whether he was reacting to the presence of the shapeshifters, Mark’s scent—or both—I could not tell. His expression, as always, was a calculated and unreadable mask.

He stepped directly up to me and placed his hands on my shoulders, kissing first my left cheek and then my right, as if there were not a hundred eighty-four years of discord between us.

“My darling Mida,” he said lightly as he stepped back, his eyes roaming over my companions. “I am so pleased you have consented to undertake this task for me. Will you not introduce me to your friends?”

It took some willpower, but I did not protest his use of the nickname he had given me long ago. His enormous ego had led him to naming me after himself when I was born—my birth name was Diarmida, and he had for the first fifty years of my life addressed me affectionately as Mida. Despite the fact that I had changed my name when I left (after searching for a new name, I found Saphrona on a census listing and adopted my mother’s name, Clare Percy, to go along with it) I could not break him of the habit no matter how hard I tried. In this situation, for the sake of maintaining peace, I left it alone.