Mystic's Run
Chapter Twelve

"This is worse than we thought," Syndelle said as she studied the information on Rafael's computer screen.
Rafe gave a low whistle. "Born in Vegas, grew up in Vegas, supposedly died and was buried in Vegas the first time, but lived as a vampire in Vegas. Could anything be more wrong with that picture?"
Skye leaned forward though she had to battle the beanbag chairs Rafe favored as furniture in order to do it. "Any way to find out how Todd Moore became a vampire?" She glanced at Syndelle. "If you handled the bones, would you be able to read anything from them?"
Rafe snickered and let out a mock werewolf howl which earned him a quick nip on his bare shoulder from his mate and a disgusted look from Skye. How do you stand it? Skye asked her sister-again.
Syndelle pressed a kiss to the fading mark on Rafe's shoulder. Because as you've seen, he has his uses. And one of them is he makes me laugh.
"I am sitting right here between the two of you," Rafe grumbled, though he struggled to keep the amusement out of his voice. He added for Syndelle alone, Laughter isn't the only sound I can coax from you.
Syndelle rubbed her cheek against his arm and fought against the need to crawl into his lap for greater physical contact. She said, "There has to be blood in order for me to know anything about the vampire. There wouldn't be a trace of it where Mystic and the others found him, not the way he died." She frowned for an instant then grew animated. "But if we found the blade used to stop his heart and make him helpless so he could be moved to the hunt site, there might be enough blood to read his history."
"We?" They all jumped at the purring menace in Brann's unexpected voice.
"Shit!" Rafe said, shooting Syndelle a look of mock reproach.
Syndelle laughed and got to her feet. "That's the trouble with the truly ancient and extremely powerful vampires. They can be impossible to detect, though why one of them, a creature known far and wide as the council's executioner, would choose to skulk around in his own heavily warded estate and sneak up on his companions and their guest is a question I'd like to have answered." She got to Brann and wound her arms around his neck.
He bent his head and kissed her thoroughly before saying, "Perhaps this ancient has learned only too well that his companions can't be completely trusted to either obey his rules or stay out of danger. What trouble has my unanticipated arrival kept you and Rafe out of?"
Syndelle led him back to where they were gathered around Rafe's computer. Brann settled on the carpet with Syndelle on his lap though he leaned over and gave Rafael a kiss as thorough as the one he'd given her.
Because they all shared a mental pathway it was easy to transfer information to Brann. When he was in possession of the facts, he said, "Let me see the dead vampire's picture."
Rafe clicked a file where the image on the driver's license was stored, along with others gathered from a blog. With a thought Brann reached out to Gian and Skye grimaced with the realization it'd probably been too much to hope for that her mates wouldn't find out about this visit.
Brann's eyes flashed with both amusement and triumph. His arm tightened on Syndelle possessively.
Happiness poured into Skye that he was Syndelle's mate. If anyone could keep her sister safe, it was Brann.
Skye found herself smiling despite the flare of irritation she felt along the bond with Gian. Even without the tattoo of an Angelini hunter and the added magic that came with it, Skye was supremely confident in her abilities to fight and survive. She'd been tested by a horror-filled childhood. She had tested herself as an adult by becoming a finder of missing people and a hunter of dangerous criminals. Her life had prepared her for the violent deadly indoctrination into a supernatural world she'd never guessed existed.
She knew a lot more now than she had before Syndelle's arrival. She would know even more when their parents and brothers arrived in Vegas. Even so, Skye believed she could hold her own against almost all of the threats she was likely to encounter-except for Brann. Since entering the realm of the supernatural he was the only being she'd confronted who had the power to truly scare her.
Keep that thought in mind and perhaps you'll avoid bringing my sire's wrath down on us both, Gian said along their private link. Only the fact Brann is not completely in control of his own Coronado Angelini has saved me from yet another of his lectures. We will discuss your visit to Syndelle when you get back home. The last was a silky purr probably meant as a threat but underneath Gian's words Skye felt the potent need for sex.
Her smile widened. If he wanted to regain his sense of control by fucking her into submission, she was game. But first she wanted to make a little more progress in hunting down the origins of the dead vampire.
Skye turned her attention back to the others and forced her expression not to reveal anything as she asked, "So should we hit WyldFyres and see if anyone knows anything about our dead vamp?"
A small shiver rippled through Syndelle at the mention of the vampire club where she'd fought for her life. She knew her sister was joking, or at least she hoped Skye was.
WyldFyres was a place where vampires went to feed and fuck their slaves and companions while in the company of other vampires. It was a private club that catered to a variety of tastes in a never-ending celebration of the lusts and sins to be found in Las Vegas.
Brann hissed. His arms tightened around Syndelle.
"WyldFyres is out. For all of us," Syndelle said, interlacing her fingers with Brann's and sifting subtly so her buttocks rubbed against his erection in a move that was both distraction and supplication.
He bent his head to press a kiss against her neck before also letting her feel the touch of fangs. You are not going anywhere, Syndelle.
Have I said I was? This time her shiver was one of need. Across from her, Skye's eyebrows drew together. "Do vampires keep records like the Angelini do?"
Syndelle shook her head. "No. Blood calls to blood. Vampires can tell if they are near someone of their line, or to a lesser extent, someone their sire or dam is aligned with through the sharing of blood. One of the most sacred and powerful bonds, beside the companion bond, is the bond between a vampire and his or her 'created' children." She frowned. "Fledglings are dangerous to all of us. They are more like rabid animals at first, though some gain control of the hunger more quickly than others.
"One of the first rules is that a fledgling must avoid places where they would be recognized by humans who know they are dead. It also serves to keep them from being tempted to change their family and friends into vampires. Rafael is right. Todd Moore being in Vegas is wrong on many levels. A vampire can be sanctioned and destroyed for creating a fledgling and then not instructing and caring for it. And if the fledgling 'child' can't be controlled, then it's the responsibility of the parent to destroy it. If the parent fails, then it falls to the one who created him or her, not only to destroy the fledgling, but to pass judgment on the one they created. If not dealt with quickly, then it becomes a matter for the vampire council or the Angelini."
Rafael moved so he was partially sprawled across Syndelle's lap. She smiled and stroked his chest. Brann's hand followed hers though it settled on Rafe's belly, only inches away from where his erection pressed boldly against the front of his pants.
"Trust me on this," Rafael said, "even the craziest of the vampires don't want to draw the attention of either the council or the Angelini. Most of them would kill a centuries-old firstborn in a heartbeat if that's what it took to avoid being punished."
Skye's stomach twisted, remembering her own shocking introduction to the reality of vampires and to the witch who was creating fledglings from black magic-a magic that it had taken Brann and several other vampires to counter. "Do you think this guy might have been created by the witch? Is it possible we missed one of her fledglings?"
Brann's thumb stroked idly over Rafe's stomach. Rafael hesitated for only a few seconds before saying, "No. I traced every thread and weeded through hundreds of blogs and chat rooms. We got them all. You saw the coffins, Skye. You saw the bodies. The witch liked to keep her children close and the fledglings weren't strong enough to create others like them. We accounted for them all."
A chime sounded throughout the house. Rafe grunted and rolled to a sitting position. He grinned at Skye. "Is this one of your mates coming to collect you?"
Syndelle said, "It's Roman."
Skye felt it then, the humming in her veins, blood recognizing blood.
Rafe rose to his feet. "I'll meet him at the door." He quirked an eyebrow at Brann. "I assume you intend to let him through the wards. After all, there's no reason for him to strip in front of Syndelle again."
Skye choked back a laugh at Brann's expression. She couldn't stop herself from saying, "I wish I could have been here for that. Is Roman as gorgeous without clothes as he is in them?"
Syndelle's eyes danced with amusement. "He's worthy of starring in any number of fantasies."
Brann hissed in response and lowered his face. Syndelle jerked when his fangs sank into her neck. Her eyelids lowered and her body went soft.
Skye looked away from the intimacy. She was too new to the world of vampires and Angelini to feel completely comfortable with how quickly teasing or arguing or even simple conversation could be set aside for lovemaking. Sex between strangers she could watch without batting an eye, but this...
Rafael snorted and managed a parting shot before leaving the room. "Better get used to it."
* * * * *
The telephone next to the bed rang. Hawk growled low in his throat but he didn't intercept Mystic's hand when she reached for it.
It was Gabe. "Let me speak to Hawk."
Mystic was torn between aggravation and amusement. She shook her head and passed the phone. No doubt it was both a man-thing and a wolf-thing. Apparently years of being close friends didn't entitle her to hearing things firsthand, not when there was a take-charge alpha available.
"Stay there," Hawk said to Gabe. "If they leave, try for a license plate. Follow them if you can but don't split up and leave Gabrielle vulnerable. Mystic and I are on the way."
Hawk rose onto an elbow. He dropped the receiver back into its cradle before giving Mystic a quick, fierce kiss and rolling out of bed. "Let's go."
"Where?" Mystic asked, scrambling after him and wishing she had her suitcase and the fresh clothing it contained.
"A place called Bangers. It's a strip club. Gabe says a couple of Weres are there and they seem off to him. He's betting they're the ones we're hunting."
Mystic shimmied into her jeans and grimaced at the feel of fabric against her ass. She didn't know how guys could stand to go commando when the thought of catching her pubic hair in the zipper made her cringe.
Hawk's low growl stopped her when she reached for one of Christian's shirts. "Wear mine," he said.
She didn't argue though she did roll her eyes. She was definitely going to get her suitcase from the hotel room tonight before they came back here. Otherwise she'd end up walking around naked when one of her other mates got home and growled at her to take off Hawk's shirt.
They left the house a few minutes later. Mystic sighed in relief when she spotted her suitcase in the backseat of Hawk's car. She was tempted to rush back into the house and change clothes. She got in the car instead, though she couldn't hold back a laugh as she thought about her mother.
Was it really any wonder her mother didn't hurry to engage in a hunt? Estelle was a slave to fashion, or more accurately it was a slave to her. Human, vampire, even the occasional Were were all quick to copy whatever style her mother adopted.
Mystic grinned. At least she'd managed to suppress the urge to delay them by going in to change and put on makeup. This was an important hunt after all. This was her chance to prove herself.
Hawk chuckled. "I think I'll like your mother. But you have nothing to prove, Mystic. I believe I speak for all of your mates when I say we would be happy if you never wore the tattoo of a hunter. Between Christian, Roman and me, there is no need for you to bloody your hands. Your battles will fall to us."
"I need to be able to fight my own battles," she said, her heart rate speeding up as she looked out the window and put a thin shield between her mind and Hawk's.
He growled in acknowledgement of the barrier but didn't push against it. She placed her hand on his thigh, grateful he could accept her need for privacy.
For most of her life she'd been able to put aside thoughts of becoming a hunter. The few times when she'd mentioned her lack of training to her parents, they'd shrugged it aside and said there was still plenty of time to prepare her, and besides, there were plenty of hunters. Why rush to do something none of them was looking forward to doing?
She hadn't argued. She wasn't in any great hurry to kill. She was too much her parents' daughter. They liked parties and entertaining. They encouraged her interest in music and she found it far more pleasurable to spend hours on the piano bench than to learn how to sneak up on someone so she could drive a knife through their heart.
Her stomach turned as she remembered the last summer she'd spent completely in her grandparents' care as a child. At her grandmother's orders she'd been taken into the woods with her uncles, aunts and cousins. They'd spent some time in human form-enough of it anyway to give her orders, instructions, and then tell her what she was doing wrong at the end of each day-but most of their time had been spent furred. If she wanted to eat, then she had to forage for herself because by the time the pack finished with anything they killed, there wasn't even enough left to make stew out of, much less roast over a campfire.
It had been the longest, most agonizing summer of her life. She'd gotten so hungry that eventually she'd tried sneaking up on herd of deer with the intention of driving the blade she'd been given into one of them and killing it-which was the whole point of her grandmother's order to begin with, but she'd failed. Even now Mystic wasn't sure she could have done it.
She saw Hawk out of the corner of her eye and lifted her chin in resolve. That was then, this is now. The Angelini were hunters. It was their purpose and their destiny. She believed Hawk when he said he didn't care whether she had a hunter's tattoo or not, but the truth was that it would matter in the future. Her failure would reflect on their pack and on their children.
Among the Angelini there were plenty who couldn't shift form. But only the young or inexperienced were without the winged-tattoo signifying they had taken their rightful place in their world. For the Angelini, you became a hunter or you died trying. In fact, most were hunters before the magic rose inside them to claim mates.
Mystic frowned as that thought came to her. Her eyebrows drew together as she paged through all the names and family lines she'd memorized over the course of her life. Had the magic chosen mates for any of them before they'd proven themselves worthy? A couple of them maybe, early on, but not among those in her own generation or in her mother's generation.
The car stopped at a red light. Hawk covered her hand with his and the feel of his calloused palms distracted her from her thoughts. She had no idea what he did for a living. She had no idea what businesses his pack managed and where he stood in the hierarchy. She'd been so busy running from him and hiding from the truth of what he was to her that she hadn't learned any of the details of his life.
She turned so she could study him and his eyebrow lifted in silent query. Mystic laughed, suddenly feeling on familiar ground. People watching and making guesses about strangers was a favorite pastime when she went out to dinner with her parents.
They made a game of it, and of course, it was easy enough to settle who was right. Falcone could capture a human's mind from across the room. Yorick was almost as powerful. Estelle needed to be closer, but if it was a man, she rarely needed to use her ability to hypnotize. Most would regale her with their life story just to hear her voice or feel her eyes on them-not that either of her fathers allowed her to linger with any other male, human or not.
Mystic's nipples tightened when Hawk took her hand to his mouth and stroked his tongue over her knuckles. "I am trying to respect your privacy but you are making it difficult with your mysterious smiles."
She laughed. "I'm just trying to make an educated guess about you."
"Ask and I'll tell you anything you want to know."
"Maybe I'd rather pretend you're a box of chocolates and unwrap you slowly," she teased.
His nostrils flared and she felt her cunt swell as the barrier between their minds wavered and fell under the shared fantasy of her undressing him and then leisurely exploring him with her lips and tongue.
Hawk placed her hand on his jeans-covered erection. He pressed it firmly against the thick ridge and her fingers curled around his cock. Lust pulsed between them in a fierce, rapid beat.
The car behind them honked. Hawk snarled and Mystic jumped in her seat. Heat rushed to her cheeks at how quickly she'd forgotten where they were and what they were doing. Her earlier thought returned. She was very much her parents' daughter. After decades of being together, her parents were still like human newlyweds on a honeymoon, sometimes to her great embarrassment.
Hawk shifted the car into gear. Mystic guessed, "Your pack owns a construction company."
He glanced sideways. A grin flashed across his features. "True. I work as a foreman when I'm needed and when my uncle can spare me."
"So it's not your main job."
Hawk brought her hand to his lips again and for a second time explored her knuckles with his tongue. "There should be a penalty for a wrong guess and a reward for a correct one."
Mystic's womb fluttered. She had the feeling that whatever he had in mind, she'd enjoy paying the penalty or gaining the reward.
"When I play this game with my parents, the loser ends up doing some of the winner's house and yard chores," she teased.
Hawk's eyebrows lifted. "You don't have blood servants or hired help?"
"No blood servants. My parents don't want the responsibility. No blood slaves. My mother doesn't approve of it. My fathers don't care for the practice either. Plus all three of them value their privacy over the inconvenience of doing chores. And besides, they have me." She laughed. "They like to disguise the fact I'm often cook, housekeeper and yard person behind the convenient excuse they're training me to manage a home of my own."
Hawk growled in response to her comment. A scowl settled on his features as waves of outrage on her behalf washed down the bond.
Mystic squeezed his hand. "I wouldn't trade my parents for any others. If you'll check my memories, you'll see that while it might feel as though I am the one most often stuck with the chores, the truth is we have always worked together as a family."
Hawk placed her hand back on his thigh and left it covered with his own. Without warning he said, "It would be difficult for a newly sanctioned pack to carve a territory out near your parents' home."
Surprised rippled through Mystic, followed by the realization she should have known he'd consider what taking her as a mate might entail. Hawk had never made any secret of his intention to form a pack of his own rather than try to take over an existing one.
"From the first moment I saw you, I knew you belonged to me," he said. "I made discreet inquiries. The packs who claim the areas around and within an easy traveling distance from your parents are strong. Most of them are barely on speaking terms with the wolves the Renaldis consider allies. And beyond that, I'd rather start a pack from nothing than to gain one through challenge.
Mystic laughed and stroked his inner thigh with her fingertips. "It's not an accident my parents settled where they did. It's kept them free from the worst of pack politics since they screen their calls and most of my Were relatives are loath to ask for permission to enter what they consider hostile territory on the off chance they can involve Estelle in their power plays."
She leaned forward and nipped Hawk's neck then soothed the spot with her tongue. "I'm not ready to decide on a place to live yet. Let's finish this hunt first and get to know each other better. There are four of us to consider, not just two."
His lip curled and a small snarl escaped but Mystic could feel his willingness to put the discussion aside as Bangers came into sight.