Читать книгу Wolf Undaunted - Shannon Curtis - Страница 14

Chapter 6

Zane watched as Hunter lifted the unconscious Vivianne onto a gurney that Ryder had wheeled in. He couldn’t help but be impressed with how quickly and smoothly Vivianne had been knocked out. Hunter had easily bypassed Vivianne’s natural mental defenses, no small feat when dealing with a vampire prime.

“I’ll take her to my rooms for a scan,” Hunter told his brother. “She’s got auditory hallucinations, but what we saw doesn’t quite gel with a normal PTSD diagnosis.”

“Schizophrenia?”

Hunter shrugged. “I don’t think so. She displayed ordered thinking and behavior, apart from the occasional side trip to Crazyville.”

Ryder nodded as he reached for the phone. “I’m calling Dave in. He was the one to put her into the stasis. He was also there when she came to. He might have something to offer.”

Zane drifted along, watchful carefully as the older Galen brother, Hunter, rolled Vivianne’s gurney into a well-lit room. A massive hearth took up almost one entire wall of the room. Hunter snapped his fingers, and a fire flickered to life. Zane’s eyebrows rose. Wow. He’d remembered some of the old tales of light warriors, of how they could harness the power of light and fashion it into weapons, or for healing. He never thought he’d see a light warrior in action, though, and settled back to watch.

His gaze slid to Vivianne. She looked relaxed, but he wasn’t fooled. She’d wake up spitting venom when she realized she’d been rendered unconscious so easily. His brow dipped when he thought about her words back in Ryder’s office.

She thought she was going crazy.

He was driving her nuts. The sentiment should have given him some satisfaction, but for once he felt no triumph in causing pain or discomfort to a vampire. To drive a woman to despair—well, that was just one more hit to his ego around this woman. Still, he never wanted to make a woman feel miserable in his presence. It didn’t sit well with him. He shifted. Guilt was not a comfortable coat to wear.

Hunter stood at Vivianne’s feet, gently clasping her ankles, then closed his eyes. Zane leaned back against the wall, arms folded, and watched.

Tendrils of light swirled and ebbed from the fire, arcing toward Hunter, as though attracted by a magnetic field. Zane frowned. It was light, though, not flame, that danced across the room to skim and flit across his skin, to eventually snake around his wrists, and flow on to Vivianne’s ankles. There was no singeing of hair, or blistering of skin. It was...remarkable.

Her body twitched, and Zane straightened. Was Galen hurting her? He strolled forward, eyeing her face, but her features remained calm, relaxed. The light danced along her legs, up over her hips and across her torso. The tendrils gathered close, and became a glowing orb around her body.

Zane didn’t understand how the examination worked, but could only assume Hunter was working his way along Vivianne’s body as the light changed in color in a slow wash drifting up over her form. It took several minutes, but eventually the orb positioned around Vivianne’s head. Hunter frowned, and released her ankles at the same time that Ryder opened the door and stepped into the room.

A man followed him, and it took Zane a moment to recognize him. The man wore black boots, black motorcycle leathers and a black T-shirt beneath the leather jacket. His eyes were shielded behind a pair of dark sunglasses, his dark sandy hair cropped short, as was the beard dusting his jawline. Dave...Carter. The name came to him through a fog. He had a murky recollection of meeting the man, but the details were a little hazy.

“Dave.” Hunter greeted him as he strode along the gurney to Vivianne’s head. He gently threaded his fingers through her hair, and for the briefest moment, jealousy flared within Zane at his familiarity with the woman on the table.

“Hunter.” Dave nodded. He frowned when he saw the woman on the gurney. “Vivianne Marchetta, huh? What’s wrong with her?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Hunter said quietly, then closed his eyes once more. A golden glow enveloped Vivianne’s head, bathing her face in a warm light. She looked...beautiful. Zane frowned. He didn’t understand this softening toward her. In the period he’d been with her, he’d seen her feed—and hunt. He’d seen her rule the boardroom with glacial control, and hatch plans for the annihilation of the werewolf breed. Everything a vampire did—the cold, emotionless, self-serving nature of the breed—was repellant to the loyal, family-bonded lycan, and yet every now and then he was caught by an unexpected, inexplicable thawing toward her, a...concern for her that was about as comfortable as mange skin scrapings. Maybe it was a side effect of death. Did death have side effects? Could one of them be abandoning your principles in favor of a pretty face? Well, okay, she had a beautiful face. Damn it, did death result in falling for seductive, destructive charm?

“What the...?” Hunter frowned, and tilted his head. He raised a hand, and a tendril of undulating light stretched between Vivianne and Zane.

“What is it? Did you find something?” Ryder asked, leaning forward, his expression curious.

“Not sure.” Hunter opened his eyes, gazing blankly at his brother. “I can feel something in her mind, but I can’t get past the darkness.”

Zane’s eyebrows rose. “I’m ‘the darkness’?” Could they not see the ribbon of light? He’d hoped he would be illuminated also, but the two light warriors were oblivious to his presence.

“Is it a tumor?” Ryder asked.

Zane rolled his eyes. “I am not a tumor.”

Hunter shook his head. “It doesn’t feel like a tumor.”

“That’s because I am not a tumor.”

Ryder turned to Dave. “Could this have something to do with your spell?”

Dave’s lips twisted. “My spells are not carcinogenic.”

Zane glanced at the man. Spells? Dave was a witch?

Ryder shot the biker an exasperated look. “Seriously, Dave. What do you think?”

Dave shrugged. “Beats me.”

“It was your spell,” Ryder pointed out.

“Believe it or not, I’ve never actually prevented a lycan’s bite from killing a vampire, before,” Dave muttered. “This is new territory for all of us.” He stepped closer to the gurney, and Zane approached from the other side. “So, she said she was having hallucinations?”

“I’m not a hallucination, damn it,” Zane growled. It was so damn frustrating, watching them try to figure him out. He wished they could see him, hear him. Maybe even help him. Did he need to pass on? Is that what the problem was? He’d had to accept that he no longer had a tangible form, that he was no longer...living. That sucked. Big-time. What he wouldn’t give to offer Vivianne’s brother a little payback. But if he had to pass on, why wasn’t it happening? Why was he still hanging around?

And although it was every werewolf’s ultimate fantasy to drive a vampire nuts, the notion that Vivianne thought she was going a little batcrap crazy because she could see him when nobody else could—well, it made him feel a little guilty. He wasn’t a figment of her imagination. He was real. Well, as real as a ghost could be. Vivianne was a strong woman, vivacious, clever, confident. Regardless of whether she was vamp or lycan, no guy wanted any woman in his orbit to feel “less” because of her dealings with him. That didn’t make you a man, it made you a bully. Sure, he’d take on a vamp, male or female. But he’d do it face on, in a fair fight. He’d seen Vivianne in action enough times to know she was nobody’s “girl,” that she could defend herself in a fistfight just as well as a war of words. Hell, his own alpha prime was a woman. One of the attributes of a vampire was their physical strength, and he’d fought against a number of them. But he was always brought up to respect women, and to protect those around you. Making a woman doubt herself, or scared to tell the truth because of how it might make her look, or fearing she’d lose her position because of her association with you didn’t make you a legend, it made you a douche.

And damn it, it was just one more thing to hate Lucien Marchetta for.

Dave reached for her hand, and Zane saw the tendril of light stretching between himself and Vivianne glow. Warmth encompassed him, and his frown matched Dave’s when he glanced up.

“Well, I’ll be...” Dave murmured.

“What?” Hunter asked.

“Who are you?”

Zane’s eyes widened as he realized Dave was speaking to him. “You can see me?” The witch’s lips quirked, and Zane wished he could see behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses.

“I see a lot of things...” Dave responded. He lifted his hand, and the tendril of light dimmed. Dave frowned, then touched Vivianne again, and the light ribbon glowed. “Interesting.”

“Who are you talking to?” Ryder asked, and Hunter squinted as he glanced around the room.

“Vivianne’s not hallucinating.”

Zane nodded. “Thank you. I’ve been trying to tell that to anyone who can hear me.”

“If it’s not hallucinations, or delusions, or a very creative imagination, then what are we dealing with?” Hunter asked, and folded his arms. The light in the room ebbed.

“She’s picked up a passenger.”

“What?” Ryder asked, perplexed.

“She’s haunted,” Dave explained.

Hunter started to stroll away from the gurney, looking into every shadow of the room. “As in a ghost?”

Dave tilted his head as he gazed at Zane. “I’m not sure...”

“Can you help me?” Zane asked Dave.

Dave shrugged, his own expression puzzled.

“So what do we do with a ghost?” Ryder asked.

“An exorcism?” Hunter asked.

Ryder turned to his brother. “Since when do we do exorcisms?”

“Hey, there’s a first time for everything. I’ve never had a patient haunted by a ghost before.”

“You want to experiment?” Ryder asked in disbelief.

“No,” Zane said, shaking his head.

“Hell, yeah,” Hunter said.

“And how do you think you’ll sell that to Vivianne Marchetta?” Ryder asked, gesturing to the still-unconscious woman.

Hunter grimaced. “Good point. She’s already going to be pissed when she wakes up...” He brightened. “So why not give her something she can be really pissed about?”

“No,” Zane repeated, louder.

“Exorcisms work on demons, not ghosts,” Dave interjected, then shrugged. “I think.”

“How do we know this is really a ghost, and not a demon?” Hunter asked.

Zane put his hands on his hips. “Oh, come on. First I’m a hallucination, then a tumor, and now I’m a demon? I take offence to that.”

Dave’s lips quirked, then he met Hunter’s gaze. “He’s not a demon. He’s offended by the suggestion.”

“He? Who’s he?” Ryder asked.

“Good question,” Dave said, and arched an eyebrow. “Who are you?”

Zane sighed. “My name is Zane Wilder.”

“Zane Wilder?” Dave repeated. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“The Alpine guardian?” Ryder asked. “Wasn’t that the name of the guardian Lucien Marchetta killed?”

Dave glanced between Vivianne and Zane. “Interesting.”

“Stop saying that,” Zane muttered.

“A lycan?” Hunter asked, then chuckled. “Oh, man, a lycan haunting a vampire. That’s gold.”

“How does that happen?” Ryder asked. He frowned as he turned to the witch. “Dave?”

Dave tilted his head as he thought about it, then shrugged. “Yeah, I’m drawing a blank.” He glanced over at Zane. “Did you have a thing for Vivianne?”

Zane frowned. “No.”

“I mean, before you died?”

“No.”

“Were you both in some sort of relationship?”

“Hell, no. I’d never even met her. She’s a vamp, for crying out loud.”

“Huh.”

“What’s he saying?” Ryder asked.

“Uh, no,” Dave told them. His frown deepened. “Does she have something of yours? Maybe it’s not the woman you’ve attached to, but an object that she holds...?”

“Nope.”

“Then, how are you attached?”

“If I knew that, I would be able to unattach and get out of here.”

Dave sighed gruffly, then nodded to Hunter. “Wake her up.”

Hunter grimaced, and gently pressed his fingers to her temples.

Zane watched as Vivianne’s eyelids fluttered, then her eyes opened. He saw confusion, perhaps tinged with a little fear, and then the anger flared.

* * *

She was on her back, staring up at a group of men, with no recollection of how she got in this position.

And it freaked the crap out of her.

Eyes sparking red, she bared her teeth, and she welcomed the sharp sting of her incisors lengthening.

She swung her legs off the gurney, landing lightly on her feet. She glared at Hunter, then Ryder, and she hissed when she noticed the tall, muscular man with the dark sunglasses.

Zane braced his hand against the gurney, and shot her an expectant look. Damn it, she could still see him. Yet, the reason she was here, the current bane of her life, was not a face that caused her fear. In fact, seeing Zane came with a soft dose of reassurance. God, wasn’t that all kinds of sad.

“What the hell did you do to me?” She rasped at Hunter, her fists clenched as she started to slowly advance on him. The last thing she remembered was him asking her if she was ready for tests, and then boom—blackout.

Hunter Galen held up his hands, but didn’t retreat from her. “Whoa, lady prime, relax. I had to get you to completely relax so I could scan your mind.”

Her eyes rounded. “You knocked me out?”

Hunter shrugged, and she couldn’t help but notice he was not remorseful in the slightest. How the hell did someone—anyone—knock out a vampire prime so quickly, and so damn easily?

She was nine hundred years old. She’d honed the compulsion skills to a fine art, and had built her defenses so strongly that not even her older father could crack her mental barriers.

And this light warrior had tapped her on the forehead, and she was out like a light.

What had he seen in her mind? What secrets had she revealed to him, exposed to him? Damn it, she felt compromised. Violated. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips pulled back to reveal her teeth.

He arched an eyebrow and held out his palm. A ball of liquid fire rolled and flared, hovering over his skin.

Vivianne flinched, springing away before she could control her reaction. Fire. One of nature’s weapons that a vampire couldn’t fight. And something that she feared beyond a reasonable self-preservation. Zane shifted in front of her, and the golden light dimmed a little.

“Hunter!” Ryder snapped. He flicked a spark that hit Hunter on his earlobe, and the light warrior jolted. The ball of fire dancing in his hand winked out.

Hunter frowned at his brother as he rubbed his ear. “Party pooper.”

Ryder shot him an exasperated glare, then turned to face Vivianne. “I know you’re pissed, but you want us to treat you, and this is the only way we can do it. Vampires, especially vampire primes, have natural shields that can prevent us from scanning, or even treating. You want to know why you’re seeing and hearing a lycan, this is how we figure it out.”

His words, uttered so calmly, so earnestly, gave her pause as the meaning sank in. “Did you?” she asked as she peered around Zane’s broad shoulders. “Figure it out?”

Ryder held up his hand, palm down, and dipped it side to side. “Sort of.”

Her shoulders sagged with disappointment. She could still see Zane. Hell, she was hiding behind the big lycan. She straightened her shoulders at that realization and stepped out to his side. She’d hoped Ryder would snap his fingers with an “Ah-hah!” and then follow it up with a temporary prescription to kill off her hallucinations. But now that there were two light warriors looking at her warily, a werewolf phantom who was still very much present, and a guy wearing motorcycle leathers and sunglasses—she frowned.

“Who are you?” she asked him. She’d seen him before, but couldn’t quite place him.

He pursed his lips. “Really? I’ve saved your life twice now.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“My name is Dave Carter, I’m the witch who put you under the suspension spell to stop the lycan toxin spreading your system. I’m also the witch who was there when you woke up, and fought with your brother to defend you against your father’s men.”

“You’re the one who put me in the coma?”

Dave gave her a courtly bow. “You’re welcome.”

“Then how do you explain him? Can you see him?” she asked, jerking her thumb in Zane’s direction. Zane frowned.

Dave shook his head. “I can only see him if I’m linked with you.”

Vivianne frowned. “Linked? What does that mean?”

“If I touch you, I can see him, hear him. If I’m not touching you, he’s gone.”

“He’s right here and can hear every damned word,” Zane growled.

Vivianne swallowed. He’d been touching her when she was unconscious. Her hands curled into fists, and Dave held up a finger.

“Don’t. I’m not a sleaze. For this, think of me like you would a doctor.”

“You’re not a doctor,” Ryder and Hunter chorused.

“A magical doctor. Whatever. What do you remember of the night you were bitten?”

The change of topic caught Vivianne off guard, and she blinked. “Uh, pain,” she said instinctively. Zane looked at her, an understanding in his eyes. He’d “visited” her last nightmare. He’d seen her memory on replay—although there were some bits that were more of a fantasy than a memory.

Oh, God, no. Not a fantasy. That would imply she’d wanted him to kiss her, that she’d been harboring some secret desire for the damn werewolf. Ugh. No. Not that.

Although, he was a good kisser. In her dreams, anyway. Better than good, actually. Pretty damn fantastic—damn it, there was that word again. She was not crushing on the lycan. Her father would disown her. Her colony would spurn her.

“It was pretty sudden.” She hurried on, hoping that Hunter didn’t still have some backdoor access to her mind and see her mentally fumbling about over Zane. “Black wolf, bounding out of the darkness, fangs. Pain. Then pretty much nothing.”

Dave folded his arms, and his leather jacket creaked with the movement. “Do you remember anything about visiting the Woodland pack?”