Midnight Awakening (Midnight Breed 3)

Dragos, Lucan said, a dark weight hanging on that one word.

Who is Dragos? Gabrielle asked, peering past Lucan at the glyph scrawled onto the page.

Dragos is a very old Breed name, Lucan explained. He was one of the original members of the Order--a first generation vampire. Like Tegan and me, Dragos was sired by one of the ancient creatures who began the vampire race as we know it. Dragos fought alongside us when the Order declared war on our alien fathers.

Gabrielle nodded, showing no surprise or confusion. Evidently Lucan had already filled her in on the otherworldly origins of the Breed, as well as the bloody war that arose within the Breed during the fourteenth century of the human era.

It was a tumultuous time, rife with treachery and violence--most of it carried out by the long- lived, savage creatures from a distant planet who prowled the night and fed without discretion, sometimes wiping out entire villages of humankind. The Ancients were ravenous and brutal, supremely powerful. Without the Order to intervene, they'd been a bloodthirsty pestilence that made even the worst Rogue look like a misbehaving frat boy.

Gabrielle's gaze went from Lucan to Tegan. What happened to Dragos?

Killed in battle a few years into the war with the Ancients, Tegan supplied.

Can you be sure of that? she asked. Until last summer, everyone believed that Marek was dead too...

Lucan gave a firm nod. Dragos is dead, love. I saw his body with my own eyes. None of the Breed can resurrect when their head is taken.

Tegan recalled that night as well. It was a moment that marked many losses, starting with Dragos's Breedmate, who took her own life upon hearing the news of his death. Kassia had been a good, caring woman, as close as a sister to Sorcha. It wasn't long after Kassia's death that Tegan lost Sorcha as well. Dark times that he preferred not to think on, even now. He'd learned to suppress the pain, but he still had so many memories...

Tegan sharply cleared his throat. Which brings us back to the name Odolf. Who is it? And what can it mean to Marek?

Maybe Gideon can turn something up in the IID, Lucan suggested, handing the book back to Tegan as he got to his feet. The database isn't a complete record, but it's all we've got.

You two run your search, Gabrielle interjected when they reached the corridor outside. I'm going to check in on Elise. It sounds like she's been through a lot tonight. Maybe she could use some company and something to eat.

Lucan's eyes darkened as he held his woman's gaze. He whispered something low in her ear, then pressed a kiss to her lips. There was a faint pink tint to her cheeks as she broke the embrace.

Tegan glanced away from the exchange and started the trek toward Gideon's lab. Lucan was behind him in no time, Gabrielle heading in the opposite direction to look for Elise.

It was impossible not to notice the calm that enveloped the warrior whenever he was around his Breedmate. Not that long ago, Lucan had been a powder keg just looking for an open flame. He'd pretended an iron control, but Tegan knew him longer than any of the others at the compound, and he knew that Lucan had been only a few steps away from total disaster.

Bloodlust was the fatal flaw of all the Breed--a tipping point that could push even the most stable vampire over the edge into a permanent addiction. All of the Breed needed to consume blood to survive, but some took it too far. Some turned Rogue, and it had stunned Tegan to discover that Lucan was teetering on the very knife-edge of that abyss. He'd been nearly lost.

Until Gabrielle.

She grounded him somehow, gave Lucan what he needed through their blood bond, yet trusted him not to fall. She'd saved the warrior, and it was clear that she continued to do so every moment they shared together.

You're well mated, Tegan said as Lucan caught up to him and strode along at his side in the corridor.

He'd meant it in praise, but it came out sounding harsh, almost an accusation. Lucan didn't seem surprised by the rough tone, but he didn't rise to the bait like he might have at one time either. I think about you and Sorcha sometimes, when I look at Gabrielle and imagine what my life would be like without her. It's sure as hell not a place I like to visit often. How you ever got through it--

It passes, Tegan murmured, a bit too tightly even to his own ears. And the only ghost I'm interested in talking about right now is Dragos.

Lucan dropped the subject as the two of them entered the tech lab. Gideon was at his usual post behind the long console, keying something into one of the many computers. What've you got? he asked the moment they strode in, his eyes and fingers never leaving his task.

Tegan put the airbill and journal down on the table. Need you to check the origin of this package, but first run a search of the IID records for the name Odolf.

You got it. The vampire grabbed a wireless keyboard, dropped it into his lap, and started typing. Am I looking for criminal records, birth records, death records...?

Any of the above, Tegan said, watching the monitor screen fill with a scrolling list of data. It kept running and running, turning up zilch. Then one record stuck at the top of the screen while the program scrolled for more results. You got one?

Deceased, Gideon replied. A one Reinhardt Odolf, of the Munich Darkhaven. Went Rogue in May 1946. Deceased the following year by solar suicide. Another entry, this one for Alfred Odolf, lost to Bloodlust in 1981. Hans Odolf, Bloodlust, 1993. A couple of missing persons on record...here's one more for you: Petrov Odolf, Berlin Darkhaven. Lucan moved in to get a better look at the computer. Also deceased?

Actually no. Not yet, anyway. Petrov Odolf, institutionalized for rehabilitation. According to the record, this boy's been Rogue for the past few years and a ward of the Enforcement Agency in Germany.

Is he coherent? Tegan demanded. Can he be questioned? More importantly, can his answers be trusted to be valid?

Gideon shook his head. The record's not complete about his current condition, other than he's breathing and under the supervision of the institution in Berlin.