Page 4 of Sergi (Of Blood & Dreams #7)

Chapter Three

Cressa Langtry tossed in her sleep, the dream forming in bits and pieces. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and she reached for her temple, her skin damp under her touch. She slowed her breathing, searching the room that was both foreign and familiar.

She sat at a long dining table and her eyes caught on the flickering light of flames in the centerpiece display. Her breaths slowed as she focused on one steady flame, her meditation technique calming her.

This wasn’t a dreamwalk of her making. And it was too realistic to be a mere dream. Was she in some dreamwalker nightmare?

She glanced down at the sage silk dress she wore. A gold tennis bracelet scratched against her left wrist. The aromatic scent of what she knew without looking came from the remains of a roasted pheasant dinner woke a few buds of hunger.

She was tempted to take a drink from the half-empty wineglass because this wasn’t a normal dreamwalk. How could a memory be so vivid, as if she had time warped back to the actual event?

Voices snapped her out of her reverie but not out of the dream. She gasped when she turned to the right.

Lorenzo Venizi leaned back in his seat at the head of the table.

What the holy hell?

The earlier anxiety returned. Her heart raced, and the cold hands of fear snaked through her when she couldn’t rise from the chair. Okay. So, she had limited control of this dream. Was that because when she’d been on Shadow Island, she’d been mesmerized at this point?

Lorenzo’s gray suit matched the hair at his temples. The vamp was a handsome male. Sophisticated, well-educated, and charming—when he wanted to be. He commanded a room and had many like-minded friends, but at the end of the day, he was nothing more than an asshole with evil intent. No better than a sleazy bounty hunter like Sorrento.

If he’d noticed her gasp when she first set eyes on him, he didn’t show it. In fact, he wasn’t looking at her at all.

She turned her head to follow his line of sight to find a thin man with a severely balding head. The few thin strands that remained were a dull, dusty blond. Almost transparent in the low light of the room. His equally dull brown suit hung from him as if, at one time, he’d weighed fifty pounds more and never thought to buy a new one after losing the weight. He wore glasses that perched halfway down the bridge of his nose, and she itched to push them back up.

He seemed familiar.

She tapped the table with her fork, surprised she could do that much.

“Hello.”

When no one acknowledged her greeting or the tapping of the utensil, she determined she’d reached the parameters of the dream. She didn’t appear to be needed for the dream to continue, so she let her gaze drift around the room as she recalled her memory of this event.

She’d only been on Shadow Island for two or three days before Lorenzo brought home a dinner guest and wanted her to attend the meal. Dinner conversation was subpar as the little man had fidgeted through most of the meal, though it hadn’t been from fear of being in Lorenzo’s home. They had business to discuss, and he wanted to get to it. He was almost salivating.

Lorenzo had been aggravated but finally relented once the main course was finished. When the crème br?lée and coffee were served, he placed a new linen napkin over his lap and said, “Tell me what’s so important, you’ve squirmed all through dinner.”

She remembered being bored as she played with her dessert, more interested in the coffee, and, unknowingly at the time, she’d let Pandora out to search the room for valuables. Try as she might, she’d always be a thief at heart.

At some point, the cadence of Lorenzo’s tone shifted, and though she hadn’t thought much of it at the time, he sat up and leaned into the table. She’d seen that look before. A long stare, his gaze unfocused, like a robot that froze as it ran multiple calculations.

What had they been talking about?

Then it flashed before her as the little man in her dream replayed part of the conversation she’d missed from her memories. He was working on a special project. Tests had been performed, but the earlier formulas hadn’t provided satisfactory results. Until recently. Someone had stumbled upon a formula that performed to most of Lorenzo’s specifications. They would need to perform more testing before it could be considered reliable in the field, but they were very close.

Lorenzo’s entire demeanor had changed to one of extreme interest and eerie satisfaction. His focus shifted, catching her off guard as his gaze locked with hers—it was the eyes of his beast.

“Forget what you’ve heard, Cressa. This is of no concern to you.”

She snapped awake and popped up. The earlier sweat that had dried was back. She glanced around. Devon’s room.

Her breath rushed out as if she’d been holding it for hours. She looked at the empty spot next to her. Devon was gone. Her gaze slid to the drapes, where enough light leaked around the edges to signal it was morning.

What the hell had just happened?

She threw the covers off and jumped in the shower to wash the sweat away, then quickly threw on jeans and a pullover sweater. The clock reflected thirty minutes before breakfast. She had to talk to Devon.

When she reached the stairs, she stopped and changed course to her bedroom. She had time for one quick call.

Devon Trelane rose early. He hadn’t slept well. Something nagged. Something he’d overlooked. He couldn’t pin it down, which only served to annoy him. Rather than having Cressa wake up to an irritated vampire, he dressed, stopped in the kitchen for a mug of coffee, and shuffled to his office, still half-asleep.

With his feet resting on the shelf behind his desk, he stared out the window at the breaking dawn as the caffeine cleared the cobwebs. It was unusual for him to be scattered, but he sensed a pending doom he hadn’t felt for decades, not since before his parents’ horrific deaths. A tragedy he’d been unable to foresee or prevent.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake loose what lay just beyond his grasp. After twenty minutes in a meditative state that provided no solution to his quandary, a knock at the door saved him from further useless attempts.

“Come.”

The door opened to reveal Cook with a carafe of coffee and, if his nose wasn’t deceiving him, a beignet.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I knew you’d require more coffee, and I thought a bit of sugar might help start your day.” He placed the plate down along with a fork and napkin.

Devon smiled at the offering. “You’ve been speaking with Romero’s chef.”

“And I had to give up two of my most treasured recipes in exchange for her secret beignet recipe.” His voice held disappointment in what he perceived as an unfair exchange, but he winked. “She promised to share another secret, but she wanted to try the recipes I gave her first. She’s a tough one, but I have high hopes for many more exchanges.”

Devon smiled as Cook rushed out the door. Breakfast was a busy time for him, even though most of their guests had left while the Family planned for the next stage in the House war against Venizi. Once the sugary treat and another cup of coffee were devoured, he picked up the folder that held notes from the raid on the Underwood mansion where they’d removed Cressa’s mother and half-sister from under Venizi’s control.

So far, Jasper, the vampire Venizi had placed in charge at Underwood’s estate, had been unwilling to give them any useful information. They were, however, able to get a sample of his writing, which validated the journal Harlow had taken from Underwood’s office had belonged to the vampire. More time in a cell might soften him, but Devon couldn’t shake the thought that time was of the essence.

The problem was, he didn’t know what could be so critical.

Devon refilled his mug and spread the contents of the folder across his desk. Most of the papers held nothing of interest. Security protocols and guard rotations that Sergi and Simone might find interesting if Devon decided to attack Lorenzo’s businesses. Then his focus turned to Jasper’s thin journal.

He was intrigued that a young vampire like Jasper would use pen and paper for notes rather than a tablet like most males his age would. He opened it and ran a hand over the first page. This would be his third review of the pages, and while he hadn’t found anything of interest the first two times, something made him go through it again.

It wasn’t a diary, nor did it retain critical notes from meetings. That information had likely been entered into a tablet or computer. The pages of the journal seemed to be nothing more than general observations of humans and brainstorming sessions—either from a meeting with his guards or his own private thoughts. The lines of script were a hodgepodge of incomplete sentences. Words and phrases that meant nothing to Devon. Perhaps they were ideas from previous missions or ones that were being planned. The various strings of information might be connected or simply random thoughts of a bored vampire. Sergi and Lucas were still reviewing them against reports from Trelane’s security details.

He was closing the folder when something caught his eye. Carpathian Mountains. The name was listed by itself with a space above and a space below. A single thought or something more?

He shut the folder and, unable to think about anything else, picked up the handful of folders Sergi had left for him. The morning meeting wouldn’t start for another couple of hours, so he might as well return them.

Sergi was in his office, reworking the weekly security changes. He was surprised to see Devon. “I could have come for those.”

Devon dropped them on the desk and took a seat. “Not necessary. How else will I get my exercise?”

Sergi typed a few more words then closed his tablet and gave him a sour look. “It’s been too long since we’ve trained.”

“No time like the present.”

Two hours later, they sprawled on the training room mats, staring at the ceiling as their sweat slowly evaporated.

“I needed that.” Devon flexed his leg. “I think I pulled a hamstring.”

“There’s no excuse for that,” Sergi grumbled.

“We need to get back to our weekly schedule.”

Sergi’s only response was a grunt. After centuries of their long friendship, Devon understood the non-verbal to mean it took Devon long enough to realize it.

A comfortable silence returned, and after several long minutes, Devon asked, “Have you heard any recent news about the Carpathian Mountains?”

Sergi strode in step with Devon, both eager to return to Devon’s office to review the journal and the notes Sergi had put together. Devon had pushed the morning meeting to after lunch, but when they arrived at Devon’s office, it wasn’t empty.

Cressa paced the room, clearly upset about something. Decker, who’d driven over before receiving the text about the postponed meeting, sat on his usual stool, leaning back against the bar as he watched Cressa, an amused expression on his face.

“What’s all this?” Devon asked as he dropped into his chair.

Sergi glared at Cressa. When she stuck her tongue out, he held back his smile. He wasn’t sure when it started, but they began challenging each other with the pettiest of games. His fallback was the one thing he knew irritated her the most—stare blankly at her for an uncomfortable length of time before turning to his tablet.

He held a deep respect for Cressa, who he considered to be Devon’s consort, but it wasn’t her relationship with his friend that earned Sergi’s favor. It was her loyalty and determination to never quit, like when she crawled along the training room floor and attempted to rise even when she knew she’d been beaten. She was a warrior on the battlefield. Yet, she was a human, dreamwalker or not, who was loud and pushed boundaries. She would never change, and Sergi came to terms with that. She enjoyed rattling others, so he considered it fair game to return the favor. Everyone needed a pastime.

Cressa ignored Sergi and shifted her gaze to Devon, exploding with hyper anxiety. “I remember something from when I was at Shadow Island.”

Sergi shifted in his seat and waited.

Devon glanced at Decker, who shrugged. So, she hadn’t shared it with the shifter. She’d been waiting for Devon. “Sit down and tell us.”

She paced for another minute before finding a chair but only perched on the edge as if ready to take flight, reminding Sergi of Bella and her need to be in constant motion. Her foot tapped with the energy roiling in her, but Devon’s calm tone soothed her. She blew out a long sigh, leaned back in her seat, and ran her fingers through her hair.

“It came in a dream, but it wasn’t a normal dream, and it wasn’t a dreamwalk. I’m not sure what it was. I was at dinner with Lorenzo and one of his business associates. If I had to guess, the vamp was a doctor or scientist of some sort.” She picked at the edge of her sweater. Her fingers found a loose yarn, and she began twisting it. “I was fully aware during the dream. I could smell the leftovers from dinner and the light scent of candles. The strange thing was that I couldn’t leave my seat, but I could move my arms and hands. When I called out, neither vamp seemed to hear me.”

“You’re sure this wasn’t a dreamwalk?” Devon had leaned back and was holding the white crystal that seemed to focus him.

“No.” She shrugged. “Although, I don’t remember dreamwalking in a past event. Only current or future ones.”

Devon turned the crystal, moving it from one hand to the next. “It makes sense you wouldn’t be able to change an event that already happened. What was so important about this dinner?”

“It was the discussion between Lorenzo and this other vamp. The guy had been anxious since he arrived. I assumed it was nervousness being around Lorenzo, but the man droned on about tests and statistics that bored me at the time. I barely listened to any of it and was relieved when Lorenzo dismissed me.”

Sergi met Devon’s glance. They had to be thinking the same thing. Did this have something to do with the lab?

“Your subconscious must have picked up on something for you to dream about it now.” Devon gripped the crystal and leaned forward, his forehead scrunched in thought.

She heaved a sigh and let her head fall back until she stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Now, talking about it out loud, it doesn’t seem very important.”

“Just tell us the first thing you remembered,” Devon encouraged.

These were the moments that defined Devon’s leadership skills. Sergi had seen it in his leader since their early days. Devon’s willingness to slow down and make the speaker feel at ease, gently luring the information out of them. He was using the same technique with Jasper in hopes of breaking Venizi’s hold over him.

“I woke to find myself at the dinner table. Dessert had just been served. I don’t remember specifics, even though the vamp couldn’t stop talking all through dinner. It upset Lorenzo, who kept trying to change the subject.”

“He didn’t want you to hear sensitive information.” Sergi almost grinned at Cressa’s immediate nod as she turned to him.

“Exactly. That was my thought during the dream. But I don’t remember it concerning me at the time. It was just before Lorenzo excused me that the vamp mentioned something about the tests being successful, but they required time for further refinements or something to that effect. He said they were close to field tests.”

“Dammit,” Decker swore.

“How can we be sure this dream is accurate?” Sergi asked. “Your subconscious could be adding false information based on our discussions about the blood results from Remus’s lab.”

She nodded, which surprised Sergi. He expected her to be frustrated by his question. Another example of her maturity since first arriving at the manor. “At first, I was positive, then I wasn’t so sure. Not until I discussed it with Colantha.”

“You spoke with her about this?” Devon asked.

“While you and Sergi were in the training room. She said dreamwalkers dream about past events like any other human, but she thought my experience, especially my ability to pick up smells, sounded odd.”

“When was this dinner in relation to when you first arrived on the island?” Sergi had a feeling he understood why this particular dream was different.

“Colantha asked that too. It was either the second or third night.”

Devon picked up on Sergi’s train of thought. “Before we tried to reach out to you.”

She nodded.

“While you were under his mesmerizing.” Sergi didn’t fully grasp how dreamwalking worked, but at the time, Colantha had suspicions that even though Cressa had been mesmerized, it wasn’t as deep or as effective as Venizi assumed. Her dreamwalker nature, though subject to mesmerizing, would eventually override the mental push from Venizi. At least enough to make her question what she was being told.

Cressa nodded again. “That’s what Colantha believes. With all our current discussions focused on Lorenzo’s labs, my latent memories of that meal are resurfacing. My dreamwalker nature is making them more realistic, putting me in the middle of the dream with full awareness.”

Decker stood, his face a mask of anger. “If what Cressa remembers this vampire saying is true, then Venizi is close to field testing, assuming he hasn’t already started. And we don’t know if it’s some new version of Magic Poppy or something worse. We need to find that lab.”