“We paid her,” he rebutted.
“And I’m sure it wasn’t nearly enough for Josh’s life.”
I started to exit and stopped midstep, backing up until I was near Ethan again. I leaned in, hardening my voice as I said, “Don’t cuff your brother.” The deviant glint that sparked in his eyes told me that placing his brother in iridium manacles was a clear option if he thought Josh might be a true flight risk.
Smiling, he offered half-heartedly, “I wouldn’t think of doing such a thing.”
Yeah, right.
After dealing with one ill-tempered supernatural, I was in no mood to deal with another but I also wasn’t ready to see another vampire die which was about to happen. That appeared to be what was about to happen. Chris had the dark-haired vamp pushed against the car and was about to stake them. I ran and grabbed Chris’s arm just before she could jam a stake in a young vamp’s chest.
“Chris, put it down,” I commanded. After a few moments of glaring at me while seething through clenched teeth, she relaxed. I didn’t trust her to be compliant for long, so I kept my grasp on her arm.
Her gaze drifted to my hand. “I’m fine. I need them to stop following me.”
I lowered my voice to reason with her, but she was so enraged I wasn’t sure it was possible. “They’re not doing it because they want to. It’s Demetrius. You know it’s always Demetrius.” I sighed. It was. His obsession with her consumed so much of his time and resources. She hadn’t come back as he’d expected. He wanted to be rewarded for his single act of kindness.
I nodded in the vampire’s direction, and he moved quickly. I wondered if Demetrius had scouts throughout the city, waiting for her. This one had the fortune, or rather misfortune, of finding her.
Once the vampire was gone, she went to my car. “You’re driving,” she informed me. I didn’t mind because I’d seen her drive. Even before she’d become immortal, she’d driven like she was.
Chris was adamant about us talking once we were at the bar, with just music on the radio to entertain us, it made the drive to the bar in an industrial area right outside Chicago seem longer than the twenty minutes it took. I hadn’t expected her to take me anywhere extremely posh, and she didn’t. We walked into an old brick building that reminded me of a warehouse. The inside was so dark my eyes had to adjust.
The thrum of music filled the room, low enough that you could just listen to it and enjoy your drink or ignore it and enjoy the company of the person you were with. This was definitely a place where people came to have a drink and talk. It wasn’t a fancy bar, but it was cozy. There were a few tables scattered about, nothing trendy, just round, dark wood tables and chairs. Some chairs matched, and a few were just leather barstools. The black lacquer bar was in the center of the room. Behind the counter were three modestly dressed bartenders. They didn’t have the typical uniform I’d seen at other bars or even at the pack’s bar. The two men weren’t dressed swankily in black button-down shirts. Or trendy t-shirts. Nor did the woman wear a barely there tank and a fake smile plastered on her face. This wasn’t the type of bar where you were likely to see men with muscles straining the seams of their shirts as they made a show out of mixing drinks for people seated at the bar. The bartenders looked like they came to work to serve drinks—nothing more, nothing less.
I followed Chris to the back, where the lighting was even worse, and we sat at one of the few tables that had fabric-covered chairs. The others had worn leather seats. The florid scent of air freshener mixed with the odors of the various alcohols that had been spilled on them. We hadn’t even settled in when a tall, dark-haired woman wearing jeans and an oversized shirt came to take our orders.
Chris ordered a whiskey straight, and I requested the same and tried not to take offense at the condescending grins they gave me.
We sat in silence, and I watched her wrestle with her thoughts, which she wasn’t doing a great job of hiding. She’d gulped down her first drink and requested another before she finally asked, “Should I go back?”
I had an idea what she was talking about, but I couldn’t believe she was asking my advice. I froze under the intensity of her dark gaze. Part of me wanted to tell her no and that she should run like a serial killer was after her, which wasn’t far off. But I didn’t. I remained silent, sipping from my glass and regretting copying her drink order.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I gave it a few more minutes of consideration. “Do you love him?”
“No,” she said decisively right after I’d finished my last word.
“Do you like him?”
This time, she took longer, her fingers circling the rim of her glass as she withdrew into her thoughts. I took that time to study her; her life was more complicated than I could imagine. It was about survival. As a human, she’d learned to navigate the otherworld on her own terms. I hadn’t agreed with her ethics—most of the time they’d been as convoluted and obscure as the pack’s—but they’d been about surviving, the same as ours.
“I don’t hate him,” she finally said. There were so many other emotions between love and hate I wasn’t sure why those were the only two choices. The gradations were complex, but she’d reduced them to something simplistic. She didn’t hate him. Her perception of emotions was real, unencumbered, and direct. Was it indifference? That didn’t evoke any emotions, and clearly, she had some emotional connection to him.
Chris took another long draw from her glass. “He’s saved my life more times than I can count. His blood allowed me to continue to work and do it well. And when Ethan and your pack thought I should die, it was Demetrius who thought I should live.”
I wondered if she could hear my heartbeat increase. Chris’s conversion to a vampire was a topic of contention between Ethan and me. He’d been prepared to allow her to die because she was dangerous. And there wasn’t any question about it—Chris was definitely dangerous. I hadn’t forgotten that as I sat across from her; dark marble eyes that used to be light brown held a predatory alertness, as if every moment she was with a person, she was deciding whether they were a predator to challenge or prey. No one was born that way. A lot of things had happened to make her the person she was today, but she seldom discussed her past.
“Okay, you don’t hate him, but you don’t love him. Let’s go with lukewarm. You lukewarm him. Now what?”
I’d dealt with her long enough to know every decision she made had an ultimate goal. She was a strategic player, manipulating situations to her advantage. She reminded me of Sebastian in many ways. “What’s your endgame here?”
Her brows rose as she gave me a bemused grin. “I’m sorry?”
I watched her with the same intensity in which she studied me. “I’m not under any illusions that this is a friendly meeting. I’m not sure why you’re asking me, but I know you have ulterior motives. I’m just asking what they are.”
“What in the world has the Midwest Pack done to the brunette with the shocked-by-the-headlights doe eyes to make her so cynical?” She grinned appreciatively. “It’s a good look. I like it.”
Of course you do. Hey, I have a were-snake I’d like to introduce you to. After you two try to kill each other, I’m sure you’ll hit it off quite nicely.
“I’m glad I’ve met your approval, but you didn’t answer my question,” I pointed out.
“I’m asking you because of all the people I’ve encountered, despite your interest in any situation, you give an honest answer without any concern of how it will affect your pack or even you. You’re honest to a fault and oblivious to political maneuvering. You wouldn’t see my return to the Seethe as an advantage for your pack. The first question you asked was whether I love him.”
I nodded slowly. “You still haven’t answered my question. What is your endgame? What do you hope to gain by going back to him? Because as you pointed out, I might not care about political maneuvering, and sometimes I don’t necessarily play the long game, but you do.”
“You’re right,” she acknowledged
softly. “And whether you want to believe it, we are all playing a game. Ultimately, we want to make sure we’re not the pawn but the queen.” Her sharpened gaze settled heavily on me, intently appraising me.
“You don’t necessarily want Demetrius, but you want something, right?”
She barely moved her head in a nod, and she took several moments of consideration before she spoke. “I want the South.” She relaxed a little and looked down into her drink, studying the golden-brown liquid. “And possibly the North,” she slipped in quietly.
It was that pursuit that had provoked Demetrius’s wrath. A failed assassination attempt on the Master of the South. He was Demetrius’s favorite and had been gifted the South by him. Based on rumors, he’d taken a once strong organization and weakened it because of his narcissism and arrogance. He penalized and even killed those he felt were too strong and anyone he felt was positioning themselves to take over. Often choosing pleasure over pragmatism, he’d started wars and broken alliances Demetrius had established. Steven had mentioned on several occasions that he was concerned the South’s Master would start a fight with the Southern Pack just to make a point—as an effort to subjugate them and make his presence known. He hadn’t acted on it, but there’d been whispers and warnings that he would. He was impulsive and erratic and had reduced the Seethe to nothing more than a gang of undisciplined vampires that were slaves to their own needs. That wasn’t a huge difference to the way Demetrius reacted to most things. He was arrogant, narcissistic, self-indulgent, and often cruel; he’d be dangerous if he was capable of any rational strategizing. Chris was a good strategist; she had to be to survive. It would be better for the pack if she did rule both the South and the North.
I remembered Gavin’s advice. “Okay, since we’re playing nice and being honest, let me say this: I don’t care if you go back to him. But I am interested in how you can help me get back at him. I want him a broken vampire. I want his Seethe to turn against him, for him to feel the pain of their betrayal, and in the end, I want to look him in the eye and tell him how much I loathe him before I kill him.” The cruelty and anger with which I’d spoken shocked me and left Chris wide-eyed, her lips parted in a state of horrified awe.
“I wasn’t expecting that from you.” Then she grew silent for a moment. “I heard about Quell. I’m sorry, but—”
“If you try to explain his actions or make excuses for Demetrius, I’m leaving,” I informed her with a huff.
“I don’t plan to. It was cruel and unnecessary.”
“Even if you go back, given his obsession with you, I doubt he’ll let you take the South.”
The coy smile she offered was a flagrant attempt to soften her words. “You might be right, but that’s doubtful. Demetrius wants me now. His affections are fleeting. Another will eventually capture his interest. The same thing that happened to Michaela will happen to me. I have no interest in filling my time with beautiful boy toys. He’ll probably offer me the South to clear his conscience as he moves on.”
I wasn’t aware that he had a conscience, and he’d never had a problem with participating in polyamorous relationships. Michaela had been very aware of his affections for Chris, and Demetrius had been aware of Michaela sleeping with half the members of their Seethe. I never understood their complicated relationship or how they claimed to love each other with such intensity. He hadn’t grieved for her very long. Maybe he’d been silently grieving, or as their relationship had progressed, maybe he’d already grieved that he had nothing more to offer.
“Well, you already have this figured out. What do you need me for? I doubt you cared what my answer would be.”
She leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands together on the table, examining her nails, painted a purplish black color. “Of course I care about your answer. If you were too appalled by the idea of me going back, you would be of no use to me. You and your profound wisdom have convinced me to go back to Demetrius because that is the best thing for me and for the Seethe. Enough of the Seethe, as well as this pack and others, have seen us together to know we’re not enemies.”
She smiled with a predator’s allure. “I’ll go back to Demetrius and make it known you convinced me. One, I won’t have to worry about him trying to convince me to come back if I ever leave again because he’ll know he doesn’t have that kind of influence. He’ll think you do, and that will be advantageous to you.”
I snapped my gaping mouth shut. She wasn’t like Sebastian—she might be better. The one thing she never wanted Demetrius to think was that he had control over her in any way, shape, or form. If he was convinced she’d come back on her own, he’d assume she had feelings for him that he could manipulate. Instead, she’d handed the reins over to me to make it seem like I’d orchestrated the whole thing. It worked out for me, but it would work out even better for her.
“Do you ever do anything just because you want to?” I asked.
“I wanted to have drinks with you, so yes.”
“No. You wanted to make me a player in your game. Make no mistake—this wasn’t acquaintances having drinks; this was a business deal.”
She shook her head. “I could have spoken to you any place, anywhere. I wanted to have a drink with you, so we did. We aren’t friends, and I doubt we ever will be, but we understand each other and I’m fine with that.” She placed a few bills on the table and rose to her feet. “I guess you should get me to Demetrius and then get back to Ethan. I’m sure he’s been thinking about this all night.”
She was right: we weren’t going to be friends. But she was also wrong. I didn’t understand her. She worked on a level beyond my comprehension. And no matter how many years I lived, I doubted I’d gain the necessary understanding of her mind to anticipate her actions.
But if I was going to be a player in her game, I needed to go all in. “I don’t want you to possibly take the North; I want you to do it,” I said firmly.
An odd combination of surprise, respect, worry, and fear shone in her eyes. Once again, I figured she was wondering what had changed in me. A lot. Her lips kinked into a hesitant half-smile. “Very well. I guess I’ll take the North, too.”
Before she could walk away from the table, I couldn’t resist asking, “Have you ever been in love? The kind that makes you forget about strategies, manipulations, and what benefits you? Have you ever cared for someone so deeply that you would put that aside and only worry about being with them?”
I really thought she would scoff, laugh at me for being ridiculous and emotional and having a fairy-tale view of love and romance. Instead, she looked at me for a long time, her dark eyes glassy. She cast them to the ground, a veil of thick lashes covering them. “No.” Then she headed for the door.
She was lying. I didn’t need to hear a heartbeat or a change in the cadence of her voice or respiration to know. Her denial had been the sorrowful cry of a wounded animal—a wounded person. Her lie was probably easier to deal with than the truth.
I hesitated at the edge of Demetrius’s driveway, remembering his words about finding pleasure in breaking people. It was a cruel thing to think and an even crueler thing to do. My hands tightened on the steering wheel and I was plagued by the same numb feeling I’d had when I’d almost delivered her to the Tre’ase Logan, another monster. I could feel her eyes on me. She was okay with this; I needed to be.
“Bambi, I can assure you I’ve never needed a guardian. I’m fine. If I didn’t think I could handle this, or if I thought it wouldn’t benefit me, I wouldn’t be doing it.”
I nodded. As soon as I turned in and stopped, she got out of the car and went to the door without so much as a good-bye.
Demetrius answered her knock. Initially, his arrogance failed, and he stood before her with wide eyes and lips slightly parted in shock. Words were exchanged, but they were too far away for me to hear. I didn’t bother trying to read their lips; I didn’t really care what they had to say. Probably went something like this: “I’m sorry I’m a sadistic narcissist.
” “That’s okay, I knew you were one. That’s my thing, anyway. I don’t know how to be in a functional relationship. So, I’ll just take our big bowl of crazy and deal with it.” “Great, because I’m terrible—just awful.” “That’s fine, I know you are, and I plan to destroy you.” “Sounds good, come in.”
After several more moments of talking, he leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips. She was stiff, unresponsive. And I didn’t have to be right there to see the hurt Demetrius felt at Chris’s response. He dropped his head, saying what I suspected was an apology or a plea for forgiveness.
She said something else to him, and he stepped out of the house to look at me in the car. He inclined his head and looked at me for several long moments before bowing his head in thanks. I nodded and backed out of the driveway. I needed several showers, and even then, I wouldn’t feel clean.
CHAPTER 22
I was surprised to see all the members of the Creed had returned to the pack’s house the next day to help Josh. I kept trying to douse my skepticism, especially since Josh didn’t have any. They stood before a whiteboard with the names of all the protected objects written on it.
London stepped back and studied them.
Periodically, I caught Ariel eyeing me with a mélange of curiosity, aversion, and derision. She couldn’t dismiss the look fast enough to keep me from noticing. When she finally yanked her gaze from me, she looked at the board, too.
“Their magic is different and stronger than ours combined.” Ariel shuddered and made a face. I’d seen that same face on many people when they’d encountered some of the pack members and realized they weren’t just “beautiful monsters.” Were-animals were fettered violence, holding on to humanity to allow them to function in both worlds. But the Faeries were more than fettered violence and didn’t have an encumbered relationship with humanity. They didn’t want simple power. They wanted to dominate and return the world to the one they’d once ruled, before technology and advancement.
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