Dawn Caravan

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “That’s not what he says.”

  She waved a hand. “He’s an old man with a horrible memory.”

  He cracked a smile, and Tenzin’s eyes went soft. “Hello, my Benjamin.”

  Sitting across from her felt familiar and right and it hurt.

  Ben swallowed hard. “I’d like to keep this professional, so why don’t we talk about terms?”

  “Fifty-fifty, like always,” she said. “Neither of us has a personal stake in the icon.”

  “Agreed, but you are bringing the Corsican connection to the table.”

  Tenzin waved a hand. “That favor is long overdue. They will be grateful I am calling it in.”

  But that left Ben owing her a favor. “I’m comfortable with a fifty-five, forty-five split to account for the value of the favor.”

  She watched him. “If that’s what you’d prefer.”

  “It is.” He sipped his drink again. “Chloe and I have been going through the correspondence, and you’ve answered some of it yourself. Word has gotten out, and according to her, this is the last job on our books from New York.”

  Tenzin nodded. “It is.”

  “Given the circumstances, I’m willing to work as your partner on this.” He kept his tone precisely even. He’d practiced before he left his room. “I make no guarantees or offers beyond that. Basically, this is a temporary thing, Tenzin. That means when we finish and I ask you to leave, you leave. And you do not follow me again.”

  Her eyes said Or what? but she didn’t say it out loud. “I will agree to that if you agree that we will work openly and honestly as partners for this job. No vendettas. No resentments. No hidden agendas. I know you have anger toward me, but I do not want Chloe and Gavin caught in the middle of our quarrels.”

  “Absolutely.” I want to throw you against the wall behind the bar. And maybe fuck you on the ceiling. “This is business.” He sipped his whiskey. “Nothing personal.”

  “Agreed.”

  “If the four of us are going to work together, you need to fly with us on the plane. We don’t have time to wait for you in every country.”

  Tenzin nodded. “That is fine.”

  Ben almost spit out his whiskey. Fine? Just like that? He’d had to threaten bodily harm to get her into a truck once! According to his uncle, she’d once punched a hole in the side of his carriage with her bare fists because it felt a little bit stuffy. She was agreeing to fly with them on the plane?

  “Okay.” He blinked. “Good.”

  “I know Gavin wants to stay with Chloe,” Tenzin said, “but part of his passage through our world is that he is seen as a neutral party. If you’d be willing, I think it would be better if he and Chloe stay at his club in Monaco while we fly to meet Juvan and his brothers. It will only take an hour and a half to fly.”

  Ben jotted down some notes just to keep himself from staring at her. “Okay. That’s a solid idea, and I can’t imagine either one of them will have any objection to it. We can fill Chloe in on the Corsican meeting when we get back.” Ben hadn’t known Gavin had a place in Monaco, but it didn’t surprise him. “How’s the garden?”

  She was silent until he looked up.

  “The garden in New York?” he asked. “How is it?”

  “Thriving. The glass house is finished, and the heating system is operational. I bought birds.”

  “Chloe told me. Sadia loves them.”

  Tenzin smiled. “She visited last summer.”

  “She told me. My little sister is kind of your superfan, you know.”

  “The feeling is mutual. She’s an excellent child.”

  Ben couldn’t take his eyes off her. Did you have children? He knew nothing about her human life, and seeing her uncovered a relentless curiosity. “Do you remember much about your human life?”

  She froze. “Why do you ask?”

  Make it about me. “I find myself wondering whether my memories of Sadia—from when she was very young—will stay with me.”

  “Ah.” Her gaze relaxed a little. “Yes. I believe you will remember. Sometimes memories will escape you, but they always find you again.”

  Yes, he was a little bit afraid of that.

  “So.” He cleared his throat and finished his whiskey. “We’ll leave tomorrow night, and we both feel comfortable with the business parameters of this job?”

  “Yes.” Her smile was polite. So damn polite he wanted to scream.

  “Good.” He held his hand out. “We agree. One last job and then… good luck to you.”

  “And good luck to you too.” Tenzin stretched her hand across the table and Ben took it. Their hands met calmly while their amnis twisted and arrowed straight to Ben’s groin. Twin desires nearly drowned him—his for her and hers for him—and his fangs lengthened and his cock swelled hard as a rock.

  Ben dropped Tenzin’s hand and reached for his notebook, forcing his aching fangs back into his jaw. “Why don’t you brief me about the Corsicans? You said one was named Juvan and he has brothers? Is Juvan in charge?”

  She raised one eyebrow, and Ben read the entire conversation in her eyes.

  So we are ignoring this?

  Yes. We’re ignoring it.

  Didn’t you say we should not avoid those things between us?

  That was before. We’re ignoring them now.

  “The Corsicans” —Tenzin’s smile was amused— “are very entertaining.”

  “Entertaining in a really murdery, violent way?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes lit up. “But they enjoy karaoke as well.”

  13

  Ben had been faced with a lot of unexpected twists and turns in his life, but seeing a stocky Corsican earth vampire absolutely killing it on a karaoke cover of “Born to Run” was definitely not on his bingo card for the year.

  He leaned over to Tenzin. “You said they like karaoke, but I had no idea.”

  “Yes, they are very competitive.”

  This wasn’t your drunken sorority-party version of the sing-along. It was more along the lines of a singing competition, and participants were not making fools of themselves.

  If anything, it made the gang even more creepy.

  They’d landed an hour before on a brightly lit yacht floating off the north coast of Corsica.

  Why a boat for earth vampires? Ben had asked Tenzin, and she’d waved a dismissive hand. Rich men, whether they’re human or immortal, like big boats.

  The three brothers, Juvan, Carlo, and Alcide greeted Tenzin like she was an old friend, offered blood-wine to both of them, and then seated them on the top deck at the front of an ongoing karaoke party where Ben and Tenzin were clearly the guests of honor.

  “I’m just glad we’re guests and not participants,” Ben muttered in Mandarin.

  Tenzin’s eyes went wide. “We will be expected to sing, Ben.”

  Oh fuck.

  “Uh, no. I didn’t agree to that because I don’t sing.”

  “Everyone sings, Ben.” She took a slip of paper from her pocket. “I have prepared a song. Everyone comes prepared with a song. It’s karaoke.”

  “Do I have a history of enjoying karaoke? Have you ever heard me sing when I’m not drunk?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I suppose not.”

  “Exactly.”

  Alcide was finished paying tribute to the Boss, and a raucous round of applause rose from the gathered vampires and humans. The party was a fairly even mix between the two, though Ben noticed the vampire attendees were pretty heavily weighted toward the men who were dark, heavily stubbled, and dangerous, while the mortal attendees were pretty much all young, beautiful women.

  Lots of young and beautiful women.

  Another vampire was taking the stage with two others. They began a three-part rendition of “Sweet Caroline” that would have left Neil Diamond crying from the harmonies.

  He leaned over to her, trying to ignore the instant burning in his throat and the tightness in his pants. “Tenzin, are you serious or are you trying to push my but
tons? Do we really have to sing?”

  “Not together. I am sorry, Benjamin, but I did not prepare a duet.”

  He blinked. “You’re actually serious.”

  “Of course I am.”

  “You’re singing?”

  “I do not know how I could have made it more clear.” The crowd around them erupted during the “Sweet Caroline” chorus. “The Corsican vampire mob loves karaoke.” She glanced around and looked back. “You can sing, Ben. I’ve heard you. You just don’t do it when you are sober.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So pretend you are drunk.”

  “That’s your advice?” He looked around the deck. “What am I supposed to sing?”

  Tenzin clapped as the Neil Diamond classic came to an end. “Something you know. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but you have to make an effort.”

  Of all the things his uncle, his aunt, his sire, and fifteen years of life with vampires had prepared him for, none of them terrified him more than the prospect of singing in front of a room full of judgmental and murderous strangers.

  “Just take it seriously and try.” Tenzin was rising to her feet as a chorus of friendly voices encouraged her to the stage.

  “Tenzin!”

  “Come sing,” they called in mixed French and a language that reminded him of Italian. “Tenzin, we are waiting.”

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Ben said.

  She turned. “Your turn next.”

  “Right.” He was going to be sick.

  She took to the stage and scrolled through the music choices on the small screen on the left side of the stage; then she tucked her hair behind her ear and raised her face to the crowd.

  She was wearing black, as he was, a formfitting sleeveless tunic and a pair of leggings. She wore no jewelry in her ears or around her neck, but her forearms were layered with thin, yellow gold bangles. She had four stilettos hidden in her black boots and three small daggers in her tunic.

  She was beautiful, dangerously elegant, and the sexiest woman he’d ever seen in his life.

  The background music started, a chorus of humming he recognized immediately.

  Fuck me.

  Tenzin immediately launched into a simple and haunting version of Billie Eilish’s “When the Party’s Over.” She didn’t look at him, but every word pierced his chest like one of her knives.

  He couldn’t think. He couldn’t look away. Like him, the audience was rapt, hypnotized by her soft, breathy voice. It took everything in Ben to keep from flying away.

  He couldn’t fly away. Until this was over, she held him captive.

  Tenzin turned her eyes to him as she finished, her gaze direct on the final chorus. She seemed to pay no attention to the crowd, which erupted into applause. She walked away from the microphone, off the small stage, and sat next to him as if she hadn’t just destroyed him with a song.

  “Your turn,” she said quietly.

  The crowd fell silent, waiting for him. No one called his name, but they were all looking at him.

  “Ben.” She lifted her eyes to his. “You have to try.”

  “Right.” He swallowed the emotion he’d been holding back and rose, walking slowly to the front of the room.

  What on earth was he supposed to sing that he wouldn’t murder?

  He stopped at the edge of the stage and looked over his shoulder. What else?

  He leaned toward the microphone, heard the dangerous crackle and hum of concern from the crowd before he leaned back quickly. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Since this is my first time singing with our hosts” —he nodded generously toward Juvan and his brothers— “I thought I would sing a favorite.”

  He entered Louis Armstrong’s name on the specially designed machine and was relieved to see “What a Wonderful World” come to the top of the list.

  Perfect. He could half-speak that one, and the swelling background music would cover a multitude of sins.

  As soon as he broke into the familiar lyrics, the audience gave a little clap of encouragement and he heard approving murmurs around the room.

  He didn’t look at her. He wouldn’t. But in his mind, he was in every room, every alleyway, and every club floor where they’d ever danced together.

  “We always dance to Louis. That’s the rule.”

  They were next to a canal in Venice. In their apartment in New York. Hiding in an alley in San Juan.

  His heart ached with the memories. Back then she’d felt right in his arms. He never knew what she’d do or say, but he knew that no matter what, she’d have his back.

  I would never kill you, Benjamin. I would sooner kill myself.

  She scanned the crowd, watching for threats. Though the Corsicans had greeted them as friends, she’d seen their reaction to Ben. They were wary, and wary allies made for unhappy accidents.

  Juvan sat down next to her. “He’s not good.”

  “Believe me.” She turned to the stocky vampire. “He is very good. He just doesn’t sing well.”

  The corner of Juvan’s mouth turned up. “I’d heard the rumors that you’d taken a mate—”

  “Ben and I are not your concern.”

  “—but I ignored them of course.” Juvan’s eyebrow rose. “We all know a bloodthirsty hunter like Tenzin would not endanger herself with such a raw and uncontrolled consort.”

  “I find it interesting how you have judged him.” She turned back to the stage. “You are incorrect.”

  “In what way?”

  “In many ways.”

  “No one dismisses his power. We’re not fools.”

  “Do you think I would take a liability on as a partner, Juvan?” She glanced at his brothers. “He is not my blood relative, so I’m not swayed by my emotions.” She smiled. “It’s business.”

  Everyone knew that Juvan had turned his brothers for sentiment. Some viewed it as a foolish decision, but Tenzin knew that emotions could be more powerful and dangerous than the most logical calculation.

  “Let him finish the song; then meet me in the conference room,” Juvan said. “He’s not good, but he’s not playing a fool. I will talk to him.”

  “I would be disappointed if you didn’t.”

  “The icon of Sara-la-Kali is famous for being impossible to find.” Juvan spoke in French, but his accent wasn’t anything like Ben had ever heard. “It disappears and then it shows up. Disappears again. It was reputation more than market prices that determined the value.”

  They were sitting in a plush conference room surrounded by windows and armed guards. While the party continued outside, this section of the top deck had been reserved for business. Ben and Tenzin had been ushered into the room where Juvan and Alcide were waiting for them. Both had greeted Ben with a deference he knew he wouldn’t have received as a human.

  Ben wasn’t human anymore, which was both a strength and a challenge. He was used to going into negotiations like this while being underestimated. Ben had learned to work those preconceived notions to his advantage. He liked being underestimated.

  Now he was a powerful predator, and though the men were earth vampires, Ben knew his amnis shouted across the room. Learning to cloak it the way Tenzin and Giovanni did would take time.

  “You hired the Dominican to paint three forgeries.” Ben paged through his folder. “Why three?”

  “Why not?” Juvan shrugged. “We were going to sell them to humans.”

  “So not on the open market?”

  “No, no.” Juvan’s brother Alcide waved a hand. “Only to criminals.”

  Tenzin asked, “Is there a market for forged icons in the human criminal class?”

  She was next to him at the table. Ben had a feeling she might have been taking notes for future business opportunities. Selling forged icons to mobsters for hard cash would be exactly the kind of thing Tenzin would find hilarious.

  Not your problem anymore.

  “More than you might think,” Juvan said. “Most human criminals are extreme
ly stupid, so the gold that’s on icons makes them think they are worth more than their actual value. If the story is good and we put up enough resistance to selling the piece, they always buy. Icons have become a good source of income for us.”

  “Interesting.” Tenzin sipped a glass of blood-wine. “Of course, if you hired the Dominican, then you must have photographs. He won’t work without them.”

  “We did.”

  “Really?” Tenzin cocked her head. “Then you weren’t selling it to humans.”

  Juvan and Alcide froze.

  Ben kept his lips glued together because he had no idea why a photograph… Ohhhhhh. Right.

  The icon had disappeared from public records long before photography had been able to record it, so no living human had ever seen it. Which meant absolute accuracy—which necessitated an expert forger working off photographs—would only be important for an individual who had actually seen the icon in their lifetime.

  In other words, a vampire.

  Juvan and Alcide exchanged a look.

  “We were,” Juvan said. “On my honor, we would not have tried to pass a forgery to an immortal. Too many opportunities for the transaction to go wrong.”

  Alcide said, “We don’t need the money or exposure. It wouldn’t be worth the risk.”

  Ben asked, “So why did you need the pictures?”

  “We didn’t need them. We had a written description and references. Our partner offered them, and we saw no reason to say no.”

  “Partner?” Ben said. “So this wasn’t your own idea?”

  Juvan and Alcide narrowed their eyes.

  Tenzin put a hand on Ben’s arm. “He means this wasn’t only your idea of course. Tell me about your partner.”

  Alcide cursed under his breath, and Juvan spread his hands. “Are you going to tell us about your client?”

  Tenzin smiled. “You know we can’t do that.”

  Alcide said, “So you must know that we cannot tell you either.”

  “You can’t tell me a name,” Tenzin said. “But surely you can give me something.” She looked out the window of the yacht. “I would consider it a favor.”

  Juvan and Alcide both perked up. Giving Tenzin the meeting was fulfilling their favor to her. Offering information would gain them a new favor from one of the most powerful vampires on the planet.