Angel Falls (Cassandra Bick Chronicles Book 3)

by Sinclair, Tracey

  Wow. I hadn’t really thought about this at all.

  ‘You sound like you admire her.’

  ‘I admire what she’s achieved, because I know how hard she had to work to achieve it. But it’s hard to warm to someone who just tried to wipe out your family.’

  ‘But before? You were never tempted?’

  He rolled his eyes at me.

  ‘The woman killed someone over a pair of freaking boots. I don’t need that kind of crazy in my life.’

  ‘Yeah. Pity we don’t have a choice about it anymore.’

  ***

  We were silent for the rest of the drive, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Something about Josephine’s involvement – and her absence in the St Paul’s attack – rattled me, but I couldn’t put my finger on what, and knowing that she and Laclos had some sort of history made it all the more suspicious. Then again, plenty of people who knew Laclos now wanted to kill him, so it wasn’t a stretch to assume he’d had the same talent for making enemies back then. But something about a sneak attack on his lair and a tortured child didn’t chime with a woman who wore bangles so she couldn’t creep up on you. I could easily imagine her ripping Laclos’ head off, but not orchestrating such a complicated plan without letting us know she was behind it. Or maybe it wasn’t her that was throwing me, it was the doe eyed girl who’d accompanied her to my office, and who hid 800 years of power behind her shy teenage facade.

  The trip was a short one, even in London traffic. Leon drove us over the bridge towards Borough and Elephant and Castle, pulling into an underground car park of one of those ugly as fuck buildings that have sprung up over the last few years, blocks of shiny new flats that none of the locals could dream of affording, and would never get inside except to clean and fix drains; tax relief properties for absent millionaires and money launderers. I shouldn’t be surprised if some of Laclos’ cohorts owned apartments here – at least, I was guessing that was the case and Mariko had brought Laclos here from the safe house, as I couldn’t imagine Cain having property somewhere this ritzy, and this hadn’t been one of the options for either humans or vamps that we’d discussed decamping to last night. I’m scared of underground car parks – too much TV has led me to believe they are places where you will be raped, robbed or murdered – but with Leon at my side we escaped without incident, heading up a flight of concrete stairs to the entrance lobby, where there was a suite of lifts.

  I hated places like this – not only for what they represented to the average Londoner, but also how they looked, so sterile and unwelcoming. But I could see they would be an ideal place to hide out: many were investment properties that stood empty for long periods, and others were used as bases for employees in the finance industry doing stints over here from foreign offices, so in the extremely unlikely event you bumped into someone in the corridor, there was no danger of them wondering why they didn’t recognise you. Plus, while the enormous glass windows gave great views, they were terrible for privacy, so it wasn’t unusual for tenants to keep curtains or blinds drawn through the day. In short, a vampire paradise.

  We took the lift to the top floor and walked along a corridor that would do The Shining proud, before Leon unlocked the door of a corner flat. My Sense bristled as we entered into a spacious, open plan living room-cum-dining room and kitchen, even its generous proportions looking cramped by the dozen or so vampires assembled there, alongside a smattering of humans. I recognised Mariko and a couple of vampires by sight, and Laclos’ young human lover Mika was lounging near him on the sofa, close enough to indicate possessiveness, though with enough distance to suggest a sullenness at his boyfriend being so preoccupied. And Laclos clearly was preoccupied. Despite his outward froideur, my Sense picked up nervous energy coming off him like a chill. He raised a hand in an indistinct gesture of greeting, indicating in the same movement that some lackey or other – Laclos rarely indicated who he wanted to do his bidding, just that he wanted it done – should bring us both wine. Tipsy still from the champagne, it took me a moment to notice what was different about him – and then another moment to process what it meant.

  For a man so openly given to vanity, Laclos rarely looked as if he’d spent any time thinking about his appearance, beyond sacrificing himself to the necessary inconvenience of clothes: plainly, he realised such dramatic beauty needed little in the way of adornment. Tonight, though, he was playing up the indie rocker vibe to the hilt. He was back in the leather trousers and skin-tight, v-neck t-shirt look he favoured, heavy soled biker boots completing the ensemble. On his wrists, he wore the thick leather and steel chain bracelets that I had previously thought of as his torture gauntlets, since they looked like he should be dangling from them in some dominatrix’ dungeon, though that idea had become less amusing now I had actually seen him hung from the ceiling and bleeding. His dark eyes were rimmed with black liner that made them look even more enormous and striking, while at the end of those long, slender fingers, his nails were painted some iridescent shade that made it look like he’d dipped them in petrol, the colour changing as he moved, each gesture made hypnotic. Laclos was always a man who combined the masculine and feminine to dizzying effect, but tonight he looked simply breathtaking. But it was also a little annoying. The world was going to hell in a handbasket – in no small part due to his actions – and he was fannying around with the Max Factor? But then I realised that was the point. A studied carelessness was his trademark. Everyone else might be running around like headless chickens, but he has time to do his nails (or, knowing Laclos, have some naked acolyte paint them with the brush clamped between his teeth). I just wasn’t sure if this gesture was aimed at his enemies, or Laclos himself.

  ***

  Laclos motioned for me to join him – Leon laid a hand on Mika’s shoulder to indicate he should go, and with a look that made it plain just how delighted he was to see me the young man skulked off, another happy beneficiary of the Laclos School of People Management. It probably wasn’t smart to accept another glass of wine on top of the fizz, but what the hell, if I was going to die, I’d rather be pissed. Laclos raised a glass to Leon in thanks at his delivering me, something in the ironic twist of his lips telling me he hadn’t quite forgotten yesterday’s parting exchange.

  ‘Nice set up you’ve got here. Not much room for the servants, though, I’d imagine.’

  ‘Cassandra, if you plan to be tedious, I shall have Leon drive you back home,’ Laclos sighed, and I relented, because I was being a bit of a bitch.

  ‘So… any idea as to what our next move should be?’ I asked, taking a more practical tack.

  Laclos tilted his head back against the back of the sofa for a moment, eyes closed, as if it wearied him even to think of such things – he wasn’t alone in that – then sat up and took a sip of his wine.

  ‘My first instinct is of course to retaliate, but whatever I think of the hippyish ways of the Wiccan, Medea has a point. Further escalation of violence serves no one. But I admit, I am at a loss as to how to restore peace without conceding to such an extent that my perceived weakness in doing so renders any such truce temporary until someone else seeks to dethrone me.’

  God, vampire politics.

  ‘Maybe we should speak to Cain,’ I said, going for my phone, but he put his hand out to stop me.

  ‘Give us the room.’

  I frowned, confused – I’d just got here! – before realising he wasn’t speaking to me. Uncomplaining, the vampires and humans stirred from wherever they were artfully lounging and went to the door. Leon and Mariko hesitated, but Laclos nodded and they followed the others out into whatever bedrooms lay at the other side of the flat. I was a little surprised by this, but barely had time to register that Laclos and I were alone before he grabbed me and pulled me into a fierce, desperate kiss, his embrace so forceful he literally lifted me out of my seat as he pulled me into his arms, but so fast that I barely had time to protest before he released me, and I fell back, stunned.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Lacl
os,’ I managed, breathlessly. ‘Talk about picking your moments.’

  He ducked his head, running his hands through that long dark hair, and he made a sound of stifled frustration before he visibly pulled himself together and straightened up again, reaching out to touch my face with one cool hand.

  ‘Forgive me, Cassandra. But I have missed you. I know that I have wronged you with my behaviour, and I know that you have aligned yourself with another – for whatever brief time he deigns to favour you with his company…’

  ‘Laclos…’

  He held up a hand in apology.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he repeated. ‘I know. But Cassandra, you must understand what it is like for me now. Cain denies our connection – perhaps, powerful as he is, he genuinely barely feels it – but it has shaken me to the core. And it has opened my eyes to him. To what has made him who he is, in all of his terrible glory.’ He fixed me with that dark gaze, willing me to understand. ‘I look at Aeylith and I know what it is to experience a body for the first time, to feel desire not dictated by flesh, one beyond my ability to understand. But I have also tasted his blood mixed with earth in my mouth and felt knees on my back and know what it is to be slowly unmade.’ His voice cracked as he spoke, and he blinked red from his eyes. ‘I look at his wife and I know what she tastes like at the height of passion, how she smells in the heat of the battle. And I look at you…’ he ran his thumb lightly along my lower lip, tracing the blush of his kiss. ‘And my own desires are sharpened by his longing, which in turn makes me feel your absence even more keenly.’

  ‘Laclos…’ I floundered, speechless. What could I say? He could hear my traitorous heart, could read in my body a hundred different ways that told him, whatever Cain was to me, my feelings for him were just as vivid, and undeniable. But what good did it do to know that?

  ‘We’re in the middle of a war,’ I said, eventually. ‘Even if I was willing to hurt him like that – and I’m not – he’s your strongest ally. It would be insanity to alienate him.’

  He tilted his head to the side, a look of almost pity.

  ‘You must know he still loves his wife.’

  I straightened up, trying not to look like he’d slapped me.

  ‘If you know him like you say you do, then you understand that’s in his nature.’

  He frowned at that, though he didn’t deny it.

  ‘Look, he knows that I care about you,’ I sighed. ‘That I’m… attracted to you. And let’s face it, you’re not exactly subtle about wanting to get in his pants.’ A slight smile of acknowledgement at that. ‘It’s a weird, fucked up setup, but it is what it is.’

  ‘But it need not be so complicated,’ he said, softly. ‘He would enjoy me, you know. I am certain of that now. There is no reason why you both could not.’

  Which wasn’t what I wanted to hear when I had a mouthful of wine. I spluttered ungraciously for a while, which he politely ignored, but when I recovered he was looking at me with those liquid dark eyes, suddenly serious.

  ‘May I, then, request a favour?’ he asked.

  I made a sound of tentative agreement. With Laclos I was never sure where favours might lead.

  ‘Let me feed from you.’

  ‘I…’ I trailed off, having no idea how to answer.

  ‘I need human blood, Cassandra. The blood bags have helped, but… I am hungry, now, all of the time, starving for the thing I am denied. I have not known true hunger for centuries, and now I find nothing sates me. Human blood – blood from the vein – does not silence the cravings, but it dulls them. It would mean much to me.’

  ‘What about Mika or Lucius?’ I asked, which sounded pettier than I meant it to. Something flickered across his expression.

  ‘They are scared and traumatised. I do not wish to take advantage of that.’

  My Sense buzzed. He was lying – but why? Annoyed with his playthings, or flattering me into thinking I was his sole salvation? I sometimes thought Laclos demanded absolute subservience from his lackeys then despised them for giving it – that part of the reason he liked Leon and Mariko was they were such a tight little unit they’d always have a core of defiance against him, however superficially loyal they seemed to be. It was part of Cain’s appeal, too – other than the super-powered blood, spectacular hotness and, um, general unbreakability: Cain took no shit from Laclos in a world where almost everyone else had drunk the Kool-Aid. There probably was a universe where Cain would ‘enjoy’ him, where they were a great couple or at least an excellent buddy-buddy TV show (an angel and an often unclothed vampire, I thought, irreverently – I’d totally watch that). And maybe that was part of my appeal, too. But I realised I’d been so sidelined by these thoughts and my Sense I hadn’t answered, and he was looking at me, expectantly.

  ‘Um. OK.’ I said, eventually. ‘Where would you want to… take it from?’

  He smiled at me, fangs snagging those generous lips, quite aware of the effect that had on me.

  ‘I usually find the inner thigh a pleasingly bountiful vein,’ he smirked, then laughed as I smacked away the hand that was snaking towards me.

  ‘No chance, you perv!’

  Deciding to go old-school, I pulled my hair back and tilted my head, baring my throat, steeling myself for the sting of him. He let out a small sound of desire, then he swept me into his arms and the whole world went red.

  ***

  For a moment there was nothing. My legs had buckled and I swooned, aware of nothing but the cool hardness of his body holding me up, pressed against him as he had lifted me clear out of my seat and pulled me once again into his lap. My Sense and my senses overwhelmed, I gave in to a surrender that was unlike anything else. The feed was like a wire between us, pulsing with energy, the sharp pain of his fangs at my throat drowning in a sea of other pleasures. I was taking as much as I was giving. I felt electrified with him, drunk and giddy and elated, my pleasure enhanced by the fact that I could Sense his. The tiny part of me that was coherent wondered that if this was how he felt with me – I could Sense his hunger, the sweet narcotic of my blood as it hit his veins – what must he have experienced with Cain?

  I lolled back, and felt my Sense expand, unbidden, rolling out like a sentient mist and… yeah. C’mon, you can guess where this is going. My luck is never this good. My Sense started to blacken, like oil spilled in a clear pool. My body tensed and jerked and I tried to pull away and Laclos, eyes closed, lost in me, started, confused – there was a moment of clumsy scuffling as I tried to sit up and he, his instincts conflicted, tried both to help me and to stop me at the same time. Then, his head clearing, he realised why I was panicking and his body went rigid. For a moment I Sensed genuine fear, before he arranged his face into a smile, and turned to greet the newly arrived Cain.

  ‘I see an aversion to knocking is something you share with your… compatriots,’ he said, smoothly, with an arch smile at the man who was standing in the doorway with a face like the Old Testament God. Seriously, I was starting to think he actually could teleport, since his ability to turn up at exactly the wrong moment seemed unparalleled. Laclos gently deposited me back on the sofa beside him, and I tried to look prim and dignified, but that’s a hard look to pull off when the man you’ve been sleeping with walks in on you draped in the arms of his rival. Laclos, however, now appeared unruffled.

  ‘Cassandra was just generously supplying me with some nourishment. In much the same way as you yourself were kind enough to, earlier,’ he added, a reminder which I was grateful for but which made one of Cain’s eyes twitch, so maybe wasn’t the smartest thing to say. And beneath Laclos’ languid smile was a new feeling to my Sense; he was scared. Though perhaps what troubled me most was I couldn’t tell if he was scared of pushing Cain too far, or of pushing him away. Laclos made an expansive gesture taking in Jonesy and Val who were – oh joy – just behind him, the former watching the scene with obvious astonishment, the latter her trademark cool detachment. ‘I am open to further donations, should anyone else wish to voluntee
r.’

  Luckily we were saved hearing what anyone had to say to that, since their arrival had clearly been heard, and the rest of the apartment’s inhabitants were trailing back into the room, openly staring at the trio who had just appeared.

  ‘We couldn’t find anything,’ Cain said, eventually, his face unreadable. ‘Are Medea and Katie joining us?’

  ‘Medea might, later, if we think we need her, but Katie has to work.’ I said. That got a scowl from Jonesy, but screw him: like most hunters, he forgot that real people have jobs. And Katie was a nurse – it was a vocation, not a paycheque, so we could hardly ask her to abandon it for us.

  Laclos sighed, somewhat theatrically.

  ‘There is one way we could find out more about whoever is behind this,’ he said.

  ‘How?’ Cain scowled, in no mood for his games.

  ‘We can simply ask the traitor in our midst,’ Laclos said, his sharpened smile a blade, and he turned to look at Leon.

  ***

  For a moment, all I could think was, No. Not after everything he’d done, not after the conversation we had just had in the car. Was my Sense so addled that I hadn’t been able to pick up on his betrayal? Then I realised my Sense was just fine, but I was an idiot, because I was looking at the wrong man.

  Mika, who had come into the room behind Leon, opened his mouth to protest as all colour drained from his face. But, rapidly deciding he didn’t have anything to say that would help him and discretion was the better part of valour, he bolted for the door. Or tried to bolt, anyway: it was a foolish move in a packed room full of vampires, and he got no more than a couple of feet before there was a ‘whoosh’ of air and a howl of pain as he found himself pinned to the wall by a well-aimed Valkyrie’s sword, which went clear through his shoulder to the plaster behind him, leaving him scrabbling on his tiptoes to relieve pressure on his wound, tears instantly in his eyes.