After a great show of surveying the room, he sidled closer to me. As he took another half-step into my space, my shoulders stiffened, though I tried to paint as good a smile on my face as I could. Why couldn’t he just leave me in peace? It was the vampires who were here for the pomp and circumstance of state. We were just dressed up go-fers.
“Good evening,” he offered.
With desperate eyes, I begged Shahid to get me out of there. He laughed but quickly returned to his long stares around the room at the multitude of nothing attacking us. Rolling my eyes, I smiled and turned my head to the Canadian. He stood with such excellent posture compared to my slouched form. Remembering my dress, I straightened, curling my arms around my stomach. Why had I agreed to this short thing anyway?
“Um, hi, sorry,” I said finally.
Carson raised an eyebrow and flashed me a smug smile.
Before I could open my mouth to respond to his persistence, Devon cut in. Be nice and be useful. See if you can figure out what they are angling for.
“Hi,” I said again, as warmly as I could muster, forcing my shoulders to loosen. “Interesting to see you again.”
“The sentiment is mutual. I do hope you’re not here in a professional capacity? We’re quite tame.” He put up his hands in mock arrest.
I honestly smiled at his stupid antics. “Nope, wouldn’t think you’d be trouble. I’m here for Devon and the food, but that’s as far as it goes.” Glancing over at the two lions on their thrones, I shook my head and gestured with my chin. “Just look at those two. What a show.”
The two vampire lords sat facing one another at modest angles, as much engaged in conversation one with another as posing for those watching.
Carson followed my stare then shrugged his shoulders slightly. “They’ll be like this for hours. Hopefully only that long. Once, we met a representative from Anatolia—we took our first break in the second day.”
“What?” The two comfortable chairs took on a conspiratory visage. I couldn’t stay here that long. Stupid vampires and their warped sense of timing. “Please tell me you are kidding?”
“Don’t worry. I catch the strong impression from your benefactor this meeting will be short and to the point, as far as courtesy will allow.” Carson turned to me. “I’m curious. How do you find time to attend to him and keep a public service job? Is it simply the American Calvinist work ethic, or are you just a masochist?”
A pounding sounded in my ears. No longer caring about putting on a nice face for the tuxedoed visitor, I turned to Devon’s imposing second. “Shahid.”
He continued acting like he was gazing around and not following our every word to report to Devon later.
“Shahid, did you know about this? I agreed to come over two nights in a row. I’m not here for a slumber party. I have to pick up Will before morning to get him to school.”
Shahid ducked his head in mock defense. “Devon will remember. He never forgets where Will is concerned. Dinner?”
Don’t let her scion rile you up. I have this under control.
I narrowed my eyes in Devon’s direction. You’d better.
Putting on an exasperated but civil face, I turned back to Carson, my new dinner companion. “Sorry. I believe there’s a dinner for us at the far table since we’re the only ones who really eat here.” I led the way to the polished dinner table, full with crystal decanters of both red and white wines and platters laid out with cooked birds, vegetables, and various other temptations. Devon had outdone himself for two people. We’d never eat this much. There were real candles on the tables lighting the meal, putting their electric counterparts to shame. It set quite the scene. What was he up to?
Trying to regain ground from my outburst to Shahid, I took a deep breath and sheepishly grinned at Carson. “Would you like something to eat, or have I scared you away? It’s pheasant, I think.”
Carson took a long last sip of champagne and watched me in disapproval. I guess I should have been more polished, but he could shove it if he thought I was going to bow and scrape to him. I crossed my arms and ignored his continued stare.
Finally deciding to make his way to me, he pulled out a seat in front of the garish feast set in front of us and offered it with a gesture.
“Cornish hens,” he quipped. I contemplated the blasted birds again. How the hell could anyone tell one from another? This guy wore privilege like a damn badge. Guess they didn’t have poor people in Canada.
Raising an eyebrow, I glided around and sat in the seat opposite him. He blew out an exasperated breath and sat with remarkably less grace than when he’d entered the hall. He raked a stiff hand through his blond hair again, upsetting his whole look. He had a tell. I smiled. Point for me. I’d get under that polish to the truth yet.
While taking in the meal, he changed the subject. “Scionship, a full-time job, and a child? You’re making my life seem drab by comparison.”
“Brother, not child. At least, not mine. And the job came with the ‘scionship.’ Most of DEC is populated by scions of various levels, shifters, and spirit workers.” I concentrated on the empty plate in front of me. “I couldn’t have gotten this position without being Devon’s scion.” I all but whispered the hated truth of that statement.
Carson considered that in silence for a moment. “Your DCS seems blisteringly competitive. Our Ministry of Vital Resources is more of a byzantine hell of bureaucracy and useless people. I say ‘useless,’ mostly because they say ‘no’ more often than ‘yes.’” He gave me a pause then added, “Have you not entertained many foreign nationals?”
I winked at him. “It’s DEC, not DCS. Department of Energy Conservation. The US formed it after the Reclamation. Don’t get me wrong—there’s a lot of bureaucracy. That’s just not my department. I’m in collections. I go after the darker things in the night that break the law and take blood or other vital energies without a license or paying the fees. Don’t you have a department that regulates their actions with intent and verve?”
He blinked away the bafflement on his face. Then he nodded imperceptibly and cleared his throat. “In Canada, we have a somewhat more cooperative climate with regards to Vital Resources. This isn’t an indictment of American methods, by any means. On the contrary, it’s a symptom of something we generally prefer to keep brushed under the mat.” I squinted at him over the candlelight, and he elaborated. “Though our country may have been spared the brunt of the attacks, we began with a population much smaller than the States. And with the contributions to the war effort, our numbers have dwindled to the point where everyone is keenly aware both races are in danger. Which is what brings us to Chicago.”
I reached for my glass, trying to glance at him with the barest of casual interest. Devon, are you paying attention?
Yes, just keep him talking, cherie. She’s good, but her attention is on him. Let him do more talking than you right now. She’s worried.
Finishing my sip, I placed the glass down. “I knew your numbers were low, but how can that bring you here? Planning to repopulate with Yankee blood?”
“Nothing so grand. Though we have cultivated an overseas market for blood among the remaining civilized nations, the States remains one of the last bastions of the First World that doesn’t participate in the open market. As your better half, I’m sure, is attempting to ply from me: our purpose here is to foster open borders. Barring that, at least some kind of trade agreement.”
Carson waited for a response from me or the vampires; I wasn’t sure. As I nodded, he continued, “Remember that Anatolian I mentioned? Week-long meeting? They were asking for help. The truth is: they needed blood, but the war had reduced Turkey and most of Armenia to so many piles of rubble. They didn’t have much to offer, but their need was… staggering. Have you ever seen a vampire starve to death, Miss Brady? The slow collapse of something timeless and powerful. Watching that tremendous pride wither is frankly more than any sane person could stomach.”
I froze, the bite that was on its
way to my mouth suddenly unappetizing. Setting it down, I stared at Devon across the room. For all my bluster about his stupid weak needs that he asked of me, he was powerful, timeless. Everything this man was describing. Yet, I’d seen him when I’d pulled too much from him. Pain stabbed at me from the thought of him so weak. Devon caught my eye for a moment mid-sentence, surprise crossing his face before he quickly wiped it away.
Then I thought of others I’d brought in, what they had done to others even though there was a healthy and refilling supply at their disposal.I’d seen far more of that kind than of Devon’s–or even Shahid’s–upstanding ilk. And Devon, with all his grace, still had to drain me of my own blood all the time.
He tried to break into my thoughts. Interesting. Try to–
I turned my eyes back on to the scion sitting across from me. “First of all, Devon is not my ‘better half.’ We have an agreement. I work for him. Period. That does not make him my ‘better.’ Second, you are hoping to trade for blood? Third, why do you worship them so much?”
Rowan, stay on task.
I answered aloud. “No, I want to know. Carson, even last night, I could tell you didn’t approve of me roughing up that monster, though he deserved every moment of it. Without knowing anything more than I was human and he was vampire, you instantly chose his side. Now you want to trade for them, not just the lady you are bound to, but all of them? I want to know why.”
Carson gave me a moment as waves of indignation washed across his face. His hand mussed his hair again before he caught it and smoothed it out. “It was not meant as an offense, though we clearly don’t share the same attitude regarding our benefactors.” As my face bristled at the new term of adoration, he pressed on, “You want to know why I trade with them? Because at the very, very least, they deserve our gratitude. They snatched our race from oblivion. I hold no illusions we humans were barreling headlong into mutually assured destruction. And after centuries of suspicion, persecution–one might even say attempted genocide–they mustered the will to save the Earth despite ourselves. Now, I’ll grant you, as with humanity, there are subversive elements. Even brutal. But as a whole, I see them as harbingers of our salvation. I’m willing to give the vampire kind a little more than the benefit of my doubt.” He took a bite of fowl. “It’s more than I give humanity.”
Leaning back, I countered him. “They saved us from the bombs, sure, but then–”
“Are you really that ignorant, or do they not teach you the full truth here? I saw the aftermath. The vampires tried to return to their shadows, but our human violence forced them to take control to save us.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
His face was flushed with anger. “People did not agree with the method of mass execution of the Middle East and North Africa. When the human military came home, they were greeted with death squads. People couldn’t punish the vampires, but they could make their human soldier allies pay. Fear turned neighbors and families against their own. Wives killed husbands in front of their children. It was a dark time.” His dark brown eyes blazed with the memory of it. “The world was still too small, even for the third of humanity that was left to play nice. The vampires had to rise up and force control so the population didn’t destroy itself. It’s the only reason we’ve had peace for fifty years. That’s unprecedented in human history.” He fixed his eyes on me with a desperate intensity. “Forgive me if I give them credit for all they’ve done for us.”
I grew quiet and thought about what he’d said. He’d been there at the Reclamation. Fifty years ago, and it didn’t sound like he had been all that young. His face had the beginning of permanent laugh lines and the like, but nothing more. I’d have pegged him at late thirties, not anything closer to seventy.
Remember, they come from a different place. Very different.
He has no idea what’s still out there if he steps away from her ivory tower, does he?
No, he doesn’t. The Canadians have always had it a bit easier.
Smiling sadly at the zealot before me, I sighed. “The funny thing is: I don’t see much difference between the two, and that scares me. But I do try and take it case-by-case rather than pick sides. I’ve dragged in the human monsters too, not to mention shifters and mediums. As you said, there are ‘subversive elements’ in everything. There is good too. I would never have had a job that could have supported my brother and me without Devon. I had all the skills, but none of the connections. The connections are everything, but I can’t help thinking about all those who don’t have our connections. They’re just trying to survive.” Raising my chin to Devon, I smirked at Carson. “And sometimes those restrictions saving humanity can be stifling, don’t you think?”
Carson raised his chin at me and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed in front of him. Son of a bitch was enjoying this.
“What are we stifling, though?” he asked. “Perhaps you’ll say ‘freedom’ or ‘individuality.’ Perhaps we are also stifling the suicidal element in our collective conscience. That urge to destroy what we’ve created.” He took another bite, gripping his fork so tightly his knuckles whitened.
Taking in a deep breath to try and center myself, I cracked my knuckles under the table.
Nadia’s eyes turned to him. Both of the vampires were watching us.
“I do believe we’ve derailed their conversation,” Carson muttered.
I flashed him a forced smile and took another bite. “I know. It’s good to see you can pull that silver spoon out your ass and get into the fray. I was beginning to worry they had handsome robots as scions in Canada. Just as they keep us alive, we have to keep them honest. Don’t you think that’s part of a scion’s responsibility as well? We are the link between the races. Maybe we’ll even be able to finagle a couple of curfew passes out of Devon so you can see the real Chicago.”
Devon coughed to cover his laugh, but Nadia looked like she’d just eaten something slightly sour.
“Don’t get used to such flattery, Carson,” Nadia’s audible voice carried over the hall. “By the time our host and I have finished our conversation, I’m certain the entirety of Chicago will have us branded as lunatic idealists and broom us back to Toronto.”
Carson turned and nodded to Nadia. As the two vampires resumed their conversation, he whispered across the table, “It would be interesting to see how the city has changed in the last fifty years.”
Can you get them, Damir? I pushed Devon, but I was excited to show these guys what the real world was like.
You really do like causing trouble, you know? And don’t call me that.
Can you get them?
Yes, I’ll have them for Friday. If you’re going to show him the nightlife, might as well do it right.
Leaning a bit over my plate, I glimpsed up though my hair and winked at Carson. “Get a yard pass for Friday. Perhaps you’ll see what you’re really getting into.”
ass thrummed against my body as I stood beside the entrance to the nightclub, The Rift, situated between the well-manicured Park Ridge subdivisions and the less desirable Chicago West homes. The air was filled with the sounds of a normal Saturday night for the meat-market bar. A line of people had formed to get in, each one having their curfew passes checked before getting their wrist bands and drink tickets for the night. Other DEC members watched with careful eyes over the group. A shifter, Andy, whom I’d worked with before, nodded to me and handed me three set of bands and tickets.
While waiting for the gorilla of a man at the front of the line to approve IDs and curfew passes, the crowd checked each other out, gathering information on potential conquests once they were granted access to the dance floor and alcohol. More than half of the outfits had flashes of pink thrown in somewhere, which the few brave human patrons were trying to ignore.
Since the Reclamation, the color pink wasn’t exactly outlawed, but because the uranium replacement in the bombs had caused them to explode in pink mushroom clouds, humanity had come to accept it as a color of death.
Preternaturals, otherwise called ‘prets’ on the street, tended to see it as a color of liberation. Also, it was a way to get a rise out of the “normal” folk.
In front of me, the young buck—literally, he’d let his antlers stay protruded from his head–leered back at me suggestively, taking in every inch of my make-up and outfit.
Reaching down, I fixed the lacings running up the sides of my leather pants. My work boots fit smoothly over the ends, comfortable enough to run in but with enough point to puncture an artery if it came to that. My shirt was the only piece of my wardrobe that was for show. The shiny, green silk blend moved over my skin, causing soft sensations to run down my body. Normally, I’d have a more utilitarian shirt on—something that wouldn’t leave skin behind if a problem arose. And problems always did.
So why are you wearing such a particularly alluring shirt, cherie? Devon spoke through our bond.
I crossed my arms then, catching myself, put them back at my sides. Have to show well for our northern visitors, right?He’s so stuffy and acts like he’s the one who’s hundreds of years old. He needs to loosen up.
Just remember: you have skills he doesn’t, but he has quite a few it wouldn’t hurt for you to pick up.
I rolled my eyes, knowing he’d feel the sensation.
I had a few minutes before everyone would get here. Okay, personal question time, Mr. Lord of the Manor.
Do tell.
What’s with all the “cherie” talk? Last night, I learned you’re actually Russian. I’ve been thinking you were French this whole time. Shouldn’t it be “katya” or something like that?
Ah. Born and raised can be very different things, cherie. He punched the term with extra snark. I was born in Russia but was turned while on vacation in Paris. So, twenty-seven years in Russia versus over a hundred in France. I picked up a few habits.
I was broken out of our connection by the group in line in front of me.
Of Scions and Men Page 4
