by Keri Arthur
I stopped and eyed him warily. “Can I help you?”
“Yes.” His voice was cool, polite. “My mistress wishes to see you.”
And I so did not want to see her. Still, I suspected it would not be wise to refuse. “I can come around tomorrow, if she—”
“Tomorrow is not soon enough,” he cut in politely. “She wishes to see you immediately.”
“I’m afraid I—”
“And I’m afraid it would not be wise to delay,” he cut in again. “She is a very old vampire, and well used to getting what she wishes.”
One way or another.
He didn’t actually say that, but it nevertheless hovered in the air between us.
He smiled and stepped to one side. “Please,” he added, with a wave toward the lane.
I hesitated, but it seemed I had little other choice but to do as he—and Maelle—wished if I wanted to remain on pleasant terms with the local vampire.
I turned and headed down the lane. And hoped like hell whatever it was didn’t take too long, given I finally had a date to get ready for.
But even as that thought crossed my mind, another rather scary one rose.
Maelle wasn’t only a very old vampire, but one who’d admitted to dabbling in the darker arts.
What if she was the reason for the soul eater being on this reservation?
Chapter Three
I stopped so abruptly that the silent man-ghoul had to do a quick sidestep to avoid running into me.
“Tell me one thing before I go any further.” I clenched my fingers against the need to start a truth spell. “Is your mistress in any way involved with dark magic?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Given she’s my mistress, I’d hardly answer in the affirmative if she was.”
“I want a guarantee that she’s not. Otherwise, I’ll not step one foot inside her nightclub.”
“That would be unfortunate indeed, given how often your friend is there of late.”
While it was no surprise she knew about Belle dating Zak Marin, who worked as a bartender at her nightclub, it was nevertheless an ominous statement—one that suggested Maelle knew enough about us to understand a threat to Belle would be far more effective than one directed at me.
“Answer me truthfully, or I go no further.” I hesitated. “And please believe that I will know a truth from a lie.”
Which wasn’t exactly correct given I hadn’t raised such a spell, but I was hoping he wouldn’t know that.
He considered me for a moment, and then said, “Why is this information so important?”
“Because a soul eater hunts within this reservation, and there’s a theory it’s here under the invitation of a dark practitioner.”
“Ah.” His expression became oddly amused. I had a vague suspicion it wasn’t his, but rather Maelle’s. “As my mistress has already mentioned, she has dabbled in the darker arts, but she is in no way capable of creating a spell that could call or command such a spirit.”
Which didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of magic, and that was yet more unsettling news.
“But she nevertheless guarantees she is not in any way connected to whatever or whoever is responsible for the dark spirit being here,” he continued. “May we move on now?”
I swung around and walked on. While I normally wouldn’t trust a vampire’s word, Maelle was of the Defour line, which, if she were to be believed—and the council certainly did—meant that once she’d given her word, she was incapable of breaking it. The binding was one of magic, a curse that had been given long ago by a Marlowe witch—a fact that initially had me wondering if she’d had some inclination of my true identity, however unlikely that might be.
A black sedan waited at the end of the lane. As we approached, a gray-clad driver got out and opened the rear door. I climbed in. Émigré was situated on Richards Road, which was within walking distance, but it would have far taken longer to get there than I really wanted to waste right now.
The driver closed the door once we were both inside and, within moments, we were underway. Maelle’s servant didn’t move; he barely even breathed. He simply stared directly ahead, his expression devoid of life or animation.
“Tell me,” I said, more to break my gathering tension rather than from any real need to know. “Do you have a name?”
He blinked and then glanced at me. “Roger.”
“Really?”
His eyebrows rose. “Why are you surprised?”
“I guess I was expecting something more... exotic.”
“Roger was exotic in my time.”
“Oh.”
You need to get with the times, Lizzie. Renfield is so yesterday.
It’s not like I’ve had much to do with thralls before now. I paused, watching uneasily as the animation left Roger’s face again. Has your gran’s book on vampires anything about them?
Haven’t checked, but I will. Are you okay? Do you want me to wander over to Émigré, just in case you need help?
I hesitated. She said she’s not involved with the spirit, and she’s guaranteed the council not to take blood from the unwilling, so I think I’ll be relatively safe.
It still might be wise to have a spell or two ready to use, just in case.
Given her admitted knowledge of the darker arts, that’s probably not a good idea. There’s the risk of her sensing it and getting annoyed. And I very much suspected it would not be wise to get on the wrong side of Maelle Defour.
Better to be on the wrong side than to be dead.
I don’t think she wants me dead, Belle.
Well good, because seeking revenge isn’t on my to-do list today.
I grinned, but it quickly faded as the car came to a stop and the driver opened my door. I climbed out and looked up at the building. In the waning light of the afternoon, it looked almost otherworldly, especially against the very ordinary buildings on either side. The entire thing had been painted matte black—even the windows—and the walls were decorated with weird, almost alien-looking biomechanical forms. It looked like something that belonged in a science fiction film rather than out here in the middle of the Victorian countryside.
“This way, please.”
Roger motioned me toward the main entrance, which had been styled into an air lock. He unlocked the door and then ushered me inside. The second set of doors that led into the main area were open, so I continued on.
The room beyond was huge, and had been painted battleship gray rather than black. The arched ceiling was adorned with more of those biomechanical and alien forms, but in the cold light of day, this vast room held none of the heat, energy, or intrigue that it did at night. In fact, it looked and felt rather soulless. Which, considering a vampire owned the place, was rather apt.
Of course, the whole “did vamps possess souls” debate was still very much ongoing. Not even the books we’d gotten from Belle’s gran could answer that particular question.
I paused at the top of the steps that led down to the lower-tier dance floor. It was empty, which was no surprise given the place didn’t open its doors until the sun had begun to set, and at this time of year that was generally around eight. But there was also no one behind the bar that dominated half of the upper area, nor was there anyone replacing the tea candles in the grotesquely shaped lanterns that adorned the table in every seating pod, or otherwise getting the area prepared for use by guests.
Which was decidedly odd—in a place this big, I would have thought it’d be safer to allow more time to prepare rather than less.
My gaze rose to the ceiling. Maelle had built a dark glass and metal room into the point where all the arches met, and though it was obvious right now, at night it disappeared into the darkness and was all but invisible. Only the occasional glimmer of a strobe flickering across its surface gave its position away, and I doubted many of those who frequented this place would have noticed. The only reason I’d done so was thanks to the sensation of being watched.
Which once again I was.
Maelle made no acknowledgment of my presence, however, and after a second or two, disappeared into the darkness behind the glass.
“Would you care for a drink, Ms. Grace?” Roger moved past me and walked across to the bar—a vast twisted metal and glass construction. “My mistress will be down momentarily.”
“I wouldn’t mind a sparkling water.” I perched on the nearest barstool—which, following the theme of the entire place, was shaped like an alien’s head—and watched him move across to get my drink. “Where are all the staff? I would have thought they’d be here by now to get things ready for opening.”
He placed the opened bottle and a glass down in front of me. “Normally that would be true, but we had to delay opening this evening.”
I nodded my thanks and then said, “And has this delay anything to do with my reason for being here?”
“Indeed it has,” a soft and slightly accented voice said. “And I do appreciate your promptness in answering my request to see you.”
I swung around and watched Maelle approach. She was once again wearing what looked like an eighteenth-century riding gown, although this time it was dark green rather than brown. Her rich chestnut hair had been plaited and curled around the top of her head, and under the bar’s cool lighting rather looked like a crown. Her skin was porcelain perfect, and gave no hint of her age. But she was old.
Very old.
“Let’s be honest here,” I said, my tone as neutral as I could manage. “It wasn’t an invitation. It was more a demand.”
A small smile touched her too-perfect lips. “That is very true, but I do have my reasons and they are quite urgent.”
“Something I gathered from your thrall, and the only reason I am here.” I hesitated, and then added bluntly, “And I do not appreciate the threat against my friend. You were the one who said you’d prefer a relationship based on respect rather than one mired in animosity and distrust. Threats are more likely to garner the latter, Maelle.”
“Another truth, and I do apologize for falling into habits of old.”
She sat gracefully on the stool beside mine, a far too close position that had my “other” senses flaring to life.
Maelle Defour was hungry.
Dangerously hungry.
My pulse rate jumped into overdrive, which was very unwise given the waves of hunger washing from the other woman. But it wasn’t like I could control either my pulse or the fear that accompanied that jump.
“What do you wish of me, Maelle?”
Her gaze met mine, and though no heat flared in the pale depths of her eyes, I knew she was aware of my accelerated heart rate.
Aware, and wanting.
She smiled. It was a cool and very controlled motion that held nothing in the way of warmth. “I wish you to find someone for me.”
“Who? A friend? Or another servant?”
Did she—or any other vampire, for that matter—even have friends? Everything I’d been told about them suggested they were loners—a necessity, given they were generally an unwanted addition to any community—and Maelle herself, for all her politeness, wasn’t the warm and friendly type.
“She would perhaps consider herself a friend.”
“But you do not?”
“No. She is simply an attendant—one who caters to my physical and nutritional needs.”
It took a moment for that to sink in, and my heart rate unwisely shifted up another gear. “I thought that was the role of a thrall?”
Roger laughed and, just for a moment, a glimmer of amusement broke the ice in Maelle’s eyes. “No—not when it comes to the latter, at any rate. Not unless it was an absolute emergency, and even then, it would have unfortunate consequences.”
I glanced at him. “Like what?”
“Death,” he stated, his expression neutral, “would be a welcome option if I was so used.”
“And also very unlikely in such a case,” Maelle added. “But we are not here to discuss that, but rather Marlinda’s disappearance.”
Leaving me wondering what fate could be far worse than death. “Are you sure she has disappeared? She’s not at home sick or something?”
“No. When she did not show at her assigned feeding time last night, I sent Roger around to check her apartment. She wasn’t there.”
I frowned. “Is it possible she simply decided she no longer wished to be an attendant?”
Just for an instant, something very old—and very inhuman—flashed in her eyes. It was all I could do remain still and not edge away. Or, better yet, run.
She’s a vamp, Belle said. They’re supernaturally fast. She’d be on you before you took two steps.
Thanks for that cheery reminder. Needed it.
It is the task of every good familiar to anticipate the needs of their witch, she said cheerfully. I’m hovering nearby if you need help.
Good. I felt safer, even if that feeling was nothing more than an illusion.
“No,” Maelle said softly. “It is not.”
For one confused moment, it almost seemed as if she was answering my reply to Belle rather than the question I’d asked her.
I hesitated, and then very carefully said, “Please don’t take offense, but why are you so sure?”
“Because the nature of being an attendant gives rise to a connection. If she was unhappy—or in any way contemplating leaving this life—I would have known.”
Did her use of the term “this life” simply mean being an attendant, or did it in fact mean exactly what it sounded like—that death awaited anyone who did decide to leave?
“What sort of car does she drive? I could ask the rangers to run a check—”
“I would prefer it if the rangers are not involved,” she cut in. “And she currently has use of a Mercedes AMG Sports car.”
Foreboding stirred. “A white one? With a black interior?”
Maelle’s gaze narrowed. “Yes. You’ve seen it?”
“Kind of.” I took a long drink of the fizzy water, but it didn’t really ease the dryness in my throat. “I caught glimpses of a car fitting that description when I was doing a reading last night.”
“Who were you doing the reading on?”
“Aron Marin.” I hesitated, but the grapevine would have undoubtedly latched on to the news by now, and it would be common knowledge soon enough. “He was murdered last night.”
She absorbed this with little emotion. “Marlinda is not responsible. It is not in her nature to kill.”
And yet she was consorting with a vampire, and that to me suggested a darker nature. Which might be doing Marlinda an injustice, but still.... “Do you know if she has a red sparkly dress in her wardrobe?”
“Undoubtedly. It is this season’s fashion accessory. But she did not make this kill. I guarantee you that.”
Maelle could guarantee however much she liked, but I seriously doubted it was a simple coincidence that Marlinda owned a car and probably a dress similar to what I’d seen in Aron’s thoughts.
“And how is it,” she continued, “that you did a reading on Aron if he was murdered last night?”
“Because memory doesn’t die as soon as flesh.” I paused. “Are you sure you want me to find Marlinda given the possibility—however remote you think it might be—that she was with him last night?”
“I’m sure. She was a favorite of mine.”
Suggesting Maelle had other attendants to call on—but if that were the case, why was she so hungry?
“Well, I’ll need something of hers—”
“Roger can take you to her apartment. I cannot leave this place until the sun sets, so he will be my eyes and ears on this quest.”
And wouldn’t that be fun? But I didn’t say anything, and simply nodded in agreement.
“If you go there immediately—”
I glanced at my watch. “I do actually have a later appointment—”
She raised an immaculately groomed eyebrow. “Then you had best hurry along, hadn’t you?”
I opened m
y mouth to protest and then shut it again. While I doubted there’d ever be a good time to antagonize her, doing so when her hunger was so tangible probably wasn’t the wisest move. She might have promised the council not to dine on the unwilling, but history was littered with the carcasses of broken promises.
“Fine.” I finished my drink and rose. “But please don’t expect miracles. Psychometry is not always reliable—”
“All I ask is that you try.”
I nodded and glanced at Roger. He immediately said, “This way please, Ms. Grace.”
I followed him from the building, but as we hit the sunlight, my legs went to water and it took a whole lot of determination to keep upright. I hadn’t really realized how tense I’d been until I was actually beyond Maelle’s reach.
Although in reality, I wasn’t. Not when Roger remained by my side.
As the driver climbed out of the black car and moved around to open the rear passenger door, I casually glanced over my shoulder. Though there were a number of people moving up and down the street, I couldn’t immediately see Belle. But I knew she was down there—I could feel the caress of her magic.
I’m using a glamour. Didn’t want to alert our vamp or her people that I was near.
Your skills are definitely improving—I didn’t even sense you creating it.
That’s because you were concentrating on not getting bitten or otherwise antagonizing our bloodsucker. Do you want me to keep close? I can go get the car and follow from a distance.
I really don’t think it’s necessary at this point. I’ll see you at home.
No probs.
I climbed into the car. The driver closed the door behind the two of us, reclaimed his seat, and drove out of the parking spot. He seemed to know where we were going without being told, which made me wonder if he was another thrall, or simply in telepathic contact with either Roger or Maelle.
It turned out that Marlinda lived on Forest Street, in a building that had obviously started out life as a pub. While there were still retail premises at the ground level, the first floor had been converted into a number of apartments. Hers was at the front of the building, overlooking the roundabout and the park opposite.
