Twice Cursed

by Marianne Morea

  Sean’s voice feathered across her mind, the intimacy of it robbing the breath from her throat. He leaned in to kiss her gently, then raised his fingers to brush the hair away from her eyes.

  “I love you too,” she answered, sending as much trust and warmth as she could along their shared mind path.

  “I’d better get Jack, the night’s wasting,” he said, and pushed away from the counter.

  “Wait,” she said, pulling on his hand.

  He exhaled, his shoulders slumping as he turned.

  “Don’t be like that. I get that neither of you want my scent to add fuel to the fire and bait the vamps, but I had a thought. Unless Hollywood has it completely wrong, vampires have abilities just like Weres, right?” She glanced up at him hopefully, but the man just crossed his arms again, not giving an inch.

  She exhaled, blowing stray strands from her forehead. “Are all Weres so pigheaded or just the ones in my life? Admit it; what I’m saying makes sense. If vamps have talents similar to other supes, wouldn’t they stack the odds in their favor and have a telepath on the council? Or at least in their guard? They would probably pick through my brain as a matter of protocol before we even got through the introductions, and there you’d have it, proof positive.”

  Sean didn’t say a word, but the muscle in his jaw worked overtime. Considering he walked the fine line between overprotective mate and Alpha of the Brethren, it was no mystery as to which arguments he was biting back, and Lily knew it. In the end, her theories were valid, and she’d bet dollars to donuts that Sean already knew there was a telepath on the council. Perhaps that’s what worried him.

  “All right.” He spit out the words like they were wrapped in barbed wire. “However, you need to stay close and listen to me. I mean it, Lily. I let you take the lead at the morgue, but this is my jurisdiction. None of your vigilante style antics, and for all our sakes, speak only when spoken to, and think before you answer.”

  Lily pursed her lips slightly, raising her chin a notch. She lifted onto her toes to press a kiss to his lips. He may have acquiesced, but she was smart enough to know at what possible cost. She slipped her arms around his waist and looked up at him, resting her chin on his chest. “I may be hot-headed, but I’m not stupid. You’ll get no argument from me.”

  Jack walked back into the kitchen, a smirk on his face. “Ha! I’ll believe that when I see it!”

  “Eavesdropping, Jack?” Lily asked.

  “Nah. More like reconnaissance,” he said with a chuckle. “You two are about as obvious as water is wet, so can we go, please? I’m getting gray from all the time we waste talking.”

  Sean’s shoulders shook, and Lily glanced at the young hunter across the hard muscled expanse of the alpha’s chest. “You’re a gray wolf, Jack; you couldn’t get any grayer if you tried.”

  “Ha, ha. Since you wheedled your way onto this pleasure trip, why don’t you stick a couple of those homemade stakes of yours in your boot?”

  Sean shook his head. “No weapons. If we go in armed, it sends a bad message. Besides, my guess is, they’ll search us beforehand.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word. Lily stepped back from Sean, and pulled open the thin utility drawer at the end of the counter. Reaching in, she grabbed a handful of pencil sized pieces of wood, all with razor sharp tips and notched for a small, concealed crossbow.

  “Would you look at that?” Jack said in surprise, stepping up beside her. He picked up one of the stakes and turned it over in his hand. Each stake had perfectly flared wings and a weighted silver tip. “You’ve been holding out on us, huh? You make all these yourself?”

  She nodded.

  “Where’s the bow?”

  “Second drawer on the left.”

  Jack reached in and took the mini bow out. The weapon was barely half the length of his arm, but its precision was unquestionably deadly. “You are one scary bitch, aren’t you? I think maybe we need to do something about that.”

  Lily chuckled, but at the same time, took the bow out of Jack’s hand and put it back in the drawer along with the stakes “Another time, maybe. Sean’s right. No weapons tonight.”

  “If we’re going to go, then you need to clean up. You still stink like cat.”

  She glanced down at her clothes. “I’ll only be a minute, and I need to let Ryan know we’ll meet up with him later.”

  ***

  The vampire underground and its sanguinarian population thrived in New York City. The place was a veritable playground, where every fetish imaginable was indulged. Shadow houses dotted Manhattan’s grid, sanctuaries for vampires sampling the city’s pleasures a little too close to dawn, and havens where donors could be accessed without the least threat of repercussion.

  A veil had been drawn across vampiric life, with access forbidden to outsiders. Of course, Sean had legitimate justification in requesting a temporary stay in that ruling, and permission to approach their inner sanctum had been granted, surprisingly.

  With Lily in tow, he and Jack crossed Jane Street, heading west toward the Hudson River Greenway. Their destination was a hip new hotspot on Vestry Street, a dozen or so blocks south in the heart of trendy Tribeca.

  Despite the cold, Sean put the nix on taking a cab, not wanting anyone, not even a random cabbie, to be able to pinpoint their destination. He quickly scanned the street and the alleys ahead of them. The invitation of Warm Were blood on a cold night was tempting for any vampire, and the last thing they needed was an ambush from the shadows. Odds were, they would need all their reserves for the main event.

  “Well?” Jack prompted.

  Sean frowned at the younger wolf’s mounting impatience, and shot him a warning look before he nodded the all-clear. “Take your enthusiasm down a peg, boy. As of now, this is a non-confrontational parley, nothing more than a good faith transfer of information in hopes of preventing further bloodshed.”

  Jack huffed. “Bullshit. One of theirs killed one of ours.”

  With a sigh bordering on aggravated, Sean ran a hand through his hair, stepping up to the corner to wait for the light to change. Traffic still flowed in a heavy northbound pace on the Westside Highway, passing in a blur of car horns less than a block from where they stood.

  “We still don’t know all the particulars about that, and I’m not starting an all-out war over a random wolf, hundreds of miles from where he belonged. It’s no secret there are Weres who partner with the undead, and even those whose tastes stray toward the unthinkable.”

  Jack snorted. “No shit. I haven’t run into one yet, but as far as I’m concerned a silver bullet to the head is too good for them.”

  “What are you two talking about?” Lily asked, her face surprised by Jack’s grunt of disgust.

  The wind off the Hudson was high, and Sean slipped his arm around Lily’s shivering frame. For someone so small, she carried the weight of everything she’d witnessed over the past months with such strength. Anyone else would be downing cocktails of Prozac and antipsychotics. She knew so much already, but it was times like this when he realized how much she had yet to learn. A protective knot twisted in his stomach, and again the feeling warred with his sense of duty. Perhaps Lily was right to be so averse to the idea of being turned. It truly was a whole new world for her.

  He sucked in a cold breath and pointed for them to take West Street, following the quieter road southbound along the highway. Construction scaffolding lined buildings along the inside edge of the street for what seemed like miles, offering them shelter against the wind. They slipped easily under the metal frame and ducked inside the plastic sheeting. Lily’s shoulder’s visibly relaxed with the sudden drop in wind shear, but Sean kept her close regardless.

  “I’m not sure I know how to answer that question without it reeking of bias. Right or wrong, every culture has unwritten codes of behavior. Opinions about what is acceptable and appropriate. In that respect, Weres are no different from anyone else, and, like other groups, we change with the times, o
r at least try to,” he said, fixing his eyes on her.

  “Nevertheless, there is one taboo regarding the undead that will probably never change. Vampires, their narcissism and the atrocities they commit, have branded them a depraved race by most Weres. They are considered so obscene, anyone who panders with them is an outcast the eyes of the Weres. Even basic friendship is frowned upon, but to have relations with a vampire is unconscionable.”

  “I assume by relations you mean sex, right?” Lily asked, unwinding her scarf from her neck.

  They had all warmed up, and Sean slid his arm from around her shoulders, but kept her hand wrapped in his. He nodded, twining his bare fingers with her gloved ones. “It’s unthinkable, regardless of existing treaties. Vampires are dead, and their bodies are reanimated in a way most supernaturals find abhorrent. After all, we have living blood running through our veins, too. To make matters worse, vampires lump all daylighters together, regardless of species or race. Weres, Fae…it doesn’t matter to them. In their eyes, we are no more than a step above human, and they consider themselves the master race.”

  “Jeez, and all those vampire romances portray them as so anguished and long suffering.”

  Jack laughed. “Yeah, what a shocker for all the teenage girls hoping for their own brooding vamp. Go team wolf!”

  Sean shot him a look. “Quit it, Jack. There are enough of the angst-ridden varieties still pining for their humanity to make our treaties worthwhile. As for teenage vampire romances, the world has been spellbound ever since Bram Stoker published Dracula, so go figure. Our species will never commingle, but the vampires who retain shreds of their humanity give us hope for a peaceful coexistence. Now, I’m not saying the wolf in the morgue had anything to do with breaking the taboo, but it’s a possibility we can’t ignore until we gather more facts. Lily, you were able to see the attack, and that information gave us a rough estimate of the vampire responsible, but the events leading up to it, and whatever was said between the victim and his attacker were garbled, right?”

  Lily nodded, lifting her hand to tuck a few windblown strands back into her Laura Croft Tomb Raider style braid. “The way it felt in my head was similar to a glamoring, but not. It felt as though the vamp picked through the Were’s memories and jumbled them beyond recognition after he was dead. I’m not even sure that’s possible.”

  With a huff, she pulled her left glove off with her teeth and shoved it into her pocket, letting go of Sean’s hand to do the same with the other. A faint smirk danced at the corner of his mouth, and he chuckled inwardly at the classic Lily move. She was fidgeting, something she always did to channel tension before the hammer came down on a situation.

  As expected, she had changed into her leathers before they’d left the apartment. It was as if she donned a certain persona, like superman changing into his tights and cape in a phone booth. Lily was gutsy and bold, and for some reason, she needed the outward show. Not that Sean minded. His eyes swept her shapely legs, noting the tight fit of her pants and how the black leather showcased every curve not covered by her short jacket. She might be freezing, but for him, she was hot enough to melt the ice floes on the Hudson. Need, unexpected and intense, flashed through him, thickening his groin. Lily tilted her head in his direction raising one eyebrow, and he answered with what he hoped wasn’t a leer, squelching the urge to have her loosen more than just her scarf.

  He refocused on the street ahead, clearing both his mind and his throat. “The confusion you encountered while reading him is certainly something we can put to them as questionable, but remember, for all we know, the vampires are just as concerned about what’s been going on in this armpit of a city as we are.”

  “Armpit?” Her eyebrow stayed up, but this time for a different reason.

  They were walking at a fast clip, and had reached the end of the construction tunnel. Lily shoved her hands back into her gloves, and rewound her scarf around her neck as they stepped back into the wind. Jack spit on the street next to the curb. “Sweet Cheeks, if you smelled what we smelled, you wouldn’t be questioning Sean’s description. Armpit is certainly way more polite a metaphor than I would have given.”

  “First cupcake, now sweet cheeks? Well, aren’t you the colorful one this evening? Just a couple of days ago you were all about the city and its diversions, Jack. What’s the matter? Bored already?”

  The wind kicked up refuse from the street, and a plastic bag flew at them, billowing out and leaking the dregs of something rank. “Yeah…well even pigs want a break from their sty now and again,” Jack commented, sidestepping the foul-smelling projectile.

  “Enough, you two. We’re here.” Sean’s game face shut them both up, and they each glanced across the street to the large, warehouse on the corner. The building was old, its brick frontage as much a throwback to a bygone era as the matching paving stones set into the street it occupied. Tall, lead-paned windows had been cut into the structure, lending to its turn-of-the-century appeal, as did the old hand-truck ramp demarcated in red velvet rope, leading to the front door. The establishment’s name blazed in ornate lettering on the beveled glass doors.

  “The Red Veil? This is the home of the vampire council? Sean, this place was just written up in New York Magazine. The restaurant is booked solid for six months—and the club—it’s strictly A-listers only,” Lily said, a little shocked. “When you said we were heading to the old meatpacking district, I expected the seedier side, not high-end, red-carpet.”

  Sean cracked a smile. “Nope. Like I said, vampires are narcissistic. Trendy and expensive is right up their alley. And their lair is right behind that alley.”

  Lily slipped her hand into Sean’s pocket, her delicate fingers seemingly fragile beneath his own. Yet the warmth and pressure of their fingers entwined calmed him, kept his focus on the task at hand, as they stepped off the curb and into the unavoidable.

  Through the windows, it was obvious New York’s latest ‘in’ place to see and be seen was packed for the evening. The Red Veil would serve its patrons until the basement nightclub by the same name opened its doors at eleven pm—two hours from now. By New York standards, it was too early for clubbers to start lining up, but already there was a queue down and around the alley that led to the club’s main entrance.

  Adrenaline coursed through Sean’s body, despite his outward appearance of calm, the only hint to his unease, the tight set of his jaw. The next few hours would determine more than just the course of events for the here and now. What transpired could lay a foundation of accord between vampires and Weres everywhere.

  Or not.

  “Ladies first,” Sean said, pulling his hand from his pocket and steering Lily across the street.

  “Where are they, exactly? I mean the vampires— they know we’re coming, right?” she asked, glancing crossways to the restaurant and then back at Sean.

  “Oh, they know we’re coming.”

  Flanking Lily on her other side, Jack gave his characteristic snort. “I bet they already know we’re here. In fact, I bet they’re watching us from tiny peep holes in the walls.”

  “Jack…”

  The younger Were just shrugged, but his face was wary, despite his humorous bravado. “Well, what do we do now? Do we just walk into the restaurant and tell the maître d’ we have a reservation with the master? I don’t want to get this wrong, Sean. You know how vampires are about protocol, and an angry, insulted fanger is never a good thing.”

  “I’ve got it covered, Jack, just relax,” Sean said, taking his cell phone from his inside breast pocket. With one touch, the screen illuminated, and he scrolled through the choices until he found what he searched for. His phone beeped once, and immediately instructions were issued via the speaker in a foreign language.”

  “What the hell kind of dialect was that?” Jack barked, clearly unnerved.

  Sean held a finger to his lips, then punched a four digit code into his phone and hit send. The screen went dark, and he stuffed the cell back in his pocket. “
Done.”

  Agitated, Jack scuffed his heel against the curb. “Guess I was absent the day they taught Transylvanian secret code, huh?” Jack remarked, but before Sean could reply, an older gentleman stepped through the main doors of the eatery, and beckoned them forward.

  Lily squeezed Sean’s hand. It was show time.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ***

  Sean entered the building first, pausing for a fraction of a second before motioning for the others to follow. The three of them stood in a v-formation just inside the door, with Sean at the head. His eyes quickly scanned the lobby and the wide arc of the dining room, noting the emergency exits, before his gaze shifted to the mahogany reservation desk at the center of the reception area. It was manned by two pretty hostesses, and flanked on either side by low curved couches where patrons waited for their tables to be readied. Drinks in hand, people also queued along the wide, red carpeted stairs that he assumed led down to the club. It was game on, and one look from Sean reminded both Lily and Jack each to keep their thoughts and their comments to themselves.

  The gentlemen nodded for them to wait between the reservation desk and the coat check off to its left, while he had his ear pressed to the receiver of one of the house phones. It wasn’t hard to guess the subject of his one-sided conversation.

  Jack gestured toward the chic, open-view kitchen centered at the back of the dining room. Tables hummed with conversation while patrons were treated to a full on view of white uniformed chefs working at a frenetic pace. The dining room was as sumptuous as the scent of the food they served, with its gorgeous trey ceiling and trompe l’oeil murals. It was Victoriana at its best, and the whole scene was a surreal counterpoint to the reality of whom and what controlled the place.

  The man hung up the phone, firing off a string of orders to one of the women standing behind the reservation desk. The language he spoke sounded too similar to that of the instructions left on Sean’s phone for it to be coincidence, and both Lily and Jack exchanged glances. The woman’s eyes darted toward Sean before a guttural reprimand from the maître d’ made her jump. She bobbed her head, and scooted behind him through a concealed door in the wall.