Chaos Theory

by Susan Harris

  Nickolai was angry. I could feel the waves of it flowing from his skin, although I wasn’t sure if he was pissed that the rogue was still fixated on me or he hadn’t been the one to gift me Braydon’s head. It certainly wasn’t that the slimeball was dead.

  Ignoring Nickolai’s fury, I lifted the lid off the box again and leaned in to get a good ole whiff of the dead guy. I swallowed back nausea as memories of his scent hit me, reminding myself he could hurt no one else. It was the greatest satisfaction I could have gotten. Closing my eyes, I breathed in again, catching the faint scent of cold and blood, the scent of the rogue. He wasn’t afraid to let me know he was the one responsible, as if he were my white knight, riding in to save the day.

  “He feels like he’s protecting my honour. As if I’m his to protect.”

  “You are not his.”

  Oh, male vampire testosterone!

  Rolling my eyes, I ignored Nickolai and continued my assessment. “I can’t see if he drank from him. The jagged cuts around the base of the neck aren’t clean, like he was frenzied. I’d have to get a better look at his body.”

  “What’s your plan? Will you walk into the frat house and ask nicely if you can check to see how the git was gutted because his head is at your house?”

  “No, Mr. Narkypants,” I huffed, wondering how I could get a closer look at the destruction the rogue had done. “I’m gonna hide in the shadows and use my lovely vampire eyes to catch a glimpse of the body from a safe distance.”

  “And if you’re seen? I mean, you have motive.”

  “So do you, dumbass!”

  We glared at each other for a second before the intercom rang, reception advising Nickolai a detective was looking to speak to us. Nickolai advised the receptionist to let them up as I squeaked and grabbed the box containing Braydon’s severed head, then dashed about looking for somewhere to stash it.

  Eventually, I hid it at the bottom of Nickolai’s wardrobe, striding out of the bedroom as the detective strode out of the elevator. She introduced herself as Margaret Collins, a detective working on Braydon Smyth’s murder. Tall and thin, the woman had flame-red hair pulled back severely into a high ponytail. Her intense green eyes were filled with intelligence.

  Nickolai invited her to sit, saying how shocked he was by what had happened, but he wasn’t sure how he could be of much help.

  The detective smiled slyly as I asked if she would like something to drink, politely declining. I sat dutifully beside Nickolai, my hands in my lap as Detective Collins began her questioning.

  “It has come to our attention there was a bit of an incident at a party on Sunday night.”

  Neither of us said anything, so the detective continued. “Onlookers said Mr. Smyth and you had an altercation that resulted in a broken rib.”

  Nickolai leaned back in his seat. “Braydon dosed Ryan with ketamine and then tried to assault her. I was simply trying to prevent a crime from being committed. Ryan was extremely unwell afterward, so I brought her home to recover.”

  The woman’s eagle eyes turned to me, and I returned her steely gaze. The predator in me wanted to snarl and flash my fangs even as it admired her obvious grit, but Nickolai’s hand on my knee dragged me back to my senses.

  The detective’s gaze fell to where Nickolai’s hand rested. “Did you report the crime to the police? Did you go to the hospital?”

  I shook my head, clearing my throat as I said, “I come from an extremely strict community. If they found out I was at a party—or even drinking, for that matter—I’d be forced to leave. I was okay physically, so Nickolai looked after me here.”

  “I’m sure your family would want you to be safe.”

  I remained tight-lipped as the detective turned her attention back to Nickolai.

  “Can you tell me where you were between midnight and two in the morning, Mr. Romanov?”

  “He was here with me all night,” I replied. “We had take-out and watched a movie. We didn’t leave the apartment all evening.”

  “And can anyone vouch for your story?”

  I was beginning to dislike her tone, and I guessed Nickolai was, too, because he stood.

  “I’m sure the cameras in the lobby will be able to show that neither of us left the apartment at any point.” Nickolai reached into his pocket and handed the woman a card. “Now, should you have any more questions, please refer them to my solicitor.”

  “Why would you need a solicitor if you have nothing to hide?” the detective queried.

  “We have absolutely nothing to hide, detective. Your tone suggests you’ve already decided I’m guilty; however, I was quite clearly protecting my girlfriend’s honor.”

  The detective pursed her lips and stood, turning for the door, when she paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t leave town, Mr. Romanov. I’m sure we’ll speak again very soon.”

  “No doubt, Detective Collins. Just remember one little thing: I am a diplomat’s son and therefore afforded the same rights as they are.”

  “A boy is dead. I’d try not to look so smug about it, Mr. Romanov. It makes you look very guilty.”

  “A poisoner and rapist is dead through no fault of my own, Detective Collins, and my girlfriend is thankfully alive. I have every reason in the world to look smug.”

  As soon as the detective was gone, I smacked Nickolai hard on the arm. “You idiot! Talk about talking yourself into being guilty. They’re going to be watching you like a hawk now.”

  “Yes,” he said, grinning like he’d given me a gift. “And while they have eyes on the apartment, you will be able to slip out and get a look at the crime scene.”

  My eyes widened. “Genius! I could kiss you!”

  His smile deepened, dimpling his cheeks. “Go on then,” he replied, a hint of a dare in his tone.

  Turning away from that awkwardness, I ran back to the bedroom, attaching my weapon holster to my back and slipping on my dark jacket, then bending down to lace my shoelaces tighter. Quickly, I braided my hair and tucked it inside my jacket, hiding the distinctive color from view.

  When I emerged, Nickolai was waiting for me. “You will be careful,” he said. It was an order, not a request.

  I waved my hands at him. “Of course, My Liege.”

  “Ryan, I mean it,” Nickolai growled.

  I gave him a little salute, climbed up on the back of the couch, and stretched up, removing the cover of the air vent. Handing it to Nickolai, I grabbed the edge of the vent and pulled myself up, feeling Nickolai’s eyes on me as I crawled into the small space.

  “Stop looking at my ass.”

  “It’s a nice ass; I couldn’t help myself.”

  Crouching low, I ignored the heat flushing my face and shimmied along the narrow vent until I reached the outer cover. Popping it open carefully, I swung it back and glanced down to make sure no one happened to be looking up.

  Grabbing the ledge of the roof, I hauled myself out of the vent and clambered up until my legs were braced on either side of the slanted roof. On one side of the complex sat an unmarked saloon car, housing what were no doubt police keeping an eye out for Nickolai.

  The wind gathered, the scent of rain in the air, but it was Ireland I lived in—the scent of green and rain was just how the old girl smelled. I smiled at how easy this was; all the years I’d spent with my feet on a balance beam, trying to keep my balance while wielding a practice sword was really coming in handy. Luckily enough, the buildings around me were awfully close together, so the jump from one building to the next was no more than a simple leap. I headed toward the blue-and-red flashing lights in the distance, assuming they’d direct me to the scene of the crime, which they did.

  The staggering amount of police still there was shocking, highlighting the gravity of the murder. People were gathered as well, placing flowers on the lawn of the frat house—more male than female, though. Reporters called out questions, snapping pictures as they tried to get a closer look at the body blocked by a police screen.

  T
hree murders around campus since we’d arrived. This was really putting a kink in Nickolai’s whole bringing-vampires-and-humans-together-peacefully plan. I wondered if the rogue was near, watching the chaos below and keeping a watchful eye out for me, wondering if I was pleased by his actions. Was it wrong of me to be the smallest bit glad Braydon was dead?

  I needed to get a closer look at the body. As I waited for an opening, I saw one of the crime-scene techs move the police screen slightly, snapping pictures of the headless body for the investigation.

  Covering the short distance quickly, I landed on the roof of the frat house, dropping to my stomach and leaning over the edge to get a better view. The scent of blood and death was almost overpowering even from all the way up here.

  Braydon’s body, I noted, was positioned right where he’d held me up against the wall, his headless body horrifically posed, his arms bent in a fashion not possible without breaking the bones. His legs were bent in opposite directions, as if they’d been broken to torture Braydon before he was killed. Most of the boy’s insides were sitting in his lap, and I was almost certain that another part of his anatomy was sitting in his lap, too, but I wasn’t going to dwell on that.

  Braydon had died in a vicious, violent fashion. I was beginning to understand the rogue’s sense of honor, knowing full well I’d probably do the same to whomever was behind my parents’ murders. We were vampires. Our lives were contingent on loyalty, sovereignty, blood, and vengeance. He may be a rogue now, but if he was trying to win my approval by killing the man who’d slighted me, then I was dead certain he’d once been a court vampire.

  And now, more than ever, I needed to know who he was.

  A voice in the crowd caught my attention, and my gaze wandered down to spy Krista among those asking questions. My friend, who would not let the fact she was queasy around violent crime halt her journalistic nature, was jotting down notes in her little pad as she peered through the crowd, trying to get a better look. After a few minutes, she ducked under the arms of a man holding a camera and slipped into the alley beside the house. Seconds later, a figure slipped out of the shadows and followed her.

  My mind screamed as I scrambled to my feet and bolted across the rooftop, skidding to a stop just before I reached the edge. Krista was easy to spot as she walked across campus, her hair bouncing as she made her way back to her dorm, oblivious to the threat stalking her.

  Krista’s notebook slipped out of her hand as she walked, and the girl crouched down quickly to pick it up before the wind could whip it away. Focused on the notebook, she did not see the monster step out of the shadows behind her, his fangs bared and murder in his eyes.

  I had a split second to make a choice: save my friend and risk exposing my kind, or stand by and watch her die?

  That wasn’t really a choice.

  Reaching for my sai, I stepped off the building, the wind whipping my braid free as the ground rushed to meet me. A thrill went through me as I hit the ground in a roll, using the momentum to propel myself back onto my feet, ready for action.

  The rogue was inches from Krista when I rushed him, slamming my shoulder into him and sending him flying into the side of the nearby wall so hard the brick crumbled slightly.

  Krista screamed, stumbling away from the fray as best she could, but I ignored her, focusing solely on the rogue before me.

  “Runaway now,” I hissed, my fangs springing free, “before it’s too late.”

  The rogue wrenched a steel pipe off the side of the building, and Krista’s panicked gasps at the feat tore my gaze from the rogue for a split second. Glancing her way to make sure she was safe, I saw Krista’s eyes bulge in fear, and she shouted for me to look out.

  I ducked as the rogue swung the pipe, barely missing my head, and lunged forward, the tip of my outstretched sai only grazing the side of his torso as he moved at the last minute. I wasted no time in spinning to the side and stabbing down with my sai, trying to catch him square in the chest, but he anticipated my move, grabbing my shoulders and tossing me like a ragdoll. Adrenaline sang in my veins as I hit the ground, taking the blow and returning to my feet in a heartbeat. I’d taken much worse from my fellow trainees over the years.

  The rogue made to go for Krista again, and I dove for him, leaping onto his back and sinking my fangs into his shoulder as I stabbed my sai mercilessly through his back. As he howled in pain, I repeated the action before dropping down and kicking him away from me. The wounds probably wouldn’t kill him, but they’d hurt like hell for a while.

  As the rogue ran his hands over the blood at his back, I seized the opportunity to take him by surprise. Shoving him to the ground, I drove my sai into the palms of his hands. The rogue screamed, a melody of pain and fury that sang to me as I leaned in, the rogue’s blood dripping from my fangs onto his own face.

  “Tell your master I got his present and was not pleased with it,” I hissed. “I am not a princess who needs rescuing. I am the knight who rides in to save the day. The next time I see him, I will take his head, just like I promised. Now fuck off back to him and deliver my message like a good little minion.” With that, I yanked my sai free, sheathing them as the rogue darted away down an alley.

  I was still riding the high from the fight and stuck to the shadows as I approached Krista cautiously. I tried to get my fangs to retract before getting to close to her, but to no avail.

  “Are you okay?” I asked softly.

  “How long have you been a ninja?” Krista asked as she brushed dirt off her skirt, gaping in awe.

  I waited for revulsion to set in, for her to run from me screaming, but she didn’t. Then I wasn’t sure what was worse—her running or not running.

  “You should be safe now, but don’t go walking around at night by yourself, okay? There are things out there you should be afraid of.”

  “Like you?” she muttered under her breath, her eyes never wandering from mine as she swallowed hard.

  I snorted sadly. “Especially me,” I replied, dropping my gaze as I continued. “Being my friend is dangerous, Krista.”

  “At least let me see your face when you try and break up with me.”

  This girl, this very human girl with no hint of fear in her voice, stepped forward as I came out of the shadows, moonlight revealing my face. As Krista came up to get a better look at me, I stood deathly still. She touched the area just over the curve of my lips, feeling the slight rise due to my fangs beneath.

  “This is incredible. I mean, I always suspected, always wondered, but you’re real. How are you real?”

  “Well, Krista, when two people love each other very much—”

  “Ryan, now is not the time to be a smartass with me. I’ve just discovered monsters are real!”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, wiping the blood from around my mouth. “Being a smartass just comes naturally to me.” Krista stared as if she were looking at an animal in a zoo. Finally, I clicked my tongue on my fangs and sighed. “Monsters, whether human or not, were always real.”

  “I have so many questions! Oh. My. God. My best friend is a vampire!”

  I dropped my head as Krista bombarded me with questions. The night was beginning to wane, but Krista, now over the shock of her almost-demise, not wanting to let up on her journalistic nature, begged me to tell her everything.

  I hadn’t ever wanted to involve Krista in the murky world I lived in. Her curiosity was not a welcome commodity in our race, and now I’d broken a covenant and told her I was a vampire, it would be on me to make sure she kept her mouth shut. I didn’t want to think of what would happen if she spilled the beans on us.

  So, I did the only thing I could do when faced with impending dawn and a human who’d discovered my secret identity—I took her back to the apartment to annoy Nickolai.

  20

  In fairness to Nickolai, he handled Krista’s questions like a pro, smiling and looking as relaxed as he possibly could when being grilled by an overenthusiastic journalist with a vampire fascination. />
  “So, you guys aren’t dead?”

  “Not at all. In fact, our heart rates are always slightly elevated,” Nickolai replied as he reclined in his chair, his hands in his lap. He spared me a quick glance, arching a brow at me.

  Sitting on the floor by the window, I shrugged my shoulders and continued to wiping blood from my sai. This was what Nickolai had come to see—to decide whether humans could handle knowing there was another world hidden in the shadows.

  Krista leaned forward in her seat as she regarded Nickolai, glancing over her shoulder before turning her attention back to him. “This is awesome. I mean, I really should have known. You both are incredibly fast and strong, and you don’t go out in the sun. I’ve seen enough episodes of Vampire Diaries to know all vampires are supernaturally beautiful. Ryan’s eyes, for one, and that hair—it’s not normal.”

  Nickolai grinned at me, and I gave him the finger as Krista continued. “Not to mention Nickolai, here, looks like he stepped out of a Russian bridegroom catalogue.”

  Nickolai’s grin faltered as I burst into a fit of laughter. The crown prince growled at me but stifled the sound a second later, remembering he didn’t want to frighten our little human.

  “Oh my God! I know what you guys are! I can’t believe you’re vampires!”

  Having polished my sai, I get to my feet. “All right, Bella Swan, be cool.”

  Krista laughed as if I were the funniest thing in the world. Then she sobered, pointing to me with her finger. “How old are you? How old is he?”

  Slipping my sai into their sheath, I set the weapons down on the kitchen counter. “I just turned seventeen. The crown prince over there is nineteen.”

  “Oh, come on. You mean to tell me that you really are only seventeen, and pretty boy over there is—I’m sorry, did you say ‘crown prince’?”

  Lifting a shoulder in noncommittal response, I suppressed a smile, keeping my face blank of emotion and forcing Krista to look to Nickolai for answers.