by Rob Cornell
Unlike when they had assaulted me outside Slows, Lightning Bolt and the Bearded One wore stone-cold serious expressions. I thought I even sensed a bit of reverence in their posture and movement. The guy behind them must have carried some importance to them. The boss man, I assumed.
I held out my hands. “Is the nudity a must here? I'm not much of an exhibitionist.”
All three ignored me. In fact, they didn't so much as twitch at my words, as if they hadn't heard me. I would have thought the magic circle kept in sound as well as my body, but the echo of my voice in the far corners of the ballroom said differently.
The assholes would get to me when they were damn ready.
Just another tactic to show me who was in control.
When the trio reached the dance floor, my old buddies split apart and stopped. The guy in the robes continued his approach between them. He stopped a couple of feet from the circle and drew back his hood.
I'd never seen the guy before. He had dark hair and a young face. A thin, wispy attempt at a mustache dirtied his upper lip. He had thick, dark eyebrows that formed a stern line above his dark and intense eyes. His gaze made my skin crawl. All at once, I felt self-conscious about my nakedness. Especially when his gaze roved downed, and a small smile touched his lips.
“Nice to see you, Mr. Light.” His eyes lifted to meet mine. “I see my reputation has yet to precede me. That will change.”
“If you say so.” I cupped my hands over my bits. “In the meantime, why don't you tell me who the fuck you are?”
His presence was so imposing his escorts might as well have left the room. In that moment, they didn't exist.
“I am Detroit's new prefect,” the man said. “Ignazio Orosco.”
I stared at him, mouth hanging open. “Are you serious?”
His smile broadened. “Quite.”
That kind of knocked me off my stride. Not at all what I had expected. Left me speechless while my thoughts raced to make sense of this weird situation.
“I can tell you have many questions.”
“A few.”
“Let me cover the most obvious,” he said. He turned toward Lightning Bolt, whose tattooed pate shined in the chandelier's glow. “I'd like to sit, Elton.”
Elton—though I preferred Lightning Bolt—nodded quickly, hurried to grab a metal framed chair at a nearby table, and scurried back with it. He set the chair directly behind Orosco, then speed-walked back to his spot ten feet off to one side.
Orosco eased into the chair. Under the cover of his robe, he crossed one leg over another. He rested his folded hands in his lap. His gaze roved over my naked body again.
“You have a nice physique,” he said. “Lean but hard. It's impossible to tell because of my robe, but I have a similar build. It's the kind of body that’s easily underestimated.”
My face flushed under his scrutiny. “If you're done admiring me, maybe you could get back to those answers you owe me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Owe you? No, Mr. Light. The only thing I owe you is a slow death. You have pissed me off more than once with your meddling. I almost didn't make it to my new position.”
“Well, I'm sorry about that.”
He hummed. “I'm sure you are. Anyway.” He smoothed his hands down his robe. “First question. Why have I brought you here?”
He made it sound like he wanted me to provide the answer. “I haven't a clue.”
“I want you, Sebastian. May I call you Sebastian?”
I was too hung up on his words I want you to care what the hell he called me.
He took my silence as permission. “Okay, then. Sebastian it is.” He pointed at me and smiled. “I'm like Uncle Sam. I want you.”
With the way he was checking me out, I didn't know how I should interpret that phrase. But I assumed it didn't mean he wanted to jump my bones.
“Want me for what?”
“For your amazing talents. And for your…” He rolled a hand in the air. “…your special condition.”
Oh, gods, here we went again. At the mere mention of my vamp blood infected state, the brand on my shoulder that kept me from turning tingled. I almost reached to scratch at it, but it would have meant exposing myself.
“What good is that to you?”
“I have a theory,” he said and uncrossed his legs. He placed his hands flat on his thighs and leaned forward as if he meant to tell me a secret. “I've heard rumors that your blood offers something extra for any vampire who gets a taste. Many, many vampires believe it.”
It wasn't a rumor. It was true. After Odi's old mentor, Toft Kitchens, turned to dust, I had taken it upon myself to care for Odi. Part of that meant keeping him fed. And I did that by offering him my own blood. It didn't take nearly as much of mine to keep him sustained as a regular mortal's would. Plus, I had noticed Odi's magical abilities were a little sharper directly after a meal.
I didn't know the details of how my mixed blood worked for average vamps, but something obviously made it special.
Of course, I didn't need to tell Orosco that.
“It's bullshit,” I said. “Like you said. Just a rumor.”
He pursed his lips and slowly shook his head. “I don't think so.”
“You think I give a fuck what you think? Better yet, did you really think I would volunteer for your cause? Because I'm not a joiner. I have no dog in this fight.”
“But you do. Quite a big, shaggy dog, in fact.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My sweet friends, the Maidens of Shadow.” He frowned, though it kind of looked like a pout, too. “What's left of them, at least.”
I laughed. Couldn't help it. “Their numbers do seem to be dwindling.”
Orosco popped to his feet and closed the distance, putting the toes of his black leather shoes only a couple of inches from the circle of ash. Even through the barrier, I could feel his power thrumming. An angry power. Hot. And familiar.
He glared at me, his intense eyes sending a cold ripple up my back.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “Did I hurt your feelings?”
“You are the proverbial thorn. But I want to give you a chance to find your rose, because a thorn is nothing without its rose.”
“Very poetic.”
He drew in a deep breath then let it ease out his nose. The scalding energy emanating from him cooled. “I don't like being mocked.”
“Surprising, since it's so easy. You should be used to it, I'd think.”
He pressed his lips together. I could practically hear him counting down from ten in his head. “I could keep you in this cage until you starve.”
“Might make for an awkward wedding reception with a naked guy in the middle of the dance floor.”
“I own this place. I could close it down without care. I could let it crumble until it buried your dried-out corpse for eternity.”
“Seems like a waste for such a nice venue.”
His lips parted. He meant to say something, but held back, course corrected, and smiled. “We can get along, Sebastian. In fact, I think we will once I explain your role in the future of the New Ministry.”
“That's what you're calling it?”
“The city's vampires are still upset by Markus Hope's failure to hold up our end of the bargain we had with them. They expected a paradise of mortal servitude. A limitless source of sustenance out in the open.”
“Still don't know how you all thought that would work.”
“It would have,” he said then pointed at me. “If not for you.”
I smiled but said nothing.
“As I said, many of our undead friends have come to the conclusion that the Unturned is their salvation. You've taken on an iconic status among them.”
First I had heard about that. Most of the vamps I'd run into seemed to think I was some kind of affront to their kind. “Not the impression I've gotten.”
“The tide has turned. Without a true elder, the vampires are lost. The next eldest vampire
in this city is barely two-hundred years old.”
I hung my head and laughed softly. “You expect me to rise up as their leader and keep them in line for you?”
“Is it really so strange? You have a unique opportunity. You could tame the vampire population in Detroit. Make it a safer city from the worst kind of predators.”
Out of the blue, I thought of Odi. I knew not all vampires were wicked monsters. But I couldn't fool myself into thinking most of them weren't. Did this douche really think becoming the vampire version of the Pied Piper was a tempting enough proposition for me to join them, the very group who had made a deal with the Maidens of Shadow to kill numerous high ranking members of Detroit's Ministry? A group that had a relationship with the witches responsible for killing my mother?
“You're out of your fucking mind,” I said.
“Don't let your personal feelings get in the way of this opportunity. You could be instrumental in the New Ministry's mission to make Detroit a better place for its innocent mortals.”
“That what you thought when you planned on feeding those innocent mortals to the vamps?”
“Not all of us played a role in that. Most of us were in it for the long game. With the vampires appeased, we could control them, perhaps even eliminate them. Please believe me. All we have done is for the city's greater good.”
Orosco's dark gaze no longer chilled me. It turned my stomach. His soft voice rankled in my ears. If I could have reached beyond the circle, I would have strangled him.
“Everything you've said is the same kind of bullshit Markus Hope tried to shovel. I'm not in. And nothing you offer will change my mind.”
He tapped his finger against his lips and hummed. “I'm not so sure of that. I have one last item that could win you over.”
I didn't ask. I didn't care.
Of course, he decided to tell me anyway. He leaned so close, it looked like he wanted to kiss me. In fact, the circle was probably tuned specifically to me, so he could have passed through the barrier if he wanted to. That would also give me a chance to grab him and press my thumbs through his eyeballs. Didn't need magic for that.
He stayed on his side, though.
“The Maidens of Shadow,” he whispered. “Join us, and when we're done with the witches, I will have them executed.”
Chapter Fifteen
“I'd rather execute them myself,” I said.
Orosco raised his eyebrows. One corner of his mouth turned up. “That could be arranged.”
The thought of having the Ministry round up the Maidens for me, basically putting them in the barrel and letting me do the shooting, had appeal. I couldn't deny it. But there were a million reasons why it was a bad idea.
I didn't know anything about this guy. I doubted I could trust him to hold up his side of such a deal. Having black witches as powerful as the Maidens on personal retainer would be a hard perk to throw away for my sake. Besides, it would mean joining these assholes. I didn't want to get between the so-called “New Ministry” and the “Resistance.” I had my own street-level issues to deal with. Fighting a civil war did not fit into my plans.
“Think,” Orosco said, “before you answer.”
“I've thought,” I said. “And I think I'll gather my clothes and be on my way.” I pointed toward the circle on the floor. “If you don't mind?”
Orosco sighed. He looked toward Elton then turned to look at the Bearded One. His minions remained still and expressionless, but I had a feeling their exchanged looks was all the communication they needed, and it didn't bode well for me.
“Last chance,” Orosco said.
“No.”
His nostrils flared. His dark eyes turned even darker. I could feel his gaze like a finger pressed between my eyes. “I shouldn't be surprised. Not based on what I've heard about you.”
I put on a cocky smirk. “I'm that popular, huh?”
“The Unturned,” he declared like a carnival barker advertising his freak show. He held his robed arms out. “I'm going to have to change your mind.”
“Good luck with that.”
He exchanged looks with his companions again. Then he bowed his head, turned, and walked away, black robes flowing.
Elton and the Bearded One closed in, their eyes vacant of any discernible emotion. They had turned from a couple of yuk-it-up thugs to icy professionals. It wasn't until the door clinked shut behind Orosco that they cracked their smiles. No need to put on a show for the boss anymore.
“Is this where you torture me until I agree to join your club?”
The Bearded One nodded. “Yep.”
“Careful you don't break the circle,” I said. The two of them stood only a foot from the curved line of ash.
They both carefully stepped over the line and into my tiny invisible cage. Apparently, they weren't worried about getting out. As I had suspected, the circle was keyed for me. At least when it came to escape. But muting magic was a tricky thing. Hard to be precise unless you used some kind of trinket—like the gold shackles Logan Goulet had put on my mother to keep her from casting anything more than a shadow.
I twirled my finger in the air. “I believe this is a magic free zone, boys.”
Elton snickered and slicked his hand back across his scalp. “We don't need magic.”
They crowded me. Not too hard considering the size of the circle and my inability to exit it. I backed off as far as I could before coming against the invisible barrier. Totally not fair.
The Bearded One came at me. I tried to dodge, but I didn't have the room, and his muscles were bigger. He grabbed my arm, twisted me around, then locked me up in a full nelson, my arms spread and caught in the crook of his elbows, his fingers firmly laced against the back of my neck. With his size and strength, I didn't stand a chance of getting loose. Not without any magic.
While the Bearded One held me, Elton drew a curved knife out from behind him. The blade was only six inches long, but it came to a hell of a point, and it shined like silver. It might have actually been silver. Not an uncommon element to make weapons from when you lived in our secret world. Saved you the trouble of having to get something special for the vamps and werewolves.
Elton closed in.
I took a wild kick at him.
He dodged easily, so I tried again, lifting both legs and pumping them at him like I was riding an invisible bike. The pressure of my full body weight hanging from the Bearded One's iron hold hurt my neck. It felt like it might snap loose. I ignored the pain. Getting cut with Elton's blade would hurt a lot worse. And I wasn't in the mood to do any more bleeding this week.
Alas, you don't always get what you want.
Elton grabbed my right ankle and pinned it under his arm and against his side. I kicked at him with my free foot while I tried yanking away the one he held. I growled like a trapped animal in the process.
Elton bared his teeth and took a swipe with the knife at the leg he held. He caught me on the inside of my thigh. A bright red line split open and blood quickly oozed from the wound.
At first, I didn't feel anything. His blade had cut so clean, it had felt like little more than a small paintbrush across my skin. A couple seconds later, the burning agony shot up from my thigh into my crotch. I thrashed harder against both of the bastards' hold on me.
Elton let go of my leg and backed away, out of range of my kicking.
The Bearded One bared down on his full nelson, pressing my chin down against my breast bone. More pain lanced up my spine as he stretched the upper vertebrae to their limit.
It didn't take long for my blood to paint a wide swath down past my knee. I had to stop kicking. I was only making the bleeding worse. I felt woozy. Either from blood loss, the Bearded One's punishing lock on me that made it hard to breathe, or a combination of the two. Were they going to kill me without bothering to change my mind about joining their club?
I tried to say something, but only managed a strangled cough.
Elton smirked. “What's that? Flipped alr
eady?”
I chuffed through my nostrils like an angry bull. I wanted to say something glib or witty. I couldn't speak at all. Besides, I didn't have any good comebacks in mind.
Elton nodded at the Bearded One. “Ease up, Paul.”
Paul, huh? He didn't look like a Paul.
Whatever I wanted to call him, he mercifully relaxed his hold. Not nearly enough for me to slip, though. At least I could breathe without feeling like my throat was a bent straw.
Elton leaned down into my line of sight. “Well?”
Just tell him you'll join. Just fucking lie.
I don't often listen to that little voice in my head, even when it makes perfect sense.
“Piss off.”
Elton slapped the top of my head. “Are you dense?” He pointed his blade between my legs. “You want me to work on that next?”
While struggling, I'd forgotten I was naked. Now, I had never felt more naked in my life.
I grinded my teeth and tensed my abs as if waiting to take a punch to the gut. I wriggled and strained against Paul's hold. A pointless waste of energy. I wasn't getting out of this until he decided to let me go, and not a breath sooner.
Elton scratched at his lightning bolt with his non-knife hand as if trying to work out a puzzle that had him stumped. “You don't think I'll cut your dick? I'll split it down the middle. Boss might be a bit sad. He seemed to like the merchandise.”
“Get your fucking hands off of me.”
Elton looked down at his knife in his hand. Maybe it had an answer to his conundrum etched on the blade. He squinted at it. “You called my bluff, friend. That kind of damage might be too much at the moment. Well done.”
I worked up some saliva and spit it at his face. The spray peppered his cheek with droplets of foam.
His eyes seethed. His lip twitched as if he had a nervous tic. He took a deep breath, let it ease out his nose, and visibly relaxed. Then he slashed the knife and cut me across the chest at a diagonal.
The slice went from the ribs on one side up to my clavicle on the other side. I cried out against the fresh pain. The blood felt hot as it dribbled down my chest. I bucked and kicked on instinct with no effect other than tiring me out. A haze rose up across my vision. The light from the chandelier seemed to dim. The parquet dance floor tilted under my feet. The smell of my own sweat and blood teased my gag reflex.
