by Michele Hauf
“Suit yourself,” she muttered.
The next ten seconds dragged like a century as they silently watched the camera flash floor numbers beside the screen. Vail wished for the drone of Muzak to cover the uncomfortable quiet. She shouldn’t have apologized. It wasn’t necessary. He was just in a bad place mentally.
When the elevator stopped, she said, “Leo is private. Necessary, as I’ve explained. You should step behind me.”
Vail remained in place, not about to be ordered around by a chick.
The camera blinked on and a red explosion flashed in miniature on the LED screen above the buttons. Dramatics?
The doors slid open to reveal metal doors, and down the center Vail saw the arrows release from a mechanism. From top to bottom, six arrows sprang free.
He dodged right, slamming against Lyric’s body, but still managed to take an arrow to his shin. “What the hell?”
“Booby traps,” she offered calmly. “I told you to stand behind me.”
“Ch’yeah, but you could have given me a reason.” The pant leg had been ripped open and the abrasion on his leg bled. “Ouch!”
A man’s face appeared on the elevator screen. The long face was capped by bleached white hair that emphasized his slender nose and bright blue eyes, a match to his sister’s features. He nodded at Lyric and looked beyond her where Vail stood. “Who’s with you?”
“His name is Vaillant,” Lyric said into the speaker box. “He’s cool. He’s with me, Leo.”
“Why did that question not come before the arrows?” Vail hissed. “Bloody Herne.” His leg stung, but the arrow hadn’t cut too deep. “I hope there wasn’t poison in those.”
“Not today,” Leo said.
The screen went dark and the elevator doors slid open, left to right, to reveal a wall stocked with arrows aimed at both of them. That wall slid up to open into an apartment.
Vail waited for Lyric to step across the threshold. He wouldn’t doubt there were murder holes in the frame of the doorway. When she passed through and landed in her brother’s arms for a hug, he limped forward but was stopped at the threshold by the invisible barrier.
“It’s good to see you, sis,” the man said. “But what’s up with your hair? And this awful shirt? This is so wrong.”
“I’m hiding from dangerous sorts. Vail had me change my color. It’s awful, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” The man, with an arm about Lyric’s waist, turned to Vail. “What the fuck was your name, goth boy?”
“Vaillant,” he offered. “Could you invite me in?”
“No—” Leo started. But Lyric said, “Come in.”
Vail leaped quickly inside as the doors closed behind him.
“Nice,” Leo said in a tone that sounded anything but pleased.
Vail offered his hand to shake, but when the surly vamp looked aside, he said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m charged to bring your sister home to your mother—”
The man was on him faster than a worm wraith. Slammed against the closed elevator doors, Vail huffed out his breath and winced at his aching skull. The man had actually head-banged him!
Leo held Vail firmly against the doors with an arm across his neck. “You’re not taking her anywhere. What are you?” He glanced over his shoulder to Lyric.
“Vampire,” she confirmed.
“The hell he is. I don’t feel the shimmer. What’s that scent?” He shoved off from Vail, then bent to smack his palm against Vail’s wounded leg. He spread his fingers, covered with Vail’s blood. “This shit sparkles.”
Leo stood as tall as Vail, and was long and lean, but his muscles impressed him. Had to do a lot of head-banging to get biceps like those. But he couldn’t figure how they would come in handy being a thief. Shouldn’t he be lean and slender?
“What the hell are you looking at?” Leo swung a fist at Vail but he dodged. “Get the dust freak out of here before he poisons my home with his breath.”
“Leo, drop the tough-guy act. I said he’s with me. And he’s not a dust freak. Maybe.”
Vail winced at her need to add maybe. He wasn’t a dust freak. He just did it to—yeah, whatever.
“You don’t like the company I keep?” Lyric pressed the elevator button. “I’ll leave.”
“Fine, he stays. He’s not a vamp, though.” Leo squinted at Vail. “He sparkles like a damned faery.”
Ready to spout a diatribe in favor of faeries, Vail paused when Lyric stepped before him, hands on her hips, and said to her brother, “His uncle owns Hawkes Associates.”
“Ah.” Leo nodded, smirking. “That explains a thing or two. But not why he is with you. Playing for a new team now, sis?”
“Stop it, Leo.”
“So he took the gown?” Vail asked, knowing neither would confirm nor deny it, even though Lyric had already told him as much.
And neither did. Instead, Leo stalked into the living room furnished in modern brown leather pieces, and flipped a suitcase from the floor onto the couch. “I was packing. Got a job in Berlin tonight. What do you need, Lyric? Did you say you are on the run?”
“Yes. From faeries, and creepy worm wraiths. I need a place to hide out.”
“Worm wraiths?” Leo whistled. “What have you got her involved in, man?”
“It’s my fault,” Lyric protested.
“Yeah? Charish thinks you were kidnapped.” He kissed the corner of her eye. “I knew better. ’Bout time you got out of there. But if some vampire wannabe thinks he’s going to take you back…” Leo smacked a fist into his palm and eyed Vail.
“I had to make a break,” Lyric said. “If Zett gets his hands on me he’ll kill me. Did you find a way to remove the mark?”
“I’m still looking. I don’t have the right connections.” His bravado dropped and he tugged Lyric in for a hug, running his hand over her back reassuringly. “I’m sorry, sis, but we’ll figure this out.”
“Thanks for trying.”
Leo looked to Vail, who could only offer a shrug. “How do you think he is going to help you?”
“We have a deal,” Lyric said. “After we find the gown—” the siblings exchanged a look Vail guessed was more than knowing “—I get a head start to run.”
“Generous of you,” Leo said to Vail. “She’ll be off your radar before you can remember the scent of her perfume. Unless you’ve been tapping her. Have you been tapping my sister, goth boy?”
Enraged again, the man approached him with tightened fists and managed a gut punch before Vail could dodge.
“Tapping means drinking my blood,” Lyric explained to Vail as he clutched his gut, wincing, “in case you had concluded it meant sex.”
“Ah.” Vail offered Leo his most charming, and slightly pained, grin. “Well, then, no tapping.”
“Why not? You don’t like her blood?” Leo smacked a fist loudly into his palm. “But you have been fucking her? Who do you think you are? You can’t—”
“Leo!” Lyric insinuated herself between her brother and Vail—which he was thankful for at the moment. “Who I sleep with is none of your business. Now chill, and quit calling him goth boy.”
“Does he prefer dark lord?”
Vail caught Lyric’s smirk and said, “Vaillant would be the respectful usage of my name.” Leo sneered.
Vail added, “Dark lord is reserved for Zett, I’m sure.”
Lyric bowed her head, and Vail put an arm around her waist. He could feel her sigh ripple through his body. He needed something to anchor himself at the moment, yet she felt a bit unsteady herself. “She was doing it to protect her mother,” he said.
“Doing what?” Leo snapped. “Oh, no, you didn’t?”
Lyric nodded. “It seemed the best way to get the largest payoff for Mother so she could be rid of that bastard trying to control her.”
Her brother kicked the couch and punched the air. “That was stupid, Lyric. You should have told me. I would not have stolen the gown.”
“And Mother would be in a worse
predicament than she is now. Besides, I had a great plan for escaping Zett by faking my own kidnapping. Until…”
Both siblings looked to Vail—the man sent to take Lyric back to Mommy.
“It’s not going to happen,” Vail said reassuringly. “I won’t take Lyric home, and I sure as hell will not allow Zett to get his hands on her again.”
Leo bowed his head and shook it, exhaling through his nose. “The only way she’ll ever be safe from that bastard is to get the mark removed. You got a clue how to do that, goth—er, Vaillant?”
“I’ve only just learned about her mark. My guess is there might be a healer in FaeryTown who can help, or at least attempt to remove it.”
The brother nodded, obviously not having a better suggestion.
“You were leaving?” Lyric asked her brother. “Can we stay the night?”
“I’ve gotta run right now to catch my flight. And yes, you can stay. But he can’t.”
“Vail will protect me.”
The siblings held off in a defiant stance, Leo standing a head taller than his sister, yet Vail noticed how quickly his straight shoulders sagged, and the brother nodded, defeated.
He lugged the suitcase to the door and paused before Vail. “I don’t like you.”
“Really? I never would have guessed. I don’t intend to harm your sister.”
“If you think taking her home to Mommy is not harming her, you’ve another think coming. She deserves to be away from the Santiago clutches, especially with that Connor bastard trying to take over.”
“Connor?”
“My mother’s fiancé.”
“If you hate the man so much why didn’t you stay and stand up for your mother?”
“You can’t tell Charish what to do.”
“Why didn’t you take Lyric with you when you left?” Vail defied the brother. “Insist she go along with you?”
“Because I—” The man’s jaw tensed. Vail could sense another punch building in his biceps, but he didn’t step back.
“He’s got his own life. And I’m a big girl who never listens to her brother’s advice.” Lyric sat on the couch and stretched her arms along the back. “Stop fighting, boys. You both make me feel so loved.”
“You are loved.” Leo returned to Lyric and kissed her head. “I can’t believe he made you do this.”
“It’s prettier than yours.” She slapped his head playfully. “That cut makes you look like a punk rocker.”
“Yeah, but remember the time I got my headset stuck in my hair and it fell across a laser beam, setting off the security alarms?”
“It was the one time I had ridden along with you on one of your jobs. I thought for sure you’d be caught.”
Watching the siblings reminisce made Vail realize Lyric did have something he wanted—family. Seriously? The camaraderie between the siblings made him pine for the smallest acknowledgment from his brother.
Leo pulled Lyric in for a long hug. Vail could hear what he whispered, and suspected the man did that intentionally.
“You can’t trust him,” Leo warned.
“I don’t,” Lyric reassured.
Vail decided not to challenge what she’d told her brother. He wasn’t sure he’d earned her trust, or that he deserved such trust. If the vampiress was smart, she would not trust him farther than he could blow faery dust.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
VAIL TUGGED OFF his shirt and walked into the guest bedroom. Lyric was taking a shower; she wanted to scrub off the color edging her hairline, and the lingering rancid scent from the worm wraith. He’d used a few paper towels in the kitchen to wipe the itchy blood from his skin, both on his shoulder and his shin where the elevator arrow had nicked him.
He wandered the apartment, and walked into the brother’s bedroom, which was connected to the private bathroom where Lyric was. This room was surreal. White marble floor reflected his dark clothing like a ghostly shadow. The bedclothes were white, the electro chromic shades were white, and the light was some weird kind of bright that made the whole room glow like the inside of a marshmallow.
He turned off the light and sat on the floor at the end of the bed, because if he sat on the white counterpane, he’d leave a mark surely. Stretching his legs out before him, he tilted his head back onto the bed.
Cressida had a white room in which he’d spent a lot of time. It had been a room, but not a room. Lots of Faery spaces were outdoors but served as rooms. The entire room had been vast, all white, and tree roots had hung from above.
Part of Faery was underground, so at any time, when a person was in a room, or even village, roots could be hanging from the ceiling or even the sky. The main underground city on Unseelie territory was called the UnderCity. The first time he’d landed in the mortal realm, Vail had searched for roots in the sky.
He had liked to go into Cressida’s room and lie beneath the white willow that glittered as the breeze gently tousled its slender, silver-edged leaves. It had been quiet, almost a nonplace, far from the explosive color and noise of Faery.
He’d needed that respite from a world that was dialed to eleven on the sensory scale.
Until he’d come to the mortal realm, he hadn’t realized how shockingly vibrant Faery had been. And yet while he’d never worn sunglasses in Faery, now he wore them, perhaps against the dullness of the world. Weird.
He had to hand it to Cressida. She’d known he’d claimed the white room as a sort of sanctuary, and had allowed him his peace. He couldn’t deny she’d had her motherly moments.
Now, he closed his eyes and drifted to that quiet, white place, when he had often wondered if the day would come that he’d meet his real parents.
He’d dreamed Viviane would have long black hair and eyes as blue as his. Rhys had offered to show him a picture upon his arrival in the mortal realm, but Vail had refused to look at it. Still fresh from banishment by Zett, he hadn’t the heart or the courage to do so because it would mean acknowledging a part of him he had been taught to despise.
As for Constantine, he wasn’t so sure. Vail could never quite put a face to his image of the tall, stalwart, vampire lord Cressida had told him about. She hadn’t liked Constantine, which was apparent from her biting sneers as she’d spoken of him, but she had respected him in a manner Vail could never figure.
Cressida had been bonded to Viviane during the centuries that she had been buried alive. It had to do with the boon Rhys Hawkes had promised Cressida for enchanting his vampire—handing over his firstborn to the faery. As soon as Viviane had conceived, Cressida had known. She had become connected to Viviane. And when the warlock had bespelled Viviane, and she’d been placed beneath Paris in the glass coffin, Cressida had been tugged underground, as well. The Mistress of Winter’s Edge had existed in stasis for two centuries.
It was no wonder she’d hated Constantine.
Perhaps that was another reason to want him dead. Much as Vail would never resolve his issues with his reluctant stepmother, he didn’t like it when anyone he cared about had been wronged.
But how to care about a mother he’d never met?
Perhaps because as a child he’d created the image of a loving, smiling vampiress who would play with him and tell him stories and teach him the ways of his kind. Stupid kid stuff. Still, he would never deny his memories—they were all he had.
He thought now his memories must be similar to Lyric’s memories of summer camp. Better times. Innocent times. How odd was it they had so much in common, yet were so different?
You are more alike than you will admit.
True. But would his mother see his truth? Know him for the child she had never gotten to love? He did want to see her, but feared Viviane would not feel the same way. Much as Rhys tried to convince Vail she wanted him to visit, he sensed it could never be right. Even though Cressida had been the one allowed to choose between him and Trystan, Vail sensed in his heart that Viviane, enmeshed in madness, could not have missed her vampire son.
He bowed his h
ead and thumbed the moisture from the corner of his eye. Stupid thoughts. What a wib. Imaginings, that’s all they were. Creations. He could never know the truth. And he didn’t want to know. Knowing would offer the hardest challenge, and he’d give it a pass.
“Shower’s all yours.”
Lyric stood in the doorway in an oversize white T-shirt that dipped to her thighs. Standing on her tiptoes, her thoroughbred gams drew Vail’s eye up to the wet fabric that clung at the intersection of her thighs.
Man, he wanted some of that.
“What’s wrong, enemy mine?” Lyric cooed, striding forward in a sexy hip-swinging gait.
“Your legs are amazing,” he said on a throaty gasp. “They go up to your neck.”
“What?” She tapped her neck. “You mean this little ol’ broken neck?”
She wouldn’t let go of that one. Deservedly so. “Yes, that pretty broken neck. I don’t believe I’ve ever looked upon a sexier sight.”
“You don’t believe in much.” She squatted before him, one knee between his outstretched legs, the other leg sliding straight out to her side. Cinnamon-scented steam haloed around her. “Tell me what you do believe in, Vail.”
He reached to cup her breast but she shoved his hand away. “No. You said we’d had sex too early. No touching for you tonight.”
He crossed his arms and exhaled. “So it’s your turn to torture me? Fine. What do I believe in? I believe no man has control of his life. We are all mere puppets on a predestined path. Nothing we do is going to make the world any better or worse. We’re here to experience and try not to screw it all up too badly.”
“Cynic.” She knelt on both knees, stroking a hand down her ribs and stomach.
Vail’s eyes traveled lower to where the wet shirt clung to her smooth mons.
“Want to know what I believe?” she said on a sultry whisper. “You have to take whatever it is you want from this world.”
“I can get behind that. We are two cynics.”
“Yes, but there’s one thing that isn’t for the taking.”
“Everything can be had if you know the angle or grift to get at it.”
