My eyes went wide. If my words were a fist, hers were a hammer so heavy that God would have broken a sweat lifting it. I had seriously misjudged her. Perhaps she was better equipped to handle the loss of love precisely because she had spent most of her life without it; she knew she could survive.
From past joinings, I knew that an immense hope perched precariously atop our love in her mind, and I should have seen the landslide that losing it would cause. If I had been able to read her mind that day, I would never have missed it. That I couldn’t, thanks to an incredible and unprecedented set of events, proved to me that God does indeed have a sense of humor...
Most of us lower beings just don’t find it very fucking funny.
I opened the door to my BloodHunger, throwing my emotions in with it. The fate of the Brothers was now decided. “As you wish.”
◆◆◆
DeShawn didn’t much like the telephone. It always had a knack for ringing when he least wanted an interruption. Stacey lifted her head, breaking her magnificent rhythm. “Keep going,” he ordered, removing one hand from her head to answer the phone. She shrugged and bent her head to continue. The phone’s display read “Unknown Name, Unknown Number.”
“What?” DeShawn answered.
“D, it’s Marley.”
DeShawn shot to a sitting position, which would have made Stacey’s job more difficult if he had not pushed her head away at the same time. Without complaint, she wiped her lips and left the room, used to such dismissals accompanying the ring of the phone. DeShawn did not even see her leave as he wondered why a freelance assassin he used from time to time might be calling him. Of course, why wonder when you could just ask? “What the fuck are you callin’ me for?”
“Someone hired me to knock off your boss. Someone scary.”
“What?!” DeShawn exclaimed. He was not sure what alarmed him the most: the hit or the fact that Marley was scared of someone.
“It’s going down tonight. I would’ve told you sooner, but I just figured out who she was.”
“The Brothers,” DeShawn whispered, adrenaline arcing through his system like electricity. His mind raced to assemble the near-blasphemous idea that was forming.
“What?” Marley asked.
“I’ll match whatever they’ve offered you if you take down the dude that’ll be with her, too,” DeShawn said in a rush; Marley gave no response. “Marley?”
“I’m here. My client told me that your boss would be with someone very dangerous. Dangerous enough to kill me if he finds out I’m there. I believe her.”
“Her?!” DeShawn said in a jagged whisper.
“Don’t go there,” Marley warned, not wanting any part of a discussion involving this mystery woman. He was not embarrassed by his fear, as DeShawn suspected, but rather he was afraid to talk about her at all, as if she might be able to hear him.
“Aaaight,” DeShawn agreed at length, taking each unsettling revelation in stride. “She’s right, he is fucking dangerous, but he ain’t fucking bulletproof. He can’t reach you from a hundred yards away.”
“Five hundred,” Marley said mechanically.
“What?”
“She told me to stay at least five hundred yards from them at all times, or he’ll know I’m there. How, I’ve no fucking idea, but I believe her.”
“Well, five hundred yards then. How much?”
“Sixty,” Marley answered, and his tone said it was not nearly enough for what he had been through.
DeShawn almost choked on the number, easily three times the normal price for wetwork like this. He immediately wondered if Marley might be jerking him around and just as swiftly discarded it. Marley did not sound like he was in any shape to do such a thing. If DeShawn had to guess, something he hated to do, he would say that Marley could not be bothered with anything except completing this job, and his current state of mind made DeShawn wonder if that was even possible.
“Marley, you sure you got this?”
“No choice. If I fail, she’ll come back for me.” The tone of Marley’s voice made it sound like he was talking about the Devil. DeShawn knew much of Marley’s resume; Marley had done jobs for a lot of dangerous people, and DeShawn had never once heard that kind of reverence in his voice.
“She told you that?” he said, still trying to wrap his mind around this absurd conversation.
“Yeah.” Though Marley spoke only that single word, DeShawn heard the implied “I believe her” anyway.
“Fuck it. Sixty it is. Good hunting.”
◆◆◆
The limo slowed. I touched Alicia briefly on the knee and leapt out the door. She closed it after me and the limo resumed its normal speed. It would drive a random pattern until I finished my advanced reconnaissance. No reason to walk into this blindly.
I disappeared into a thick patch of shadow and extended my consciousness into the building. It was empty, a discovery that fell short of surprising; posturing dictated that the Brothers be the last to arrive. The question was, how big of an army would they come with?
Or maybe they wouldn’t be coming at all...
Centering myself again, I used the BloodHunger to amplify my six senses, searching for a trap of some kind. Two sweeps, one quick, the other thorough, yielded nothing, but that meant almost nothing. Inanimate traps were almost impossible to detect. With the rare precognitive exception, it was always the trapper’s intent that gave it away. Unless this particular trap was laid with C-4, there was nothing for my senses to detect, despite being dialed into overdrive.
Well, I had done the best I could; it was up to the fates to decide. Pulling my prepaid phone, I sent Alicia the proper text message and waited. Within ten minutes, the limo pulled up next to me, and I helped her disembark. I took a moment to check her body armor before shutting the door behind her and slapping the roof. As the limo pulled away, I told her I had found nothing.
“So I guess we wait then,” she said. Side by side, we climbed the massive stone staircase, an architectural feature better suited to a courthouse than an office building. At the top of the stairs, we entered the building through the front door, which was unlocked. The place was completely dark save for a thin shaft of light seeping beneath a door at the far end of the entry hallway.
Our instructions told us to go into that room and make ourselves comfortable, so we approached the door, Alicia holding fast to my arm so that I could guide her. We passed door after door to the left and the right as we walked, and out of curiosity, I stopped to check rooms at random. They were all completely empty, nothing to indicate that this building was even in use.
We came to a stop in front of the final door. “Stay behind me,” I whispered as I pushed it open. I felt Alicia remove one hand from the back of my jacket to shield her eyes from the light, and we entered the room boldly.
It was like walking into a time warp to a long, lost era when kings outfitted their palaces with luxury and wealth beyond description. This chamber could have fit right in at Buckingham Palace, and it had a distinctive Western European feel to it. I did not recognize the period, but my knowledge of antiques is limited. Needless to say, each piece of tapestry and furniture would have been a welcome addition to any museum or private collection.
The reverent homage to another time told me something, but I could not quite make out the exact message. A glance at Alicia told me she was impressed by the opulence until she spoke. “What a monumental waste of money,” she offered with a shrug. I almost chuckled, but the fact that I’d so wrongly interpreted her facial expression was cause for concern.
Four highly ornate chairs surrounded a large wooden table that screamed of equally incredible craftsmanship. To the right of the table was a fully mobile, portable dry bar stocked to the hilt. Alicia moved directly to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down. I circled the room slowly, looking for anything that raised my interest, but there was nothing. Not even a camera. When I finished my sweep, I ended up next to the bar. “Drink?” I asked, gesturing t
o the bottles.
“Is it safe?”
“Good question.” I retrieved a bottle of water from the large bucket of ice in the center and twisted the top off. I took a few swallows, waiting for the rush of Blood that would accompany the introduction of any foreign agent. None was forthcoming, so I handed her the bottle. “As far as I can tell, it’s just water.”
She reached out to take it from me when I felt the approach of two minds. My hand jerked, sending the water bottle sloshing to the floor between us. Both minds belonged to revenants, old and powerful revenants. As near as I could discern, they had at least a thousand years of revenant life between them. My shield went up automatically as the whole picture came together. All of the questions that had been bothering me about this meeting were suddenly answered. Why they wanted to meet, why they had no army, and how Barrera knew Alicia was a woman.
“Alicia,” I whispered quickly. “The Brothers are here, and they’re revenant.” To keep my hands busy, I picked up the fallen water bottle and placed it back onto the bar, retrieving another one from the ice bucket.
“Revenant?” Alicia repeated, clearly confused for a few moments. Then she understood. “That explains so much.” She held her hand out in a gesture for me to pass her the water, and I smiled at her ability to keep her calm and process this bombshell. I handed her the bottle, and she twisted off the top and took a long swallow.
“It does," I continued, "but it also makes this meeting that much more dangerous, especially now that we can’t read each other. You have to let me do all the talking. They haven’t picked up on me yet, but they will soon, and then they’ll expect you to be nothing more than a figurehead. It’s really important that we don’t do anything to break that misconception.”
She hesitated for a moment, and I could tell that she bristled at having to give up her facade of power for any reason. To her credit, she recognized that she had no choice and nodded her assent. I took the empty seat next to her and sat down. If they knew who I was, this meeting would be simple; if not, well, it would probably get nasty. Either way, my initial reaction to them should be the same. Even a fledgling revenant would hide his fear in front of a mortal; everything was a matter of posturing.
I felt Alicia’s eyes on me, so I turned to her. “Do you know them?” she asked.
“No, but they might know me. We won’t know until they enter the room. My shield will temporarily mask my power signature; it could take up to an hour before they get a handle on it, depending on their mental skill and how hard they're trying.”
She thought about this for a moment and was about to respond when I held up my hand. The Brothers had just figured out that I was revenant, and that discovery stopped them in their tracks. I caught a few stray thoughts before they shielded their minds. They didn’t know me, and the reason it took them so long to make me for a revenant was that they weren’t scanning our thoughts. They only discovered it once they got close enough to sense it passively. Being among mortals had made them far too secure in their superiority.
I felt the first probe attempts on my shield, skillfully light. My shield strength made them wary, as did their belief that I was shielding both of our minds. Interesting. Because both shields had the same signature, they just assumed it was one shield, which told me that their knowledge of the metaphysical realm was limited. Anyone with even a basic understanding of shielding would know the difference between one shield and two, regardless of the signatures.
A part of me almost felt sorry for what these two were about to walk into.
The door opened, and the Brothers entered with surprisingly little fanfare. Apparently the discovery that they were dealing with another revenant made them realize that I was unlikely to be impressed by a show, or perhaps they were just waiting for more information to tell them what type of show to put on.
The first Brother was quite short, closer to five feet than six. His head was packed with a mass of tight, dirty blond curls, his face was severe, and his clothing might have been stolen from the Goth section of the Smithsonian, if God forbid there ever were such a tacky thing. His dress was pretty much the stereotypical “aged vampire” garb, or what most mortals thought that should look like. Perhaps Lestat could pull it off, but on most people, it was just silly.
The second Brother was a few inches over six feet. His skin was the color of milk chocolate, which meant that it must have been very dark when he was mortal (think coffee), and his hair was packed into tight corn rows. No beads. He was dressed in a five-figure Zegna suit that was exquisitely tailored, his dark Italian shoes gleaming.
The tremendous physical disparity between them made me wonder why everyone called them “The Brothers,” and looking at them, it was hard to tell who was the brains, but my money was on the tall, black one. Snob that I am, I just can’t attribute an abundance of intellect to a revenant who continues to dress like he fell out of the 18th century tree this morning.
“Good evening. I am Lucian,” the dark Brother offered, crossing the room with grace and economy of motion. “This is Innokentiy,” he continued, gesturing to the other Brother, who followed at a deferential pace behind him. Lucian sat across from me, and then turned to Innokentiy. “Kesha, pour our guests a drink.” I caught the brief look they shared at the color of my skin before Innokentiy nodded and altered his course accordingly. Once at the bar, he looked to me. They both knew full well that I neither wanted nor needed that type of drink, but it was their subtle and surprisingly respectful way of inquiring if Alicia knew what we were.
“She knows what we are, Lucian, and she already has a drink. We can skip these pleasantries.” Lucian masked his surprise, both at Alicia’s awareness and my bold words. He attributed both to my young age, as it was extremely rare for older vampires to reveal themselves to mortals (probably a throwback to the old “torch and stake” days), and even a vampire who was close to their ages would realize that two against one was poor odds and use boldness to cover his fear.
“Very well,” Lucian replied, gesturing for Innokentiy to take a seat. "Right to business then?"
"It's your meeting," I answered with a shrug, my nonchalance causing Innokentiy's eyes to narrow. Lucian laughed at me, much the same way I’d once laughed at Christian.
"We recognize the skill it takes to shield two minds, especially with such strength, but surely you must recognize that such a skill offers little protection against other, more physical concerns."
Lucian was surprisingly diplomatic for a revenant his age.
Once a revenant reaches five hundred years old, he meets very few revenants with a significant power advantage over him. There is not enough of a difference between four hundred and eight hundred to make any violent action a sure thing. Members of the half-a-millennium club usually give each other a wide berth, mostly through tacit agreement as they rarely bother meeting with one another, and they often make it their personal responsibility to deal with errant fledglings, which could mean anything from maim to torture to kill, depending on mood, whim and what remains of their morality.
To most of them, being diplomatic means saying “Hello” before bashing in a fledgling’s skull.
There have been a few rare souls who believed it was their responsibility to teach, but Elder Revenant University does not take on many students, and the Vampire Mentor program has a severe shortage of volunteers.
Lucian was behaving far older than his years, no doubt due to a long association with Innokentiy. Two revenants of their age, working together, could pose a sizeable problem to any revenant under a thousand years old, and the millennia club was maybe a few numbers into double digits. For all practical purposes, the Brothers were powerful enough to be untouchable.
Well, until their paths crossed mine, that is.
"I recognize that you both are very old, certainly much older than I, but age isn’t the only means to power," I warned courteously even though they were certain to dismiss my words as posturing. Innokentiy didn’t disappoint, but L
ucian mulled it around for a few moments.
"Perhaps, but we both know that the power of the one who made you is no match for experience... or numbers." My, my. Lucian was warning me right back, and his subtle attempt at an appeal to my better judgment made it seem as if he was attempting to avoid violence. I seized on this immediately.
"If you say so, but I get the feeling that if you wanted me dead, you'd have gotten to it already."
Lucian gave a bark of genuinely amused laughter. He found me refreshing, and I let him. That would change soon enough. "He is a perceptive one, Kesha. Is he not?"
"He is a fool, Lucian," Innokentiy replied, traces of a Ukrainian accent peeking out.
"Isn't it usually the children who resort to name-calling?" I chastened gently. Innokentiy stiffened, a sharp rage bubbling to the surface in an instant. Wow, he was a powder keg.
"Calm yourself, Kesha," Lucian commanded gently. "His wit will not save him if it comes to that."
"If?" I questioned, barely resisting the urge to get Innokentiy even more riled up.
"We have a proposal for you. A man in your position should find it a fair offer."
I resisted the compulsion to laugh in Lucian's face. "That remains to be seen, but by all means, continue."
"We have nothing against you personally. The losses you’ve caused us are minimal compared to the gains you’ve made possible. Barrera and Christian did not always see eye to eye, but their relationship was solid and profitable for them both. Although dealing with Christian had certain drawbacks, we were never allowed the opportunity to push him out because Barrera hates uncertainty. Christian was a known quantity, and his drawbacks were already factored in. We were an unknown quantity, and Barrera wasn’t willing to take the risk."
Alicia and I shared a knowing look as it all started to make sense. By overthrowing Christian, we had introduced uncertainty into the mix, and between us and the Brothers, we were the bigger risk. Barrera no longer had an objection to the Brothers taking over, provided that they continued to buy his drugs in equal or greater quantities. "So you told Barrera that Christian's successor was a woman."
Corrupting Alicia Page 40
