Queen of Gods

by Scarlett Dawn

  I sealed my wrist and carried her over to the couch.

  Haley would be out for a while—an hour or two.

  I leaned down to her ear and planted some suggestions. “You’re curious about Timothy’s money. Where does it come from? Who handles it? Who is he beholden to? I want you to find out who he associates with, who would bring him down if they had the chance. What would destroy his reputation.”

  She opened her mouth and let out a breath. “Samson.”

  Ooh, she already knew things?

  I searched her memories that I’d shared from her—and sure enough, there was a gentleman there named Samson. He was handsome, tall and had tried to rape her after trying to bargain with Ginter for a night with her. Disgusting human.

  He needed a visit.

  I walked out of the house through the door, pulling it closed behind me. I strolled toward the woods where Nial was feigning disinterest. I tried not to grin at the asshole as he turned the page of his retrieved book.

  “Tasty snack?” he probed.

  “Oh quite,” I answered. “I’d offer, but I need her alive. For now.”

  I waved and walked back into the trees the way we had come.

  He dropped out of the tree and followed me. “Where to?”

  “Need to find a man named Samson. He knows things.”

  “Because that narrows it down.”

  I tapped my temple. “I have his address.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  ~ GWYNNORE ~

  Samson’s house was nothing like the gorgeous, well-kept grounds of Ginter’s.

  Stuffed between two older homes, there was quite literally six inches of space between his walls and the property lines. The monstrous faux-Italianate disaster glowed an incandescent yellow, with too many lights and too much gold for the accents. The small piece of property had no way for anyone to squeeze back behind it with the fences on either side. A fence I was sure his neighbors had erected to stop the spill of gauche into their yards.

  “Ugh,” Nial grumbled, launching himself up onto the first branch of a tree on the neighbor’s property. He sat and pulled out his book. “If a neighbor did this to my property, I’d gut him and drain him, and destroy the house just after.”

  “Hideous,” I agreed. “And it looks overpopulated this evening.”

  “Good luck.”

  I gave him the middle finger as I moved closer to the back door.

  Standing in the shadows, I stood on the massive deck peering in. Men sat around a table, smoking cigars and laughing and gambling. My lips curled back from my teeth. I despised the tobacco habits of modern men. These in particular probably sported small cocks that they were trying to compensate for. I was positive if I went around front, there would be very flashy, very overdone cars.

  I spotted the one named Samson. Overly plump and, unfortunately, not much to look at. No wedding ring that I could see, but that didn’t mean much with a man like that. Anyone can take a ring off, to go to a strip joint and to take advantage of the complimentary strippers or prostitutes. He seemed to be the type to accept that as well.

  I listened to the conversation at the table, but it was all typical misogynist shit that some men bantered back and forth. Bored stiff with their topics, I wandered back to where Nial was perched in the tree.

  I mumbled, “Too much testosterone and light in there. I’ll have to wait.”

  A hmph escaped past his lush lips, and he turned the page of the book again.

  I couldn’t stand the smug bastard.

  Leaning against the tree, I concentrated on the connection with Haley back at Ginter’s.

  She was just starting to come around, and her senses were clearing rapidly.

  Someone was in the house with her. A non-threatening person, familiar, and she was delighted. A moment later, I recognized Timothy Ginter had come home.

  I left them alone. I didn’t need to know about dinner and jobs.

  Too bourgeoisie for me.

  Great. Stuck between a hausfrau and a fatass.

  I sat. What could I do? I had to wait out these asses so I could get in there and talk to Samson. I contemplated walking back to the car and taking a quick nap—that’s how boring this was, but I also didn’t want to waste time like that.

  Damn, damn. I hadn’t brought the file. Or anything to occupy my time.

  Big fearsome, awesome, Queen Novitiate, and I was plucking grass under a tree in some miserable suburban shithole in back of a pseudo-Italianate mistake. Oh, and my Monitor of Challenge was sitting up in a tree probably staring down my shirt—as usual.

  I was not feeling the bad ass.

  A half a second after, I leaned to the right to look up at Nial, and something whizzed by and embedded itself in the tree next to me.

  I gasped and found a bullet lodged there, as four more quickly followed.

  “What the fuck?” Nial whispered, jumping down and narrowly missing getting shot.

  “They aren’t aiming at us.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to the house, hoping for a little protection from the bullets under the massive, useless deck at the back. “They’re shooting at each other. Or it’s someone else.”

  The slam of car doors out front and the pound of boots up the front stairs attacked my sensitive hearing. A portion of the fence was ripped apart, stomped down into the ground, and a half dozen men came flying around the corner with guns drawn. Their aim was at the back door, shooting at will.

  That much firepower would injure even Nial and me if we took any measure of it at once. We ducked back into the shadows, and my eyebrows rose as Nial cloaked both our forms so they couldn’t see us.

  The amount of wasted ammunition these fools were using shocked me.

  Didn’t they ever learn how to aim?

  “Lost art of marksmanship,” Nial mumbled as if reading my mind. “If this is a mob hit, they’ll be done in a moment.”

  “If this is a hit, we’re going to lose whatever information Samson has. I can’t take his memories if he’s dead.” My fists clenched.

  “We could lose our heads with that much spray. And I can’t technically help you win this Challenge.” His hard gaze met mine. “Think, Gwen. If you can’t figure this out yourself, you don’t deserve to be their queen.”

  I took a deep breath. I would be the queen. I should have enough power—enough influence, to take them all in Thrall at once. I was freshly fed, and I was well rested. It shouldn’t be hard at all. I just had to get in there and look at them. I couldn’t do it from the shadows under the deck.

  “Wait here.” I ran to the far side of the house where there was another set of stairs.

  Nial wouldn’t help. He was just there to monitor me.

  I leapt up the stairs into the shadows at the top and moved along the back wall of the house. The Mafioso were shoving and stumbling through the back door, two men dead at the main back stairs. Waste of blood. One of the men trying to push glanced over at me, and I caught his eyes.

  Mine. Easily.

  His mind was clay, and I easily backed him up.

  Another man glanced over at the one I had controlled, his brows furrowing.

  I threw a touch of persuasion, and he looked at me. Another was mine.

  He joined the first by the back railing.

  I crawled in closer and let out a low whistle.

  Two men glanced over at me, and I grabbed them. Mine.

  Over to the railing with them.

  Rapid gunfire was coming out of the house, and I still didn’t want to be hit with that many bullets. I pulled my own gun out, and shot one of the men closest to the door, through the window. He dropped dead.

  Marksmanship. I smirked, thankful for the humans the overlords had sent to me upon waking me from my Rest. One of those tasty meals had prided themselves on the art of a direct hit. No need to be wasteful or messy.

  Three more turned by the back door. I was able to Thrall them and had them dropped to the floor a heartbeat later, curled int
o a fetal position. The other men inside were getting confused, and it was all I hoped for. They were all turning to the window to see what was going on as the gunfire started to die.

  I stepped through the hole-filled window and dropped five more into Thrall.

  A bullet ripped through my shoulder, jerking me back and pissing me off.

  I had two of the men turn to release a hail of bullets at the ones still firing, mowing half of them down, leaving the other half screaming and disorganized.

  Perfect. I sauntered into the house with my gun pointed in the general direction of the men left not under my power. As they noticed me, each fell into Thrall and moved out of my way.

  Samson lay on the floor, nursing a wound in his leg.

  I didn’t Thrall him. Instead, I let my fangs down and smiled.

  He shouted, “Wha...what the fuck are you?”

  “I’m asking the questions, Mister Samson.”

  “Jesus Christ, lady…”

  Annoyed by the wound on my shoulder, I grabbed the closest piece of shit I had Thralled and tipped his head back. I sank my fangs into his neck and took a long pull from his vein. His blood was foul, full of drugs and greed. But, at the same time, it accelerated the healing to my shoulder.

  I let him go without sealing the bite; they were all dead anyway.

  Samson had tears running down his face, staring at the useless blood bag standing there.

  “Why are you after Ginter?”

  “D-don’t...don’t kill me.”

  “Answer the question!”

  “I...he…”

  I cocked the gun and shot the donor in the head. “Why are you after Ginter?”

  “Holy shit.” He choked, more tears wetting his face.

  I shot another nearby scumbag in the head. “I don’t care for your hesitation.”

  He pissed himself. Fab.

  But he finally opened his mouth to do something aside from stutter. “They want me to blackmail him, humiliate him. He can’t have a seat in the Senate. He’ll fuck everything up. Problem is, the fucker is clean, honest. Won’t take money or threats. He’s got to be killed off if he won’t take the cash.”

  “Who?”

  “What?”

  I took aim at his head. “Who wants him dead?”

  “I don’t know!”

  I shot the mostly dead human next to him in warning.

  “Fuck, lady, I don’t know! He only comes around once in a while. Drops off a folder and a bank bag. No names. Just, corrupt Ginter.”

  I was about to demand more information when a lightning bolt of lust shot through me and almost made me lose the massive Thrall I had cast. I staggered against the wall, and managed to fend off the desperate need for an orgasm…but only just.

  Fuck. The influence on Haley.

  She and Ginter were having sex, and that lust was rolling through to me.

  Another shot of want slammed into me, and I had to close my eyes to bear it.

  The Thrall floundered for a moment, but I grabbed it back.

  The idea of trying to work through this did not appeal to me.

  I was absolutely disgusted at myself for forgetting that strong emotion could also come through the influence link. I needed sex immediately, and at that moment, my only good option was Nial, which wasn’t an option at all. Or…

  The cowering figure of Samson trembled there, surrounded by several dead men. He stank of fear, sweat, shame, and piss.

  He also happened to be full of the blood that would stave off my need for sex.

  Reaching down and grabbing him by his shirt, I yanked him up to his feet.

  Samson let out a piercing scream of pain when he put weight on his wounded leg. Unfortunately, he had no idea what pain was. Yet.

  Wrapping my hand around the nape of his neck to hold him in place, I didn’t bother to put him in Thrall. “You were dead anyway.”

  I yanked his head back and drove my fangs into his vein, scoring deep and tearing the flesh free. The rich red blood poured from his jugular, and I nearly came from the blood as it flowed from him. His screaming was becoming annoying, and after holstering my gun, I slapped my hand over his mouth to muffle the disgusting shrieking that served no purpose but to piss me off even more.

  As I drank the free-flowing blood, another shot of lust pulsed through me. This time, with so much blood at my disposal, I was able not only to hold onto the Thrall that I had more than a dozen men clenched in, I was able to allow the massive orgasm to roll through my body.

  This was living.

  As the climax receded, I had to wrap my lips around the pulsing vein to pull the rest of the blood from his body. There was no reason to hesitate draining him to his last drop. Samson had served his purpose, and I needed the face that went with the bank bag.

  I swallowed the last of his blood as his body turned limp, dropping at my feet.

  “What did you do?”

  I whipped around, my gun out, and nearly pulled the trigger before I realized it was Nial. I shouldn’t have stopped the impulse to shoot him.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, you got it all over you. Gross, Gwen.”

  I shot him.

  The impact on his thigh jerked him backward, and he was barely able to catch himself. I was hoping he’d at least fall on his ass.

  “What the fuck?! Damn it. Now I have to drink.”

  “Take one, there’s plenty,” I muttered, kicking Samson’s body away from me. He was right, I had blood all over my shirt, but the orgasm was worth it.

  Bleeding but wanting answers, he looked around the kitchen and back deck. “Are you holding all these?”

  “I am.” I was quietly impressed with myself.

  Perhaps my recent Rest had been beneficial—even if cut short. There was just over two dozen still alive that I was holding in Thrall. This wasn’t even pushing what I could hold, my power not even peaked.

  Shaking his head, Nial took the closest neck and drained him dry.

  The bullet squeezed out of his leg, dropping to the floor with a quiet clink.

  I was going to enjoy the memory of shooting him for a good long time.

  “Johnny?”

  We both whipped around at the shrill scream from the front door.

  A woman came tearing into the room.

  “Oh mah gawd! Oh, gawd! Johnny!”

  She never had a chance to realize we were there. I put a bullet through her brain.

  Nial snorted and then chuckled deep and rough. “You know, you could have just erased her memories.”

  “Whatever. Useless.” I shoved the gun back into my holster and started sorting through the memories I’d taken from Johnny Samson. That was a terrible name, but he was an endless source of good memories. The guy never forgot a face.

  Especially Cato’s.

  I didn’t know if I was shocked or resigned to it at that point.

  I raised an eyebrow and cocked my head at Nial standing there.

  He looked around then finally peered back at me. “What? What’s going on?”

  A movement flashed beyond the door, and it was too fast for me to bring the gun around.

  I darted to a broken window and stared through the dark.

  Only to find that whoever it was had already vanished.

  “There was a vampire here,” I whispered. I growled in frustration, unable to even have a glimpse of the person. “He was hiding, and he’s going back to Ginter’s. Cato wants them.”

  “Cato? What exactly did you learn?”

  Cato was using me to do his dirty work. He was behind all of this. This wasn’t a Challenge, this was a chance for him to keep his hands clean, and have all of his manipulating hidden behind another layer of secrecy so they’d never trace it back to him.

  “We have to go to Ginter’s.” I raised the gun and put down all the men on the back deck, and turned to take out the rest standing in the kitchen.

  Nial caught my arm. “Slow down. Answer my question, Gwyn.”

  “Cato.�
� I yanked him close, and hissed my words in his ear, “You’re sworn to secrecy, or I’ll have your balls on a platter when I’m crowned. Cato is behind this. He wants Ginter dead. I don’t know why, and I don’t care, but if Ginter is against whatever the hell Cato is doing, I want Ginter alive—and we have to stop that vampire.”

  He had nothing to say. Letting go of my arm, he stepped back, and I watched as his lips twisted in disgust. He raised his own weapon and helped me take down the rest of the humans milling about like drunken zombies. They were all down in less than a few seconds, and we holstered our guns, marching out of the house and back to the car.

  I had the engine of my Lamborghini purring by the time we walked up, grateful for the remote start—and the driver’s manual I’d gone through. I wasn’t a fan of the cold, so I wanted that inside warm.

  We slid in on the softest leather and pulled away from the curb—and I used the full measure of the engine to get us through the streets as fast as I could. We were nearly forty miles from Ginter, and I really hoped the vamp I had barely glimpsed had some shitty car that mine could overtake.

  “Are you sure this is Cato?”

  “Yes. From Samson’s memories, that’s who delivered the money.”

  Nial stared straight ahead and didn’t say anything. He was lost in thought.

  “Are you Monitor of Challenge right now or don’t you believe me?”

  “Monitor.”

  “You broke that back there, putting down those men and cloaking me earlier.”

  “Self-preservation and I’m assuming secrecy works both ways.” He raised an eyebrow. “You have your reasons to be queen. I have my own, too, for being king.”

  It was quiet again, and I used that time to take the car even faster down the winding back roads. Cato had always been a pain in my ass, even before my Rest, and before he rose to the Council. Now, he’d moved from manipulating the vampires to manipulating the humans? I didn’t want to rule humans. I wanted to rule the vampires.

  “This doesn’t seem like Cato’s work to me, despite the evidence. Vampires would destroy the humans if they entered politics—I heard what Samson told you,” Nial mumbled over the engine. I tossed a glance at him and didn’t say anything. Resting his right arm on the door, he leaned back and closed his eyes. “My advice? Be careful, Gwen. There’s always more to the story. Always.”