by S. J. Harper
The vampire’s smile is bittersweet. “A sister of yours made me happy once. But that was many, many years ago . . . and before I was turned. I am Kallistos.”
Behind him, the struggling ceases. For a fraction of a second, everything is completely still. The name means nothing to me. Evidently it means something to Zack.
“Kallistos Kouros, Sovereign of the Western Territory?” he asks.
“The one and only.” The smile turns so bright it could light up a room. He exudes the kind of easy confidence possessed only by one comfortable with his power. “Release him.” Kallistos is speaking to someone else, but all of his attention is focused on me. His grip loosens on my hands and he gently lowers my arms to my side and takes a step back.
He tries to slip into my mind. I feel the long-reaching tendrils of his will searching for an opening. He’s very strong and very skilled, but a vampire’s thrall is no match for my own powers. He may be a tad over a thousand years old, but I’m older and I’ve had many years of practice. I deftly and unceremoniously push him out.
The force of my rejection is so strong it must feel like a slap in the face. I could have been gentler, kinder, used more finesse. But Kallistos needs to know when it comes to this, I have the upper hand, and always will. He doesn’t try to push back. Not even a little. He accepts the boundary that I’ve drawn. It’s almost as if he’s longed for it, for someone he can’t readily control.
“A wondrous and worthy opponent.” His voice is low and deep. “I love a woman who knows what she wants. Have dinner with me.”
Well, that was unexpected.
Suddenly Zack and I are shoulder to shoulder. He hands me my gun and puts his arm possessively around my waist. “My partner has plans.”
“Plans,” Kallistos repeats. The word rolls off his tongue as if it’s foreign to him and he’s testing it out. Men like Kallistos don’t have to make plans. The world is at their disposal. He’s used to getting what he wants, when he wants it.
“That’s right,” Zack answers.
A slow, sardonic smile forms on Kallistos’ lips. “Look at you, trying to mark your territory.”
Zack doesn’t rise to the bait. “I don’t consider Agent Monroe territory.”
Kallistos leans in. The smile fades. “Trust me, you’d be better off if you did.”
“Which sister?” I ask, moving so that I am between Zack and Kallistos. Which sister doesn’t matter. Whether it was my older sister or my younger, I can guess the story. They fell in love. It didn’t end happily ever after. I just want to put distance between him and Zack. I feel Zack’s rage mounting.
“I’m not here to dredge up the past.” Kallistos steps back, now flanked by the two other vampires he’d brought with him.
“Why are you here?” I ask him.
“The witch called me. She asked for my help. Her story piqued my interest, so I went to see her. We’ve had a rash of missing vampires lately. While I was there, one of her spells kicked in. She was able to pinpoint Evan’s location. Here. She wanted to come with me but—” He looks around the room. “I didn’t know what we’d find. I convinced her to wait.”
Convinced? Compelled, most likely. “You just missed Evan,” I say. “He should be home shortly.”
Kallistos turns and surveys the room, taking in the disarray. “There were others.”
“Six.” Zack gestures to the coffins on the far side of the room. “Two were completely desiccated. Evan said they were beyond help.”
Kallistos crosses to one of the silver-lined tombs, opens the lid, then places his hands on the side and peers in. Smoke rises between his fingers. I smell his flesh burn, yet he doesn’t flinch. “She kept them in here?”
“Yes,” Zack replies. “Evan released them.”
“What they must have endured. And some say we are the monsters.” His expression is a mixture of bewilderment and disgust.
His gaze sweeps the room. “The ones Evan released, who were they?”
Zack’s crosses his arms. He’s being cooperative, but he isn’t happy about the interrogation. “No idea.”
Kallistos walks over to Barbara Pierce. “This one was responsible for their capture and containment?”
Zack nods.
“What happened to her?”
“Isabella Mancini killed her. When she woke, she was half mad from starvation and torture,” I explain. “There were two others we were able to save, an Amy Patterson and some kid named Owen Cooper.” His expression changes ever so slightly when I mention the last name. Is it relief? I can’t tell. “No missing person’s report on Cooper as far as I know. That name wasn’t familiar.”
“That’s because he doesn’t quite live in the mainstream. Amy Patterson. Isn’t she the artist who’s been missing?” he asks.
I nod.
Kallistos points to the door Zack is standing in front of. Zack has his arms crossed over his chest, his expression stern.
“Who’s in there? I detected four heartbeats in the building—three on this floor, one on the main floor. From the way you’re guarding the door, I’m going to guess human.”
Zack looks surprised that Kallistos was able to detect the number of heartbeats before even entering the room. I have heard that only the oldest and most powerful of vampires acquire the skill, but in my immortal life span, I’ve never met one. No wonder Zack hasn’t, either.
Before today.
I wonder what other tricks Kallistos has up his sleeve.
“He had nothing to do with this,” I say. “Like the others, he was kidnapped and brought here against his will. He’s sick, dying, and he’s come to peace with that. His lover hadn’t. We need to get him to a hospital.”
Kallistos’ eyes narrow. “But what is he doing here, in this lab? Why were any of them here?”
I realize he doesn’t know about Pierce’s organ factory. I tell him, quickly, succinctly. How she was blackmailed and forced to harvest organs from humans for a black market transplant operation. How she came up with the idea of using vampires since, to her way of thinking, they were already dead. I relayed her discoveries. Vampires are universal donors, possessing organs that won’t be rejected. They’re capable of donating repeatedly, potentially endlessly. And then, finally, I told him about the silver, how she used it to subdue, restrain, and anesthetize her captives during surgery. How prolonged exposure to the silver appeared to be what caused the severe desiccation, the madness, the need for absolute death.
I expect an explosion of revulsion and rage. Instead his eyes are clouded with sadness. “This is why we hide ourselves, our powers, our gift,” he says. “Perhaps someday when humans learn humanity, things will be different.”
Kallistos removes his jacket, then begins to roll up his sleeves. “We can avoid the hospital for this human. Out of my way.”
I cross to stand beside Zack.
“He’s not going to be turned,” Zack tells him.
Kallistos isn’t used to being told anything. That much is obvious. He doesn’t react with anger, though. Instead his gaze turns to me.
“I can help him. Surely, a soul as old as you, a creature with your amount of . . . experience . . . knows this.”
I do know. That’s what makes this entire debacle even more tragic. I nod.
Kallistos turns to Zack. “Move aside, dog.”
“Make me.”
Kallistos grins and takes one step closer. I reach out, planting a hand firmly in the middle of his chest. “This is unnecessary. Explain to him.”
Several seconds pass. I hold my breath.
“I have no intention of turning him,” the vampire assures Zack.
Only he doesn’t buy it. He continues to stand his ground.
I reach for Zack’s arm. “Trust him. The blood of an old one has the power to heal. A few sips of Kallistos’ blood and Michael will be cured.�
�
“I’ve never heard—”
“Trust me.”
His lips press into a thin line. “You’re certain?” His hand is now poised on the doorknob. He looks at me expectantly. I know what’s he’s asking. His intent telegraphs itself as clearly as if he’d spoken it aloud. He wants to know if I can read Kallistos, if it’s safe.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m sure. Absolutely sure.”
The door opens. Kallistos pushes past. I turn to follow, sense Zack at my back. I turn, shake my head. “No, you have to stay here.”
Confusion clouds his face.
“Please,” I add. “I don’t want you caught in the wake of my powers. I need to read him alone. You need to trust me. I can’t deal with both of you at the same time.”
He looks ready to argue, but he holds his tongue.
“I’m sorry.”
Zack takes my hand in his. I feel something cool and round press into it. His expression gives away nothing.
“Be careful.”
I give him a reassuring smile as I discreetly slide my hand into my pocket. “Always.”
Zack closes the door once I pass through and I lock it between us, leaning my head against it for an instant before a voice at my ear whispers in silky smoothness, “If you wanted to be alone with me, all you had to do is ask.”
Kallistos.
He’s behind me. Right behind me. So close, I feel the pulse of his breath against my neck.
The man has no respect for personal space. My spine stiffens. I turn to face him, push him away. The door is now at my back.
He steps close again, leans over me, one arm poised over my head. “That door won’t hold him. He can hear us, you know. Are you trying to purposefully drive your wolf wild?”
“What I’m trying to do is find out how honest you are. How noble your intentions.” I keep my voice steady, the tone professional.
Kallistos lowers his hand, draws a finger along the contours of my face, my lips, as if he’s going to touch them. But he doesn’t. “My intentions are quite dishonorable, I can assure you.”
He’s not talking about Dexter and we both know it.
“What I wouldn’t give to possess this mouth,” he whispers, finger still poised over my lips. “Along with the rest of you.”
I push the finger away. “You presume far too much, Mr. Kouros. You have nothing I want.”
“Oh no? I can give you what you crave, what you need. Anything you desire, save my heart. I made that mistake once. I can guarantee you, I will never make it again. We could have decades, centuries of pure, uncomplicated pleasure. No. Strings. Attached.”
“I’ve been alive long enough to know there are always strings.” I duck under his arm, moving away.
Kallistos smiles. “I make you nervous.”
“Actually, you’re making me impatient. We’re wasting time.” I gesture to Dexter, still and pale on the bed. “If you aren’t going to help him, we need to get him to a hospital.”
He spreads his arms wide. “Let’s get on with it, then. You’re here to ensure that I’m not going to harm the human. Use your power to test me. You’ll find you can trust me. You’ll taste the truth in my statement.”
We move to stand on opposite sides of the room, the bed containing an unconscious Michael Dexter between us. Suddenly my conviction wavers. I have never tested the powers of one so powerful. Am I about to test Kallistos, or is he about to test me? Is he counting on me to walk away rather than to risk our mutual exposure, or is he goading me into giving him what he wants, a glimpse of the real me? He knew a Siren once, my sister. He knows the danger, yet he invites me in. Why?
Kallistos’ gaze is haughty, as if he knows the battle I’m fighting, as if he expects me to back down. I draw myself up, remember that I bested him just minutes before, and let the walls fall away, the doors to my power fly open. It happens in a rush, fast and furious. The heat rises around us, the wind that comes with it rages. It would knock a lesser vampire off his feet. Kallistos stands tall, feet firmly planted on the floor. The hem of his leather coat whips out behind him.
“What do you plan to do to him?” I shout out over the din of the storm I’ve created.
“I’m going to give him blood. To stabilize him. To cure him. He will no longer need a hospital.”
“Why would you do this for a human you do not know?”
I imagine he finds me impertinent, perhaps even insulting. So be it. There are things at stake that are more important than smoothing the feathers of a self-appointed sovereign.
But if he’s insulted, he doesn’t show it. “Because I gave you my word. You said he wasn’t at fault and . . . you’re attached to him. Yes?”
I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes. “And when he is cured? What happens then?”
“My men will see him safely home. He’ll remember none of this. I have no more desire than you to risk exposure.” His tone is surprisingly calm and measured, with no hint of deceit.
Then he’s right in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, his eyes boring into mine. “Why hide who you are?” he whispers. “You could rule the world with your beauty, possess anything in it, anything but me.”
“That’s convenient,” I mutter with a roll of my eyes. “Since I don’t want you. Now, getting back to Dexter—”
My breath catches midsentence. Kallistos’ movements are a blur. One hand behind my neck, the other moves to cup the side of my face. For an instant our eyes lock. I feel my heart beat faster.
Then his mouth is on mine. Hard, hot, and demanding. His lips part, his tongue slides inside my mouth. Something ignites. I feel myself relent, feel my heart beat faster, feel my blood turn to fire. I want to return the kiss and for the briefest moment, before I come back to my senses, I do. Wantonly. Wickedly. With uncontrolled abandon.
“Stop.” I wrench control back, reeling in my power more swiftly than ever before. I swear the air is momentarily sucked out of the room. The surge is so strong I’m caught in it. I feel myself stagger back, light-headed, dizzy.
Kallistos doesn’t move.
I raise my hand, intent on slapping the smug look right off his face.
He thwarts me, grabbing hold of my wrist.
“Emma? Are you all right?” Zack’s voice through the door seems far away, distant.
I shake my head to clear it. Kallistos releases me. He makes no move to stop me as I turn to the door and fumble with the lock. But before I can open it, my legs momentarily give way. A strong arm encircles my waist and holds me steady.
“Breathe,” he says.
My cheek is pressed against something hard and cool.
Kallistos’ chest.
“It’s been far too long since you’ve so fully let it go.” His lips graze the top of my head. “You’ve grown unused to it. Just ride it out. You’ll be right as rain in a minute. Assure your wolfhound.”
“I’m fine, Zack.” The words fall unbidden from my lips. Kallistos is in my head. How can this be?
I move away, put distance between the vampire and myself until my head stops spinning. This time when I speak, it’s on my own. I face Kallistos. “Take care of Dexter.”
Then I turn my back on him, step again to the door. My hands are shaking, but when I try this time, the door opens. There’s a blast of cool air. Then Zack’s arms are around me. I lean into him.
“What happened?” Zack asks.
“He told the truth. He won’t harm Dexter.” My words sound hollow. I can’t meet Zack’s eyes.
Zack lifts my chin. “I meant what happened to you.”
One of Dexter’s monitors begins to beep. It’s been disconnected. His IV lines have also been pulled out. They’re draped over the bedside pole, contents from the bags drip onto the floor.
Kallistos holds his wrist to Dexter’s mouth. The smear of blood on his lower
lip tells me he punctured his wrist with his own fangs. Dexter sucks hungrily at the blood, a reflex action over which he has no control. Kallistos strokes Dexter’s hair as he feeds, watching me.
When color returns to Dexter’s face, Kallistos calls out, “Tony!”
One of the two who came in with him comes to the door. “Yes, sir?”
“The data?” Kallistos asks.
“It’s all backed up on a server. Peter has control of it. There are a few handwritten notes. I have them boxed and ready to go.”
Dexter’s eyes are closed, but his throat is still working. Kallistos gently disengages Dexter’s mouth from his wrist, then passes a hand over Dexter’s face. Dexter falls back onto the pillows, his face relaxed in sleep. Kallistos’ wounds close instantly, but not before leaving several bright red dots on the clean white bedsheets.
Kallistos turns to Tony. “Use the van to take him home. Wait for him to come to, then make him forget what happened here.”
The minion nods and steps toward the bed.
Kallistos exits and walks past Zack and me. He stops in front of the sink Zack used earlier and washes the remnants of blood from his wrist. He’s talking over his shoulder. “Make sure you take the notes with you, Tony. Security is the priority. We don’t want any loose ends.”
“Understood,” Tony answers.
Tony and his crony go to work, following orders like good little soldiers. Within seconds they are heading out, one with Dexter wrapped in a sheet and thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the other carrying a box.
Kallistos approaches, the paper towels he used to dry his hands now wadded into a tight little ball. Without breaking his stride he lobs it across the room and into a trash can. “We’ll clean the rest of this up. You’ve done enough.” He offers Zack his hand. Any animosity he felt toward Zack seems forgotten.
Zack’s animosity obviously isn’t.
“His intentions are honorable,” I tell Zack. I’d tasted the truth of Kallistos’ statement. And his power. The effect lingers like a shot of adrenaline. I try to push it out of my head. I look around. “We could use the help, Zack.”
