by C. P. Foster
“Hold it!” Joseph pushed her back before she got out onto the sidewalk.
Angie winced in pain. “What’s wrong?”
“Vampire. Across the street.” He reached inside his jacket to unsnap the leather strap of his gun holster.
Her heart skipped a beat, then made up for it by working double-time. The rest of her froze in place. Damn it. She couldn’t keep having this reaction. If it was a real emergency, she had to be able to respond quickly. Staying behind Joseph, she peered around him.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I know her.”
Joseph kept his hand on his weapon but allowed her to come outside. Angie sighed. She considered telling Vanessa to go away. It would only delay the inevitable, though, so she cocked her head to invite the vampire to come to them.
“Joseph, this is Vanessa Van Sickle. Vanessa, this is my bodyguard, Joseph Horn.”
The two regarded each other a moment before nodding. He did not relax, but he did let go of his gun.
“Can we talk in private?” Angie’s friend asked.
“Where?”
“On the pier. The ocean and the wind will keep anyone from overhearing unless they’re right next to us.”
The piers along Seattle’s waterfront stretched on for several miles. The nearest section was barely a block away, and Angie was glad not to have to walk farther. “All right.”
Vanessa glanced at the bodyguard.
“Could you give us some space?” Angie asked him. “Just out of earshot while we talk. Vanessa won’t hurt me.”
“All right.” Reluctantly, he let them move off a ways.
The two of them strolled to the pier. The tangy salt and rotting seaweed smells of the water grew stronger as they reached the wooden railing that overlooked the Sound. Seagulls cried and watched for any tourist careless enough to leave food unattended. When they had found a spot far enough away from passersby, they paused to stare at the distant lights of the peninsula. Finally, Vanessa spoke.
“Look, I know you don’t want to talk to him, and I understand why. But this is killing him.”
“What is there to say? I can’t trust him.”
“Do you really believe that?” The vampire studied her until Angie looked away.
“He’s never done anything to make me doubt him, until this. I don’t even know when I started believing I could trust him unconditionally, it just happened. I think that’s why I’m so damned mad at him. I’m really mad at myself for letting down my guard.”
Vanessa shook her head. “He loves you like a daughter.”
“You mean he treats me like a child.”
“That isn’t what I mean, and you damned well know it.”
Angie hunched over the railing and rested her forearms on the rough wood after making sure there were no seagull droppings there. She stared into the dirty water. “I don’t know what James feels. No offense, but vampire emotions aren’t like ours.” Angie shook her head. “Even if you’re right, it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t depend on him to respect my wishes.”
“Be fair, Angie. Fathers don’t let their children die, even if they know the kid will never forgive them for it.”
“What do you want from me? I can’t—”
“Can’t trust him to respect your wishes. I get it. So trust him to act like a father.”
Angie tried to think of an argument, but nothing came to her.
“I’ll consider it,” she said finally.
“Thank you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
At the age of twenty-three, I had been a slave for five years. That was more than one fifth of my life. Let’s say you’re three hundred years old—how would you feel about someone who enslaved you, chained you up with silver, raped and tortured you, then waited for you to heal so they could do it all over again…for sixty years. What would you do to them if you got the chance?
—Sarah Miller, in a public address to the Great Lakes Vampire Territory
Sarah Miller
Twelve Years Ago
Covenant leaders converged around Ah-set while the rest of the vampires left the auditorium. Sarah remained on the stage, too stunned to move. She flinched when James touched her elbow.
“I knew they would not sentence you to death, but I did not foresee this,” he murmured. On Sarah’s other side, Vanessa raked her fingers through her school bus-yellow hair. She turned dazed eyes on James. “Me. They’re putting me in charge.”
“It’s what you wanted.” Sarah felt her mouth move and heard herself speak, but it didn’t seem connected to her.
James turned his head a fraction to look at his child. “That, I did foresee. Who better? You now have legal sanction to do the very things you have already been doing as a vigilante.”
Sarah spread her lips into stiff smile. “You’ll head the enforcement team, and I’ll be the campaign poster girl. Hold me up and say, ‘See how much we respect humans? We let this one live after she killed the son of one of our Monarchs, just because he tortured her for a few years.’ Then pull my strings, and I’ll tell them all about it.”
Her voice came out calm. As if she was talking about the weather. But the words communicated the growing rage she held at a distance. Sarah heard what she’d said, and shut her mouth, lowering her gaze. She sensed James and Vanessa staring as she made her way down the steps.
Sarah hovered at the foot of the stage, not sure what she was supposed to do. The old anger twisted into bitterness beneath her calm facade. What would happen if she refused to go along with their grand plan? She still had control over her own actions, even if she had none over anything else.
She selected a seat in the front row and sat, legs crossed, hands clasped in her lap. She was shivering again. Someone settled a coat around her shoulders, and she looked up to see James Morgan bending over her.
“Thank you,” she said, as polite as a child at Sunday school.
He searched her face for a moment before the chairperson approached and claimed his attention.
“You are neither a sovereign nor a representative,” she said. “However, I would like for you and your child to remain. Miss Miller is to become your responsibility.”
Sarah looked at her. “Do you have a name?”
The vampire turned slowly. “I am Ah-set.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you.” Sarah forced the muscles around her mouth to continue holding her smile.
“Are you,” the creature murmured.
“How much am I worth?”
“Excuse me?”
“The reward. What is Romero offering?” She stifled the urge to giggle. It was just too absurd.
“One million dollars dead,” Ah-set answered. “Two million if you are delivered to him alive.”
Sarah’s heart stuttered in her chest. She heard her own voice, still ever so polite, saying, “I guess I should feel flattered.”
James and the chairperson exchanged glances. She knew she was acting strangely, so Sarah lowered her eyes and forced herself to be silent.
When the hall had cleared, the chairperson got down to business.
“Lord Scott,” she said.
The giant stepped closer, looming over Sarah with his hands on his hips. She ignored the urge to pull Morgan’s coat tighter around her. Had all of these people agreed to this course of action wholeheartedly, Sarah wondered, or were some only pretending? Might there not be an assassin waiting for his or her chance? Surely Romero still had allies among these people.
“I believe,” Ah-set said, “that Scott should have charge of Miss Miller’s protection detail, with Morgan acting as adviser. Morgan’s network of contacts will be invaluable in sniffing out plots against the human’s life, and Scott has proven his commitment to the ideals of the Covenant. He will know whom to trust and who will have the skills necessary to assure her safety. Agreed?”
In her peripheral vision, Sarah saw nods all around, and a few murmured their assent aloud.
“Lord Scott, w
hat say you?”
“I accept this responsibility.”
“James Morgan?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Miss Miller.” Sutherland came to stand in front of her and took her chin in his hand, raising it so her gaze fell more or less on his face. “Don’t crawl under a rock and hide. We need your participation.”
Her smile cracked apart and turned into a sneer of bared teeth as fury boiled to the surface.
“You need,” she snarled. “Tell me why I should give a flying fuck what you need.”
His brows rose, and he grinned. “That’s more like it.”
“She’s right.” Morgan nudged Sutherland away. “We have taken everything from her, and still we demand more. Why should she do anything for us?”
“Because it’s in the best interest of her people.”
Sarah was on her feet without even realizing how she had gotten there, and words spewed from her mouth, full of a rage she still could not fully feel but could hear in the raw rasp of her voice. “My people? You don’t give a damn about my people. You would never give a damn about humans if we hadn’t become a threat to you, so don’t bullshit me! Everything you are doing is for yourselves, not for us. So try again. Why should I fucking care about what you need?”
Sarah half expected one of them to kill her for the outburst. Her eyes could not focus on anything, caught between looking inward and looking out, unable to do either completely.
“What is it you want from us, human?” Ah-set sounded cold and every bit as imperious as she must have thousands of years ago.
“I want my life back,” Sarah spat. A shudder shook her from head to toe, and she closed her eyes. The emotion was too much. She had to put it away, on the other side of the walls she’d built for herself. As it slipped off like so much water pouring from a glass, the tension melted out of her body, and when she opened her eyes, she could focus once again. All of them stared at her.
“That is not in our power to give,” the chairperson said.
James Morgan stepped forward. “Not the life you would have had, but perhaps we can give you a new life. One of your choosing.”
She had control of herself, now. Sarah gave him calm, analytical consideration. “I’m listening.”
“Human civil courts award what they call damages, for pain and suffering. Money, sometimes a great deal of it.” He sounded as though he were working something out in his own mind as he spoke. “With enough money, and with the right help, you could have any sort of life you want.”
“The right help?”
“We could give you a new identity, a new face, so none of us could find you to exact so-called justice or revenge. We could make sure you have an education, psychological counseling, anything you need.”
She studied him, wondering if he meant it. Wondering if she could believe anything a vampire promised, even one like James, who acted as if he respected her.
“Pain and suffering,” Ah-set considered. “How do you measure that in money?”
James raised an eyebrow the slightest bit. “As best I can tell, it is subjective. I’ve seen human juries award millions of dollars in compensation for loss of something they consider valuable, such as the life of a loved one, the use of a limb, the pain of abuse, loss of mental or physical health. And there is something called punitive damages.”
“Punitive to whom?”
“A punishment to the person who caused the damage, so severe it will deter others from doing the same.”
It sounded, Sarah thought, a lot like the way vampires used to treat humans who killed one of them. He was talking about using the same tactic on his own race.
“That could be useful,” Ah-set mused.
Lord Scott spoke in his drawling baritone. “I think awarding Antonio Romero’s fortune to Miss Miller would strengthen our message considerably.”
“His father has already withdrawn the Texas Territory from the Covenant. He would never submit to that,” Vanessa pointed out.
Ah-set smiled. “When you leveled your accusations against him, Antonio Romero’s assets were seized until a ruling could be made. We, not his father, have control of his fortune. There is nothing the Monarch can do about it. He will protest, but ultimately he is powerless in this matter.”
“We’re talkin’ about an awful lot of money.” A new voice spoke up, a woman’s contralto with a syrupy southern accent. The Monarch of the Southeastern Seaboard, Sarah remembered. “Begging y’all’s pardon, but I hardly think the young lady is capable of managing that sort of wealth.”
“She could learn.” Ah-set looked to Morgan. “You may hold this punitive compensation in trust for her until she is ready to take control of it herself. But before we go any further, we must hear whether the lady finds these terms acceptable. Miss Miller? What say you?”
It sounded too good to be true, which meant it probably was. Oh the other hand, what did she have to lose? She wouldn’t be any worse off than she was now if they reneged on the agreement.
“All right,” Sarah said. “It’s a deal.”
Ah-set looked to James Morgan. “Since this was your idea, you shall be responsible for carrying it out.”
James nodded. “Agreed.”
It took them a while to hash out the rest of the details. Sarah sat quietly, her mind drifting. She knew she was out of her depth, that she had nothing useful to contribute. Someday, perhaps, she would. But not today.
When she left the auditorium this time, she was allowed to return to her own room. Guards had already been posted for her safety. James and Vanessa escorted her there and asked if they might come in. Once inside, James startled her by lowering himself to one knee and taking her hand.
“You have twice saved my child’s life. I can never repay you for what you have given us, but know this, Sarah Miller—you will have my protection and my help in every way, for as long as you live. I give you my vow, and should I ever fail you, my life is yours as forfeit.”
He hadn’t spoken this forcefully even when giving his closing arguments at the trial. Sarah blinked.
“The same goes for me,” Vanessa told her. “Anything you ever want from me, it’s yours.”
“I…” No words came to her, not even a clear thought. The best she could do was a barely audible, “Okay. Thank you.”
Sadness flickered through James’s eyes, subtle, but she was learning to see the hints of expression that barely touched his face. He stood and paused. Then he bent to touch his lips to her temple. Confused by the feelings stirring somewhere deep inside her, she could not respond, so she simply stood there.
When he drew back, Vanessa surprised Sarah again by putting her arms around her. She stiffened at first, but after a moment let her head come to rest on the vampire’s shoulder.
“Come,” James said softly. “Let’s leave her in peace.”
The door closed behind them, and for the first time since she could remember, Sarah was alone.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Method acting uses your emotions to serve your performance. Psychodrama uses your performance to serve your emotions. It takes a certain degree of self-awareness to know which one you’re doing.
—Candace Fontaine, acting coach
“I’m sorry, Steffen, but I am going to have to reschedule your next session with Grace.”
It would be two or three more weeks before she was well enough to work again, even for the less strenuous assignments, and his appointment was only a few days away. She’d nearly forgotten to cancel. Lynette had dealt with all of her other engagements but still would have nothing to do with Scott.
He knew what had happened, of course, and not just because he was a member of the Covenant Council. She remembered hearing James on the phone with him when she first woke in the hospital and wondered how many details her protector had shared.
“I need time to heal,” she went on. “If I kept her appointment with you, I would have to think up a suitable explanation for her condition, and w
e’d be limited in what we could do.”
“Rescheduling could prove problematic,” he said. “I’d like to keep the appointment. Would you be willing?”
His request surprised her, and she took a moment to consider how she would handle such a session. It could be done, if he was careful with her.
“I believe I can work it into the character, if that’s what you want,” she agreed. “E-mail me the details about when and where, and I’ll see you Friday night.”
“I would like to extend it to two nights instead of one, if that’s acceptable.”
“Are you sure? You might change your mind when you see me. When you see her.”
“I won’t.”
“Two nights it is, then. I’ll see you Friday.”
It felt odd to be alone. She’d grown used to having Joseph and Ron around. They had taken turns staying with her twenty-four hours a day, and even when they weren’t in the same room, she had known one or the other was nearby. Now she was on her own once again.
Her clients knew her as Angeline Devereaux, and she would continue to let them call her that, but it was only a name. Even before going to Denver she’d destroyed the ID, credit cards, and anything else to do with that identity. Lynette had tossed the cell phone she’d used for Angeline’s business transactions, closed bank accounts connected to it, and opened new ones at different financial institutions. Only the clients they were sure could be trusted had been given her new contact information. Likewise, the Sullivan identity was disposed of. When Andy Sullivan left the hospital, she disappeared off the face of the earth, and there was no way for anyone to tie her to Angie Clark.
Ron and Joseph had stayed with her the two weeks since she’d come home, and there was no sign anyone had discovered who she was. The men assured her that as long as she stayed away from places that might be watched by Soul Killer’s people—airports, Indian reservations, police stations, border crossings, and such—the chances of being spotted were negligible. Angie decided it was time to send them away. There was still risk, of course, but she knew to be more cautious now. She’d already decided that if Angie Clark needed bodyguards for the rest of her life, she would prefer to disappear into another country and lose herself where no one who wished her harm would ever find her.
