“And to make matters worse, my son now believes we set him up with a Maja seductress, despite my personal vow on my honor not to interfere with his decision.”
Her head rocked back as his voice grew louder. “No, sir. I told him you ordered me to stay away from him. I took full responsibility for my actions.”
Black eyes narrowed. “Wasn’t that kind of you.”
“Arthur,” Guinevere snapped. “That’s enough.”
“It’s not even close to enough, Gwen,” Arthur snarled. “We trusted this girl with our son, and she botched it. We’re lucky he survived her . . . protection.”
“I’m aware of my mistakes, sir.” Giada’s voice shook, and she swallowed, fighting to steady it. “I deeply regret them, particularly Davis’s death. I realize there’s nothing I can do . . .”
“Actually, there is,” Arthur snapped coldly. “Consider yourself confined to your Avalon residence. Spend your time thinking about the importance of following orders, so that in the unlikely event we ever entrust you with another mission, you won’t fuck it up the way you did this one.” He curled his lip. “And stay the hell away from my son. Don’t visit him, don’t talk to him, don’t even look at him. And especially don’t screw him.” His eyes narrowed as he rose slowly to his feet. “And don’t even think of disobeying that order.”
She swallowed. Her head felt so light that for a humiliating moment, she wondered if she might faint. “Yes, sir. I won’t, sir.”
“Won’t what?”
“I won’t visit Logan, I won’t talk to him, I won’t even look at him. And I won’t . . . make love to him. Again.” Her voice shook.
Arthur lifted his lip, exposing his rage-lengthened fangs. “Get out of my sight.”
Giada turned and fled for the front door, opening it with a burst of magic. She slammed one shoulder into the doorframe on the way out. Barely feeling the pain, she broke into a run the moment the door closed behind her.
“Arthur,” Guinevere said in a deliberate voice, “Have I ever told you just how big an asshole you can be?”
He looked around at her, incredulous. “You can’t be defending that little idiot to me.”
Her blue eyes narrowed. “She loves our son, Arthur. And if he doesn’t love her back, I’ll be greatly surprised.”
He snorted. “Logan’s not that big a fool.”
They’d had a lot of fights over fifteen hundred years of marriage. The one that followed that statement ranked with the worst.
It was full night as Logan sat in one of the lawn chairs on the deck, his third beer on his knee as he pretended to ignore Smoke. Which wasn’t easy, since the cat crouched under a redwood end table glaring daggers at him. Black as his friend was, all Logan could see were ice blue eyes glowing in the dark like a pair of laser sights.
Nobody did contempt better than Smoke. He might as well have had a neon sign flashing over his head that read, “You’re an asshole.”
Logan took another long swallow of his beer and ignored him some more. Which would have been considerably easier if he hadn’t suspected the cat was right.
He kept remembering the look on Giada’s face as she’d told Smoke she was leaving. So much desperate dignity layered over so much pain.
Sucker, his harder self growled. She lied to you. She deserved a chewing out.
He only wished he could believe that. Unfortunately, there was a tight little knot in his chest that insisted otherwise, even after half a six-pack of Bud.
Water under the bridge, he told himself. The real question was what did he do now?
Which was something of a stupid question, because the answer was so obvious.
He had to become a vampire.
The Gift would give Logan all the power he needed to avenge Mark’s death. Especially considering that there was apparently a Dire Wolf involved in this mess. Presumably a rogue; Logan couldn’t believe sane Direkind would involve themselves in killing Latents. Like the Magekind, the werewolves had been created by Merlin himself to safeguard the human race.
But one of those Dire Wolves was evidently more interested in killing than keeping anybody safe. And Logan was damn well going to take the murderer down—along with the assassin she’d hired.
But first he had to complete his transformation.
Which meant he’d have to find a Maja to sleep with him the final time. He’d always figured he’d seek out La Belle Coeur, the Maja court seducer often dispatched to help male Latents reach Merlin’s Gift.
La Belle was not only exquisitely beautiful, she was said to be a thousand years old, with mind-blowing sexual skills. Logan had grown up listening to vampires rhapsodize about being transformed by La Belle Coeur’s delicious ministrations.
What’s more, La Belle was as kind and intelligent as she was beautiful. Logan had suffered from a rather painful crush on her as a teenager, a fact she’d been well aware of. Yet she’d always treated him with grave respect, even when he’d been an awkward fourteen-year-old. Now he could finally seek her out and experience the reality behind all his boyhood fantasies.
So why the hell do I fi nd that idea about as exciting as washing socks?
He frowned. Somehow he had the feeling that making love to La Belle would be a poor second to taking Giada to bed. Giada, with her long and lovely body, who’d responded to him with such innocent hunger. If she’d had more than a couple of lovers in her entire life, Logan would be greatly surprised. Yet he’d found the greatest pleasure he’d ever known in her inexperienced arms.
And he wanted that pleasure again.
Why not? The thought shot into his mind as if it had been waiting in ambush. She’d enjoyed their lovemaking every bit as much as he had.
True, he’d been graceless when he’d denied feeling anything for her. At the very least, he’d need to make a very sincere apology.
Maybe even bring her some roses.
All he had to do was start tying up the immediate details of his mortal life, and he’d be free to seek her out again.
Cheered, he finished off his beer and went inside to get some sleep.
As he passed, Smoke muttered, “Dumbass.”
TWELVE
The spy reported to her father in his library. There, surrounded by Victorian elegance, facing her brother’s portrait, she began her report. Her stomach clenched with nerves as she faced her sire’s cold blue eyes. At any moment, she expected to feel his fist.
He had never had patience for anything he perceived as failure, and she knew he was going to be furious when he learned she’d been seen in Dire Wolf form. Especially since he’d warned her repeatedly to avoid detection.
When Arthur complained—and he would—the Southern Clans would send an enforcer with an order of execution to search for the unidentified killer. If he caught her, ugly questions would arise that could endanger her father, the Circle of Chosen—perhaps even Warlock himself.
Yet she’d had no choice. Permitting Giada to interrogate Terrence would have had the same result—only without any possibility of damage control.
There was, after all, always the chance she and her father could kill the Southern Clans’ enforcer before he discovered the truth.
She only hoped her father would agree with her judgment. Otherwise she might not walk out of this room alive. Completing her report, she braced herself for his reaction. And waited.
“You say this cat you fought had power.” Her father leaned forward over the solid oak surface of his massive desk. His eyes burned hot with excitement. “What did it look like? Describe it.”
The spy blinked. Pleased excitement was the one reaction she hadn’t anticipated. “Yes, sir. Its magic felt . . . ancient. Powerful. Far greater than the Maja’s. Greater than anything I’ve ever sensed.” Even greater than Warlock’s, though she didn’t dare say so.
Her father gestured, impatient. “Yes, yes, I understood you the first time. But what did the cat look like?”
She frowned, wondering why he was so interested. �
��Big. Larger than a tiger, I think, but with the same kind of build. Very muscular. Probably close to eight hundred pounds. He was black, with silver-gray stripes on his haunches and legs. When he reared onto his hind legs, he was taller than I am in Dire Wolf form.” Given that she was more than seven feet tall then, that was saying something. “His paws were huge, with long, knifelike claws. If I hadn’t taken him off guard by hitting him from upwind, I don’t think I would have survived.”
Her father grunted. “No, probably not.” She saw without surprise that he didn’t seem disturbed by the idea of her death. He straightened his shoulders. “I must tell Warlock about this. In the meantime, stay close to Logan. Notify me at once if the creature appears again.”
“What about the assassin?”
He gave her a wave of dismissal. “Tell him to hold off. I suspect Logan may be our best chance at obtaining this cat for Warlock. And if I’m correct, acquiring it could be the key to our success.” The spy stared at him, working to keep the shock off her face. For months now, he’d talked of killing Logan as a crucial part of his revenge on Arthur. Yet one mention of this cat, and he seemed willing to put his obsession aside.
What the hell was going on?
He glowered at her. “What are you waiting for? Go. Go now!”
“Yes, sir.” Knowing he’d tolerate no further delay, the spy whirled and strode out.
“Come in, Logan.” Sheriff Jones gestured him to one of the seats before the massive cherry desk. “How are you feeling? And how’s Shepherd?”
“She’s fine. So am I.” Physically, anyway. He managed not to frown as he put the sealed envelope he held onto the desk’s shining surface, then dropped into one of the guest chairs.
“What the hell is this?” Jones glowered at the envelope as if it were a dead rat.
“My resignation.”
“Hell.” The sheriff slumped back into his red leather executive chair and rubbed both hands over his tired, angular face. “I had a feeling you were gonna do that. Get it off my desk—I’m not accepting it.”
Logan lifted a brow. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, but you don’t have a choice.”
“Look, I know you’re upset about Davis, but it wasn’t your fault. You had no reason to think that fuckin’ arsonist had planted a bomb to kill first responders. That kind of crap don’t happen in this county.”
Logan set his jaw. “He was my responsibility, Sheriff. And he died on my watch.”
“And I’m responsible for both of you, MacRoy.” The sheriff stared at him, gaze brooding, for a long moment. As if finally coming to a decision, he sighed. “Look, resigning right now is a really bad idea. Take some time off if you need to, but don’t quit. I had to bring the ATF in on this, and it would look damn suspicious to them. They’re gonna wonder if you want to get out of town because you planted that device.” Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms were often called in on bombings, particularly if a serial killer was suspected.
“They’d think I’m crazy enough to stay in the house, knowing the bomb was about to go off?”
Jones shrugged. “You know feds. They tend to suspect locals of being either crooks, crazy, or incompetent. Maybe all three.”
Logan grunted, frowning. The sheriff had a point. Yet once he became a vampire, working during the day would be out of the question. Well, he’d just have to try to finesse the situation as best he could. “Okay, I’ll just take some time off.”
Besides, a badge might come in handy during his pursuit of the assassin.
“What about Shepherd? Isn’t she supposed to be learning the job from you?”
“I’ve got a feeling she needs some time, too.”
Not that he intended to give her any.
Logan followed Smoke through the dimensional gate that led to Giada’s Avalon neighborhood.
“This way,” the cat said shortly, tail lashing, as he trotted along the cobblestone street.
Oh, yeah. Smoke was pissed.
It had taken Logan an hour of argument verging on a shouting match to convince his friend to help him. Finally the cat had growled, “Okay, I’ll take you. But don’t be surprised if she turns you into a frog.”
Which was why Logan had bought a dozen pale lavender roses that emitted a scent as exotic and lovely as they were.
Giada’s neighborhood bore an astonishing resemblance to one of the lower-middle-class developments back home in Greendale County. The houses were all single-story brick ranches, utilitarian and small, with one or two bedrooms at most. Some were the most their Majae owners had the experience or power to construct. Most had been created by more experienced Majae as residences for young vampires or witches who couldn’t yet build their own.
Giada’s house followed that pattern, with the addition of cream trim and bright flower beds in a riot of colors. She might not have had a lot of power when she built the house, but she’d done her best.
Logan’s stomach gave a nervous flutter as he climbed the brick steps to the front door, positioned the bouquet of roses to his satisfaction, and took a deep breath.
From somewhere inside, he heard something that sounded like the theme song to Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
At least she was home.
He pressed the doorbell and listened to its musical notes peal through the house. And waited.
No answer.
Frowning, Logan looked down at Smoke. “Is she home?”
“She’s home,” the cat said shortly. “She’s ignoring you. Not that I blame her.”
Huffing out a breath, Logan leaned on the doorbell again. “Giada! Please come to the door. I’d like to apologize.”
Music sounded so suddenly he jerked away. Pink, singing “U + Ur Hand” at a thunderous volume directly in his right ear. A spell.
So he yelled louder. “Giada!”
Pink informed him that he was going home alone.
Huffing in frustration, Logan looked down at the cat. “Would you mind asking her to talk to me?”
Smoke’s blue eyes narrowed as his tail whipped back and forth. “Waste of time. You stepped in it this time, boy.”
“Just tell her I came to apologize.” He gritted his teeth. “Please.”
“Won’t do any good.”
“Okay, tell her I came to grovel. She only did what she’d been ordered to do. I get that.”
A nerve-wracking moment went by as the cat glowered up at him. “All right—for all the good it’ll do you.” With that, Smoke strolled through the solid surface of the door as if it had an invisible pet entrance.
Logan watched him go—and frowned at the ugly feeling the cat was right.
Smoke found Giada lying sprawled on a long sectional couch watching an enormous television. On its huge screen, a young blond girl drove a stake into the chest of a fanged person with a misshapen face. The monster promptly exploded into dust.
Giada scooped chocolate ice cream out of the large bowl she held in her lap. Licking chocolate off her spoon, she asked, “Do you think I’d make a good lesbian?”
“No. You like men too much.”
“Not anymore.” She took an even bigger bite. “Men suck.” The blonde leaped up and kicked another vampire in the face. He flew backward.
Smoke wandered over to sniff the bowl. The alcohol content made his eyes water. “What the hell are you eating?”
“Häagen-Dazs Rocky Road and Godiva Chocolate Liqueur.”
Smoke shuddered. “You’re going to spend the next three days making sacrifices to the porcelain god.”
“Nope. Because I can do magic.” Giada snapped her fingers, and tiny fireworks exploded over her hand like a miniature Fourth of July celebration.
Smoke sat down on the coffee table and curled his tail around his toes. “Logan wants to apologize. He wants you to give him Merlin’s Gift.”
“Too bad.” She returned her attention to her magical television, her expression brooding. “Anyway, Arthur ordered me to stay away from him. I can’t talk to him, I can’t even look at him. And
I’m sure as hell not supposed to sleep with him. Tell him to go find himself another witch.”
“He wants you.”
Her head jerked around to stare at him. “I. Don’t. Care.” She gestured. Before Smoke could block the spell, he was sitting on the front porch next to Logan.
Thoroughly disgusted, Smoke looked up at his friend. “Told you so.”
“Why the hell not?” Logan demanded.
“To start with, Arthur gave her a direct order not to so much as look at you, much less have sex.”
“My love life is none of Dad’s business!”
The cat snorted. “Try telling him that.”
Logan bared his teeth. “Oh, I will.”
“My relationship with Giada is none of your business,” Logan growled at his father. “Rescind your order.”
“Forget it. She disobeyed me.” Arthur spoke through his teeth, big fists clenched. He and Logan stood nose to nose and toe-to-toe as they glared at each other in the middle of the Pendragon living room. “House arrest is the least she deserves.”
“Morgana’s necklace . . .”
“Was not the reason she slept with you the second time. That she did deliberately, just as she deliberately did not report to me after the first time you made love.”
“Actually,” Smoke said distantly, “I convinced her not to.”
“You?” Arthur wheeled on the cat, who lay cradled in Guinevere’s arms as the two watched the brawl like spectators at a tennis match. “Why the hell did you do that?”
“Because she’s perfect for him—which you’d know if you weren’t so bullheaded.” Smoke flicked one pointed black ear in feline disdain.
White teeth flashed in a snarl. “You do not get between me and my warriors, godling.”
Smoke’s pupils contracted to slits. “You do not command me, Arthur Pendragon.”
Gwen tightened her grip on him, as if to keep him from leaping down and transforming into something that could do a great deal more damage than a seven-pound house cat. To her husband, she said, “I told you Logan was in love with her.”
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