Heroes

by Susan Sizemore

  “I’ve encountered a crazy sorcerer,” Haven admitted. “And a family of witches.”

  “You’ve met me. And yourself. You and I have the potential of using the same magic that vampires use—or we wouldn’t have been picked to become vampires. I want to be able to acquire that magic to even up the balance between vampires and companions. I want a spell that’ll make me an equal to Ben instead of his property. I want to find a spell that’ll reverse the hold his blood has on me.”

  Excitement raced through Haven. “Do those spells exist? Does Ibis have them?” He wanted to ask if a spell existed to cure vampirism. Char might not think she needed a cure, but—

  “That’s what we need to find out.”

  “Is this a trap? An elaborate setup?”

  “Good questions. I’ve been cautiously trying to find out, studying Ibis and his nest as much as possible. Doing my best to make friends with them. They’re an odd bunch. Ibis is an odd duck.”

  “What makes him odder than any other vampire?”

  “He’s nice.”

  Char was nice. “He an absentminded scholar type?”

  “Yes. And . . . Gentle. Wise. Amused. Kindly.”

  Haven snorted. “He’s a bloodsucker. Does he keep slaves? Companions?”

  “Yes. A lot. He has a huge nest. I think there may even be a waiting list of vampires wanting to get into his nest. But we both know that no matter how tight a ship a nest leader runs, how revered the master, there’s always at least a hint of disgruntlement, resentment, or jealousy somewhere among the household. That’s human nature, and no amount of blood, hypnotism, coercion, or torture can completely blot out individuality. Ibis’s people all adore him, from senior nest vampire to newest slave. The other nest leaders working at the Silk Road respect him. Even that bitch Martina defers to him, though I think even he has trouble keeping her in line. Ben can’t stand her,” Murphy added.

  Haven caught the contempt, and the fear, in the woman’s voice. “Martina? She part of the crisis you mentioned?”

  “Yes. She’s head of a nest Ibis brought in to run the hotel.”

  His instant suspicion was that Clare Murphy had lured him to Las Vegas to get him involved in local nest politics. He knew that the nest Clare was part of was the only known viable nest in the city—until this Ibis and Martina showed up with their crews. “The Silk Road brought in outsiders, and your boss doesn’t like them in his territory. That’s your crisis?”

  “Hell, no,” she answered. “Ben was all for the project. The outsiders don’t give him the respect he deserves yet, but that’s his business, and he’ll take care of it. I shouldn’t have brought up Martina yet.”

  “Yet? If she’s a danger to us—”

  “She’s a danger to the Enforcers. So are we,” Clare added. “But not the way Martina is. We’re going to be Enforcers.” She gave him a sideways look. “I assume your vampire’s a Nighthawk.”

  “Damn right,” Haven admitted, and was surprised at the pride he felt in the reflected glory of Char’s position in the vampire world. As usual, much of the surprise was in realizing how much he cared for her. He’d grown at ease with being in love, and that made him uneasy.

  “All of us in the conspiracy are companions to Enforcers or potential Enforcers,” Clare said. “At least as far as I’ve been able to determine.”

  “Not all of us are companions,” Haven told her.

  “But you’re involved with an Enforcer.”

  “You didn’t know I wasn’t a companion until we met. There’s a lot you don’t know about—”

  “I know that at least one of the online group is a vampire. Now I know that there’s an unbitten psychic as well. We’re all after the same thing. And we’re all, more or less, kin to each other.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “Kin?”

  “I belong to Ben. Ben was bloodchild to Alice Fraser. I’ve traced Alice’s origin to a Nighthawk named Selim.”

  “The Selim? Enforcer of Los Angeles?”

  “Yes. You have to be bloodchild of a Nighthawk to become a Nighthawk, though not all members of the Nighthawk line actually become Nighthawks—Enforcers.”

  “I know that.”

  He also knew that Siri, the woman who had organized the companions’ group, was the current companion of the same Selim. Selena, who had really united the group as an active force, was companion to Istvan, the most powerful of the Enforcers. Yevgeny, the vampire member of the group, had told Haven that he’d been companion to a reclusive strig who was ancient, powerful, and had never hunted humans. Her prey was always vampires, which meant she had to be Nighthawk even if she lived outside the rules and regulations of the underneath.

  “You might be right about most of the group. Maybe Nighthawk companions are different than regular companions.”

  “Maybe the Nighthawks subconsciously choose companions with stronger wills or—I don’t know. What I do know is that all the Nighthawks are descended from the same person. All,” Clare told him. “Whether it’s a natural mutation or was caused by a magical incantation, I don’t know. But I want to know, and I think Ibis has the answer. We need to know everything Ibis knows. We can’t change the future until we understand the past—where vampires came from. What can and can’t be done.”

  She sounded like Char. A whole lot like Char. “Knowledge is power, right?”

  “Right.”

  Mostly, he thought firepower was power, but knowing the enemy did help in deciding the best weapons to use against it.

  “So we’re agreed that extracting data from Ibis’s archives needs to be a priority for the companions’ group?”

  “Uh—sure.”

  “Good. Then let’s table the Ibis discussion and get on to the more pressing problem.”

  “Fine.”

  Maybe others in the group might find this Ibis project interesting, but was it really that important? He wasn’t the best person to try to break into Ibis’s vault, or wherever the old vampire kept his stash of ancient wisdom. Haven had learned a little bit about computer hacking, but he was still better with a shotgun than with anything that required subtlety. Besides, wouldn’t all these ancient texts be written in magical scripts and foreign languages? Still—Yevgeny was good with languages, and Selena could probably handle magic shit. He wouldn’t mind being the muscle.

  This really was Char stuff, but he couldn’t exactly go to an Enforcer of the Laws and ask for her expertise to acquire intel for a companion rebellion. He’d decided long ago that she might sympathize with their goals, but the way the vampire world stood now, Char would react like any other Enforcer faced with a threat to the Laws. She’d have no mercy.

  Haven noticed a sign for an exit a quarter mile up the highway. He decided to take it and turn back toward the city. Clare waited silently with her hands clasped tightly together in her lap until he made the turn. He wondered if it was his driving or the information she had to share that caused her white-knuckled nervousness. “Okay,” he said when the surreal skyline of Las Vegas was in view again. “Tell me about Martina.”

  “She’s an arrogant, fanatical bitch,” were the first words out of Clare’s mouth. “I don’t mind that she’s arrogant and bitchy, those tend to be exploitable weaknesses. It’s the fanatical part that’s dangerous.”

  “Fanaticism’s a weakness,” Haven answered. “What’s she fanatical about?”

  “Enforcers. Hates ’em. She’s out to destroy the Laws, and the entire structure of the vampire world.”

  Haven didn’t see what the problem was. “And we’re not?”

  “Martina doesn’t think Nighthawks are true vampires. She wants to kill them all. Not just the Enforcers, but the whole bloodline. We have to stop her from killing the vampires we love. And destroying our potential future at the top of the strigoi food chain.”

  Maybe the Enforcers posed a threat to the companion conspiracy, but who the hell would ride herd on vampires hunting humans if not the Enforcers?

  Haven snar
led at the thought of any vampire trying to harm Char. “Okay,” he said, slowing the Jeep as he eased his foot back on the gas pedal. Maybe he wasn’t in such a hurry to get the woman back to her car. “We’ve got a crisis. I’m listening.”

  Chapter 5

  “I’M SUPPOSED TO be in rehearsal.”

  Ben watched Morgan Reese as the man ran a finger down his jaw and finished by rubbing his chin. The gesture held grace that was for once not conscious or calculated, which Ben found far more attractive than Reese’s usual mannerisms. Even better, Reese’s genuine confusion and sudden loss of self-confidence were delicious stimulants to Ben’s psychic senses.

  Reese didn’t know why or how he’d gotten from the theater and up the wide sweeping staircase to the entrance of the hotel museum, but Ben did. Ben had leaned against the wall, folded his arms, closed his eyes, ignored the crowds of tourists, the guards that were his property, and the concealed cameras that were monitored by his property, and wished for the mortal man to meet him in this spot.

  Ben had almost been surprised when Reese appeared at the bottom of the stairs, but he’d been more pleased and sure of his control with every slow step the magician took up the staircase. Ben caught the man’s gaze and held it, reeling the mortal in with his will. When Reese reached him, Ben almost took his hand, but recalled in time that they were in public. Ben was used to being in the closet in one way, but this was a new wrinkle in his existence. He frowned, hating the notion of one more aspect of his life he needed to conceal.

  Reese noticed Ben’s annoyance, and took a step back. “What’s wrong?”

  Ben heard Reese’s resentment at being intimidated, and that made him smile. Ben checked his watch. “You’ve got two hours. I’m going to give you a private tour.” He gestured toward the museum doors.

  They shone with blood red lacquer and gilt and were ornately carved with Asian dragons and tigers and the sinuous script of some forgotten language, all of this studded with jewels for emphasis. Ben was used to Las Vegas excess, but this décor was something else. Because the doors really were what the publicity claimed them to be: the entrance to an ancient pleasure palace. Ben had never thought he’d be impressed by the kind of stuff Ibis brought out of storage for the exhibit, but he had to admit it was all kind of cool.

  He saw excitement light Reese’s eyes, and knew that Ibis’s collection was not only cool, but also seductive. You could lure most women by being powerful, Ben thought, get her hot and bothered by what you could give her. Men like Reese wanted power for themselves, and could be seduced by the promise of it. Ben could and would give Morgan Reese the gift and power of immortality, but Reese would belong to him body and soul first. Fair was fair, and you paid for the privilege of living forever. Those were the rules, but Ben was gentleman enough to show his dates a good time before taking them back to his place for a bite. He was a vampire, for God’s sake, not a rapist.

  Reese blinked and the blankness left his expression. “I’ve seen you around. You work in the pit.”

  Ben was both surprised and amused as he realized that while he was obsessively aware of everything about Morgan Reese, including where he was at every moment of the night and day, they hadn’t met before now.

  “I run the pit,” Ben told Reese. “I run a lot of things.” A cold look came into Reese’s eyes, and he looked like he was about to sneer, but Ben stared down this hint of rebellion. “Let’s not fight on our first date.”

  He turned toward the doors, and Reese accompanied him without question. Except for the dramatically lit cases, the lighting in the exhibit hall was subdued. The thick carpet made movement comfortable and silent; the acoustics absorbed noise. The silence lent to the air of mystery. It wasn’t crowded inside the hall. This time of day there were more people at the hotel’s buffet tables than strolling through the exhibit. Ben’s stern thought to leave sent a few more tourists away.

  “The world would be a better place for vampires if everybody responded to magic.” Ben spoke quietly, certain that Reese was the only one who heard him. When he got the expected startled look, Ben chuckled.

  He took the magician by the arm and led him to one of the cases. A cracked earthenware bowl and a few parchment scrolls that had definitely seen better days rested on a bed of golden sand behind the thick clear walls. Ben pressed the silver button on the shiny black base of the display. This brought up the narration, a rich, clear voice that spoke seemingly out of nowhere, almost like a thought that popped directly into the listener’s head.

  “If you think the ancient gold coins in the next case have more value than my ragged and cracked contents, then, my friend, you are gravely mistaken. Worse, you are beyond interest. Gold is an instrument of power, but only on the most mundane of levels. Real power is not for everyone. What I contain is not for everyone. Few have the ability to appreciate what I hold. Fewer still the inborn ability to use it. What do I hold? Magic. Real magic. Real power. Reality as it really is.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Ben said, and pulled Reese back a couple steps, out of the range of the speakers. “It’s true, though,” he told the stage magician. “What you do is tricks and crap. But you already know that—in your bones and blood.”

  Arrogant fury formed a dark halo around the magician. “Who do you—?”

  “You’re here because I want you here. You can’t walk away from me even though you want to. Go ahead, try.”

  Reese had a strong will and great latent talent. Actually, the talent was very close to the surface, but the man knew how to use it only from a stage. He fought hard to get away from Ben, and Ben loved the fight. He kept calm, though, kept the glee, the turn-on, from showing. There was enough energy generated in the few seconds Reese fought him for very other vampire in the hotel to be aware of what was going on. They probably had headaches. Ben certainly did, but he stood there and smiled, and waited.

  Sweat covered the magician’s face, his muscles tensed, then slowly relaxed. Finally, Reese said, “What the hell are you?”

  “A friend. Your teacher.”

  “Teacher?”

  “What you could learn—” Ben shrugged, while Reese stared at him, annoyance warring with sly curiosity. “You feel the power in here, don’t you?” Ben asked the other man. He knew for a fact that Reese was drawn to this place. Clare had shown him the surveillance tapes documenting Morgan Reese visiting the museum over and over again.

  “Yes,” Reese answered slowly. Ben let the man’s gaze drift away from him, back to the objects in the case. “They call to me. I want to break the glass—”

  “It’s a lot stronger than glass.”

  “—and touch them. I have this—dream—that if I could figure out how to use these props . . .” He shook his head.

  “I can teach you how to use them.” This was a lie. Ben neither knew nor cared about the old-fashioned magical knowledge stored in the hotel. “You belong here,” Ben told Reese, stepping closer. “With me.”

  “Oh, isn’t that sweet?”

  Ben whirled at the sound of Martina’s voice. He hadn’t heard or felt her approach, and this annoyed him as much as the interruption.

  She looked at him with a disdainful sneer. “Am I interrupting a romantic moment?” The sneer turned into a nasty smile. “Good.” She put her hands on her hips and looked Morgan Reese over. Ben’s fists knotted, and his hunting fangs began to edge from their sheaths, but Martina’s gaze flicked dismissively away from Reese before Ben had to defend his property. “Ugly bit of owl bait,” she said. “Shouldn’t you be working?” she asked Ben.

  Ben very much wanted to slash his claws across the bitch’s face, but he held his temper. As head of hotel security, he would set a bad example by getting into a physical fight. He’d find another way.

  He didn’t think she was even trying to provoke him, not on any personal level. Martina simply held any vampire that wasn’t one of her followers in complete contempt. She was nuts, but oh, how he would love to see her take a fall.

 
; “My nest know their jobs,” Ben told Martina. “We’ve worked casino security since the days guards patrolled catwalks over the casino floors.”

  “Really? She sounded exceedingly bored with this reminder that she was in Ben’s territory. “Are you sure this courtship of yours isn’t interfering with your nest’s efficiency?” she added.

  “I’m sure.” Ben laughed. “Are you sure it isn’t interfering with your nest’s efficiency? It occurs to me that maybe you’re here because you wanted a look at my boy. He’s got one or two of your people in heat, doesn’t he? A little bit of lust slowing down the vampire revolution?”

  Martina glanced back at Reese, who stood still as stone while the vampires talked about him. Reese was tense and angry, but Ben held a tight mental leash around the mortal.

  “The revolution will not be slowed by anything,” Martina announced. “Even our lust is regulated by the Enforcers,” she went on, didactic as ever. “We must have permission from them to choose who we will possess, who we own, who we will love.”

  “That’s not exactly true and you know it.”

  Ben could have hit himself for responding. Get the woman started on Enforcers and there was no stopping her. Hell, there was no stopping her anyway. At least she kept her voice down, as did he, and no one but Reese was anywhere near them. He still should have shut up, but instead he found himself defending the system.

  “The Enforcer of this city doesn’t pull that permission shit. Duke doesn’t care who we take.”

  “Soon your Duke won’t care about anything ever again.”

  There was a thread of triumph moving through her emotions. Some menace and promise that went beyond her usual threats. Ben didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to be involved. He did want the bitch out of his hair. Out of his town would be even better. For now, he’d settle for keeping her from spoiling his date.

  She read the surface of his thoughts. “Don’t worry,” she said, and gestured toward the case. “I told Cassio I’d meet him here. He’s delivering a translation of those scrolls.”