“I am your nest leader,” Rose reminded him. “If I ask you to bring me a strig to sacrifice, you will do it.”
“I’d rather not,” Alec answered, as close to defiant as Bentencourt thought he was likely to get.
A strig would do, of course, but having Rose kill a strig to make the change was not the plan as Bentencourt envisioned it. There was a vampire he already wanted dead, one that would ease Rose’s conscience and sense of duty, therefore making it easier for her to go through with the necessary killing. Though he’d stayed inconspicuous until now, Bentencourt gently cleared his throat and touched Rose’s hand.
“I hate to interrupt,” he whispered when she turned her attention from Alec to him. He sensed her impatience, though he didn’t raise his gaze to hers. He kept his voice low, his tone diffident, his quickly spoken words for her, rather than daring to address the gathered vampires. “Andrew,” he said. “He wishes to die. He’d be grateful for the honor.”
“Andrew.” Rose stood to face Douglas. “Do you remember a bloodchild of mine back in the sixties? His name was Andrew.”
“I remember him. You fostered him in California, didn’t you?”
“He’s back in Washington. He came to see Olympias, but she’s been ignoring him—the way she ignores everything. Andrew wishes to die,” Rose explained before anyone else could jump in with questions or complaints. “If I’m actually going through with this—you do know the proper spell, don’t you, Sidney?”
“Would I have brought the subject up if I didn’t know the way to do it? Enforcers want us to believe only an Enforcer can change another Nighthawk, but that isn’t quite true. Each Enforcer passes the spell to the ones they change and makes them memorize it, but the spell has been written down.”
“I see.” Rose picked up a tapestry box from the coffee table. She’d brought it down from her bedroom before the nests arrived. She flipped open the lid and showed the contents to everyone. Bentencourt caught a glimpse of a silver dagger resting on red velvet. He knew that all Enforcers carried such a blade, as a symbol of office. He wondered where this one had come from. There was a large cabochon star ruby set in the hilt of this dagger, and its design was quite primitive.
Rose spoke over the collective gasps of the group. “My bloodsire left this with me. He said he might come back for it, but that I could use it if the need ever arose.” She sighed.
Douglas grinned like a vampire shark. “You make the sacrifice, Rose, and I will channel the power of the death to make you what you need to be. Then, with your new strength added to all of ours, we’ll take Olympias prisoner.”
Douglas sounded like he definitely looked forward to the last part. Bentencourt relished the humbling of the bitch far more than anyone else in the room. Let the others do with her as they willed for a while, he’d get a great deal of vicarious pleasure out of it. Let the others have Olympias as their plaything, he’d make sure Olympias knew that her defeat had come at his hands. And she would know that he was Philip of Macedon reborn. This time she would not stop him. The world would be his.
“I’m not going up against Olympias until I’ve Hunted.” Angela broke into Bentencourt’s happy reverie.
“We need the added power making kills will bring us,” Douglas agreed. He dragged his companion to her feet and pulled her close. “Cassandra needs death.”
“Can you manage both spells in one night?” Rose asked him.
Douglas lifted his head proudly. “Of course.”
Rose sighed. She looked resigned when she spoke, but her emotions were a combination of elation and anticipation. She hungered for chase and kill. Civilized veneer or not, when it came down to it, Rose was a monster to the core. “Then I suppose we’d better get on with this revolution,” she spoke to the other vampires. “While the night lasts we need to find Andrew, and herd these vampire hunters into a trap of our making. Does anyone know where to start looking?”
“I do,” Bentencourt spoke up. He hated playing his hand so openly, but his most essential information had not been shared with the other companions. “Olympias’s slave told me,” he said when all eyes in the room were on him. “She is deeply concerned about the crises her mistress ignores,” he added. “And confided her troubles to me when I went looking for news about Lora. Give me a moment to make a couple of phone calls,” he said to Rose. “And I will deliver all the prey of your choosing to the perfect place for a Hunt.”
“What place might that be?” Douglas asked Rose, rather than address her lowly companion.
“Why, Rock Creek Park, of course,” Bentencourt answered, never looking at anyone but Rose. “May I use the phone, my love?”
“The park is acceptable,” she told him. “That is where we will Hunt.” She rubbed her hands together, then waved Bentencourt toward the living room door. There was a telephone in the front hallway; it didn’t occur to her that he could flip open his cell phone and make the calls from here, but, then, he’d counted on that. “Go,” she told him. “I want to get this show on the road.”
Chapter 14
“COME ON, FLUFFY, get your paw off my foot.”
“Her name is Bitch.”
Falconer didn’t know why he found the annoyance in Olympias’s voice so amusing. It couldn’t be a safe thing to tease a vampire, but here was a woman who needed teasing. He’d been in her head as much as she’d been in his lately. She was lonely, and stifled—so frustrated with boredom she was ready to pop. A vampire on the edge was definitely not a good thing, for herself, or for the world. He seemed to have made it his job to get her to lighten up, ease the stress level. This could prove to be a suicidal project. He didn’t know why he was doing it, other than that he understood what it was like to be weird and lonely, and despite the fangs, claws, and scandalous history, he liked her as much as he was attracted to her. Besides, they had a lot in common, barring the fangs, claws, and scandalous history part; they’d both made messes of their first marriage.
“It’s a stupid name for a dog,” Falconer told Olympias. “A dog is a dog, or it’s a bitch, but you don’t name a dog Bitch.”
“I did. Now, Fluffy, that’s a stupid name for a dog.”
“You’re right. She’s not exactly fluffy. She looks more like Anubis on steroids. How about something Egyptian?”
They’d been halted on the path leading into the heart of the wooded park, surrounded by trees, the way lit by strong moonlight from overhead. Falconer figured Olympias could see better than he could, so he didn’t mind her leading the way, even if he was the one who knew exactly where they were going. They’d stopped here to let a group of runners that had come up behind them get passed. Bitch had taken the opportunity to sidle up to him to get petted. She was obviously the sort of dog who thought everybody in the world wanted to be her friend. A good thing, considering her size.
“She’s had her name for a long time.”
“How long?”
Olympias raised an eyebrow at him. He marveled at how clearly he could see her in the moonlight; she was a beautiful creature of shadow and alabaster. “You want it in dog years?” she asked.
By this time the runners were past them. Olympias stepped out on the path again, but the cell phone in Falconer’s pants pocket rang before he could join her. She frowned at him, but he took a step closer to the creek, and pulled out the phone.
“I’m expecting a call,” he explained.
The broken right wrist not only hurt, but Falconer had to fumble awkwardly to get the tiny cellular phone open with his left hand. He was not ambidextrous. The phone kept ringing through the time it took him to answer. Olympias glared, and Bitch took this time to squat under a tree. The aroma that floated back on the mild breeze was impressive.
“Hello, Sela,” he finally said. “What are they doing? Oh, God. All of them? What do you mean you almost went with them? How did Grace find this out? Who? What does this reincarnation guy know about—the situation? Never mind. Shit. Don’t worry about it. I’m already onsite. I
’ll take care of it. Damn,” he muttered after he flipped the phone shut.
“Damn what?” Olympias asked, stepping in front of him.
“Damn, but it’s a damn big park,” he answered. Which could be a good thing. Maybe Grace, Jeremy, and Donald wouldn’t find what they were looking for in the acres and acres of paths, woodlands, and playing fields in the ravine that bordered the twelve-mile length of the creek. It was night and—who was he kidding? They were Walkers. “Damn.”
“Should I ask what that call was all about? Or should I remind you that I’m not only telepathic, but I have super hearing?”
Falconer faced the greatest danger to his loons’ safety. “I think we should get on with what we came here for,” he said to her. “Let’s find my father, and then—go somewhere for coffee?”
“You mean get out of the park before your friends show up? What reincarnation guy?” she added.
“Some hypnotist who thinks he was some ancient Greek king in a past life.” He eyed the woman who was an ancient Greek queen. “Maybe an old friend of yours.”
“I don’t have any old friends.” She pointed at him. “If you say ‘you have me,’ I will literally bite your head off.” She grabbed him by the shirt front and pulled him within biting distance. “Tell me what’s going on. And bear in mind that I have a nasty temper and this has been a bad week.”
Any sane man would have been terrified of her strength and of the very real threat. Falconer said, “Not such a bad week. You met me.”
“Mike.”
“You want bad weeks? I found out my father’s a vampire and I’ve been beaten up by a girl.”
“But on the plus side, you met me.”
“Yes.” He had a bit of trouble answering, as her fingers were squeezing his throat. “You—realize that—my feet are—”
“Dangling several inches off the ground,” she finished for him.
“Thanks.” He kicked her, then hooked a foot around the back of her legs. He didn’t really expect this act of defiance to work, but the move knocked her off balance, and she fell to the ground. Falconer landed on top of her. He could feel Bitch’s breath on the back of his throat the moment he landed, but he ignored the threat and looked Olympias in the eye. “I can see why you don’t have a lot of friends.”
“I let you do that.”
“No, you didn’t.”
She pushed him off, and he landed in a bush next to the creek. “Ow!”
She was there instantly to help him up. She dusted him off and quickly checked his bandages. “No fresh bleeding,” she assured him.
“Your concern touches me.”
“As much fun as these courtship rituals are, we don’t have time for them right now.”
“Courtship ritual? I thought you were torturing me for information.”
“Yes to both.” Olympias sighed. “You are too much of a distraction. I really don’t know why I’m letting you live.” Falconer knew that she wasn’t joking. He should be afraid for his life, but he wasn’t. “Your soul’s what’s in danger,” she said, picking up his thoughts. “If you believe in all that damnation crap.”
“Which you don’t?”
Olympias shook her head. She hated that she was in the throes of one of the traditional ways vampires fell in love. Stalking was much more fun, but the psychic WHAM! of attraction that almost caused instant mutual bloodsharing was the most quick and convenient method of acquiring a mate. She’d taken companions both ways and enjoyed the process. But this way—the frisson of sexual attractions mixed with actually wanting to get to know the future companion was so very—pedestrian, damned near mortal in its normalcy, and about as hard to fight off as the other forms of attraction. Vampires needed to mate and reproduce. She’d avoided it for a long time and hated that the biological and spiritual necessity for companionship had kicked in again. Of course, this was no time to worry about it.
She really hated that she was letting the man distract her at every turn when she had so much else to deal with. She’d come here for a moment of sweet, violent revenge before dragging her slave home to straighten out the current mess the vampire world had gotten itself into. She should concern herself with Mike Falconer after his father was dead.
“Are you damned?” he interrupted her reverie. “Is my father?”
He will be in a few minutes, she thought. “Damnation plays a part in vampire religion, but we believe that we’re also blessed in that we aren’t supposed to face eternal night alone,” she found herself explaining to the bunny—her bunny, goddess damn it! Swearing at her goddess reminded Olympias of why she’d thrown Mike into the bushes. She was dedicated to the service of that goddess, and keeping her own kind safe. “I do believe we make our own hells,” she said before getting back to the matters at hand. “We dig our way out of them, then start all over again.”
“So you do believe in reincarnation?”
“I’m immortal. I’m talking about my own life. I’ve never died, so how would I know a damn thing about reincarnation? Though apparently someone your crew has consulted about vampires seems to know about both. Your people are too curious and seem to be gullible besides.”
He shrugged and winced. “Yeah.” He eyed her warily. “I guess.”
“And this reincarnation dude sent your people here to look for vampires.”
Mike gave up being wary, and said, “So I’m told.”
Olympias considered this a moment and concentrated all her senses on searching as far through the park as she could. For all the seeming wilderness of their surroundings, the solitude was a false impression. Rock Creek Park ran through a teeming city, one full of dark energy. The long green ravine wound through areas dense with poverty and crime, and through the scheming centers of power, as well. Heavily traveled roads crossed the creek on high bridges, adding noise both physical and mental to the mix. The area was full of all kinds of life, all sorts of psychic white noise. A lot could be hidden inside that heavy mix of brain soup. Even vampires.
She’d used Mike to help her find Andrew Falconer because the link he’d forged to his father made it faster to pinpoint Andrew’s exact location. It had been a good idea, but precious time had been wasted while she and Mike paused for conversations and phone calls. Something hungry moved within all that white noise. She could make out no specific details as yet, could not discern exact numbers, but the faint, dark energy was utterly familiar. She smiled, all teeth, and rubbed her clawed hands together.
“Something wicked this way comes,” she said to Mike. “And it seems someone is sending your Walkers into an ambush. Come on,” she added, ignoring his questioning protest as she grabbed him by his uninjured wrist. “Let’s go find your dad.”
“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Sara asked, following Andrew’s gaze up to the bright night sky.
He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. “Perfect.”
It occurred to Sara that within a short time she would no longer be able to compare the difference between night and day. There would be no dawn or dusk for her. There would simply be night. She couldn’t mind that. The choice was hers. She could only hope that many nights in her future would be as perfect as this one.
She was seated on the grass in the clearing where Andrew had made camp. Andrew lay with his head in her lap. They’d come here to gather his things, but had ended up making love on his sleeping bag, without bothering to take off more clothing than necessary. Now, in the delicious, lethargic, sweaty afterglow of swift but terrific sex she combed her fingers through Andrew’s thick hair and loved him. Every breath he took charmed her, even when he seemed to sniff the air and lifted his head away from her to look around.
“Look at the moon,” Sara said, trying to draw his full attention back to her. “Have you ever seen it so bright?”
Andrew glanced up at the sky again. “Full moon.” His tone was more tense than admiring of the bright orb overhead. “Ever notice how the chase scenes in horror movies take place on nights with a full
moon?” He rose to his feet, motioned for her to stay where she was, and slowly turned, alertly studying the shadowed clearing. “There’s a reason for that.”
“What?” Sara barely whispered the word as alarm rose in her. He was teasing her, wasn’t he? What did horror movies have to do with—
“Vampires,” he said.
Sara jumped to her feet. “Where?”
“Right here, for one,” Andrew reminded her. He put his arms around her and pulled her close. He spoke softly as he held her in a comforting embrace. “I’m not certain yet, but I don’t think we’re the only strigoi using the park tonight.”
“Oh, God.” Sara began to tremble. “Olympias.”
“Very likely.”
Why didn’t Andrew sound afraid? He obviously did not understand how dire the situation was. Or perhaps he was still at least a little bit suicidal. She had to get him out of here. “We should—”
“Leave,” he agreed. “But not until after you talk to your friend.”
“Friend? What friend?” He loosed his hold and let her whirl away from him. She looked anxiously around the clearing. “Who? Where?”
“The one you met at the coffee shop. Gerry, I think his name is.” Andrew pointed for her. “Behind that tree. Lurking. He followed us here. Don’t worry,” he added cheerfully. “He’s only been here a couple of minutes. He wasn’t peeking while we fooled around.”
Why was Gerry here? Her first thought was that Olympias had sent him. To set up a meeting, or to drag her home? Then again, he’d acted so strangely this afternoon that—
“It would be better to march up to the tree and ask him than to broadcast your alarm so strongly that it gives me a headache. And maybe others, as well,” Andrew murmured as he pushed her gently forward. While she marched toward Gerry’s hiding place, she was aware of Andrew silently circling the clearing. Her own senses tingled, and the hair on her arms and back of her neck stood up. Something was happening, but she couldn’t decipher the information she was receiving. She couldn’t let it send her into a panicky overload, either. She was confident in knowing that Andrew had her back as she reached behind the tree and hauled Gerry out of his hiding place.
Laws of the Blood 4: Deceptions: Deceptions Page 21
