He regarded her with eyes the icy blue of a mountain lake. “Hardly.”
Her smile reminded me of a teenager who’s gotten away with a huge kegger while her parents were out of town for the weekend. “And really, I have you to thank for it.”
“You are welcome.”
Now, why would that smooth answer irritate her? I wasn’t sure, but she suddenly looked like she wanted to pick him up, swing him around her head a few times, and throw him into a crowd of stake-wielding priests. I darted a glance at my boss. To my surprise, he looked just as pissed, though only somebody who’d hung with him as long as I had would’ve been able to tell. A master at damming his emotions, Vayl leaked them with the smallest alterations of expression. Just now the minuscule lowering of his slanted brows accompanied by a tighter than usual grip on the blue jewel that topped his cane let me know he wouldn’t mind if Disa went the way of Binns before we completed our mission.
She sat forward, steepling her hands before her catalog-model face, her crimson nails practically glowing against the paleness of her skin. “You know, left to my own devices, I never would have called you.” Disa spoke directly to Vayl, as if Dave and I had gone boneless and oozed into the cracks beneath her heels. “I can take care of myself.” She nodded to emphasize the point. “And the Trust,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
“I know,” said Vayl, after a hesitation that lasted long enough to make me think he’d meant to say something else.
“I never meant to ally with Samos. Hamon was right in that point at least.” Her tone said he’d screwed up royally in plenty of other areas. “At any rate, negotiations begin tomorrow, two hours after sunset.” She jumped up from her seat, startling Dave enough that he’d trained his crossbow on her chest before her chair stopped moving. “Would you put that thing down?” she snapped.
“Perhaps it would be better if you stopped making sudden moves,” Vayl murmured. Before she could retort, he added, “As for our contract, and the part we intend to play in the negotiations, maybe it would be wise to discuss those issues now?”
She brushed us off with a limp-fingered wave that let us know such conversations fell outside her job description. “I will send the Vitem to discuss those details with you after the Sonrhain.”
The what? But nobody thought to translate and Disa had barreled on. “That was always your problem, Vayl,” she said, leaning over to pat his hand almost merrily, her breasts pressing so hard against the material of her bodice it creaked in protest. “You never learned how to delegate. Now, we have really missed enough fun for one evening. Follow me.”
Vayl shuttered his expression so tightly, no matter how high I arched my eyebrows, I couldn’t get a response to my What the hell? and Are we dealing with a lunatic? looks. Which meant I followed my boss into the freak show without any warning at all.
Chapter Four
Apparently Sonrhain is the Vampere word for “gross out the human guests.” Dave and I took one look at each other as we entered the Olympic pool–sized dining room and walked back out. “Who can I kill?” Dave asked, reaching inside his jacket. I put my hand on his arm, unsure whether he’d come out holding his Beretta or a fifth of Jack. Sucky plan either way.
“You know the rules. From now on, nobody dies who doesn’t threaten us directly,” I said.
“You’re shitting me, right? You want me to stand in there, watch that . . . and what, applaud?”
I shook my head, feeling as nauseated as he looked. “Just keep your eyes open and avoid the sauce.”
His eyes snapped to mine. “Is that what General Kyle told you? That I needed a sponsor to make sure I stayed dry?”
“No,” I hissed. “What he said was that you’re an excellent fighter who’s been through hell. He basically asked me to give you something constructive to do before you throw a grenade under the same helmet you’ve stuffed your career inside.” Okay, he’d said a few more things. Like my brother had turned into a walking volcano since our last mission. That he’d hit the bottle hard, along with a couple of fellow officers who, thank God, had respected him enough not to press charges. And if I didn’t help him get his head on straight, and fast, he could kiss the military goodbye.
I reached into Dave’s jacket, my hand sliding into the correct pocket first try. It emerged holding a half-empty bottle of whiskey. “That was just to keep me warm while I waited for you two to get your business finished,” he told me.
I stared into eyes so like my own the similarity sometimes still startled me. And I felt my heart break a little. After all he’d been through, I figured he deserved better than this. But I wasn’t here to pinch his cheeks and fluff his pillows. I put steel into my voice as I said, “Don’t fuck with me, Dave.”
I tucked the bottle in my own jacket, waiting for him to decide. After a long pause he said, “I don’t wanna go in there.”
“Me neither.”
So we walked through the double doors together.
Funny how you equate time with mood. Even after working the night shift for nine solid months, at almost ten thirty p.m. I felt like we should’ve hit unwind. I could sure go for a cocktail at one of the ritzy hotels down by the ocean. But as Dave and I met Vayl on the other side of the blank, dark gateways to the Trust’s party plaza, it seemed like we’d slipped on the double-barreled six-shooters of high noon.
The room shouldn’t have made me shudder. Ceiling-to-floor drapes in red satin hung on the walls to my right and left. They were drawn back to reveal murals cleverly painted to look like windows into the countryside. One was a view of the Gulf of Patras with ships at the harbor and a ferry just heading off toward Italy. The other showed a wooded landscape with a couple of waterfalls tucked into the background. It was almost inviting. Except for the rivulets of blood that ran down the “panes.”
You can get through this, I told myself. Just don’t let it touch you. I could almost feel another layer grow around my core. A thick, pearl-like shell that I could wash all the gore from later on. I turned away from the art as Vayl touched my arm, pointing me toward my seat. It was only two down from Disa. She’d already taken her place at the head table, which was covered in black silk and formed a horseshoe with several others around the raised ring in the center of the room. Which, I decided, I’d better give a long, hard look before I lost all the kickass points I’d gained in the courtyard.
A silver fence hung from the ceiling, surrounding the ring, giving it an Ultimate Fighter feel. I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t drop the F-bomb again, though it lingered there, trying to jump out of my mouth every few seconds as I took in more details of the Main Event.
In the center of the ring two Weres ripped at each other, growling ferociously as they grappled with teeth and claws. The wolf made me glad something solid and steel stood between it and my tender flesh. The size of a Bengal tiger, it made the room seem to shrink every time it moved. Its ear hung by one stringy chunk. Its left eye had closed completely, though I couldn’t tell if it had been gouged out or just injured so badly it would no longer open.
It battled a brown bear, which, in Were form, wasn’t nearly as cute as its zoo cousin. Think leaner, with longer fangs, claws like machetes, and jaguar speed, and you begin to get the idea. It was missing huge mounds of fur and its throat looked like something you’d find in the garbage can at a butcher’s shop. Blood covered both of the Weres’ faces, their hides, and so much of the floor that they slipped and rammed each other just trying to stay upright.
I stood motionless, trying not to gag from the smell. Was it worse that the Weres hadn’t been allowed to transform completely? That someone in this perverse little Trust had the power to force them to stop changing midway so that parts of their torsos, arms, and legs still maintained a semblance of humanity and therefore a horrible vulnerability to animal attack? Was I more revolted by the members’ loud cheering of their chosen fighters along with the exchange of euro notes when side bets were won or lost? Or was I the most disgusted
that, facing some real wicked shit, my mind still focused on maintaining the illusion of overwhelming strength we’d begun to create outside, realizing that I’d be utterly humiliated if I puked, or worse, fainted?
Genti and Koren distracted me from my internal mayhem, their jubilant screams jerking my head to the right, where they stood on their seats, cheering the werewolf to victory. Rastus stood beside them, saving the sliver of voice that had returned to him. Just as juiced, he demonstrated his support by slamming his fist against the table so that all the plates and silver jumped like frightened servants. Even as I noted their positions, Meryl slipped into the room behind me and took a chair next to Rastus, closest to the table’s head. That surprised me. I’d have thought, socially speaking, she’d be required to sit farthest from Disa. But maybe Genti wanted as many bodies as he could get between himself and the Deyrar, just in case she completely flipped out. I also wondered about the significance of the empty spaces next to Genti, enough to seat four or five more. That open expanse of tablecloth struck me as odd.
“Rip his throat out, Wolfie!” Genti screamed, tearing a chunk out of his enormous turkey leg, as if to demonstrate. He’d set his hat down in front of his red glass plate, revealing a bald head that shone with excited perspiration as he pounded the air with his free fist, shouting exultantly as the wolf sank its fangs into the bear’s shoulder.
Across the ring, Niall and Admes were talking so intensely it almost looked like a fight. Only the way Niall would occasionally touch Admes on the back of the hand to emphasize a point or Admes’s tendency to rub Niall’s shoulder hinted at civil conversation. Their human companion roared with approval as the bear shook the wolf off and followed with a belt to the head that sent a couple of teeth flying. The guard jumped up to gather a winning bet from Marcon, who shook his silver ponytail with admiration, then sat back down near the head of their table, which also had room for several more at its base. What was the deal with that? Or was it anything at all? Maybe I was just trying to avoid thinking about the senseless bloodshed going on almost within arm’s reach.
I tore my gaze from the fight cage and looked at Vayl, trying to make my face a mirror of his since I could feel calculating eyes on me, including Disa’s. “So this is the Sonrhain?” I asked between lips that tingled from pressing them together hard enough to clog my gag reflex.
“Indeed,” Vayl said, his voice devoid of expression. “And Disa has honored us with a place at her side.”
I pulled out my Lucille Robinson persona. She never wants to slam people against the wall and ask them how they like being the weak link in the food chain. “Seats with a view. How nice.” I flashed Disa Lucille’s brilliant smile, which has performed small miracles for me in the past.
She’d been smiling as well, one of those semi-vicious grins you get from people who are setting you up. Now she banged her teeth together so hard her fangs sank into her bottom lip. She licked off the resulting droplets of blood, swallowed whatever words she meant to say, and motioned to the chairs Vayl had pointed out earlier.
“Where’s the third?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
I nodded to Dave. “My guy here needs a place to sit.”
She looked at him as if he’d just appeared, maybe stepping out of one of her personal guard’s stomach folds. “I assumed he would stand,” she said, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the men who flanked the doorway like a couple of Buddha statues. “Well, I suppose we could—”
“Don’t bother,” said Dave shortly. “I see an open spot down there.” He nodded to the right end of the horseshoe and, before I could object, headed off alone. I nearly went after him. But I couldn’t think of a good excuse to drag him back. He’d have a great view of the whole room from there, so he could provide a proper defense should we need one. Plus, I’d look like such a coward chasing him down. As if I was afraid to sit with the big bad vamps all by my lonesome.
We settled by Disa, Vayl next to her with me to his right. Sibley sat to her left. Disa leaned forward so she could converse with me. “You are so fortunate to catch us during our celebration. So rarely does a new Deyrar rise that we have few excuses to fight the Weres.”
I nodded and faked a smile. “Ha. Well, Vayl and I are just lucky ducks today then, aren’t we?” I didn’t clench my teeth as a new round of roars filled the room, coming both from the ring and the audience surrounding it. But it was close. I ran my hand down the side of my pants, tracing the outline of the knife I kept sheathed inside my right pocket. A memento of an ancestor’s World War I days, it practically buzzed, tempting me to pull it. Take off Disa’s head and turn the we-got-a-new-leader bash into a wake.
To distract myself from my fantasies, I said, “Vayl has given you our hostess gift, I see.”
“Yes, Vayl’s kindness is even as I remembered it,” she said as she turned her eyes to his. In her cleavage hung a silver chain from which dangled a pendant in the shape of a Hydra—the Trust’s symbol. We’d meant to give it to Hamon, but Vayl had decided Disa wouldn’t mind its masculine overtones. And he’d been right. What she didn’t know was that my buddy Bergman had embedded a minuscule camera in the Hydra’s oversized chest, one that would send images to the three palm-sized computers he’d provided for Vayl, Dave, and me as part of the bundle. Additionally, he’d implanted tiny doodads he called remote sensors in each of the Hydra’s nine heads. While he wouldn’t thoroughly explain their function, he would say that if the villa had a decent security system (and he figured, as paranoid as Hamon had been when Vayl had known him, it had to) it would be the latest in high-tech, wireless, camera-rich packages. Which meant the sensors could easily detect and latch on to the Trust’s camera feeds, allowing us to download the images for our own use. It had more aggressive applications as well, which we might, or might not, put into use as the situation warranted.
As I watched Disa run her fingertips across the Hydra’s serpentine body, I reminded myself to erase anything related to this particular scene that might appear on my Monise, which was Bergman’s moniker for our minicomputers. If Vayl wanted a copy for posterity, let him record it.
He rested his arm across the back of my chair, not touching me, but making a statement all the same. “My avhar and I look forward to continued cooperation with you and your Trust, Disa.”
I couldn’t help it. The smug just leaped up in me like a fat wad of chewing gum demanding to be bubbled. Now I knew why Cole was addicted to the stuff. Since I couldn’t quite keep the smile from my face, I turned to my neighbor. “Lucille Robinson,” I said, introducing myself again. Normally I wouldn’t, but this group seemed overwhelmingly self-centered and unlikely to remember anyone else’s name for long.
“Charmed,” she said, sounding anything but. She didn’t bother reintroducing herself.
“You’re Meryl, right?” Indifferent nod. “Nice to meet you.” Not really. “Are you going to be part of the negotiating team?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Only the Vitem will do that. And, of course, Koren will go.” She jerked her head toward the makeover show candidate stomping her rotting canvas flats on the seat of her chair. Good God, she hadn’t even taken the time to change out of her blood-stained shirt!
“Why her?”
“She was Hamon’s avhar. That gives her the right to participate in events he arranged before his death.”
Hmm, so Eryx was permanently out of the picture. That made Koren something like a widow. What I would be if Vayl ever . . . Nope, don’t go there, Jaz. Vayl will never . . . You’ll probably go before he does. Yeah, that’s the most likely scenario. I glanced at him, taking in his stern profile, that long Roman nose, those luscious lips.
The last time they’d touched mine had been during our previous mission. A world-spinning kiss that still danced through my dreams, teasing me with its sugary deliciousness. A big part of me felt like a hound at the end of its chain, straining, slavering. Woof, woof, ya big hunka man flesh! But we’d left our relatio
nship in limbo. Floating on a raft that couldn’t ground itself until he found a way to put the memories of his centuries-dead sons to some sort of rest.
He’d waited a long time for me to sort through my horrors. And it could be I still wasn’t done. You don’t love a man like Matt Stae and then watch him die without taking some major hits. Although I’d said my goodbyes, I still woke up some mornings pressing my hands against my chest because my heart ached so badly just to see him again. Five minutes. Sometimes that was my greatest wish. Just to talk to him, know he was okay and that he missed me too. See, the trail for Vayl and me had never been easy. He’d been patient with me. I figured I owed him that and more.
I looked down at my plate, pulling myself back to reality, understanding part of what I’d just done was an attempt to escape. To step out of this crazed scene with its snarling, half-human Weres and screaming bloodsuckers grooving on the carnage. I took a deep breath. Okay, Jaz. Do something. Say something. Anything to block the noise.
I turned back to Meryl. Not that I expected her to know anything. But talking to her was better than sitting silent while the wolf and bear destroyed each other. “So, had Eryx talked to Genti about how he wanted to handle negotiations?”
Meryl tossed her head, attempting to cow me with her superior beauty and fashion sense the way she must have once subdued the nerds at her high school. “He never told anyone anything, including the fact that he’d invited the Tolic and his avhar into the Trust.”
Though Vayl seemed to be chatting it up with the Deyrar, when Meryl called him the Tolic, he stiffened so abruptly I thought for a second Disa had shoved a dagger through his heart.
I twisted in my seat, noted both of her hands wrapped around her goblet, and met her haughty gaze. The insult was clear. Vayl had left the Trust. Something only one other vamp had done that I’d heard of—ever. He’d explained to me that many, if not all, of the members would consider his departure the worst kind of betrayal. Some would even call it treason.
Bitten to Death Page 3
