Laws of the Blood 1: The Hunt

by Susan Sizemore

  “No way is that kid ready,” Selim cut in.

  Kamaraju pounded the table. “That is not your decision! I promised!”

  “Oh, come on,” Selim teased. “Won’t you miss her when she’s gone? If you’re bored, take an extra lover,” Selim went on. “But do not presume to tell me that a two-year-old companion is ready to change. It isn’t going to happen.”

  “We still need twenty,” Michael put in before Kamaraju could protest further.

  “What about the other births?” Alice asked. “Perhaps Lisa isn’t ready, but the other two . . . My own Angela?”

  “Two,” Selim told her. “Angela and Hallie. But at least one of them has to foster somewhere else.” He looked coldly around the group as he continued. “Seattle lost quite a few when Istvan vacationed there last month. There are always half-empty nests looking for fledglings after he’s passed through. Give Marthe in Seattle one, and you can have your two babies.”

  “You son of a bitch!”

  Selim merely smiled at Michael Tancredi’s angry snarl. Michael didn’t want to know the nasty truths of their existence or remember the harshness of the Laws. Michael sold cars for a living. He believed in negotiations, in deals. He liked to think of himself as a member of some sort of vampire chamber of commerce. His appetites were small, his interests more on the other side of the glass wall than on the inside. He thought he could control the need by making a Hunt seem like some sort of civic activity, make it into a formalized initiation and show of ethnic solidarity. Vampire boosterism. Like a kind of St. Patrick’s Day parade with human victims being herded through the streets on their way to being slaughtered.

  “Maybe we could have a barbecue afterward,” Selim murmured.

  “What?” Alice asked.

  Selim waved her question away. He concentrated, really concentrated the way only a Hunter could, on Michael Tancredi. Michael had no choice but to listen, his whole being completely attuned to Selim’s unwavering attention. “You want me to let you kill twenty humans. It isn’t possible. It isn’t going to happen. You have a list. Business rivals the four of you would like to get rid of, perhaps? Personal enemies?” Michael couldn’t help but nod in answer to Selim’s questions. Selim released his hold on the other’s mind and looked around in disgust. “Just how stupid are you?” he demanded angrily. “When did you get to be such amateurs?”

  Of the four of them, Don Tomas was the only one who reacted, and that was to hide a smile behind his hand. Selim was gratified to know that at least Tom hadn’t thought they could get away with it.

  Kamaraju looked furious, Alice subdued, Michael frightened. Nobody argued.

  “Six,” Selim told them. “You get six of my choosing, and you share with the strigs. On the day and time I set. Any questions?” he asked politely.

  The expected explosion didn’t come from Kamaraju. It was dainty, delicate, hard-as-nails Alice Fraser who surged to her feet. “Six! Two for the children and only four for the rest of us? Are you out of your mind?”

  Michael turned a glare on Don Tomas. “Leave him out of it. Then there’ll be more for us.”

  Alice shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Michael. It’s Selim who’s—”

  “If Selim says six, you know we won’t talk him out of it,” Michael went on angrily. “He’s a bloody selfish bastard.”

  “Thank you.”

  Michael ignored Selim as he went on. “If there’s only going to be six, we need to divide up the meat so we all get a fair share. Let the hidalgo go hungry this time. He deserves to.”

  Selim knew this was bound to happen the moment he cut their rations. A group of hungry vampires was not a pretty sight; they were bound to turn on each other. Selim watched as Don Tomas rose out of his chair, eyes cold as stone. The Himalayas had probably looked like that, Selim thought, as the continents clashed and the mountains poured inexorably up out of the tumult, majestic and unstoppable. Only slower.

  Michael Tancredi sprang out of his chair, pushing it over in his haste. He was the size of a bull and looked like he’d just had a red cape waved in front of his face. The comparison stopped when he bared his fangs. No angry bull had ever looked that mean. It made Selim wonder where the reasonable car salesman of a few moments before had gotten to.

  Alice backed out of the way. She stopped halfway between the table and the garden doorway, at a spot where she could fight, flee, or sit back down to the discussion. She flashed a glance at Selim that blamed him for starting this.

  Kamaraju stayed where he was, though he looked like he was ready to duck under the table.

  “You don’t need to Hunt,” Michael told Don Tomas. “You already had yours, didn’t you?”

  “It’s been nearly five years,” Alice reminded Michael. “Let it go, Mike.” Tancredi turned his snarl on her. Selim watched Alice back up another step. She looked like she was going to hold her hands up defensively before her but managed to turn the gesture into a shrug. “Fine. Don’t.”

  “He should never have bled and bedded the bitch. Look at what happened.”

  “He didn’t know she was Rom.”

  That was the problem with living in a melting pot culture. The seasoning was sometimes off. Cassandra hadn’t been any more aware of her ancestry than Don Tomas had been. The result had surprised everybody. The result was nearly five years old. A healthy, happy, sharp-toothed little dhamphir menace that had every vampire that knew about him spooked. Selim was, so to speak, little Sebastian Avella’s godfather. Cassandra was still living in the don’s nest. Selim knew he needed to do something about it, but seeing Michael’s open hostility reinforced his belief that Sebastian was safer being watched over by both parents.

  “You are in my house,” Don Tomas spoke to Michael, his voice a low rasp. “You will not speak of my companion.”

  “She’s not your companion anymore,” Michael shot back. “You killed for her, with her.” He made a downward, slashing motion with his hands. “You cut the cord. She’s one of us now.”

  “Then she needs to Hunt as well, doesn’t she?” that hard, low voice questioned. “For the sake of the child.”

  “He’s a sweet little velociraptor,” Selim murmured.

  Alice gave him an amused look when she overheard him. As the tension continued between the glaring men, she added her own low comment to Selim. “Don’t you just love testosterone?”

  “Not one of my favorite flavors.”

  “Not only tight-assed but straight.”

  “They go together.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” she agreed and backed farther from the continuing confrontation.

  “You don’t need the kill, Tomas,” Kamaraju spoke up. “Michael’s right. Cassie had hers.”

  “And the others in my house?”

  “Let them pay a penalty for your Hunting out of season.” Michael appealed to Selim. “That’s fair. There should be more for the rest of us.”

  Selim sighed. He stood. Less than a heartbeat later, Michael Tancredi was sprawled out on his back, spread-eagled on the wide tabletop with his shirt ripped open. Selim’s claws dug warningly into the spot over his heart.

  Selim looked down into the surprised, frightened eyes beneath him and said gently, “Apologize to our host.” He glanced momentarily at Kamaraju. “You, too.”

  “Testosterone,” Alice said smugly from the doorway. “You just have to love it.”

  Michael was brave enough to meet Selim’s gaze, smart enough to say, “You goaded me into this.”

  Selim nodded. “Thought the demonstration would do you some good.” He sank claws ever so slightly into Michael’s chest. Skin popped like bubble plastic and blood welled under Selim’s nails. He could feel the other’s slow heartbeat beneath his palm. “You’d be delicious,” he said, smiling all the while. All of Michael’s muscles went rigid. Nothing in his emotions suggested any hint of struggle. He was like a caught rabbit, hoping the owl would go away if he pretended he wasn’t there. While Selim waited for Michael
Tancredi to react in some way, he went on, “Should I invite little Sebastian in for a snack?”

  “It’s past his bedtime,” Don Tomas said.

  “Of course. Will you please apologize, Mike?” Selim asked in exasperation. “I’ve got spilled coffee dripping on my foot, and it’s getting uncomfortable.”

  “My—my apologies,” Michael blurted out.

  Selim could tell from the look on Michael’s face that the car salesman didn’t remember what he was apologizing about. His emotions were just as confused; he wasn’t thinking much at all. Good. Always good to keep them off balance. Selim backed away and helped Michael up. He refrained from licking the blood off his claws. He’d made his point, there was no use in being crude about it. He retracted his claws and put an arm around Alice’s waist as she came up to him. She fitted nicely against him, all warm, willing curves and softness.

  “To the victor go the spoils?” he whispered in her ear. He let his hand drift from her waist to her thigh. “Not that there’s anything spoiled about you, of course.”

  Alice leaned her head back on his shoulder. “Take me shopping on Rodeo Drive and I’ll show you differently. That wasn’t a victory. Poor Mike,” she added as Michael Tancredi moved to stand in the shadows away from the table. Within moments, only a pair of feral eyes glittered out at them as the embarrassed nest leader cloaked himself in darkness.

  Alice put a hand over Selim’s heart and turned on her most alluring smile. “I thought I’d try to seduce a few more people for the Hunt out of you. Will it work?”

  Selim’s breath quickened as heat flared where she touched. Just how long had it been? he wondered. The lure of the forbidden added spice to the moment. He kissed her forehead. “Alas, Alice, no.”

  She sighed and moved away. “Didn’t think so. Can I get you another cup of coffee?”

  The scent and feel of her lingered. Selim shook his head. “Thanks, no. I have to be going.”

  Kamaraju banged a fist on the table. “You can’t walk out now! We have decisions to make.”

  “We?” Selim looked around. “We? Is this a democracy now?”

  Alice chuckled. “You did say that we’re all-American vampires.”

  “So I did. I lied.” He looked at Kamaraju. “You already heard my decision. Six. That’s it.” He turned his attention to their host. “Thank you for dinner.”

  Don Tomas gave one of his tight, aristocratic nods. “Must you go so soon?”

  “I do have to meet with Miriam this evening.” Selim blessed them all with the one concession he was willing to make. “You can consider her nest out of the loop for this Hunt. That ought to make you happy.”

  It didn’t. He could feel the anger from all of them. As he walked out of the room, it mixed sickeningly with the growing need. They hated the tight leash he kept them on, especially as the hunger grew. These were the civilized ones, the Law-biding ones. The strigs were going to give him even more trouble. It was only going to get worse, and he had to let it, walking the silver knife edge for them until the time was right.

  Like Siri says, he thought once more. You knew the job was dangerous when you took it. He smiled at the thought of her and found Siri waiting for him in the car.

  She didn’t smile back. The petite woman turned a fierce glare on him as he slid into the passenger side. “Just what the hell was going on between you and Alice Fraser a minute ago?” she demanded.

  Selim hunched down a little in the leather-upholstered seat. “Woman, I would hate to be as psychic as you are.”

  “Hmmph. Well?”

  Selim winced. “Later. Drive,” he instructed. “I’m a hen-pecked Hunter,” he complained under his breath as his companion put the Mercedes in gear.

  “And you love it,” she added as she swung the car up the long, curved drive of Don Tomas’s estate.

  Selim put his hand over hers as she efficiently shifted gears. She was small, delicately made, and mortal. He didn’t dispute her statement for a moment.

  Chapter 2

  SIRI TURNED INTO the parking lot at the entrance to Stone Canyon Park. They got out without a word and went to sit on the retaining wall that faced a the view of the city. The park closed at dusk, and a cop or private security car would pull up soon and they’d be told to move on. In the meantime, Siri snuggled up in the crook of his arm and they gazed on the lights spread out for miles and miles below them. The touch of her warmth in the cool of the evening was sweet. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer.

  Siri sighed. “Isn’t it beautiful? Don’t you just love this town at night?”

  “I’ve never seen it any other way.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He remembered the way this view had looked before the sprawl of light was quite so wide, before the freeways formed bright flowing rivers, before the city noise reached all the way up here. That was what he disliked the most about change, he decided, the noise.

  “I grew up in a quiet spot in a noisy city, but I never heard it,” he told her. “Maybe the only quiet spot in the whole . . . in a garden surrounded by squalor.” He felt her curiosity but said no more.

  She tilted her head, concentrating. “You grew up in a cage?”

  Psychic. Far too psychic for her own good. Far too psychic for his good. “Never mind.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  It was always tempting to explain and far too dangerous to give in to the temptation. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, it was that he didn’t trust anyone else. What Siri knew could be forced from her.

  “Right,” she said. “What I don’t know can’t hurt either of us. You’re a pain, Selim.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “I haven’t caused you any pain in ages.”

  She squeezed back. “You wanna?”

  Her enthusiasm rattled him. He wanted. He wanted very much. But . . . “No. Let’s just talk. I don’t have much time.”

  “You have to go to Claremont. But you don’t want me to drive you. Why?”

  “I need the exercise.” A stinging insect landed on his cheek, then flew away without trying to bite—professional courtesy and all that.

  “Right.”

  Her disapproval amused him, her jealousy didn’t. She knew he wasn’t interested in Miriam. Siri, in fact, knew everything that went on. That was why they needed to talk before he got back to work. He’d been at home for nearly a month before tonight’s meeting, meditating, thinking, dreaming, leaving the outside world and grocery delivery in Siri’s capable hands while he prepared for the Hunt.

  She put a hand on his knee, then ran it up his thigh. “Skinny but cherse,” she judged.

  “Stringy,” he answered.

  Her lips found his throat, her kiss a soft, teasing plea. The night went red and warm around him. He smiled and licked his lips. Then he forced his mind back to business while he let himself enjoy her touch. They hadn’t talked much on the ride over. He’d been concentrating too hard on the upcoming meeting to pay much attention to her, even though her resentment had filled the car, acrid as smog. They were comfortable together for the moment, and he reveled in just being with her. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but he didn’t want to go where that would lead.

  He waited until she stopped kissing his throat and snarled a few forceful swear words into the night before he spoke again. “I trust you didn’t get bored while waiting.” He carefully refrained from mentioning that Cassandra had invited Siri in. She carefully refrained from reminding him. They both carefully refrained from mentioning Cassandra, keeping the subject at bay by avoiding it.

  He did admit, “I made the mistake of mentioning Istvan.”

  “What’d you do a thing like that for? That could only get them thinking about Sebastian.”

  “As if being in the same house with a dhamphir wasn’t on all their minds already. I ended up using the reference to stir them up. We Enforcers like to remind the ones we oversee that things could always be worse.”

&n
bsp; “And somebody ended up accusing Don Tomas of unspeakable acts because of it.”

  Selim scratched his ear. “That’s pretty much what happened.”

  “Oh, honey. Why’d you have to go start a fight?”

  “I let Mike start it. The resentment of Don Tomas was bound to come out. Better now than later.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Were you bored while I was having fun tossing Mike Tancredi around the dining room?”

  Siri laughed at the idea that she could ever be bored. “I had my cell phone and palmtop with me.” She tapped her forehead. “Not to mention my own personal radar. How could I ever be bored?”

  “Palmtop?” He frowned. “You were on-line, weren’t you?”

  “Of course not.”

  He accepted the lie. Another case of what he didn’t know wouldn’t get anybody killed. Many members of the Strigoi Council hadn’t yet adjusted to the idea of telephones. So far, the Internet was strictly forbidden to vampires. He wasn’t going to tell anyone on the Council about his web site—or anyone else’s, as long as they used to the web to advertise their legitimate businesses. People had to make a living, which was something else the Council didn’t understand. Own a few slaves and make them support you was still the dominant opinion of those in charge. It was pleasant, Selim agreed, but not always practical.

  “You know what I told you about E-mail,” he warned.

  “Don’t get caught?” Her tone was sweet as baklava. He could feel the breeze from her innocently fluttered eyelashes. Some night—not tonight—she was going to get herself into deep trouble. Pushing the envelope was the term he believed best defined his companion.

  Selim chuckled. “Something like that. What’s the news, owl bait?”

  “Well, I talked to Rene. He’s with Alice,” Siri said after a moment’s puzzled silence from Selim. “He saw the news reports and wanted to reassure us that they aren’t involved.”

  “News reports?”

  “The Griffith Park problem?” She swiped a hand in front of his face. “Hello?”