by Lisa Edmonds
The answer came from behind me. “We hope to reopen in two months.”
Charles strode into the office. He wore a gray summer suit, with a purple tie and matching silk handkerchief perfectly folded in the breast pocket. It was the color combination he knew I liked most on him and another deliberate choice in our chess match.
He walked around the desk and settled into the oversize leather chair as Bryan returned to the bar to pour his employer two fingers of Scotch from a crystal decanter. He brought the glass to Charles and set it on the leather desk pad.
“Thank you,” Charles said. “If you will excuse us?”
“Of course.” Bryan inclined his head and turned to me. His expression was carefully neutral, but I read concern in his eyes. If I’d had any question of whether he knew the reason for my visit, that look dispelled it. Everyone in the room knew why I was here and what was at stake. He departed, closing the doors behind him.
Charles and I studied one another, reading each other’s body language. To the untrained eye he might have seemed as expressive as a rock, but I knew him well enough to see he had anticipated this meeting. Arkady loved a physical fight. Charles enjoyed a battle of wits.
I had come prepared for both.
In the hours between my realization that Charles had the cuff and my arrival at his house, I had allowed myself to be angry. I embraced the fury, and then I let it go. I could not afford to allow anger to be a part of this chess match. Anger made you stupid. It sucked away your ability to think five steps ahead and strategize. I wasn’t here to lash out or retaliate or even demand explanations. Charles would be coldly strategic, so I couldn’t afford to be any less calculating. My years as a prisoner in my grandfather’s cabal had taught me many things, but perhaps the most valuable lesson of all was to never let the bastards see that they got to you. Show your enemies no anger, no grief, no hurt, and no happiness, because they will use your feelings as a weapon against you.
I spoke first. “How long have you had the cuff?”
He picked up the glass and took a sip. “Since early this morning.”
“How long have you known there was a second cuff?”
“For certain, since the night of the auction.”
“When did you suspect there were two?”
“From the moment you sent me the images of the items you had been hired to locate.”
“And when did you find out the second cuff was the cause of Sean’s condition?”
He put the glass back on the desk. “Last evening, while you and Ms. Woodall were at 1792.”
His responses felt like truth. “So Kim found out about the second cuff and told you, and you held back that information until after the operation to catch Stevens was over. You had her call me with the news once the dust had settled.”
He gave me a nod.
“So I wasn’t distracted during the operation, or so I went ahead with it instead of backing out to focus on looking for the second cuff?”
“Both.”
In other words, it was more important to Charles that Stevens be caught than for me to know about and begin my search for the second cuff. I was not in the least surprised by that, nor by any of his other responses. I had expected as much.
I took a drink of water. “What made you suspect there was a second cuff to begin with?”
“When I saw the picture of the cuff you sent, I recalled selling a similar object a few years ago to a client from another city. There was, of course, a chance it had since changed hands, or that your client was in fact the person I had sold it to, but the cuff I had seen did not have the additional spellwork. It required some time to ascertain that they were, indeed, two different cuffs.”
“And when did you begin the process of obtaining the other cuff?”
“The moment I suspected they were likely a pair: the night of the auction.”
I hadn’t thought it would be possible for me to be any angrier than I was, but I went even colder at the realization that the chess match had started days ago, even before Sean and I went to John Doe’s storage unit.
“You couldn’t have known the cuff would end up attaching itself to Sean, so why not just tell me about the second cuff to begin with? Why keep it a secret and go to all the trouble to obtain the second one?” I studied him and thought about it. “Were you hoping to find my client’s missing cuff before I did and then sell the set to the highest bidder?”
He inclined his head. “Unfortunately, my agents were not able to locate it before you did. The man calling himself Joseph Kendall left little trail for them to follow. Once the cuff had affixed itself to Maclin, I accelerated my plan to obtain the second cuff and adjusted my strategy accordingly.”
I had one last question. “Does Jack Hastings know you have the cuff?”
“I have not yet revealed that fact to him, nor has he contacted me to request a meeting.”
Charles’s deliberate word choice was not lost on me. He had not yet told Jack about the cuff, but that was on the table.
Our relative positions in this match were complex. We both knew I wanted the cuff, and that my need for it was great. We also knew Jack wanted the cuff. I assumed Charles already knew what he planned to do with it and what the possible fallout from that might be.
On the surface, those facts seemed to put me at a disadvantage. Charles had something I wanted and there was another interested party. But because of my magic coursing through his veins and his knowledge about my power, and because I had something he wanted just as much, nothing was as simple as it might appear.
One point to Charles for keeping the cuff at his house so that I would come here to get it. One point to me for being calm instead of furious at the games he’d played. He’d chosen to meet me in the office, as opposed to another room or on the back patio, knowing I’d decide to sit across from each other at the desk rather than at the bar or in the sitting area. He’d chosen our battlefield and I’d accepted his terms in that regard.
The office setting told me he was approaching our discussion as a business negotiation. The cuff was for sale if we could decide on terms.
I didn’t inquire about his asking price; he would have declined to name a figure. I’d heard someone once say that in a dark room, the ceiling was always higher. Besides, we both knew quite well what he wanted in return for the cuff. Like chess strategy, we had to follow a series of expected moves…at least, up until a certain point.
I rested my hands on the arms of the chair. “According to my sources, the fair market value for the cuff, given its age and purpose, is twelve thousand dollars.” That number came from Ella, with whom I had exchanged several e-mails before I arrived at Charles’s house. “I am willing to offer fourteen thousand four hundred dollars, or twenty percent above market value.”
He remained impassive. “And if Mr. Hastings were to offer more?”
“Then I will exceed his best offer by the same percentage.”
I was not at all surprised when he replied, “Perhaps cash is less interesting to me than the services I might receive from a potential buyer. No doubt the pack could provide many benefits whose value far exceeds that of the cuff’s potential sale price. What might your counteroffer be?”
I paused a moment as if contemplating my answer, when in fact I’d had it prepared knowing he wouldn’t accept a cash offer.
“Your new building will be completed soon and no doubt you’ll require a great deal of wards and spellwork to protect it. You know very well both the cost of creating wards on that scale and the value of it. In exchange for the cuff, I will provide the wards for your new building, to your specifications, as expediently as my physical ability will allow.”
That got a reaction. It was only a slight narrowing of his eyes, but I’d surprised and impressed him with my second offer. He’d set the stage for me to offer my magic skills by mentioning what the pack might be able to do, but he hadn’t expected me to make such a large bid. It was big enough to throw him slightly off his ga
me. He’d been prepared to pretend to consider and then reject my proposal, but it was a hell of an offer and he hesitated just a little too long if he’d wanted me to think he wasn’t tempted by it. Point to me.
The question was, was it big enough to derail his plans for how this negotiation was going to go?
The answer, it turned out, was no, but it had made the train wobble a bit.
Charles steepled his fingers. “That is quite a tempting offer, but I would prefer to pay you a fair price for that work rather than set the rather dangerous precedent of you bartering your services to a member of the Court. Others on the Court might see it as an opportunity to exploit you in the future, and I am loath to be the cause of it.”
It was a nice parry; I had to give him credit. There was just enough truth in his reasoning that it wasn’t an outright lie.
So here we were, arriving at exactly the place Charles had wanted this negotiation to go. That might have seemed like a failure on my part, but I’d known from the beginning this was where we’d end up, and I’d come prepared for it.
Part of Charles’s game plan was for me to be the one who made the offer. He wanted me to say the words. I had no doubt it would give him pleasure to hear them. As such, I was willing to do what he wanted, because it would be to my advantage in the end…if I acted the part and made just the right moves.
I took a deep breath, as if steeling myself, and thought about Sean so I felt a stab of pain, fear, and anger that Charles could sense. It was pure method acting. “In return for the cuff, I will let you drink from me.”
Charles raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “That is a very generous offer.”
“You know I want the cuff,” I told him, leaning forward. “And we both know you’d like to drink from me again, especially if I’m awake and able to share the experience, unlike last time.”
Judging by the flash of surprise in Charles’s eyes, I scored a palpable hit with that comment. Charles had indeed already bitten me, but I was in a coma at the time and unaware of it. Part of his reason for biting me was to discover what secrets my blood held—that I was a high-level mage, not the mid-level mage I’d claimed to be—and to establish a kind of dominance over me.
A not-insignificant purpose for a vampire’s bite is the intimacy of it; not just the physical and sexual intimacy, but the emotional one. Charles wanted to bite me with my consent not just because he enjoyed the taste of my blood and would benefit from the power of my magic, but because he believed it would bind us together, much like that walk in the sun and his seemingly spontaneous story were designed to do. He hadn’t known I was onto his game until this moment. As I’d told Sean, I’d suspected Charles’s decision to share his story of how he became a vampire had an ulterior motive, but it wasn’t until I knew he had the other cuff that I put it all together.
Charles wanted me; he’d been clear about that since our first meeting when I’d smirked in his face and then threatened to burn down Vampire Court headquarters. He’d bided his time for the last five years, playing a long, carefully calculated game as I settled into my new life and the walls I’d built around myself started to come down. He’d even let me leave Hawthorne’s with Sean the night we’d first met, when he could have covertly interfered. He’d wagered my relationship with Sean wouldn’t last. He was still betting on that, even to the point that he was willing to hand over the cuff, because he was sure I wouldn’t put it on. My reaction to him asking me if I would do so last night had no doubt confirmed that belief.
He was banking on that walk in the sun, his story, and his bite to strengthen the bond between us just as my conflict with Jack and the problems caused by the cuff made my future with Sean even less certain.
I had no doubt that he’d considered selling the cuff to Jack. It had to have been an attractive prospect, at least at first. If Jack put the cuff on Lily Anderson and bound her and Sean together for life, Sean was no longer a rival for my affections. Hard on the heels of that thought must have been the realization that if word got out that Jack had obtained the cuff from Charles, it would torpedo once and for all any chance of me ever being interested in him.
At the same time, he couldn’t just keep the cuff hidden until Sean died. If the other members of the Court or the Were Ruling Council discovered Charles caused Sean’s death, either directly or indirectly, there would be hell to pay and the Court wouldn’t protect him. They’d throw him to the wolves, quite literally.
So he’d arrived at the only logical conclusion: a business transaction. A drink of my blood for the cuff. I get what I want, Charles gets what he wants, Sean lives, and because I wouldn’t be putting the cuff on—or so he believed—Charles’s plans to add me to his collection were coming along nicely.
He might suspect I had figured some of this out, but his surprise at my reference to his earlier bite told me he hadn’t credited me with deciphering his motives. My advantage was my past as a prisoner of my grandfather’s cabal, where there were plots within plots within plots and no one’s motivations were simple. Charles was very, very good at 12-D chess, but so was I, as he was about to find out. Magic and sarcasm weren’t my only weapons.
“I confess you are correct,” he said, choosing to acknowledge that I’d accurately assumed he wanted to share the intimacy of his bite with me. “While I found your blood sweeter than any wine I have ever tasted, and the power of your magic strengthened me more than I could have imagined, I found the experience unsatisfying. In some circumstances, a vampire’s bite is not merely for sustenance. You are as far from a food source as could be, Alice. For me, you are a joy.”
Time to negotiate. “Then let’s come to an agreement. You will hand over the cuff to me, with no strings attached. In return, you may bite me and drink from me once, at a time of my choosing but within the month.”
“Very well, but I will choose the time,” Charles said. “I choose tonight, before I present you with the cuff.”
I had expected that counteroffer, but I pretended to be insulted. “Do you think I’ll go back on my word?”
“Not at all, but I strongly suspect that the wolf will object most strenuously to our agreement and I think you will agree that it would be much easier for all concerned if our transaction is completed prior to his recovery.”
I couldn’t disagree with that. “All right; agreed. You can bite my wrist.”
He smiled. “My terms are for your throat only. On this I will not negotiate.”
Again, not a surprise, but I didn’t accept right away. It was time to play a very big card. “In return for biting my throat, you will not bring any pleasure with your bite.”
His poker face disappeared. I saw surprise, anger, concern, and dismay before he managed to get his mask back in place.
He’d counted on the intense pleasure of the bite to make it intimate, and he certainly hadn’t thought I would figure that out and refuse it. I knew very well, though not from my own experience, that a vampire could bring their food source to climax with a bite, and it would not have surprised me in the least if Charles had planned to do that to me.
I was willing to trade a bite and pint for the cuff and let it be a business transaction, but I wouldn’t allow Charles to give me an orgasm. The bite was intimate enough. At the moment, there was only one person who was allowed to see and share my pleasure, and that was Sean.
“If there is no pleasure, there will be only pain,” Charles said finally. “I do not wish to hurt you.”
He’d hurt me plenty by keeping his knowledge of the cuff a secret, but it would do no good to point that out. That was in the past and dwelling on it would not help me negotiate with him now.
“Those are my terms, Charles. One bite, right now, on my throat, with no pleasure. You will not attempt to turn me. I will stay fully dressed. Then you will hand over the cuff and allow me to leave without any delay. You will do me no harm, physical or otherwise, other than the bite. And though it goes without saying, any attempt to deviate from our terms
will end very badly for you.”
His face darkened. “I have never reneged on an agreement, Alice, and I do not intend to start now.”
“Good. Then we have a deal?”
“We do.”
“Shall we drink on it?”
“Indeed.” Charles rose and moved to the bar. He selected a glass and poured two fingers of Scotch.
While his back was turned, I entertained a brief fantasy of reaching into my boot, pulling out the stake I’d hidden inside, and planting it right in his lying, scheming heart. My fingers itched. I tapped them on the arm of my chair and put the fantasy aside…for now.
He brought me my glass and picked up his own. “To you. A masterful negotiation.”
I rose and tapped the rim of my glass to his. “And to you, for a masterful scheme.”
We drank.
For all of my careful negotiations, I had overlooked one detail: where Charles would administer his bite. That would teach me to think I could ever completely outmaneuver a vampire. I’d thought he’d given in on the no-pleasure debate too quickly; perhaps now I knew why.
I’d planned to sit on one of the sofas in the office while he bit me. Unfortunately, since I hadn’t made that part of our agreed-upon terms, we had to hash it out after the fact, which meant I had little bargaining power when push came to shove on the topic of location.
As a result, we ended up in bed.
Actually, on a bed, and not Charles’s own, not that he hadn’t tried his damnedest to talk me into doing precisely that.
He escorted me to one of the mansion’s many guest rooms. Before I surrendered to the inevitable, as it were, I took a moment to “compose myself” in the adjoining bathroom while Charles presumably set the mood.
I ran water in the sink while I let Malcolm out of my earring and gave him instructions on what to do if Charles deviated from the terms we’d agreed upon—up to and including the separation of his head from his body if he tried to turn me. I was ninety-nine percent certain he wouldn’t attempt it, but if he did, I wanted to make sure it didn’t happen.
