David nodded. “If you think of anything else that might help us figure out who he is and where he’s from, please let me know.”
“I will, Sire. Now … if there’s nothing further?”
“Nothing further, Second. You can go.”
She ducked out of the room, looking acutely uncomfortable.
He turned back to the worktable, shaking his head; he’d have been uncomfortable, too, if his boss wanted to discuss his sex life.
Of course the last time he’d had a boss, that boss had been his sex life.
Suddenly, his com went off. “This is Shadow District patrol leader Elite Twenty-four reporting an emergency code Alpha Seven.”
The door flew open, and Faith, who couldn’t have gotten to the end of the hall before her own alarm erupted, came back in.
“Elite Twenty-four, I have the Prime with me,” Faith said into her com. “Go ahead.”
“We’ve discovered a dead human behind a club—he has obviously been fed on and drained. Male, African-American, driver’s license lists him as Russell Barry, thirty-four years old.”
“Has APD been alerted?” Faith asked.
“No, ma’am.”
“All right, Elite Twenty-four, I’m on my way to the scene. Secure the area and have the team start gathering evidence. I want a full set of photos on the server in ten minutes, as well as a scan of the victim’s license and anything else in his wallet.”
“On it, Second. Elite Twenty-four out.”
“Goddamn it,” David muttered. “We do not need this right now. This had better be an isolated incident.”
Faith already had her phone out to call their liaison at the police department. “Let’s just hope it wasn’t your sire,” she said as she walked out of the room.
David put his head in his hands. “Let’s hope not,” he said, though he had a sinking feeling that was exactly who it was.
Twelve
Miles away, the mortal world was running at its usual frenetic daylight pace; thousands of people strode purposefully along the streets of downtown Austin while in offices and boardrooms all over the city contracts were signed, decisions made, hostile takeovers negotiated.
Negotiations between the Queen and sleep were rapidly breaking down.
Miranda lay staring at the ceiling, listening to the deceptive quiet in the suite. It was never entirely silent to her—if she concentrated, she could hear the slightest creak of the walls expanding and contracting with the weather, the distant sound of the day guards on their rounds, the wind outside, the birds; but closer to the bed, she could hear the whirring of David’s computer and the faint buzz of the various technical gadgets on his desk. Even closer was the sound of the Prime’s slow, even breathing at her side and of his heartbeat, the metronome by which she usually slept.
Normally he was the insomniac. The first year they’d been together she had gotten used to finding him awake during the day—too much on his mind, he said, though she couldn’t imagine being able to outlast the ages-old pull of the sun. Their bodies were designed to rest when the sun was out. Most young vampires literally couldn’t stay awake in the afternoon; they became narcoleptic and would drop off midconversation. She was strong enough to resist if she needed to, but once her nightmares had become less frequent, she’d been happy to tumble into oblivion as soon as the sun rose over the hills.
Then there were days like Tuesday, when sleep eluded her no matter how much she wanted it.
She could have gotten up and gone to the music room, but with David next to her, the weight of his arms around her so comforting, it was hard to justify leaving the bed. Plus, she hated to risk waking him. The last few days had drained them both.
It was so strange, and wonderful, to have the Haven to themselves again. The last of the Bastards was gone, and life could settle down.
If David ever even mentioned having the Council gather in Austin again, she was going to lock him up in a padded room.
The idea had been to impress the others and establish the South as a strong Signet … and she supposed they’d been successful. Not only had their Elite won the tournament, but Miranda was pretty sure that several Primes who had previously dismissed David as an upstart were more than a little wary of him now. Jonathan had told her, amusedly, that in the Council’s entire history there was no record of one Prime punching another one in the face in full view of the entire assembly, and the level of drama surrounding Miranda’s shooting and the explosion in interrogation room A had convinced quite a few Signets that the South was not to be toyed with.
Hart’s machinations had accomplished one thing in their favor: By the twisted psychology of the Council, anyone who was hated enough to earn that kind of single-minded attention from another Prime must be a formidable enemy indeed. Miranda wasn’t alone in thinking it was strange for Hart to focus so much energy on taking her down. Either he was obsessed with destroying her, or he had some other reason for his behavior.
Neither of those possibilities was helping her sleep … and that was without factoring tonight’s little meeting into the equation.
She sighed. The worst part? Now she had to pee.
Although she couldn’t in all fairness blame that one on Hart.
Miranda rolled gingerly out of David’s embrace, trying to move slowly enough that he wouldn’t be jolted awake; he muttered something in what she thought might be Italian and turned onto his back, eyes still closed.
Once upon a time, she’d been the sort of person who banged her shins trying to get to the bathroom in the dark; now, the thought of turning on a light just to get there and back was just silly. Even with the metal shutters down over the windows, her eyes could pick out enough light to navigate the familiar terrain. The wood floor of the bedroom gave way to cool tile, and she yawned, wondering how weird life would be if being a vampire meant all her body functions shut down—the old walking-corpse variety of immortal as opposed to … whatever they really were.
David’s theory was that they were mutants: still alive but with different hormone and enzyme concentrations and a variety of other changes triggered by the initial death of the human body. Death functioned as a reset button and rebooted the system, rewriting the programming as it went. Still, all his science had yet to explain why it happened the way it did, or how such a complicated form of asexual reproduction was possible.
Miranda liked to say it was magic just to irritate him.
When she returned to the bedroom, she sighed again. “What are you doing up?”
Without making a sound David had gotten out of bed and was now at his desk. “Just doing a—”
“Routine systems check,” she finished with him, climbing back into the bed.
He smiled. “Am I that predictable?”
She straightened out the blankets. “You, my dear, are what is known as a chronic workaholic,” she replied. “If you were human, you’d probably have a heart attack by age forty.”
He made a face. “I’ve noticed you tend to lie awake more and more often the longer you’re Queen. Shall I book us adjoining beds in the cardiac ward?”
Miranda stuck her tongue out at him. “Who would’ve thought that being responsible for the lives of hundreds of vampires and all the humans they feed on would be stressful?”
“I think there’s a bottle of Xanax in the bathroom. Wash three of those down with a shot of Jack, and you’ll sleep like a baby.”
She snorted. “Right, until Deven finds out you still keep Jack in the house and bashes you over the head with the bottle.”
He smiled, though his eyes were on the computer screen. She had to admit he made a pretty picture sitting there shirtless at the antique wooden desk, hair tousled from sleep. All he needed were those glasses …
David raised an eyebrow. “You’re staring.”
“I was considering whether to drag you back to bed and shag you stupid, or just drag you back to bed and make you sleep.”
He shook his head. “Just a few more minutes
. I got a final report from APD on the Alpha Seven from last night. They didn’t find anything useful, no prints, no trace evidence …”
Miranda narrowed her eyes, concentrated, and shut the screen of his laptop firmly with her mind, barely missing his fingers.
“Miranda!” he said.
She sat up, hands on her hips. “Your wife just offered to shag you stupid. If you’d rather go over police reports, then you are already stupid.”
“I said just a few more minutes.”
Miranda rolled her eyes and got up, crossing the room to his desk to come up behind him; she knew very well that “a few minutes” would turn into first one hour, then two, and before he knew it, sunrise would come and he’d still be sitting there fretting and stewing. After the week they’d had, she wasn’t going to let that happen.
She laid her hands on his shoulders and ran them down along his arms, tugging backward to pull the chair away from the computer, leaving enough room for her to slide her butt around onto the desk and effectively obscure his view of the laptop should he attempt to open it again.
Miranda made a show of removing her T-shirt and dropping it on the floor. “Do I have your attention, Lord Prime?” she asked.
His eyes wandered lazily from her belly to her face. “You win,” he said. “You always win. But you don’t play fair.”
She gave him a mischievous grin. “That’s why I always win.”
He leaned forward and nuzzled her navel, then kissed a spiral up over her skin, hands traversing the landscape of her breasts. “I love how soft you are,” he murmured. “Even with all this muscle, you’re like … the Hill Country, all curves.”
She laughed. “But with fewer rattlesnakes and scorpions.”
David took hold of her hips and pulled her onto his lap, tangling his hands in her hair and kissing her deeply. She braced her knees on either side of him and lifted up to try to free herself of her panties, but after a minute of twisting and grunting, she lost her balance and fell out of the chair with a squeak of surprise.
Both of them were laughing as he caught her and, somehow managing to still look graceful, lowered them both to the floor.
“I’m just so damn sexy,” she giggled. She laughed even harder when, in an effort to get her underwear off, he twisted his torso at just the right angle to smack his head into the side of the chair. The chair jerked and rolled a few feet from the impact, and David toppled over the rest of the way, his Signet swinging back to hit him in the nose.
All of that, and her panties still weren’t off.
He gave up, shoulders shaking with laughter, and collapsed on the floor next to her, rubbing his head with his hand.
Their eyes met. Amid the laughter she could feel his love for her humming along the bond between them, and she returned it joyfully.
There was no need to say it, but she did anyway. “I love you.”
He smiled. “I love you, too. You klutz.”
She slapped him lightly on the back of the head. “Can we go back to bed now?”
“Yes, please.”
He reached over and fetched her T-shirt, handing it to her as they both got to their feet and, arms tight around each other, curled up beneath the covers to settle into richly deserved sleep.
“The perimeter is secure, Sire. No sign of her yet.”
“Acknowledged, Second.”
The bartender looked a little nervous—he might be used to hosting the Signets, but having Anodyne locked down and surrounded by Elite wasn’t something any entrepreneur in the Shadow District wanted to be known for. An appropriately sized stack of hundred-dollar bills calmed his fears, but he still wasn’t happy with the situation.
Neither was the Prime. David joined Miranda in the corner booth and handed the Queen one of the two beers he’d brought back from his conversation with the bartender.
“I hope all this security doesn’t scare her off,” Miranda remarked. “Is it really a good idea to treat her like a suspect from the beginning? We don’t have any reason to think she’s our enemy at this point.”
“A little healthy paranoia never hurt anyone,” David said. “Besides, whatever her aim in coming here, she can’t be fool enough to expect me to meet her without guards in place. Most Primes don’t even leave the house alone, much less have a drink with a stranger of questionable intent.”
“Sire, we have a female vampire approaching the building on foot. Should we detain her?”
“No, Faith … just let her through. I’ll send up an alarm if we need help.”
A moment later, David heard the door swing open and then close again. He took a deep breath and stood.
She looked exactly as he remembered her … though those memories were distant and worn around the edges, looking into her calm, beautiful face brought it back. He remembered her standing over him in the jail … remembered the look of appraisal she had given him, as if unconvinced he was worth her time … remembered her teeth as she smiled.
“My Lord Prime,” she said, bowing.
“Lydia.” Now it was his turn to size her up. She was powerful, true … very nearly Signet-caliber, though she was definitely not a warrior of any sort. And she was much older than he had originally thought. When she’d turned him, he had guessed she wasn’t long out of her own humanity, but he could sense her age stretching back at least as far as Deven’s … and further. “It’s been quite a while.”
She looked him up, then down, and nodded. “I see you have done well for yourself.”
He didn’t answer.
She went on. “Over the centuries I’ve followed your career, waiting for the day when you would find your way to the Signet.”
Now he said, “I’m flattered that you’ve taken such an interest in me.”
Lydia regarded him in silence for a moment. “Do you believe in fate, David?”
“No.”
She smiled. “I knew you would say that.”
“Why have you come, Lydia?”
Another pause, then: “May I sit?”
Wordlessly he held out his hand toward the booth. Lydia bowed again and took the side opposite Miranda. David, in turn, slid back in next to his Queen.
Lydia looked around the bar, eyes lighting on each of the Elite who were stationed around the room. “I am not your enemy,” she said. “In fact, I have something for you that I believe you will find … intriguing.”
She reached into her coat and produced a small, carved wooden box … very much like the box the Queen’s Signet had once been kept in, which was still locked in the cabinet in their suite. She placed it on the table and pushed it toward him.
“Have you ever wondered where you came from?” Lydia asked.
He looked from the box to her face. “You turned me,” he replied. “I was an average blacksmith in an average village until you had me arrested—and my wife executed—for the murders you committed.”
She smiled slightly when he said average. “I was referring to where the Signets came from,” she said. “Don’t you question, sitting at the Council table, if there was ever a meaning behind the shadow-puppet theater it has become? If once … long ago, in a time lost to the mists of history, something … or someone … united you?”
She touched the lid of the box. “I represent a group of our kind who still remember, my Lord. And we want you to remember as well.”
“Why?” Miranda asked, speaking up for the first time. “Why David? And why now?”
Lydia turned her gaze to the Queen. “Because it is time. Because things are now in motion that cannot be stopped, and because … the fate of all our kind is at stake.”
Miranda looked dubious. “Seriously? You’re giving us ‘grand and glorious destiny’ here? How about some real answers, Lydia? What exactly do you want?”
An edge of faint impatience entered Lydia’s voice. “I am a servant of a greater power,” she said. “Those whom I serve sent me to a backward village in England to find the one they had searched for throughout the centuries.
Now, they have sent me to find him again—to give him this.”
David considered the box, and the vampire, and said, “Before I take anything from you, I want to know who you’re working for.”
“I believe the saying is, ‘Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’”
The Prime smiled. “I have a saying of my own. It goes like this:” Instantly, he had a knife in his hand, the blade held to her throat. “Tell me what the fuck is going on, or I cut your throat.”
Lydia was neither surprised nor frightened; instead she looked almost bored. “Open the box.”
David heard Miranda sigh, and the Queen flipped up the box’s lid. “What is it?”
He lowered his eyes, then frowned. The velvet-lined box contained a flat silver oval carved with a ring of symbols. Around its edge were five prongs, like the setting on a pendant.
There was something familiar about the craftsmanship, but it was Miranda who figured it out: “It looks kind of like a Signet,” she said. “Only without a stone or a chain.”
Lydia nodded. “It was forged by the same hands that created the Signets themselves, thousands of years ago.”
“And what hands were those?” David asked.
Lydia’s answer was to open the box further and tap on the inside of the lid.
The wood had been carved with a symbol … something else he recognized.
Infinity and the moon.
This symbol was different from the insignia Deven had used, though; his bore only a single moon, a waning crescent; this one had the waxing, full, and waning moons, with the infinity symbol beneath it. The symbol was worked into a complicated design similar to a Signet seal.
“I’ve seen a version of this,” David said. “I was under the impression it was connected to the Order of Eleusis.”
“Elysium,” Lydia corrected. “Named after the lands of the righteous dead, as ruled over by the Dark Goddess Persephone. The Order was founded by one of the original Signets … the Secondborn.”
“If the original Signets were the Secondborn, then what’s a Firstborn?” David asked.
Shadow’s Fall Page 19
