by Amy Corwin
She took a deep breath and threw open the door.
“That’s her!” Jason pivoted and pointed at her in a theatrical gesture. “She killed Tyler! She broke the truce!”
She kicked the door shut. The musty scent of old vampires filled the room, reeking with the stale odor of dust, earth, and decay. The odor increased her tension, bringing with it unwanted memories. Her hands shook as she scanned the room.
Jason stood in front of a large round table where five men sat. Three of them stood, focusing glittering eyes in her direction.
Vampires! Only vampires reacted so quickly or had eyes that gleamed red. Only ancient vampires smelled so foul.
Three vampires. And Jason. Four. Her hands shook almost uncontrollably until she gripped the whip handles behind her back. The cool metal steadied her despite her racing heart.
Bad odds. Her fear bolstered her anger until the volatile mixture of emotions flared, burning away any vestigial doubt. Her grip tightened around the handle of a whip.
Who should be first? The oldest and most dangerous….
Two men caught her attention. She hesitated, sensing that something wasn’t right. Humans? Vampire lovers or their handlers, it didn’t matter except they’d be slightly less quick. She had to assume they were tainted and therefore dangerous. And yet her gaze lingered on one of the seated men.
Something about him….
No distractions. The humans could wait. Jason was the closest of the vampires, and he was young, stupid, which ironically made him more unpredictable. He had to be first. She jerked free a second whip—one for each hand.
“Stop!” A seated man commanded in a deep voice. Pressing his fists against the table, he stood, unfolding until he towered over the other men in the room.
Her gaze flicked over him. Stubborn chin, wide mouth, and dark, brooding eyes. An unfamiliar response curled in her belly, reacting to his presence. A feeling she didn’t need, or want, warmed her. She slowed.
Nerves. Don’t let them distract you.
She shifted, orienting again on Jason. As she raised a whip, her glance flickered once more to the tall man. She took a deep breath and forced herself to concentrate. The vampire was dangerous. Leave the humans for last.
“Don’t move, please.” He stepped in front of the three vampires flowing around the table to join Jason. Frowning, he lifted his hand in a gesture of command. “None of you move.”
The vampires froze. Even Jason stilled himself. Shocked, she barely noticed her whip sagging to the floor in an almost instinctive response to the large man’s order. She straightened and tensed her wrist, flicking the whip in her right hand.
The thin, silver lash uncoiled through the air and encircled Jason’s neck. He stared at her, his pale eyes widening with terror. His golden lashes fluttered as his hands hovered around his neck.
“Don’t, please!” Jason’s fingers pressed against his collarbone as if he thought he could hold his head in place. His frantic gaze flashed to one of the vampires. “Stop her! You’re my clan leader, Sutton. For God’s sake, do something! Help me!”
In a burst of unexpected speed, the big man moved around the table. He gripped the lash.
Lose your hand if you love vampires so much! She bared her teeth in a wolfish smile. When he didn’t let go, she shifted her weight to her back leg and prepared to tighten the noose.
“Stop. Now!” The man—and he was a human male judging by the spicy warm scent of his skin—tightened his hand when she gave the whip a small tug. A trickle of blood seeped through his fingers. He did not react.
A small curl of fear tightened her belly.
The other human half stood. “Kethan—”
“I’m all right, Joe. Stay where you are.” He caught her gaze. “Let him go, Miss.”
“No, he’s dangerous. He’s a vampire, and he almost killed a young girl.” If he didn’t let go, he’d lose half his hand. She stiffened in preparation.
“It was a mistake. Wasn’t it, Jason?” the large man, Kethan, asked.
“I never touched her, honest!” Jason’s voice rose sharply. “I wasn’t going to kill her—”
“Enough talk!” she replied in clipped words, edging around to get a clear view of Jason.
“It is enough.” Kethan said calmly, keeping his eyes locked on her face. “You’re interrupting negotiations—”
“Negotiations? What negotiations? You can’t negotiate with vampires! Or don’t you know what they are?” Blood pounded in her temples, deafening her as her fury thrust her into the past.
She’d tried negotiating with Carlos and Carol, once. The two vampires played her like a Stradivarius, promising escape and then…. She swallowed, forcing the pain back.
When she glanced up, his dark eyes caught her gaze. She didn’t notice his body tense until it was too late. He grabbed her wrist in a single, smooth movement, catching her off guard. The warm, human strength of his hand enveloping hers surprised her, delaying her recognition of the unrelenting strength of his grip.
“What are you doing?” She jerked her arm, but he didn’t release her. Instead, he pried the whip handle out of her hand. Then his brown eyes caught her gaze again and held it with the intensity of a master vampire.
Her eyelids fluttered in an attempt to end the connection. She wanted to look away, she had to, but couldn’t force herself to drop her gaze. After a breathless moment, she stepped back. Her left hand tightened on her second whip. She had a spare—a third whip—and she wouldn’t be caught by surprise again.
He couldn’t control her. No one could. Never again.
Kethan threw the whip handle to Jason, allowing him gingerly to unwrap the silvery monofilament coil from around his neck.
“What are you doing?” Her voice rose shrilly as Jason fumbled with the unfamiliar weapon.
Kethan barely glanced at her as he wrapped a handkerchief around his bleeding hand. “Defusing a difficult situation.”
“Watch out! She’s got another one!” Jason stammered, blinking rapidly as if on the verge of tears. He fumbled and dropped the whip when a single drop of blood slid down his neck. “She broke the truce.” He stared at his clan leader, the vampire he had called “Sutton.”
In a blur of movement, Sutton circled Kethan. Before the humans could react, he stood at Quicksilver’s back, one hand gripping her upper arm, the other forcing her head to the right.
No! Never again! The raging fires of terror and rage burned until it crystallized with crystal clarity on a single imperative: kill or be killed. Hyper-aware, she twisted and brought up her left hand, still holding the handle of her remaining whip.
The needle-sharp tips of his canines touched her skin. The scars on her neck shrieked. She twisted her head, desperate to escape the pressure of his hands.
Unable to break free, she brought her fist up and thrust the whip handle against his mouth. Anger, bolstered by her panic, gave her the strength to wedge the metal grip between her vulnerable neck and his teeth.
He bit down. His teeth scraped the metal, and he drew back slightly in surprise. The movement was enough to let her jerk away. She drew back and punched him in the mouth with the whip’s handle.
He yowled with frustration and pain. A few drops of blood from his damaged mouth splashed over her wrist, the spray burning her skin.
The flowing, silver lash was useless in close quarters, but she flipped the whip to her right hand to gain sufficient space to use it.
Kethan captured her wrist and pulled her away from Sutton before she could strike. Then he inserted his large body between them. “Stop!”
Ignoring him, she flicked the whip out behind her to straighten the lash, judging the distance to Sutton.
“Both of you—no one will move,” Kethan continued, studying first Quicksilver and then Sutton. “Do you understand? No one!”
Why did he persist? She frowned at him, vibrating with the need to strike. Sutton had just proved that vampires could not be trusted. If she did not kill the
m now, they would hunt her down, drain her, and leave her empty body for the coroner to puzzle over. Sutton had taken Jason’s side, believed his story, and why not? It was the truth. So Sutton would have to kill her for what she’d done to Tyler if he wanted to keep his status in his clan.
Once she had killed Tyler, the rest was inevitable. Jason, Sutton and the rest of their clan had to die if Quicksilver wanted to live.
And then there was Kathy. She refused to leave Jason free to hunt Kathy, or any other girl, again.
“Move aside,” she said, seeking a clear path to Sutton.
“This meeting is over,” one of the other vampires said, circling around Jason. He focused on Quicksilver. His stiff-legged movements and bunched muscles telegraphed his intentions.
She turned to face him. Her fingers trembled over the handle of her third whip, all too aware of Kethan standing nearby, near enough to stop her, again.
He was endangering her. Why didn’t he see that?
“Get out of the way!” she ground out. Shifting her feet, she glanced first at Sutton and then the other vampire, searching for any twitch of muscle that might give her a second’s warning before they attacked. Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades in a cold stream.
Like sharks, vampires often partially lowered their eyelids before striking. Sutton’s heavy lids had remained half-closed as he studied her, searching for any weakness she unwittingly exposed. She tensed when he moved, but he merely smiled and wiped his blood from his lips.
“No. Back down. Everyone…relax. The meeting is not over. Not yet.” Kethan held up his hands in a wide gesture, his palms upwards in appeasement. “We came here for a purpose at your request, Mr. Sutton. You asked for our assistance. This interruption changes nothing.” He turned to Quicksilver as if just noticing her. “What is your name, Miss?”
“Miss nothing, you don’t need my name.” She wasn’t about to let vampires know who she was. Give away your name and you give away your soul. It might be a superstition, but then again, so were vampires. No one except fringe crazies believed in the undead.
With a suspiciously serious expression, he replied, “Miss Nothing, please, relax and put away your weapons. I’m sure it was unintentional, but you’ve walked into serious negotiations and interrupted them at a critical stage. I understand—” he grabbed the second whip out of her hand—her weak hand—and kept a loose grip on her right wrist, “—that you’re justifiably concerned, but I assure you, nothing will happen to your friend, will it, Jason?”
The vampire shook his head, a false expression of innocence smeared across his face. “No, Mr. Hilliard, I swear—”
“Liar! He tried to kill a girl, a—a child! And as long as he survives, she’s in danger. You don’t realize—you were in here with them, doing God knows what—but he was hunting her!” Quicksilver’s words came out in a rush, the phrases tripping over each other in her effort to make him understand.
He was consorting with evil. Pure evil.
“Therefore, you own the right to kill us all? Because of this one?” Sutton’s words dripped with sarcasm. “We—not a human—will take care of this situation. If he acted without honor, he’ll be punished, right enough.”
She stared at Sutton, searching for vulnerabilities, weaknesses. The short, stocky vampire wore dark slacks and an old linen shirt under a navy blue, dusty vest that had seen better days. If she’d seen him on the street, she’d have assumed he was a street person. However, despite his frayed clothing, his round face had an air of alertness that spoke of a vicious temper and need for dominance.
A man who was desperate to keep control and feared he might not. That roiling cauldron of emotion made him unstable, unpredictable.
Instead of reassuring her, that thought frightened her. If the clan leader was unstable, the clan itself would be rife with infighting and maneuvering that would necessitate blood—human blood—to fuel them.
As if to confirm her assessment, he moved his wrist and seemingly out of nowhere, a butterfly knife appeared. He grinned slyly and began rhythmically flicking it open and shut with sharp, metallic clicks.
As if a vampire needed a knife.
“Right,” Quicksilver muttered, steeling herself for an attack. “The problem is going to be solved. Because unlike you—I take care of things like this. Immediately.”
A ripple of anger flowed through the room. The vampires leaned forward, eyes half-closing, stiffening to attack.
The air seemed to leave the room.
Chapter Three
Quicksilver took a deep breath, centering herself and letting her eyes unfocus. Her peripheral vision would catch movement from either side. She’d strike whoever moved first. God help her, she hoped she’d be fast enough to counter the threats from both the humans and vampires in the room.
Although Sutton’s face hardened with embarrassment and rage, a glance at Kethan forced him back a step. The thick muscles in the master vampire’s jaw flexed. With unsettling clarity she realized Sutton’s lack of control over his clan, and her observance of it, made the situation even more volatile. Her stomach tightened as the air crisped until it was crackling with tension.
His position was crumbling. He’d apparently been weak enough to attempt negotiations with humans. His clan had to resent his efforts to make peace with their enemies, certainly Tyler and Jason had since they flouted his orders and broke the truce when they picked up Kathy. Their actions further eroded his dominance.
She knew what it was like when vampires smelled weakness, and she wouldn’t want to be in his position.
Despite her fear, some demonic impulse made her prod them further. “All vampires are untrustworthy.” Her chin rose. “Until they die, of course. You can absolutely trust a pile of dust.”
“Please.” Despite that polite word, Kethan frowned, his expression harsh and unyielding. His intense gaze tore into her although he directed his words toward the vampires. “Mr. Sutton, please, be seated.” He gestured at the vampire’s knife. “There’s no need for weapons. Everyone, please sit down. Do you want to end our talks before they even begin?”
“The truce has been broken. We can’t ignore that, right?” The question was rhetorical. The brittle edge of Sutton’s voice lisping past his sharp canines underscored his belief that negotiations were over.
“Have we lost sight of our original purpose? No one wants a renewal of the recent bloodshed,” an older, gray haired man stated in a soft voice. “Both sides will lose. Haven’t we agreed we’ve seen enough death? Enough hunting?”
“Then get rid of ‘er.” Sutton’s thick, coarse voice had more in common with the vowel-heavy speech of London’s East End than the posh, clipped tones of the British Broadcasting Company.
There was no mistaking what he meant. The tension in the room thickened, coiling around them like a living thing. Instinctively Quicksilver took a step back, protecting her back. Jason held one of her whips, dangling from his fingers while Kethan held another.
She had one whip left. Ice seemed to glaze her palms, stiffening her fingers.
A desperate impulse urged her to kill them, now. Her only hope lay in quick action and surprise, and she’d already lost the element of surprise. The scars on her neck tightened and ached, reminding her of the price of failure.
I can’t…. No! She would not make the mistake of listening to their words again, accepting a bargain they had no intentions of keeping.
There were only four vampires. Jason was more likely to hurt himself with the whip than anyone else. She could do this. She could destroy them and protect Kathy Sherman.
Her right foot moved to brace herself, but at the last moment, she wavered. There were the two humans, one of them a huge man who seemed all sinew and taut muscle.
Kethan. He was a problem. She couldn’t just kill a human.
Don’t hesitate! Hesitation meant death. Talking meant death. Both gave your opponent the opportunity to kill you or to betray you. Move! Do it!
Her
only safety lay in quick, decisive action, but Kethan’s presence held her back, slowed her reflexes as if she swam in a pool of sweet, heavy molasses.
In the infinitesimal moment of her uncertainty, he must have divined her purpose. He rested his hand on her shoulder and gently, but insistently, urged her toward the door.
“Father Donatello, make arrangements with Mr. Sutton. We’ll resume this meeting another night.”
Quicksilver resisted, shrugging her shoulder to force him to remove his hand. Her gaze focused on Jason who gingerly held her weapon dangling between the tips of his fingers and thumb.
“Let me go.” She rotated her shoulder and stepped aside, tightening her grip on the third, and last, whip.
Kethan’s eyes followed her glance. “Jason, hand Father Donatello the whip. Please.”
“I—” When Jason caught Kethan’s glance, his shoulders sagged. He handed the whip to Father Donatello, only lifting his gaze from the floor to send an angry flash of warning at Quicksilver.
The red flickers in his eyes promised death, or worse, if he should find her alone some evening.
She smiled sweetly at the vampire, but her expression faltered when Father Donatello sighed. The slender man had a high brow with a few strands of fine gray hair swept back that gave him an oddly vulnerable appearance. His thin, ascetic face wore an expression of unhappy resignation as he took the whip tentatively The long lash fell to the floor at his feet in a coil. He eyed it as if he expected it to turn into a rattlesnake if he looked away.
To his evident relief, he didn’t have to bear the burden long. With an abrupt gesture, Kethan motioned for the weapon. Quicksilver took a deep breath, praying he would finally do something reasonable and restore it to her.
There was no reason for him to keep the weapon, he probably didn’t even know how to use it. He certainly didn’t understand what they could do. The slender, silvery monofilament lash cut through flesh and bone like a whisper through silence. They responded to every flick of the wrist, every small movement. They were part of her, and she had to get them from him, one way or the other.
