by Helen Harper
Isaac raises his eyebrows. ‘You did put on quite a show.’
‘I was having a bad night.’ I say it casually. Acting relaxed helps me feel that way. It looks like my weak attempt at sounding like Rogu3 is going to pass muster but I’ll have to keep my sentences brief.
‘You weren’t saying anything that the rest of us aren’t already thinking.’
‘Bullshit. All those protests have stopped.’ I cough. ‘People don’t care.’
I’m rewarded with the faintest gleam in Isaac’s dark eyes. ‘Perhaps the protests have stopped for a reason,’ he says enigmatically. Then he frowns. ‘Aren’t you feeling well?’
I realise I’ve been scratching vigorously at my arm. I drop my hand and mutter, ‘Virus.’ For good measure, I add, ‘You should keep away.’
He laughs. ‘I’m not afraid of getting sick but I am afraid of the monsters, the ones with smooth smiles and pointed teeth. They’ve fooled people for generations into believing that they’re benevolent. That they’re trustworthy.’ He spits out that last word. ‘But they’re not. They’re showing their true colours by upping recruitment. The government, the police, everyone, is sleeping with their eyes open. One day they’ll wake up and we’ll be nothing more than food for our bloodguzzling overlords. We’ll be caged like animals. A dying breed of nothing more than prey. Just you wait and see.’
It’s a ridiculous supposition. Much as I despise Medici for breaking with tradition and turning more humans into loyal little vampire followers, his numbers are still tiny. The other Families could match him bloodguzzler for bloodguzzler, and the vampires would still be a tiny drop against the ever growing flood of humanity. It occurs to me that I’m making Michael’s argument for him and my mouth twists involuntarily.
Isaac smiles. ‘I see you think the same.’
I shrug. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ I mutter. ‘We can’t do anything about it even if we want to. They’re too powerful.’
His eyes narrow and I think I might have given myself away and said too much. I shouldn’t have worried. He’s so wrapped up in his beliefs that his thoughts are on the hordes of vampires that he seems to think are lurking round every corner rather than the one right in front of him.
‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ he says. ‘To thine own self be true, as the Bible says. We are going to be true to ourselves and we have a plan.’
My lip curls. That’s not a quote from the Bible, that’s Shakespeare. This guy isn’t nearly as focused on his religion as he likes to think he is. I choose to ignore the quotation for now and focus on his other words. ‘We?’
He holds my gaze, reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small white rectangle. A business card. Seriously?
Isaac pushes it towards me. With a display of reluctance, I take it and glance down. There are no words on it, not even a phone number or an email address. In fact, there’s nothing except the tree emblem that Lisa Johnson had dangling around her neck.
‘We are the Tov V’ra,’ he intones majestically. ‘We know the vampires are an abomination against nature. Against God. And we are going to stop them.’
I snort. ‘That’s your gig?’ I roll my eyes and turn away. ‘Waste of time.’
He grabs my arm. His grip is insistent but not tight; even if I were simply a teenage boy, I’d be able to break away from it easily. ‘No, it’s not. We have the people, the money and the resources. And we have a plan. We could use someone of your abilities, Rogu3.’
He’s using my name – or Rogu3’s, at least ‒ to get me to trust him. His words are smooth but he’s not given me enough information yet. ‘No.’ My voice is flat. I turn back and face him. ‘You can’t win. Not against the guzzlers.’ I tighten my jaw. ‘I know that much.’
‘You don’t know what we know.’ A smile plays around his thin mouth. ‘We don’t just have a plan to destroy the bloodguzzlers. We can offer you a lot more. Ever had a girlfriend, Alistair? Or are you still in the locked-bathroom-door-and-soggy-sock stage?’
Yuck. I don’t demean myself – or Rogu3 – by answering. I don’t have to; Isaac is on a roll.
‘We can give you girls. Willing, warm, pretty. Blondes, brunettes.’ He exudes smarm. ‘You name your type and we’ll provide it. If you prefer boys, we can help you out there as well.’
I scowl at him and he laughs. ‘If you’d rather have money, that can be arranged. We can pay off your parents’ mortgage. Send you to university.’ He watches me carefully. ‘You don’t want that though, do you? I can see it in your eyes.’ He gives me a knowing smirk. ‘It’s losing those cumbersome V plates that’s whetted your interest.’ He lowers his voice to a whisper. ‘I tell you what. To show you how far we are willing to go to prove what we can give you, I’ll give you a little taster of what’s on offer.’ He snaps his fingers.
From the other side of the gallery, a blonde peels herself away from the wall and makes her way round to us. She’s dressed much like the other people here but the glazed look in her eyes sets her apart. Unfortunately, she’s not Lisa Johnson – but it could be her.
‘This is Molly.’ Isaac’s smile broadens. ‘Molly meet Alistair. You want to get to know him better, don’t you?’
She places a hand on my shoulder. It’s all I can do not to recoil. ‘Yes,’ she murmurs, her voice matching her dreamy expression.
‘Take him to the restroom,’ Isaac orders. ‘Show him how well you want to get to know him.’
Good grief. Is this really happening? Isaac laughs at my expression. My mind is racing but I can’t think of what else to do other than let Molly lead me away.
It’s only when Molly and I are some distance away and I’m free from Isaac’s suffocating gaze, that my thoughts start to clear. He’s made no demands of me yet; no doubt those are to come. He’s dangling the carrot first and the stick will come later. I need to work out a way to accept the carrot while maintaining a sliver of integrity. Not to mention O’Shea’s glamour. This is going to be interesting.
As all this is clearly planned, Molly knows exactly what she’s doing. She leads me straight to a disabled bathroom, reaches round me to close the door and locks it. Then she coils one arm round my neck and leans in, her lips parted.
I could negotiate with her, make some kind of deal whereby she gets out of this sleazy scene and keeps her mouth shut into the bargain, but somehow I don’t think that’s going to work. Whatever drugs are in her system, they have a hold on her that’s going to outweigh anything I can say or do. And the expression on her face suggests that she believes this is her duty as a member of Tov V’ra.
I do the only other thing I can think of.
When her lips brush mine, I take hold of her waist then I gasp, willing my cheeks to flush red. Imagining the look on Michael’s face when he watched me reach for him helps with that. Then, with one swift jerk, I pull myself away and grab my groin. I turn my back on her and hunch my shoulders as if I’m embarrassed. If Rogu3 ever hears of this, he’ll probably kill me. Several times over.
Molly lightly touches my back. ‘It’s okay,’ she whispers. ‘It happens.’ She gives me a pat. ‘Next time will be different.’ I can’t tell without turning round whether she’s relieved or not.
‘Go,’ I growl. When she doesn’t immediately move, I deepen my voice. ‘Go!’
She pulls away, unlocks the door and slips out. When I hear it bang shut behind her, I swallow hard. I hope Isaac buys it.
Taking a few moments to compose myself, I go to the sink and splash my face with water. I grip the edges of the ceramic and lean in to the mirror. My face wavers for a moment and becomes blurry. I blink, trying to focus. Shit, the glamour is slipping. I’m going to have to finish things up with Isaac before it vanishes entirely.
He’s outside the door when I go out, leaning against the wall with his ankles crossed. Molly has completely vanished. He claps me on the back and winks. ‘Good man!’
I avoid his gaze. He obviously knows what just ‘happened’ but he’s choosing to keep me on side b
y pretending it didn’t. That suits me; the less we talk about that little episode, the better.
‘There are a lot more girls like Molly,’ he boasts. ‘And they all have the same agenda that we do. Things like that are the perks but they don’t beat the real reason Tov V’ra exists.’
‘Which is?’ I manage to croak.
‘Bringing hellfire and brimstone down on the head of every vampire in this country, of course.’ He laughs at my expression. ‘I know you don’t believe me yet but you will. It doesn’t matter how powerful you think the Families are, Alistair. We are going to destroy them.’
My skin is itching more than ever and I can feel time slipping away. Isaac has to get to the point soon or I’m stuffed. Instead of a lanky teenager, he’ll be confronted with a short vampire. Admittedly it would be fun to see the look on his face.
‘You can’t.’
‘Oh, we can. I’ll prove it to you.’ He ducks his head as a gaggle of chattering schoolgirls passes us. ‘At three o’clock a new bill is going to be introduced into Parliament. I know that watching Westminster live on television isn’t the most riveting programme in the world but you should watch. When you’re done, call the number on the card.’
Isaac whirls and joins the schoolgirls. He’s quickly swallowed up in their midst and I’m left frowning after him. There is no damn number on the card.
***
It’s not easy getting out of the cathedral. My original plan was to wait until nightfall but I need to see what this parliamentary bill is about, so I can’t afford to wait until then. The itching is becoming almost uncontrollable and, as I wait for O’Shea in one of the quieter side chapels, I start to feel both dizzy and nauseous. I end up sitting on the marble floor, resting my head and back against a stone plinth.
It takes O’Shea an age to arrive. When he does and beckons me inside his oversized overcoat for cover, I’m on the verge of passing out. The glamour has completely vanished and I’m back to plain old Bo.
‘This isn’t going to work,’ I tell him. ‘That coat is not going to stop the sun from burning me.’
‘Relax. I borrowed it from Michael. It’s UV proof. Just watch your ankles and stick close to me.’
I don’t have the energy to argue. I hunch underneath and we shuffle out. Even with the coat’s protection, I can still feel the sun’s rays searing me. My chest is tight and it’s becoming hard to breathe. Just when I’m sure I can’t take it any more, I hear a car door open and O’Shea all but shoves me inside. I collapse onto the seat and take short, shallow breaths, willing myself not to throw up.
My skin is prickling; I can’t tell whether it’s from my brush with daylight or the last vestiges of the glamour spell. The uncomfortable sensation ends as soon as I feel a cool hand on the back of my neck. I jerk upwards and my eyes meet Michael’s.
Although my chest tightens in delight at the sight of him, I also feel my stomach give another lurch. ‘Shouldn’t you be in crisis management?’ I ask softly.
He gives me a crooked smile. ‘I think I am.’
I sigh. O’Shea shrugs. ‘You didn’t give me much time to put together a rescue mission. I knew big, strong and handsome here would have all the necessary equipment.’
I’m glad to see that O’Shea is returning to form. His banter doesn’t have quite the edge that it used to, but he’s getting over the loss of Connor. I wish I could say the same. I can’t focus on myself, however; there are far more important things to worry about.
‘Have you and the other Lords come up with a plan for Medici?’
The warmth in Michael’s expression is replaced with tension. ‘Three nights from now. It’s probably better if you don’t know the details.’
I frown. ‘Why not?’
He brushes a tendril of loose hair from my cheek. ‘Because you’ll jump in to the fray and I’ll spend the entire time worrying about you instead of doing what I should be doing.’ I open my mouth to speak but he hushes me. ‘I know you can look after yourself. I know that you are big bad Bo. Just please,’ he says, looking strained, ‘let me have this.’
I subside. ‘What about the rest of it?’ I ask, referring to what was essentially his demand that I share my life with him.
He sighs. ‘We’ll deal with that later when the rest of this mess is cleared up.’
I try not to let my relief show. At least I’ll have some time to persuade X ‒ or to walk away from him. ‘And what if you get hurt before then?’ I ask softly. ‘What will I do?’
He relaxes into a smile. ‘I can look after myself.’
I can’t stop myself from smiling back at him. My insides feel all gooey.
‘You two make me sick,’ O’Shea complains. My eyes turn to him, worried, but there’s a grin on his face. Before I can stop him, he leans forward and taps the driver on the shoulder, murmuring something in his ear. I freeze.
‘Devlin!’
He blinks. ‘What?’
‘You just gave him my address!’
His brow furrows. ‘So?’
My mouth works uselessly, flapping open like a fish. Michael’s eyes are hooded. ‘Is it really such a big secret?’
‘We’ve been through this,’ I hiss, finding my voice.
‘No, we haven’t, Bo. Not really. I still don’t understand why you’re so determined to keep your new life secret from me.’
I slump down miserably in my seat. X is going to freak. Forget Medici, X may very well destroy Michael out of pure spite before Medici can lift a finger. Shit, shit, shit. Even if I keep Michael out of the apartment, X will know the truth. The damage is already done and I won’t be able to keep it from leaking into my thoughts.
O’Shea stares from me to Michael and back again. ‘What’s the problem? Is it because of the guy you work for? Maria told me about him.’
The blood drains completely from my face while Michael goes completely still. ‘You work for a … guy?’ he asks, speaking in a low, dangerous tone.
‘He’s my employer,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Don’t start with the jealousy thing.’
‘Why would I be jealous?’ He crosses his arms behind his head in a deceptively casual position. I know better. ‘You’ve simply failed to mention that you’re working for someone. Why would you do that, Bo?’
I throw my hands up in the air. ‘Confidentiality is part of our agreement, that’s all! He’s…’ I look at O’Shea. ‘What exactly did Maria tell you?’
‘That he’s some big internet whiz. I imagine Rogu3 is creaming his pants.’
I relax slightly. At least she kept the Kakos daemon part out of the equation. ‘He’s shy,’ I finish, looking back at Michael.
His eyes narrow a fraction. ‘And Maria?’
I start. ‘Huh?’ I’m beginning to see why Michael is pissed off. He doesn’t know anything about what I’ve been up to, other than what’s been advertised in the tabloids. ‘She’s a kid. I found her at some underage dive,’ I explain. ‘She’s obviously in a bad way but I’m not sure what to do about her. She doesn’t seem to have any family.’ I take a deep breath. ‘We keep having the same conversation, going round and round in circles. My employer is off limits. He pays for my accommodation so that falls under the same caveat. Ask me about anything else and I’ll tell you.’
‘Is he living with you?’
‘No. In fact we usually communicate by phone. I don’t see him face to face all that often. Other than that, I can’t talk about him.’
Michael looks away. ‘When was the last time you killed someone?’
Bugger. ‘Isn’t there something else you’d rather know? Honestly, I’ll answer just about anyth…’
‘Bo.’
I mutter a curse. O’Shea gapes. ‘That’s your question? Mikey, honey, you can ask her anything at all, and you go with what the gutter press are spreading about her? Bo doesn’t kill people. She might beat them up and take away their lunch money but she’s not evil.’
Thanks a bunch, O’Shea. I sigh. ‘This morning, alrig
ht? I killed someone this morning.’
The air in the back of the car crackles. O’Shea’s astonishment is so obvious that it’s almost comical; in contrast, Michael doesn’t look surprised at all. ‘For him?’ he grounds out. ‘Your employer?’
‘I told you he’s off limits,’ I say. ‘But for the record, no. This one was all me.’
‘You really are evil,’ O’Shea breathes. Without warning, he wraps his arms round me. ‘I’m so proud!’
‘You don’t even know why I did it.’ My words end up muffled in his chest but I think he heard me.
‘I don’t need to know.’ He pulls back and chucks me under the chin. ‘I’m sure you had good reason.’
I sneak a look at Michael. ‘I’m not sorry. I just did what had to be done. It wasn’t pleasant but it was necessary.’ Maybe. Probably.
He still won’t meet my eyes. ‘I can’t judge you on this, Bo. I have killed in the past.’
‘Damn,’ O’Shea whistles, in an obvious attempt to lighten the atmosphere. ‘I’m the only death virgin. I’m going to have to do something to keep up. Maybe we can pull over here. Look, there’s someone wearing pink and orange together. That’s a heinous crime against fashion. I’ll get out here and…’
‘Enough.’ Michael’s tone brooks no argument.
O’Shea’s attempts at levity were making the situation worse, not better. All the same, I touch him lightly on the arm to show I appreciate the effort. He smiles at me but there’s a strain to his mouth that wasn’t there before. He put on a good show of dissembling but does he really think I’m a monster?
I swallow. His loyalty in the face of the overwhelming evidence against me makes me feel like a shit. I left him to get over the loss of Connor on his own; I should have been there by his side. Then I damn myself for weakening. I’m a better investigator and a greater force for good when I don’t let shit like this get to me.
Chapter Eighteen: Look For What Isn’t There
There is no longer any reason to keep Michael out, so I lead both him and O’Shea up to my apartment. Michael doesn’t say a word and his expression is nigh on impossible to read. I decide I can’t worry about what he’s thinking. Instead, I walk past Maria who is curled up on the sofa and staring at us with her strange green eyes, and flick on the television. It takes me some time to find the right channel; it’s not as if I’m usually tuned into Parliament TV.
