by Lisa Edmonds
With Jack and Ben—and Malcolm—at our six, Sean and I fell into step behind Thomas as he led us down a long hallway. I had to admit three large werewolves made for an imposing entourage.
I’d only been to Luciano’s once before: several years ago with lawyer Aaron Riddell to meet a client. We’d met the client in one of the club’s lounges, however, not in one of its private meeting rooms.
The upstairs meeting rooms were a favorite meeting place for people like Bell and Ezekiel Monroe. At nearly one hundred years old and having no affiliation with the Court, any cabals, or the Were Ruling Council, Luciano’s was neutral ground. For a hefty price and pledges of committing no violence on the premises, rivals could meet under a flag of truce to discuss delicate matters.
When we reached the stairs, Sean offered me his arm. I slid my hand into the crook of his elbow and we climbed the long flight of stairs to the club’s second floor.
At the top of the stairs, we followed Thomas down another, shorter hall to a set of double doors. He opened the doors with a flourish, revealing an elegant boardroom with a square wooden table ringed with twelve leather chairs, three on each side. To the left, I saw a large lounge area with chairs and sofas and doors that probably led to private restrooms.
“Ms. Worth, Mr. Maclin,” Thomas announced, then withdrew.
Three people rose from the table as Thomas closed the doors: Charles, Ezekiel Monroe, and another attorney who worked for the Court, Christine Foreman.
Unlike Ezekiel, Christine was a vampire. I’d met her under highly unpleasant circumstances on my first night working for the Court five years ago. Charles and I found her newly turned and starved almost to madness by her brother Alexander Foreman. He was now serving fifteen years in federal prison for that and several other crimes.
Christine had been turned by a rogue vampire, but Amira of the Court was able to bring her into her line. Christine had retained her sanity and had told me she liked being a vampire very much, despite the terrible way she’d been turned. Now she was one of the few vampire attorneys in the state.
“Ms. Worth, Mr. Maclin, welcome.” Charles came around the table to greet us. He shook my hand and gave Sean a nod.
Bryan stood beside Charles’s chair. He nodded at me in greeting.
Monroe came around to shake our hands as well. “Ms. Worth, Mr. Maclin,” he said brusquely. He was evidently still displeased, whether by the terms of the agreement, my interference in the situation, or both. He was as inscrutable as any vampire when he chose to be. His hair was held back with a gold clasp, which I’d always interpreted as the equivalent of rolling up his sleeves. Monroe was here to do business.
The custom at Luciano’s was to wait to serve liquor until business was concluded and an agreement reached. The tradition dated back to the club’s first years in business. As such, the trays on the table held crystal carafes of what appeared to be water.
The table was square, so three or four parties could sit around it without anyone necessarily being at the head of the table. I wondered who had sat in these chairs before us and what deals had been struck in this room—and how many lives ended as a result of those agreements. I could almost feel my blood magic tingle, as if the blood of the dead had been spilled here. I wondered how the owners and management slept well at night, considering the kind of people who used their club for those purposes. I supposed they slept well enough; after all, they didn’t kill anyone themselves.
Warmth and comfort wrapped around me like a blanket. Sean had sensed my thoughts turn dark and offered support. I glanced up and thanked him with my eyes.
Charles returned to his seat facing the door and Monroe went back to his side of the table. I moved across from Monroe, placed my briefcase on the floor next to the chair, and greeted Monroe’s fellow counsel. “Hello, Christine.”
“Ms. Worth, it’s good to see you again.” She smiled warmly. Other than her pale skin, Christine still seemed very human.
Sean stood to my right. “Would you like some water?” he asked me.
“Yes, thank you.”
He poured us each a glass of water and sipped mine before setting it on a leather coaster beside his own. Despite the parley rules, Sean wasn’t prepared to take anything on faith.
Monroe glanced at his very expensive watch. “Mr. Bell appears to want to make a point by arriving last.” His tone indicated what he thought about such transparent power plays.
I doubted anyone in the room would be impressed by Bell’s tactic. If Bell thought he was flexing his muscles by arriving after the rest of us, the strategy was having the opposite effect.
When Sean looked at the door, his eyes glowing softly, I figured he heard footsteps approaching out in the hallway. My phone said it was precisely eleven o’clock.
The doors opened, revealing Thomas. “Mr. Bell, Mr. Harlow, and Ms. Keegan,” he announced, then stepped aside.
Darius Bell strode in, wearing a tailored suit cut to emphasize his physique. He surveyed us like a lion surveying his pride—or his prey. Moses often entered a room in much the same way. Bell was probably used to seeing people cower at the sight of him. I saw no such reaction from anyone in the room, however. No one here feared Bell. Acknowledged his power and influence, perhaps, but not feared.
The person whose reaction I was most concerned about was Malcolm. How would he feel, coming face-to-face with the man who’d had him tortured to death?
The answer, it turned out, was angry—very, very angry. The heat of Malcolm’s fury seared my senses. I’d expected that reaction. What I didn’t anticipate was that after a moment, the anger faded, replaced by something like acceptance and cold resolve. Seeing Bell had done something important for Malcolm. Bell was no longer the boogeyman; he was just flesh and blood.
Nora Keegan walked in with Harlow, who carried a briefcase and appeared to be Bell’s attorney—or one of them, anyway. Behind them were two nearly Bryan-sized security escorts.
Nora scanned the room, cataloguing and assessing those present, before her eyes met mine. I was disappointed, but not surprised, to see her left hand had been reattached. I wished I’d had a chance to turn it to ash. I’d have to do better next time.
Her eyes sparkled, as if she guessed what I was thinking. She appeared to be looking forward to a rematch every bit as much as I was. She gave me a tiny wave with her left hand.
I let the corners of my mouth turn up just a bit. Anytime, Nora.
Thomas stood in the doorway, his hands folded behind his back. “The management and owners of Luciano’s welcome you to our club. We thank you for your patronage. As a reminder, once I depart, no employee of Luciano’s will enter this room until one of you opens the door, thus signaling a conclusion to the proceedings. Should you require additional beverages, food, or other services, please use the house phone to call for a delivery via the dumbwaiter. To prevent eavesdropping by any means, I will raise wards on this room. You have all agreed to meet under standard parley rules. No violence of any sort, magical or mundane, is permitted on the premises. Violations of any club rules will result in a lifetime ban from our club for you and your associates.”
Thomas closed the doors to the hall. I sensed air magic as sub rosa wards flared around us.
Bell came around the side of the table. “Ms. Worth, I’m pleased to see you’ve fully recovered from the terrible injuries you received on Tuesday. I hope you enjoyed the flowers.” He extended his hand.
There were few people I wanted to shake hands with less than the man who’d had Malcolm tortured to death, Aden and Jana kidnapped, and Ashley Brown executed. To refuse to shake would seem petty, however, and though I was perfectly capable of being petty, I also knew this was not the time.
I shook his hand with a firm, business-like grip. “Mr. Bell.”
He held on just a beat too long before releasing my hand. “The operations manager of my fabrication company received a call today from a local non-profit organization called Hands of Hope. They wanted to th
ank me for donating a very rare bottle of Scotch to their fundraising campaign. They plan to auction the bottle, with the proceeds going to support their efforts.”
Donating the bottle of Scotch whisky Bell had sent me earlier in the week to a local nonprofit had been Sean’s idea. I thought it was a perfect solution to the problem of what to do with an unwanted gift. I’d delivered the bottle to the nonprofit myself, along with the contact information for who to thank so Bell found out what I’d done with his gift.
I smiled. “I’m familiar with that organization. They do a lot of very good and important work to help survivors of human trafficking.”
The corners of his mouth turned up. “I couldn’t agree more. I was very pleased to direct my company to pledge to match the amount raised by the auction, doubling the money raised for the organization, and to continue to support them with yearly gifts in the same amount. Anonymously, of course.”
Son of a bitch. “How very generous.”
Charles spoke. “Shall we begin?”
Bell rejoined his group and sat. Harlow sat to his right. Instead of taking a seat, Nora stood just behind Bell and to his left. The two security guards stood back from the table, near the doors.
Sean held my chair and sat to my right once I was settled in. Jack and Ben stood behind us. I sensed Malcolm close by, on my left. Monroe and Christine Foreman sat directly across from us. Charles sat on the fourth side, with Bryan behind him.
Once everyone was seated, Charles folded his hands on the table and looked around the table at each of us. “Our purpose is to reach an agreement accepted by all parties in the matter of a proposed coordinated effort among Ms. Worth, Mr. Bell, and the Vampire Court to bring an end to Moses Murphy’s attacks on our city and Mr. Bell’s organization. My function is twofold: to serve as Ms. Worth’s representative and to broker this agreement. As such, Ms. Worth has designated me to speak for her in this meeting. Our terms and the exact nature of what Ms. Worth is proposing, along with the conditions for each of the other parties, are clearly outlined in the proposal. Are these terms acceptable to the other parties?”
Harlow spoke first. “No.”
Charles raised his eyebrows. “You wish to make a counteroffer or propose a different course of action?”
“We do.” Harlow cleared his throat and folded his hands on top of his copy of the proposal. He gave me a condescending look over the rims of his reading glasses. “Ms. Worth’s terms are unreasonable. She demands the release of all null mages currently employed by my client’s organization.”
“All nulls who are unwilling employees of your organization and their families,” Charles corrected him.
Harlow’s smile was downright chilly. “And their families, yes.” The smile vanished. “These mages represent a significant resource and investment. You’re asking Mr. Bell to trade more than a dozen employees for a single individual based on the questionable claim that one person will be able to accomplish what a dozen cannot.”
Bell studied me, his dark eyes coldly assessing. “I find it difficult to believe a dozen nulls will fail in their goal. I also doubt a single person, regardless of her talents for summoning storms or controlling lightning, will be able to do what no person or group has been able to do for more than two decades: break wards protecting a building belonging to Moses Murphy.”
“And yet, that is the offer on the table,” Charles said. “Ms. Worth has indicated both her willingness and ability to do precisely that. She is, in our assessment, your best and only chance to accomplish the seemingly impossible. Without Ms. Worth, you will not break the wards. You will continue to fight a war of attrition, wherein your holdings are destroyed and your people killed by Murphy and his organization, until Murphy succeeds in eliminating you. Ms. Worth offers you the chance not only to survive, but to prevail. As such, the question becomes: is not your life worth the release of these mages?”
I kept my face neutral and my emotions tightly controlled, but I was impressed as hell with that counterargument. Charles was earning his money with speeches like that.
Bell seemed to be considering Charles’s words. He took a moment to confer with Harlow, then turned his attention back to Charles. “I am willing to release Aden Peters and his mother Jana in return for Ms. Worth’s efforts.”
Charles shook his head. “Our terms are only for the release of all of the nulls and their families. Offering to release two people instead is a ludicrous counteroffer.”
Bell’s expression hardened. “That’s my only offer. I don’t believe Ms. Worth’s claim that a dozen nulls won’t be able to break those wards. I do, however, believe Ms. Worth wants to secure the release of Aden and Jana Peters. Perhaps it’s a matter of professional pride for her, or sentimentality or tenderness for a child.” His expression made it clear what he thought of the latter. “I’m offering the lives of the child and his mother. It’s far more than I should offer, but perhaps Ms. Worth’s sentimentality is rubbing off on me.”
I almost snorted. If Bell was even capable of sentimentality, I’d eat my best pair of boots and wash them down with room-temperature instant decaf.
“You need Ms. Worth to gain entry to the building,” Charles said.
“I don’t believe I do,” Bell countered. “Even if that were true, I have no guarantee that once I release the nulls and their families that Ms. Worth will fulfill her obligations.”
“Surely Ms. Worth has given you no reason to believe she will renege on this agreement,” Charles said, sounding both incredulous and disdainful.
“You’ll forgive me if I’m skeptical.” Bell raised his hand to forestall Charles’s objection. “Many an agreement such as this has proven to be worth less than the paper it’s printed on. If I release the nulls, I will have no collateral with which to persuade Ms. Worth to follow through on her role in the operation. Only a fool would agree to the terms you are proposing.”
Charles tapped his fingers on the table. “Then we are at an impasse.”
Bell sat back in his chair. “It would appear so.”
Monroe and Christine Foreman had been conferring during the exchange between Charles and Bell. Monroe cleared his throat. “We propose an arrangement.”
Charles inclined his head. “We will hear your proposal.”
“Like Mr. Bell, the Court wishes to bring an end to Murphy’s violent attempts to establish control of the city. In return for Ms. Worth’s and the Court’s participation in a joint operation against Murphy, we propose Mr. Bell release one half of the mages and their families outright. The other half, he will release to the custody of the Court as collateral to ensure that Ms. Worth fulfills the terms of our agreement. Once she does so, we will release them. If she fails, we will return the nulls to Mr. Bell.”
Charles glanced at me.
I had every intention of following through with my part of the bargain, so the idea of the Court essentially holding half of the nulls as collateral didn’t seem unreasonable. I did not, however, like Monroe’s use of the word “fail.” If I failed to break the wards for any reason—many of which were out of my control—the nulls would end up back with Bell. It was one thing to hold them hostage against me reneging on the deal; it was entirely another to turn them over if I did everything in my power to uphold my part but failed through no fault of my own.
Charles’s thoughts must have mirrored mine. “If Ms. Worth fails to uphold her part of the agreement, which is clearly defined in the proposal, the remaining nulls would be returned to Mr. Bell. But, as the proposal indicates, there are factors which none of us can know or foresee that may impact the outcome of our operation. As for those elements that are out of Ms. Worth’s control, she cannot be held liable if she has done everything in her power to break the wards.”
“The success of the operation is contingent upon breaking the wards,” Monroe said. “Ms. Worth’s proposal claims she will succeed where others have failed. Does she, or does she not, stand by that claim?”
“She believes
she will succeed,” Charles said, unruffled. “However, as the agreement states, that is contingent upon many unknown factors—most especially the specific location of the meeting between Murphy and the weapons dealer. Certainly the more information she has prior to arrival, the more likely she will be successful, which is why Section Three of the proposal calls on both Mr. Bell and the Court to share all intelligence they have on the personnel expected to be on the premises at the time of the attack. If you wish to increase the likelihood of success, I urge you both to not delay in providing all information in your possession.”
Bell tapped his fingers on the table. “If I agree to release half of the nulls and their families and turn the other half over to the Court to hold as collateral, pending Ms. Worth’s fulfillment of her obligations, Aden and Jana Peters will be among those held.”
Charles glanced at me. He read my eyes and shook his head. “Ms. Worth requires Aden and his mother to be released.”
Bell looked thoughtful. “If I release my most powerful bargaining chips, I require something in return—something of commensurate value to Ms. Worth. Therefore, I propose that if Ms. Worth does not hold up her end of the bargain, half of the nulls are returned to me and the Court withdraws its designation of her as a favorite of the Court.”
Beside me, Sean went very still. That would mean I would no longer have the protection of an association with the Court. I would still have my status as associate of the Tomb Mountain Pack and as Sean’s consort, but Bell—or anyone else—could come after me without fear of reprisal from the vamps. Considering my arrangement with Valas and the value of the work I did for the Court, I doubted Monroe would agree to that stipulation.
I was stunned when Monroe nodded slowly. “That is an acceptable condition.” He studied me, his expression cold. “Since we are on the topic of collateral, the Court requires its own guarantee of Ms. Worth’s fulfillment of her agreement. To that end, we note that a prior contract exists between Ms. Worth and Madame Valas.”
