I soaped up my greasy hair and wondered if that was why I’d been tracked down. It seemed unlikely. If the Senate wanted someone dead, they sure as hell didn’t need to hire me to do it. They had plenty of their own muscle and an intelligence department second to none. One cut-rate assassin they could do without.
There was also the little matter that I had a habit of refusing assignments unless I knew the circumstances involved—all of them. I had promised myself to limit my sprees to those who, as the saying goes, needed killing. I figured that since it was my hand on the ax—or the stake or the rifle or whatever—it was up to me to be certain I didn’t take out someone who had merely irritated a local loan shark. But that nosiness, as the Senate would view it, would have put me off their list of hired talent even if the accident of my birth hadn’t already made me persona non grata in a big way. So my skills at the hunt were probably not what was needed here.
I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what else it could be, though. Occasionally I earned a few bucks checking the supernatural underground for people with problems that the human authorities couldn’t manage or even understand. But again, there was nothing I could offer that the Senate couldn’t do itself and probably far better. All things considered, I was stumped. Not that it mattered anyway. As soon as I got a few answers out of buffet boy, I was off hunting Michael. Whatever the Senate wanted, it could damn well come up with some other way to get it. And as for my host, he could drop dead. Again.
Chapter Two
“This is Louis-Cesare. I would appreciate it if you refrained from attacking him while under my roof.”
I had slipped back into the living room unannounced, but of course I’d been heard. I was relieved that at least they hadn’t smelled me coming—or not as easily as before—since I was clean for the first time in days. I was also wearing one of my host’s pristine white dress shirts over my blood-spattered jeans, which he refrained from commenting on, although he did tighten his lips somewhat. I grinned. It had probably cost as much as my rent for the month and it hung down to my knees, but I hadn’t had a great selection to choose from. The closet in his room had been almost bare, another good sign, since the guy is a clotheshorse. If he’d been near the New York shops for more than a few days, the place would’ve looked like an Armani boutique.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I told him, sauntering over to the bar and mixing myself a double. With my metabolism, alcohol burns off too fast for me to get drunk—one of the few perks of my condition. “Where’s the kid?”
“I’ve arranged for his care. He was taken away a few moments ago.”
I tightened my grip on the bottle and counted to ten. It wasn’t a record—he’d managed to get under my skin faster on previous occasions—but it was close. “I needed to talk to him,” I said carefully, turning around. “He was the only lead I had. You had no right to—”
“He retains his memories, for the moment,” I was told. “You can speak to him later if you must. For now, there are more important matters.”
I looked down at a crunching sound to see that I’d cracked the bottle. I set it carefully on the bar and ignored the single malt draining away over the dark wood. Five centuries of fighting for control, and it was all I could do not to smash the thing the rest of the way against his head. How did he do it? No one else caused me to reach boiling point this fast, at least not anymore. “I’d prefer to speak to him tonight,” I said evenly. “I’m in something of a hurry.”
I noticed that the redhead had closed in a little, as if he thought his buddy might need backup. I repressed a smile. At least I had his attention now.
“He has been heavily medicated, Dorina. He won’t be able to tell you anything for approximately eight hours. If you wished it otherwise, you might have mentioned the fact.”
I felt my stomach twist into a knot and my heartbeat speed up. I tried to slow my suddenly accelerated breathing, knowing what was coming if I couldn’t get a grip, but all I could think about was Claire. I thought of the past month, of the useless leads and the sleepless nights, of calling in every favor I had and promising more to entirely the wrong types for information that had turned out to be useless. I thought of Kyle’s smarmy face as he told me a worst-case scenario that still had me wanting to scream, and then a familiar rushing sound filled my ears and I blacked out.
It happens that way sometimes, although mostly these days I keep it under better control. But that night was like old times, when I’d gone on rampages that sometimes left dozens dead, and I was never able to remember more than flashes later. It was the real nature of a dhampir and the reason no one ever trusted us, especially the vamps, who were our favorite prey. It was one of so very many reasons I hoped Claire had been a lot smarter than Kyle had said.
I came around eventually, which rather surprised me. One of these centuries, I fully expect to die in the middle of some berserker rage and never even know when it happens. I’ve come close more times than I can recall, waking up broken and bleeding, surrounded by bodies in places I didn’t recognize and sometimes days later than my last memory. This was better than most. There was something sharp pinning my shoulder to the wall, and the burn of familiar pain helped me concentrate enough to pull the rest of the way out of the trance.
I knew when I’d succeeded by the fact that my shoulder suddenly felt like it had caught fire. As an added bonus, I was the proud owner of an aching jaw, a pounding headache and a severe urge to vomit. The redhead was holding the rapier that had me skewered like a butterfly on a pin, rendering my left arm temporarily useless, and my host was using both hands to hold my right. I was glad to see that they looked more than a little beaten up. The redhead’s pretty white sweater was stained with blood that didn’t smell like mine, and the brunet had a long gash down one side of his face that had barely missed his right eye. It wasn’t deep, though, and it started to close over as I watched. Damn.
“My lord, I do not mean to interfere, but perhaps restraints…?” The voice had a faint French accent, which explained why I hadn’t known him. The redhead was a Senate member, but from the European version, not the North American. And I hadn’t been to Europe since a very memorable visit during the Great War. He was looking a little spooked, which would have pleased me under other circumstances. At the moment, however, I was distracted by my host moving one hand up to grip me around the throat.
“I would put you over my knee if I thought it would do any good,” he told me grimly.
The other vamp looked like he’d just been slapped. I laughed. “He thinks you’re being kinky,” I said, pausing to spit out a tooth that had come loose. No worry. I’d grow a replacement soon enough, and at least it was a back one this time. I grinned at the French vamp, who looked vaguely ill at the thought of anyone doing anything with me, except maybe planting a stake in my ribs. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”
The brunet sighed and released me, pausing to yank out the rapier as he did so. I didn’t wince. At the moment, the pain almost felt good, a reminder that, once again, I’d beaten the odds and lived. Not that I’d been in serious danger this time. He wouldn’t kill me when he needed my help. Well, at least not until I turned him down.
“I was planning introductions, had you given me the opportunity,” I was told acerbically.
The redhead’s expression was now bordering on revulsion. There must be a brain inside that pretty head, because he appeared to be putting things together, but not willing to believe what his instincts were telling him. I decided to help him out. I turned to my host, who was looking down at me with an annoyance he wasn’t bothering to hide. I threw my good arm around his neck and gave him a robust kiss on the cheek. “Hello, Daddy!”