«Thanks,» Jake said. He tried to get to his feet, but fell against the armoire so hard it shuddered. Hands reached to help him, covering his arms in bloody prints of his own blood.
He pushed them away. «I'm all right.» Then he fell to his knees.
«Help him,» Claudia said.
Cisco and Juanito reached for him again. Jake waved them away.
I walked the few feet to them. I knelt in front of Jake, so that I could meet his eyes without him straining. He rolled brown eyes up to me. His normally handsome face seemed strained and tired. He was a little too masculine handsome for my tastes. I liked men a little softer looking, but I could still appreciate the view. Except now the view was hurting too badly to be admired.
«I'd be in the hospital or worse now, Jake. Thank you.»
«Like I said, it's my job,» but his voice was strained.
«Let them help you, please.»
He looked at me for a long moment. «What do you think the wolf smell meant?»
«I think it was the vamp's animal to call. Some vamps smell like their animal.»
«Most vampires smell like vampires to me,» he said.
«I've met a couple that smelled like their animals to call.» I didn't add out loud that those had been Auggie, Master of Chicago, and Marmee Noir. Auggie was about two thousand years old, and Mommie Dearest was older than dirt. Which put this vampire in very powerful company.
«You're thinking something, what is it?» he asked.
I might not have answered him, except he'd gotten himself hurt protecting me. It made me feel guilty. «That the only two vamps I've ever known who smelled that much like their animals were Auggie, Master of Chicago, and the Mother of All Darkness.»
«I've heard of Augustine, but the Mother of All Darkness, I'm not sure who that is.»
«She's the Mother of All Vampires,» I said.
His eyes widened, then flinched. «Powerful shit.»
«Yeah,» I said, «powerful shit. Let them take you to the doc, okay?»
He gave a small nod. «Okay.»
Cisco and Juanito picked him up under the arms. They did it like he wasn't tall and muscled, and weighed at least two hundred pounds. Super-strength did come in handy. He got his feet sort of under him as the guards parted and let them through. By the time they had the door, Jake was almost walking upright. Almost.
chapter twenty
THIS TIME I chose a black shirt, because my last clean bra was hanging up to dry in the bathroom. I was never entirely comfortable without a bra. I wasn't sure whether the fact that the black baby-doll shirt was tight enough that it helped support my breasts was a good thing or not. I think I would have preferred the shirt to be looser. Tight felt better, but it looked like I'd done it on purpose, rather than just running out of clothes. Also, braless the shoulder holster fit, but if I had to draw the gun I'd brush the edge of my breast. It was a small irritation, but it could make you hesitate for a second. Sometimes a second was enough to get you killed. I stood in the bathroom, grumpy and uncomfortable. It was like my skin was too small. Itchy with embarrassment and swallowed anger. I searched myself, with the same «eyes» that let you see images in your head, for that spot where the Harlequin had marked me. It was gone, but I could still see the spot like a bruise. A metaphysical bruise, as if their touch had hurt me in a way that would last.
I dried my hair a little more with a towel and actually scrunched some hair-care product in the curls. I was half embarrassed that I used stuff on my hair, but Jean-Claude had convinced me there was no shame to a little pampering. It still felt girlie to do it. Should you be worried about your hair frizzing when you wear a gun at least twelve of any given twenty-four hours? Seemed like you shouldn't.
There was a soft knock on the door. «What?» I asked, and even to me it sounded angry. Shit.
«I'm sorry, Anita, but Jean-Claude sent me to check on you.»
«Sorry, Clay, it's just been one of those days already.»
«Breakfast is waiting in the living room,» he said through the closed door.
«Is there coffee?» I asked.
«Fresh, from the guards' break room.»
I took in a deep breath, let it out, and went for the door. Coffee. Everything would be better after coffee.
I expected Graham to be with Clay, but it was Sampson. He wasn't a guard. In fact, he was sort of a visiting prince. He was the eldest son of the Master Vampire of Cape Cod, Samuel. Their vampire group wanted a closer tie with us, and one way to do that was for Sampson to audition as my new pomme de sang — apple of blood, like a kept mistress. It had been Nathaniel's job until he moved up the power structure to my animal to call. Now I needed a new snacky bit, whether I liked it, or whether I didn't. The ardeur needed more food. So far I'd managed to avoid having sex with Sampson. Since he was almost as embarrassed about the whole situation as I was, well, it hadn't been that hard to avoid. It wasn't that he wasn't handsome. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with a fall of dark curls that were identical to his father's. He even had his father's hazel eyes. In fact, he was one of those sons who looked like the father had cloned himself, except he was a few inches taller, and somehow softer. But then Samuel was over a thousand years old. You didn't survive that long in vampire society by being soft. You certainly didn't rise to be Master of the City by being soft, and you sure as hell didn't stay there by being anything but hard.
Sampson smiled at me, and it was a nice smile, boyish, a little bashful. He was wearing a white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled back and the collar loose. The shirt was untucked over dress slacks. He was barefoot. His mother was a mermaid, a siren, and it made Sampson react more like a shapeshifter sometimes. He didn't like shoes, though he did like clothes better than my furry friends. Maybe water is colder?
«We're shorthanded, remember?» Clay said.
«I remember.» Though I didn't sound happy about it.
«Am I that big a disappointment?» Sampson asked, but his smile widened, and his eyes twinkled with it. He never seemed to take my bad moods personally. Of course, I'd met his mother, Thea. She was like the ocean: calm one minute, rising up to kill you the next. I think she'd sort of broken him to the thought that women were moody.
«Thanks for volunteering to be food so the red shirt guards could be elsewhere,» I said, and my voice sounded nicely dry and sarcastic.
«I heard you'd already fed the ardeur,» he said.
I nodded.
He held his arm out to me. «Then allow me to escort you to your master, and real food.»
I sighed, but I took his arm. Sampson was supposed to have been a short-term loan. To the larger vampire community he was here to try out for the position of pomme de sang. That was half the truth. The other half was that his mother was a siren, and the last of her kind. She was a genetic queen among the merfolk, magical, powerful, and most of that magic was sexual in nature. All mermaids could be alluring to mortals, but sirens could force you to wreck your ship. They could call you down to the sea and drown you and you'd enjoy it. They were sort of like master vampires, except more specialized, and more rare. Like I said, Thea was the last of her kind, unless her sons could be brought into their full power.
Problem was, the only way to bring a siren into their power was sex with another siren. Since Thea was the last of her kind and her sons were the last potential of her bloodline, well, it was all too Oedipus Rex for comfort.
She actually had no problem with doing the job herself. She'd been worshipped as a goddess once a few thousand years ago. Gods and goddesses married each other all the time, or at least fucked. But Samuel, though a thousand years old, was more conventional. He told her if she approached Sampson again for it, he'd kill her. Furthermore, if she approached their seventeen-year-old twin sons at all, he'd kill her. Again, so Greek tragedy. But if their sons could be as powerful as Thea, or even close, then suddenly Samuel's family would rule the East Coast. They just would. They were our allies and friends. Jean-Claude had called Samuel friend for a few centuries. Them powerful didn't seem like a bad idea.