by SF Benson
He scrambled to his feet. “Please, Tabitha, don’t do anything reckless. You’ll regret it.”
As he walked to the door, I said, “The only thing I regret is letting you fuck me.”
Clint slammed the door in my face.
I sank down on the floor in front of the sofa, retrieved the money from under the cushion, and stacked it on the table. Before St. John, I had grown accustomed to being alone. I actually preferred it. But after that asshole turned me, the isolation distressed me.
It was as if being alone was a blatant reminder of what my eternity would be like. Eventually, every human I knew would die. The world would continue to evolve and change, but I wouldn’t. I’d never age. Never marry. Never have children. If I loved parrots, I’d outlive them too.
I blamed St. John—an ironic moniker if there ever was one. There was nothing saintly about the vampire. He was a supreme asshole. A coward. I was fairly certain if he had tried hard enough, Alexander St. John might have found a woman willing to give up her life for him. Hell, pay a prostitute enough and she’d turn any trick.
But he wasn’t the only one responsible. The bulk of the culpability was with the BlackGuard Society, that bastion of so-called moral turpitude. A citadel of protection guaranteeing security for all humans as long as they fit the right criteria.
Since I didn’t, it was up to me to put a stop to the organization. Clint made a real mistake. He mentioned the name of the one who could save me. Someone who possibly hated the BlackGuard as much as I did. But how the hell would I find Bishop Mercier?
Delta Ava.
* * *
I reached Bayou St. John just as the priestess was closing for the day. She eyed me suspiciously when I walked in.
“What do ya want, gal?”
“Information.”
She faced me. “Are ya sure ya want ta know?”
Good. Delta Ava knew why I was there. “Yes. I need to find Bishop Mercier.”
“Have a seat, gal. He’ll be with ya momentarily.”
The colorful beads clangED together as I passed through them. I took a seat and waited. Seconds later, the sensual and powerful scent of Jimmy Choo Man Intense wafted past my nose. When I turned around, a male in a tailored black suit stood behind me. Damn, he was gorgeous. Six-foot tall, athletic build with thick dark hair and intense green eyes.
“What did you want with me?”
“Are you Bishop Mercier?”
“I am. Answer my question.” His emerald gaze drank me in as he sat across from me.
“Where’s Delta Ava?”
He shrugged. “My question.”
“Yeah. I understand you want to take down the BlackGuard Society.”
“Not just the organization. I plan on toppling the Vladislavs too.”
“Good. Then I can help.”
A cynical smile twisted his thin lips. “How can you help me, vamp?”
“I have a plan to get rid of Alexander St. John. Help me carry it out. Once it’s done, I’ll need transportation to the airport. Maybe a place to stay in Paris.”
He folded his hands together on the tabletop. “Whatever you need, my dear. I’m more than happy to assist.”
I extended my hand. “Shake on it?”
“If you wish.” When Bishop’s hand grasped mine, a sudden chill snaked down my back. Images of a heart resting in someone’s palm flashed through my mind. I had no idea what it meant, but maybe I should have asked.
Delta Ava didn’t make another appearance that evening. Something else I should have asked about, but I didn’t. There were plenty of questions I should have poised to Bishop, but for some reason I sat on every last one.
Instead of getting real information from the sorcerer, I spent the next hour or so discussing with him how to defeat St. John. The handsome male even gave me the address of an apartment I could use while in Paris. He supplied a list of names for vampires—and even a few witches—I should touch base with once I reached my destination.
Honestly, Bishop was a little too helpful. He was a stranger to me. He was a male with a sordid agenda, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was my revenge. I didn’t think twice about what it could mean for me or the many humans living in New Orleans. If someone had asked, I would have said I was doing more than the BlackGuard Society to keep people safe. I had their best interest at heart. Something that wasn’t afforded to me.
26
Hell’s Caretaker
Bishop
* * *
It always amazed me how some supernaturals could excuse their own bad behavior. The beautiful vampiress was vivid proof. Instead of owning up to her own errors in judgment, she was willing to lay the blame for her demise on everyone else—namely the BlackGuard Society and Alexander St. John.
Naïve, foolish girl.
Her gullibility would be her downfall and my triumph. Thanks to Tabitha’s impulsiveness, I would have my vengeance with hardly any effort on my part. She made it far too easy, even giving me the location of St. John’s house. Honestly, I didn’t need it. New Orleans was my playground. I was familiar with every nook and cranny. There was no place the vampire could hide from me.
Tabitha strummed her ridiculously long, painted pink nails on the table. I so hated ostentatiousness. She tried too hard to look appealing. A trait that undoubtedly appealed to St. John.
I preferred females who relied on natural beauty. Even supernaturals needed to appear wholesome in public. Behind doors, however, pretenses weren’t allowed. I liked my partners to be total freaks in bed. Yes, I had certain sexual proclivities.
Morgan had the potential...
“You can assure I’ll be safe?”
Tabitha’s irritatingly pleasant voice snagged my attention. She tried her damnedest to sound innocent. The conniving shrew probably couldn’t spell the word.
My lips curled up one side. I had to keep up the charade. Let the vampiress think I was totally on her side. Aligning myself with anyone wasn’t an option. I was merely the serpent baiting the trap.
“But of course,” I said with a hiss. “No one will know you were behind it.”
Truth. No one would associate the scheme with her. They’d believe she was attacked by the fiend who sired her. If anyone wanted to think Tabitha was innocent, that would be their problem.
“Okay.” She pursed her full lips and nodded. “The vampire likes nightclubs and strip joints. There’s a spot down on Bourbon Street called Decadence.”
I knew it well. Plenty of supernaturals hung out in the joint, but they were smart enough not to practice their depraved acts in the establishment. Those things were confined to dens of iniquity like the Bloody Bastard.
“I will leave it up to you to lure the bloodsucker. I’ll meet you at his house.”
“When?” Tabitha’s hand shook as she reached for her purse.
So she was nervous? Good. It ensured she would forget what I told her about building a wall around her thoughts. When panicked, everyone forgot the latest tidbits they learned.
“You’ll bring Council members too?” she asked.
It was part of the lie I told. Tabitha had to believe I was working with her to take down the BlackGuard and her sire.
“Sure,” I said. The girl was such a stickler for details that didn’t concern her. “I know my part. Just do yours.”
“You don’t have to worry about me.” She pushed back her shoulders and held up her chin. A weak show of bravado. “I’ll need to shower and change. Then, I’ll go to the club. The doors open at nine.” She pushed to her feet and rushed out of the shop.
“Stupid girl,” I uttered out loud.
Tabitha honestly thought I would protect her. I had no reason to safeguard anyone other than my son. And if he ever betrayed me... Well, he’d regret it.
I looked out the front door of the shop for a moment. A lone car drove down the street. People walked by, but no one approached. I flipped the lock and turned the sign.
As I walked through the business, I
switched off the lights. My shoes echoed across the well-worn wooden floor as I made my way down the narrow hallway. I stopped in front of a supply closet.
Inside, securely restrained, was the real Delta Ava. Placing my palm against the door, I felt her heartbeat. Her pulse was erratic. The priestess was scared. If she hadn’t arrived earlier than anticipated, I wouldn’t have had to confine her. Sadly, I couldn’t trust her. The foolish woman threatened to tell Deianira Vladislav about me, and that wouldn’t do.
Putting her in a vault was easier. Safer. Without a lockbox, the closet was the next best thing. I fortified the walls and sealed the space. Even if she managed to get out of her shackles and screamed to the heavens, no one would hear her. She’d remain inside until I let her out. Maybe a Celestial would take pity on her dark soul and leave the heavenly realms to do the deed themselves. Oh, wait! Did the voodoo priestess believe in Heaven?
It didn’t matter. Once my task was completed, I’d free her.
Maybe.
If she was lucky…
Then again, I could keep her. Put her up on a shelf until I needed her services. A supernatural version of the Elf on the Shelf.
The idea brought a smile to my face.
Assured that my little token was safe and sound, I opened a portal and stepped into the Irish Channel.
It was a district I had no love for. It was the realm of the working class—peasants. Merciers were New Orleans royalty. The fools who lived in the area should have been kissing my Italian leather-clad feet.
Stepping into St. John’s quaint abode disappointed me. It was okay if you liked nice. I didn’t. Merciers didn’t do charming. From the layer of dust on the chandelier, the vampire didn’t do clean either. A peculiar behavior with the undead. For some reason, they had no desire for fastidiousness.
The floor creaked behind me.
“Who the fuck are you?”
I pivoted on my heel. “Consider me your guardian demon.”
St. John’s eyebrows knitted together. “Why are you here, sorcerer?”
I cringed and my stomach turned. The stench coming from the vampire was overwhelming. His breath smelled like a used tampon. I waved my hand, dissipating the funk.
“Like I said—”
The vampire twirled his finger in the air. “Yeah, yeah. Guardian demon. Either say your piece or get the hell out.”
“Interesting choice of words. You might do well in the Nether Region. Personally, I hated it there.” I glanced down at the lumpy sofa. “You’ll meet your demise in this room.”
The vampire was quick, but I was quicker. He blurred and attempted to close the distance between us. Instead, he hit an invisible wall. I swear I heard a fang crack. St. John shook off the impact and glared at me.
Disregarding the scowl on his face, I said, “Your protégé is planning to end you.”
His stern expression lessened. “How do you know this?”
“I just had a lengthy discussion with Tabitha.” Not wishing to dirty my clothing, I remained standing. “She’s convinced that both you and the BlackGuard are to blame for her situation.”
Really, my summation was a serious understatement. I’d never met such a disagreeable soul. If someone handed a hellish resident a slight boon, they showed some measure of gratitude. Not Tabitha. She only pointed fingers. Her problem was a blatant attempt to cling to her humanity. I was certain she’d been told numerous times to let it go, but the girl was so obstinate.
Did she truly miss swinging around a pole that fucking much?
Perhaps I should open a club catering to supernaturals. I could hire former humans like Tabitha who thought their only worth was in getting naked for men. Something told me, however, that even the girl wouldn’t have been happy with that venture. She wanted to turn back the hands of time. Granted, I could have done it, but then I wouldn’t have my retribution.
Alexander folded his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels. “Honestly, I improved her circumstances. She can have a better existence as a vampire than as a human.”
I’d tried to explain that to the new vamp. She’d no longer have to struggle. She could stop dancing. If she desired a career, she could find something much more lucrative. No bank would refuse investing in her. All she would have to do was coerce the right individuals.
On a sigh, I said, “Well, you won’t convince Tabitha of that. She’s playing the race card with the organization.”
The vampire shook his head and perched on the edge of the sofa. “Why do they do that? Edwina did the same fucking thing. She couldn’t see how she was better off. Before me, she was a runaway slave trying to survive. After me, she became one of the wealthiest vamps to walk the earth.”
“Sometimes you can’t help those who don’t wish it. You should try to remember that. There are numerous demons in Hell wanting what they can’t have.”
I met quite a few during my brief time there. It was why I got out as quickly as I could. I’d never had any tolerance for beggars—human or otherwise.
Alexander scoffed. “I’m not going to Hell. Tabitha, however, is a different story. I have no qualms about taking out those I’ve sired.”
Arrogant vamp.
I held onto my laughter. He thought I was only suggesting his fate. I’d already seen the hellish chamber with his name on it.
“Unlike Julien and Kragen. Those two will pull every string to keep from harming their own,” I said.
Oh, if only people knew the evil those two had wrought. Vladislavs had more secrets than Hell could hold. And Kragen? He was by no means innocent.
“Their downfall. Not mine,” admitted St. John. “Why are you warning me?”
“It’s not so much a warning I came to deliver. I need your cooperation to make sure the BlackGuard Society falls.”
“Why should I care about that group of do-gooders?”
I grinned. “Come now. Wouldn’t you appreciate not looking over your shoulder every time you sink your fangs into someone? Do something to piss off your sire or Kragen, and they’ll end you faster than you can blink. Getting rid of the agency is best for all supernaturals in New Orleans.”
Alexander stroked his chin. “Possibly, but what do you want from me?”
Ah, the spider has succeeded in capturing the errant fly…
“Tabitha will be at Decadence on Bourbon Street this evening. It’s a nightclub that opens at nine. All you have to do is show up and bring her back here. She thinks she’ll yank out your heart. Fortunate for you, I’ll step in before the girl can do any real harm.”
The vampire cocked his head. “Why should I trust you?”
The fly was simply hovering the web. I’ll let him think it’s his decision.
I shrugged. “You don’t have to. Take your chances. Go about your existence, but I promise you she’s coming. Tabitha will do her best to end you. I wish you good luck.” I headed toward the door.
Before I touched the knob, he said, “Let’s say I believe you. What then?”
Over my shoulder, I said, “You do what you think is appropriate. In my opinion, the girl would be better off put out of existence. She’ll never appreciate anything you do for her. She loathes being a vampire.”
When I turned around, I saw a glimmer of hurt on the bloodsucker’s face. His species took things so personally. He’d made a poor calculation, but I’d done my research. St. John had a terrible habit of choosing women who he should have fucked, sucked, and buried. The vamp wasn’t clinging to some false sense of humanity. He simply was trying to convince himself the actions of the Marquis de Sade hadn’t changed him. Deep down, St. John really preferred the company of women. But men were his weakness. All I had to do was conjure the right one, and he’d forget all about his latest conquest.
The vampire looked down at the floor. “In time—”
“In time, she’ll continue to blame you. Alexander St. John, you’re the asshole who ruined her.” He grimaced at my choice of words. Proof of the veracity of my inqui
ry. “In time, Tabitha will continue to blame the BlackGuard. She believes they failed her. She feels they should have protected her, but they didn’t. Give her ten days, ten months, ten centuries, and her opinion won’t change. She’s an ungrateful little bitch who should be put out of her misery.”
Frankly, I wanted to see her put down. I never have appreciated thankless humans.
“Perhaps,” the vampire muttered.
“Act. Don’t act. The ball’s in your court, St. John. Faites ce qui vous voulez.”
With those words, I opened a portal and stepped into my cousin’s guesthouse—my refuge in plain sight. Melisande had enough shit on her plate with the Red Witch in town. No one would know I was living right under their noses.
I wasn’t always so cruel, but a trip to the Nether Region changed a person. It had a tendency to enhance one’s dark side. Technically, mine was rather somber without any help, but I had managed to keep it hidden until I went to Hell.
The vampiress wasn’t the only one capable of tossing about blame. I pointed my finger at Morgan Vladislav. She shouldn’t have been so quick to dispose of our son. Truthfully, I was only following my mother’s instructions when I took my brother’s place in Morgan’s bed. But I’d wanted to fuck her for a long time.
Cade didn’t know how to handle a female like Morgan. He was too busy commiserating over our father. To me, Rafe Lowell was nothing but a sperm donor. If it weren’t for that vast piece of property he owned down in Lafourche, I wouldn’t even have bothered with the shifter. He was as dead to me as the Nether Region and all its inhabitants. There wasn’t a damn thing Rafe could do for me.
But I digress…
I had had a real opportunity to claim Morgan as mine and failed. But my quest for vindication would be successful. On some level, she had to know she was responsible for her own troubles. If she had loved me… If she had realized it was me in her bed and not my hapless brother… If she had loved our child and kept it, none of the shit landing on her doorstep would have happened. I would have gladly married her. Slipped the biggest-ass ring in all of New Orleans on her finger…