Night's Honor

by Thea Harrison

  “Understood.” Disconnecting from the call, he powered down his computer, walked over to his leather armchair, sat and tried to haul his thoughts into some kind of order.

  They refused to comply. Rubbing his face with one hand, he thought of the angry defiance in Tess’s eyes as her fingers had raced over the keyboard, and how, despite being so afraid of him, she had spat out curses as she worked, and he laughed all over again.

  Underneath it all, a persistent, more insidious thread ran through his thoughts. The memory of the silken, warm skin at Tess’s wrist wouldn’t leave him. He closed his eyes, reliving the moment in the dark privacy of his mind, until a discreet tap came at the door.

  “Come in, Raoul.”

  Raoul opened the door and walked in, carrying a tray with a bottle of bloodwine, an empty glass and a second glass filled with a normal Merlot. He set the bloodwine on the table near Xavier’s hand. “Are you sure you don’t want anything fresh to drink?”

  “Not tonight, thanks. I need to leave soon. Julian, all twelve Nightkind council members and Melisande await.” He paused. “So she is settled for the night.”

  “Yes.” Raoul took the Merlot and sat in the chair opposite him with a small smile. “I would ask how she did with your little test, except I got the email.”

  Xavier snorted without replying. It would be a long time before he heard the end of the evening’s adventure.

  Raoul sipped his wine. He said, “Are you sure you don’t want me to run a background check on her? She has an edge that I dislike. It’s a little too desperate, for my taste.”

  The last of his humor died as he rested his head against the back of his chair and considered the idea.

  You’re supposed to protect me, she had said.

  In that moment, she had been so upset he didn’t think she realized what she had given away. Her dark eyes had gone wide, and her soft, sensitive-looking mouth had trembled.

  There was a certain kind of nobility in her narrow bone structure, and that wonderful, aquiline nose, as if she was descended from unknown kings. Watching her gave him a subversive pleasure, and he had catalogued her every emotion to date.

  Thus far she had evidenced an overabundance of fear, along with a spitting kind of defiance, as well as a rather naive outrage at the Vampyre’s Ball, along with the wariness of a young, untamed animal.

  Some of it had amused him, but that one moment of raw, uncensored distress of hers . . .

  He didn’t like it. It called all kinds of inappropriate responses out of him. He wanted to find out what had caused her such distress and to protect her from it. And none of that had to do with the reason why he had invited her here. Protectiveness was the very last thing he should be feeling toward her.

  He frowned.

  Raoul was right. Tess was desperate about something. A shadow of violence seemed to hover behind her words. Perhaps she’d had an abusive boyfriend or husband, or she had gotten involved in something illegal. He tried to imagine her involved in the drug trade but couldn’t. That would harm innocents and go against her moral code.

  One by one, he considered various possibilities and dismissed them. Whatever the reason behind her distress, the chances were very slim that a non-magical human would have been involved in something dangerous enough to concern him.

  Which was, of course, why he was interested in her. Most creatures of the Elder Races would think the same thing. After one glance, they would dismiss her utterly. That dismissal could be very useful to him.

  Unbidden, the memory returned of her trembling body as he took her wrist in his hand The blood offering could have been such a beautiful gesture, the trembling evocative, sensual and indicative of surrender, yet the taint of her fear had saturated the air.

  His mouth tightened. There were some Vampyres who would have embraced all of it, the trembling and the fear, and would have taken everything from her in a predatory glut.

  He had lived for a very long time, and he was under no illusions about himself. He was every bit as much of a predator as any other Vampyre, but he had his own moral code, and none of his predatory instincts were triggered by the kind of fear that came from an innocent woman under his power.

  No, his predator instincts were triggered by another kind of fear entirely.

  “Go ahead and run a routine check on her,” he said. “I’m not prepared to focus a great deal of time on this, but we should at least find out if she has a criminal record, so we can deal with it, if need be. If we gain her trust and loyalty, she should volunteer information about herself willingly soon enough.”

  The other man shrugged. “You got it.

  FIVE

  Having made his decision, Xavier dismissed the subject, picked up his glass of bloodwine and drank. Even though bloodwine didn’t have the same nutritive qualities as fresh blood, he liked the taste, and on some nights, he simply had no interest in the courtesies and interaction involved in feeding from one of his attendants.

  He said, “I’ll be leaving for Evenfall before the hour’s end, and I might not get away before daylight. I’ll text you if I’m staying on.”

  Raoul frowned. “Want me to come with you?”

  For a moment, he was tempted. Raoul had a cool head, which would be particularly welcome, since tensions between Julian and the council were at an all-time high. But after a moment, he shook his head. “I want you here to keep an eye on Tess.”

  Raoul drank his wine too. “The others can babysit her, and Diego could start her training tomorrow, not that I expect that to change your mind.”

  “You are correct. It does not.”

  Raoul’s mouth tightened. “What good am I as head of your security if you don’t let me do my job? Half the council would like to see you dead, if they could manage it.”

  He poured himself another glass of bloodwine. “Surely not half.”

  “Okay, Justine and Darius, then. Along with any of the other council members they might be able to coerce or cajole into killing you.”

  “I can look after myself,” Xavier said. “And you will do a perfectly fine job of looking out for everybody here, which is all I require.” He met the other man’s gaze. “If you would let me turn you, I might decide otherwise.”

  Raoul emitted a sharp sigh. “That’s not going to happen.”

  He shook his head. “Then I see no other alternative. I’m not about to risk any of my fragile human attendants, not with all the Nightkind council members under one roof.”

  Raoul made a disgusted sound. “You and your damned protective instincts.”

  Xavier narrowed his eyes. “Yes, me and my damned protective instincts. You are of no use to me dead. Instead, I want you to focus on what you might make of our new arrival.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think she’s a mistake,” Raoul said.

  “Why?” He was genuinely curious. “You do not see the promise in her?”

  “Oh, I see the promise all right. I also see problems.” Scowling, the human tossed back the last of his Merlot.

  “Such is life, old friend.” He shrugged.

  Sooner or later, either the promise or the problems would win out. Time always told the tale.

  After finishing his bloodwine, Xavier wrapped his desktop in a blanket, stowed it in the backseat of his black Lexus SUV and drove the curving coastal road to Evenfall.

  Built in 1800 and sprawling over four acres along the Pacific coastline, Evenfall had been built with old-world crafting techniques and was modeled after a classic Normandy castle in every aspect, including a moat, drawbridge, defensive towers, a great hall and three interior courtyards.

  Every night Evenfall was lit all over, a behemoth beacon in the dark, and strong floodlights illuminated the foaming waves crashing on the rock-strewn beach. As Xavier approached, the castle towered against the backdrop of a crescent moon.

 
Decades ago, the largest interior courtyard had been converted into a parking lot. It was large enough to accommodate all the daily—and nightly—traffic, even during the busiest times of the year. There was also a second parking lot underground, with a modest gravel drive that led up to a metal door with security cameras set on either side of the arched entrance.

  When Xavier pulled up to the door, it opened silently to reveal a lowered bar and a guard station located just inside. The guard raised the bar and waved him through, and moments later he pulled into a parking space.

  Leaving the computer in the SUV for Gavin to retrieve, he made his way through the lower levels to a stairwell that led up to a narrow gallery, concealed with a privacy screen. The gallery overlooked the Nightkind council chamber, where a shouting match was in progress.

  “I don’t give a good goddamn what your mother says!” Julian’s deep-throated shout filled the open area like the roar of an infuriated lion.

  “I’ll just text Mommy and let her know you said that, shall I?” Melisande shot back.

  The Nightkind King and the Light Fae heir to the throne stood several feet away from each other on the council floor, facing each other like gladiators in an arena.

  Scattered in a rough circle around the pair were the twelve members of the Nightkind council, each Vampyre the head of a major house. Xavier took careful note of their positions and expressions. Their geography and body language was telling. Most maintained a healthy distance from the confrontation while they watched with closed expressions, including Marged and Dominic, the two that Xavier considered the most compliant.

  Two of the Vampyres looked notably different from the others. Darius, a strongly built man with hawkish features, stared at Julian unblinkingly, the predatory hunger in his eyes naked and apparent. The other one, Justine, a beautiful redheaded woman, watched Julian as well, her face filled with avid amusement.

  Xavier turned his attention to the Light Fae princess. Melisande’s famous angular, golden-skinned features were suffused with rage. Standing six foot tall in sparkling silver stilettos, she wore a dark gray Donna Karan suit with a tuxedo jacket that flowed over her narrow body. Her long pointed ears were hidden by the thick, curling blonde hair that tumbled down her back. If looks could kill, her glare would have sliced Julian into several pieces.

  Julian threw out his hands. “What self-respecting hundred-and-sixty-year-old woman says ‘Mommy’?”

  “Oh, fuck you, Julian,” Melisande snarled. “Just because you’re demon spawn and you have no clue what a sincere feeling is doesn’t mean you get to sneer at those of us who have real family ties.”

  “For God’s sake, Melly, you’re a B-movie horror actress, not a diplomat,” Julian snapped. “Go home to Mommy, and tell Tatiana to send someone more qualified.”

  “And my mother is head of a major movie studio as well as being Light Fae Queen. Unlike you, most of us have the capacity to do more than one thing at a time.” Melisande crossed her arms. “Are you sure you want me to go home? Because if I do, I promise you can kiss all of this year’s trade proposals good-bye.”

  Xavier leaned one shoulder against the wall as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Neither Julian nor Melisande could stand to be in the same room together without driving each other into a frenzy.

  Julian, he said telepathically.

  On the council floor, Julian lifted his head to look toward the gallery where Xavier stood hidden. Julian’s eyes had turned red. Where the fuck have you been?

  I got here as soon as I could, Xavier told him calmly. You’re flaming out in front of the whole council. Has it occurred to you that this is exactly what Tatiana—or somebody—wanted to have happen?

  Julian lowered his head like a maddened bull, his jaw angled out. If Tatiana sent Melly to drive me crazy, it’s working. I’m going to strangle her before the night’s out.

  Look to Darius, Xavier said simply. And Justine. You’re being played.

  Julian turned toward Darius. After a moment, he said between his teeth, “My apologies to the council. Clearly we’ve gotten off topic. Everybody take a break. We can pick up again in an hour.”

  While Julian stalked out of the room and most of the council members moved toward the exits with undisguised relief, Xavier kept his attention on Justine, who glided smoothly up to Melisande’s side. The two women looked at each other silently. They had gone telepathic.

  He watched sharply as Melisande threw her hands up in a classic gesture of frustration. Justine laid a hand on Melisande’s arm and gave her a warm, sympathetic smile.

  Julian wasn’t the only one being played.

  Moving swiftly, Xavier pushed away from the wall and raced down the stairs. Within moments he was shouldering his way into the council chamber, and he came up on Melisande’s free side.

  “Melly,” he said. “It’s good to see you. It’s been too long.”

  Melisande turned to him, her tense expression lightening into a smile. “Xavier, it’s good to see you too. How are you?”

  “I’m well, and you?” All too aware of Justine’s hardening expression, he kissed Melisande’s offered cheek.

  “Oh, I’m fine, thanks.” She blew out a breath between even white teeth. “I was just telling Justine how embarrassed I am. When I came up here, I was so determined not to lose my temper or let Julian get to me. Then within five minutes we’re shouting ridiculous things at each other in front of everybody. We rub each other so wrong, we lose all common sense.”

  “I know you can move past this,” he told her quietly. “Your history with Julian is just that—history. You’re too intelligent to let it get in your way for long.”

  Melisande squared her shoulders. “I appreciate you saying that. You always were the voice of reason.”

  He smiled, touched her hand and turned to incline his head to Justine. “Good evening, Justine. You’re looking beautiful as always.”

  “Xavier.” Justine gave him a narrow, cold smile. “Ever the loyal dog, aren’t you? I always did prefer cats. You interrupted us. Melly and I were just having a private word.”

  “You know how these things go.” Xavier returned her smile with one just as cold. “There’s never anything private that happens while the council is in session.”

  A buzzing sound came from the direction of Melisande’s jacket pocket. Slipping one hand into her pocket, the Light Fae woman frowned. “Forgive me, I need to take this call.”

  “Certainly,” Xavier said. “I would be happy to keep Justine company.” As Melisande walked away, he turned to the other Vampyre. “And how are you doing this evening? Sowing seeds of dissent, as usual?”

  Justine was far older than he and came from the violent, shadowy beginnings of Britannia. Eyes glittering, she said, “Why, Xavier, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Xavier angled his head and took a step closer as he said softly, “Oh, I think you do. I’d heard that Tatiana was thinking of sending Melisande to handle the annual trade negotiations. I wonder where she got that idea. Then Melisande and Julian fight in front of the council. So typical of them, don’t you think? And you step in to offer comfort. What does come next, Justine? Perhaps you save the trade agreements, while Julian becomes even more alienated from the council and you become more indispensable.”

  “I was wrong,” Justine said. When she smiled again her fangs had descended. “You’re not a dog, you’re a spider. Always spinning your little webs, sending out your little spies and gathering up your little snippets of information. Too bad it’s all in a lost cause. Julian never did have total control over the council, and now after his split from Carling, his days as Nightkind King are numbered.”

  Xavier stepped closer to her, until the tips of their shoes touched, and smiled into her reddened gaze.

  “I don’t believe any cause is lost,” he said. He took her hand, raised it to his lips and her angry
smile slipped. “Everyone has a chance at redemption, even you. All you have to do is make different choices.”

  Snatching back her hand, she hissed at him. “Don’t prattle your failed priestly sentiments at me, fool.”

  He murmured, “I was not talking about religion, but redemption of another sort entirely. Of course, making different choices is all but impossible for some, but I’m warning you, Justine. If you keep going down this path, it can only end badly for you.”

  “You’re going to regret interfering with me,” she said, just as softly.

  The quick, light tap of approaching footsteps broke them apart. Xavier turned, along with Justine, to face Melisande as she came up to them.

  Melisande said without preamble, “I’m going to take my sister Bailey’s advice and head back to the city.”

  “Oh darling, I don’t blame you,” Justine said. The red had faded from her gaze, which began to gleam with triumph. “This has been completely unacceptable.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not giving up yet,” Melisande said briskly. “It’s just for one night so that I can clear my head. No offense, but I can’t think straight when I’m in the middle of this great, hulking pile of rocks. It brings back too many memories.”

  Before Justine could say anything else to do more damage, Xavier smiled at Melisande and said, “I have a great idea. Come home with me and we’ll spend the rest of the night talking about old times—but we’ll focus only on good stuff, I promise.”

  The Light Fae woman’s expression softened and she returned his smile. “What a perfect solution. You’re close by, and your home is beautiful. I’d love to stay overnight. Will I get the chance to say hi to Raoul?”

  “Of course,” Xavier told her. “He’ll be delighted to see you.”

  “How wonderful all the way around,” Justine said, giving him a venomous look. She linked her arm through one of Melisande’s. “I’ll come too, shall I?”

  Frustration made him grit his teeth. He didn’t want Justine anywhere near his property. Not only had he just taken on an unschooled attendant, but he also had five trainees whose names and faces were virtually unknown, and he meant to keep their identities hidden. Also, for every good word he might try to put in with Melisande about dealing with Julian, Justine would be whispering poison in her other ear.