by Lauren Dane
Turning to face him, she stayed where she was. “Yes, Scion?”
Fascinated, she watched as he unclenched his jaw. Apparently he’d never been disobeyed before. Well, she was all about bringing new experiences to those around her. A missionary of sorts even.
Idly, she wondered how much it would take to push him into developing a tic in his neck. With that ironclad control, it would be a huge undertaking but in the end, after she’d broken him, it would be a job well done. She kept her amusement inside, though, since they were playing a game of chicken like two fourteen-year-old boys.
“You have no reply?”
She raised one eyebrow at him. “To what? Your ever-so-manly threat to keep me in line? The accusation that I have control issues?”
If I had control problems, you’d be dust and I’d be covered in Vampire blood as I killed every fucking one of you people in this hotel right now. If I had anger management problems I’d have jammed the pointy toe of this lovely boot up your ass for being such a prick.
Instead of saying that, she simply smiled. “I do my job. Sometimes my job is to kill Vampires who break the treaty. That I manage to do so less often than is warranted by the treaty is a testament to my control.”
He straightened his tie but she caught the tightening of his fist for just a moment. “I’m not interested in sparring with you over this. I want to be clear about the rules here. These are my Vampires. You seem to like killing Vampires. This presents a problem. I don’t know if it’s your untouchable status that gives you the idea you have carte blanche.” He shrugged. “But I do not want to start off our relationship on the wrong foot.”
She nodded, so very understanding. “It works like this. Don’t kill humans. Don’t break the treaty. Be good Vampires and I won’t have to deal with you at all. That there is called a win-win situation.”
She moved into the hallway and the assistant called the elevator. When Rowan looked back over her shoulder, Clive stood in the doorway, watching her.
“I’m not stupid. You’re not stupid. There’s nothing more to discuss.” She got into the elevator and waved. “And this is my town. You can keep the Vampires, but stay away from my humans.”
The doors slid closed and she saw her own nearly feral smile reflected back at her.
Clive watched her go. Waited for the place to be empty for several long seconds before moving to the phone. He wanted to throw something but that infuriating woman wasn’t worth the cost of losing a vase.
He punched the speed dial and waited as the lines connected halfway across the world.
“It’s Stewart. Is He available?”
Clive waited until the other Vampire finally answered.
“Clive. I’m going to wager you’ve just had a face to face with my goddaughter,” The First said with a ragged sound, much like a laugh. “I warned you to leave her be.”
“It’s my assessment that the Nation pursue her removal and replacement with a different Hunter. The woman is impossible. She hates us.”
“Useless. All silly and useless and a waste of time better spent on issues important to us. As for Rowan, it may help if you view her as a Vampire in human skin. She’s more like us than you give her credit for. In any case, you hate her, too. But none of that matters. We have a treaty. She’s the keeper of that treaty where you are. You’re too smart to believe Hunter Corp would ever replace her. She’s one of their favored. Do not test my patience on this, Clive. She is protected. You know it. As long as she doesn’t violate the law, she has status both because of the treaty and because of who her father was. And who she is to me.” The hair on Clive’s arms stood at the menace, the warning in The First’s tone.
“Now, I suggest you make sure the Vampire citizens of Las Vegas realize she’ll kill them should they stray and then continue about your business.”
Clive erased all irritation from his voice. He was smooth as glass. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”
The First chuckled again. “I know her better than most ever will. She will ruffle you because it’s in her nature to do so. And because she will find pleasure in it. But she’s deadly and righteous. She will kill you without blinking. She’s quite exceptional that way.” The admiration and pride in his voice were unmistakable, and, Clive had to admit, she was an astonishing specimen.
Chastened, and knowing he could only push so far on the issue, Clive thanked him and hung up.
He straightened his tie and went down several floors to his next meeting. Once the sun went down his schedule was unremarkably like a lot of other executives. He attended a great many meetings. Signed a great many documents. Since he’d fallen into a routine in Vegas it hadn’t been as bloody as his first days in town.
Five months earlier he’d come to a territory lacking any sense of moderation.
Undisciplined people had been running neighborhoods like fiefdoms. Infighting. Skimming of the books, which he’d ended within minutes of finding out of every incidence. The Nation did not tolerate theft. There were no second chances to steal from The First.
After the first few Vampires simply disappeared, they began to understand and fall in line. He’d learned several centuries earlier just how effective a beheading at a conference table or around a campfire could be at correcting any behavioral issues among his people.
Upon entering, he surveyed the room. All the most powerful Vampires in Las Vegas—the ones left alive and those who’d risen to replace those who were no longer—sat utterly still, eyes lowered in deference.
Momentarily satisfied, he nodded, smoothing his tie down.
“The Hunter has returned to Las Vegas. I’ve just met with Rowan Summerwaite. China, you need to tell those mongrels at the Vampyre Theatre to keep their activities in check and I want each of you to underline, with all of your people, the importance of avoiding entanglement with her.”
“How could they let her come back after what she did to Jacques?”
The room chilled as Clive turned all his focus on the female who’d spoken. “I believe we’ve had this discussion before, Wendela. To rehash it is a waste of my time. Is there some reason why you’d want to waste my time? Or perhaps you’re questioning my leadership?”
Wendela shook her head vehemently, lowering her eyes again. They’d all seen a demonstration of just how their Scion could be if he was angry.
Alice, Clive’s personal assistant, sighed and tapped her pen against the tabletop and he repressed a smile at her impertinence.
She looked to him and he nodded slightly, urging her to speak. “We know what Jacques was and what he did. Aside from the messy complication of the human women he killed for sport, he stole from the Nation. Jacques should have been glad the Hunter killed him before The First’s lieutenants arrived.” A unified shudder ran through the room at the memory of the five who’d arrived, silent and stinking of death, and’d gone by the following moonrise.
Clive looked each one of them in the eyes for a moment as he scanned the room. “Many of you are new to Las Vegas so I understand you may not be that impressed by stories of what the Hunter can do. But I want you to believe me when I tell you she will kill you as easily as she draws a breath. She’s a killing machine. We trained her and then the Hunter Corporation finished the job.
“The treaty allows her to kill any of our kind who break the law. I will not tolerate any rule breaking. Do you understand me? I want to be exceedingly clear on this point. I will kill you before she can if I hear about any lawbreaking. And I will enjoy every moment of it. I do not care if you fuck humans and take their blood. But if you kill them? You’re on your own and you’d best walk into the sun rather than face me. I won’t make it fast or easy.”
“What is she, anyway?” China asked. “Sure she’s a Hunter. But what makes this one so special?”
Clive sat a little straighter. “A history lesson? Why not.” He shrugged. “Brigid is a Celtic triple goddess. Which means her power is threefold—the forge and martial arts, inspiration, and healing and fer
tility. It’s the first one you should worry about. Rowan carries a blade, a blessed blade forged by warrior shamans and monks of silver and steel. The blade was created to kill Vampires and you shouldn’t forget that.
“Rowan Summerwaite is the first true Vessel of Brigid in centuries. There’s obviously a dearth of information on just exactly her strengths, but from what I understand, she’s able to channel the power of the Goddess in battle. She’s also arrogant and unafraid, and willing to kill us if she has to.
“Most important to all of you, however, was that she was raised by The First. He was her foster father after his personal servant, her father, was killed. The Hunter knows us all very well, which makes her all the more effective.”
Clive stood, straightened his jacket and went to the door. “Get your quarterly accounting statements to my people by the end of the week.”
Chapter Two
Rowan pulled the Porsche into the VIP lot behind the Corsican. The casino was at the far end of the Strip and catered to a younger, edgier clientele. It also housed the Vampyre Theatre.
While the Lucky Seven had the hottest buffet in Vegas, the groupie line-up backstage at the VT was the best Vampire buffet in the entire state. If you liked to snack on skanks who needed to touch up their roots and should not have gotten tattoos from friends working out of their garages.
Annoyed young women in far too little clothing gave Rowan dirty looks as she cruised past them and through the back door. The bouncers didn’t stop her but she knew they’d called Marv the minute she had her car parked.
She breezed past the ticket booth and took a seat at a table to the left of the stage and declined the drink but accepted the bottled water. They wouldn’t dare attempt to harm her. But she still didn’t plan to lower her reaction time with alcohol either.
The Vampyre Theatre put on a live show complete with fire, bare tits, shaking asses and audience participation. The entire audience thought the Vampires were actors with fake teeth and theatrical makeup. Humans were fascinated with many things they should fear. They went to the show to be fed on as a lark. Oh, and to look at the boobs. One really couldn’t underestimate the draw of naked breasts in any city, especially Las Vegas.
Rowan knew for a fact the fake feedings from audience members were real. Technically, that broke the treaty. All blood exchange with humans had to be consensual and knowing. But she couldn’t stop everything and she didn’t hate Marv enough to stake him over it. In fact, though she’d never admit it out loud, she sort of liked him and the banter they’d honed over the years.
She watched the first part of the show and after half an hour, satisfied they’d all seen she was back at work, got up and left side stage.
The big man waited, arms crossed, blocking her way as she entered the backstage area.
“Hunter. What are you doing here?”
“Did you miss me?” She fluttered her lashes at him.
“Like the fuckin’ clap.”
“I thought you people didn’t get social diseases,” she said, deadpan. “Which, if you don’t mind my saying so, is a good thing given the quality of um, women you’ve got lined up out there. Mere humans would be burning and itching and stuff.” She shuddered.
“Ha. What are you doing here?”
“Just a hello and friendly reminder that taking blood from humans without their knowledge is a violation of the treaty. It’d be a shame if any of those lovely young women got hurt.”
“If we did that—and I’m not saying we do—they consent when they come in the front door. The ticket says they may be called up on stage to be fed to a Vampire.”
She shook her head. “Don’t try to be a lawyer, Marv. Knowing and consensual. Those are the rules. I’d hate to have to come in here every night and watch you juggle fire sticks. Although you know, I was thinking that what this show needed were Vampire poodles jumping through flaming hoops. I’d so totally dig that.”
The glower was back. “Fine. Now go, you’re harshing my buzz. Or are you in charge of that now, too?”
She blew him a kiss as she walked past. “Oh, Marv, how I’ve missed you and your wit! I don’t care about your buzz. But if I’m harshing it, that’s just a wonderful benefit of my job. I’ll be seeing you around. Behave yourself.”
Slipping the valet a five, she slid into her unscathed car and headed out to the other end of the Strip. She had an appointment to meet a contact who supposedly had some hot information for her.
Just minutes later and yet a million miles away from the hotel she was just in, Rowan walked into a dark bar filled with the seedier and more craptastic members of the Las Vegas tourism contingent. This particular casino bar wasn’t going to be featured prominently in the tourism ads.
Smoke hung in the air like a veil, the stink of body odor, desperation and too much alcohol omnipresent.
The carpet had seen better days, along with the cocktail waitresses apparently. But the place sold a real drink. No umbrellas or frothy concoctions. Here in The Reef, two bucks got you plenty of alcohol in a glass and a bowl of pretzels at your table. When you really thought about it, it was more pleasant than fire juggling and fake/real Vampires any day.
Through the haze, Rowan caught sight of Mary Pena waiting at a small table at the back. Ignoring the leers of the leather-skinned men in leisure suits bearing white marks on their fingers where their wedding rings usually sat, she made her way over.
“Hey, Mary.” Rowan sat and flicked her gaze to the waitress and nodded for another round. “What do you have for me?”
Mary’s normally happy expression tightened, along with her mouth as she pushed a file folder across the table to her. “They found a girl outside the city. It’s odd. They don’t know what the hell happened to her. It looked like something up your alley.”
Rowan opened the folder and slowly looked through the pictures and reports. Odd was a word, she supposed, to describe it. Flashes of gaping wounds, of violence and the face of a woman who’d once been someone’s something stayed with her even after she closed the folder.
She pushed a hundred dollar bill across the table. “Thank you, Mary.”
Mary’s brown eyes lit up. “Of course. You know I want to serve.”
As an acolyte to the Goddess, Mary, who worked in the file room of the Las Vegas Police Department, often sent things Rowan’s way. The folder in her hand was pretty big stuff.
“I’ll remember this one. Excellent job.” Rowan stood. “I need to go now. But thank you again.” She touched Mary’s forehead, turned and left the bar.
The night outside had deepened, cooled. Being two miles off the Strip meant the parking lot wasn’t quite as bright or shiny. Quiet was still hours away though.
She’d have to seek out the Scion again and warn him to get his people in check. He’d take it the wrong way and be defensive. Tedious, this whole business.
But for now, she needed to talk to Jack to get his take. Problem was, she’d have to find a way to do it without letting on just how much she knew or how she knew it. Her old friend wasn’t prone to missing many details and she’d have to handle this very carefully.
Chapter Three
After returning home, she got rid of her blade and other weapons and left them, along with the file, well out of sight.
She’d gone out to find Jack in her living room, long legs stretched out, feet on her coffee table as he watched television. A beer sat near his right hand. He’d looked entirely at home there and she had to admit, she liked the way he looked drinking her beer and watching her television.
He fit in her place. They’d been friends a long time and she trusted his opinion, but she knew they had to have it out about her very long absence from Vegas before they could move on and talk about work.
So she gave him as much information as she could about the whys of where she’d been and for how long. He’d been pissed off at how long she’d danced around the truth, telling her bluntly he knew she wasn’t telling him everything. But it had to be en
ough. She couldn’t tell him what she was and that was that.
So she’d apologized profusely and meant it.
She couldn’t deny how much she’d missed him, but she’d had no choice and as much as she could, she tried to make that point clear. He couldn’t know she’d made a kill so high level the fallout caused a shitstorm that embroiled her in meeting after meeting, hearing after hearing for months on end.
Stupid politics.
Hoping he’d find her apology enough, she jerked her head,, motioning toward her kitchen. “I need to talk with you about something I heard. You hungry?”
“I’m starving.” He stood and stretched, apology apparently accepted.
Padding toward her kitchen, she waved him on. “Come on then.”
She pulled out makings for sandwiches, piling them on the counter, and he settled in on one of the stools around the center island.
“So I heard some interesting news about a body you all just found.” She continued working as she spoke, trying to be nonchalant. Most often he told her about the cases she asked after. He wasn’t supposed to without official leave, but she often provided them with a lot of helpful information. Jack was a man who wanted to take out the scum who hurt people. If it meant sharing info with her, he would.
“You heard, huh? How is that?”
She put a plate in front of him and cracked open a beer for both of them before grabbing the folder and sitting down.
“I’ve got my sources. You know that.”
He saw the folder and narrowed his eyes. “Goddamn, woman! How do you do that?” He tried to take it but she snorted and pulled her hand free.
“I’m special, what can I say. Now, just tell me already. It’s not like I don’t know. I want to hear your take on it.”
He sighed and took a bite of the sandwich. “Two days ago we found a body just outside of town. Nasty bit of business. Head nearly ripped off. Never seen anything like it. I know, wouldn’t be the first dead body we find outside town. But this body was nearly totally drained of blood.”