That was the wolf part of him fighting the human part for dominance.
Enough thinking, Mike thought, and carefully got to his feet. The wound had stopped bleeding hours ago, and he slowly eased some weight onto his right rear paw. He damned near howled in agony when he took a step, but silence was as imperative as moving. He had to be a ghost, a shadow—even if a limping one.
Mike ignored the pain and slinked up the alley. He had to get out of here before they found him.
They?
He listened very carefully. The distant static of police radios caught his attention, and he made out the sounds of distinct car engines circling the nearby streets. His subconscious must have been aware of the pattern for some time, but now the sentient part of his awareness figured it out.
There was no doubt that the lycanthrope was looking for him. But so were the cops.
“Congratulations on your cleverness,” the vampire said, taking a seat opposite Michele. Even coming from a monster, the sarcasm grated.
Michele didn’t offer any excuses. “We didn’t get the brat or the bitch, but you don’t have to rub it in. Next time—”
“I’m not sure there will be a next time.”
Michele glanced toward the entrance of the restaurant. The rest of the Purists were due to meet her here at any moment. They wouldn’t react well to having a vampire in the same room with them, even if this one was a sort of ally.
“This isn’t a good time to talk,” she told the vampire.
“I quite agree. But since I have pressing duties to attend to, now will have to do.”
Well, the sooner she was away from the vampire, the better. This superior, supercilious creature made her skin crawl. She’d never reacted so strongly to one of its kind before. She didn’t know if she was more repulsed by what it was, or attracted to the psychic power it exuded.
She knew it wanted her to look it in the eyes, but she fought the urge to obey. “Do you have information I can use?”
“Your targets are leaving town,” the vampire answered.
Michele swore. “When? Is there any way we can get at them?”
The vampire gestured dismissively. “Don’t worry about them. Let’s discuss the problem you caused me with your clever little charade.”
This time Michele couldn’t help staring at the vampire. “What are you talking about?”
With her gaze caught, all she could do was listen.
“I am talking about your crew disguising yourselves as my crew. Your place in my scheme, little human, is to draw my kind’s attention away from my activities. I set you on the child to focus the Family on hunting down an old, convenient enemy. But what do you do? You draw their attention to the very thing I’m trying to divert them from.” The vampire tsked. “I’m very unhappy about that.”
Fear rippled through Michele, and she felt the vampire tightening its mental control over her, letting her know how easy it was for it to make her its puppet. This creature had no regard for the agreed-upon rules vampires had observed in the last century about how they used their powers. Not all of them could exert this sort of mind control, but this one—
“Yes, I am unique,” the vampire boasted. “And I have grown bored with being good. I’ve decided I want to be very, very rich, so I’ve been taking what I want from the mortals. I have nothing to fear from their law enforcement, but I knew that it was only a matter of time before my own kind would start noticing the psychic nature of the crimes. So I set you up as a diversion for our own law enforcement. Then you showed up at the Cages’ disguised as my crew. I am very angry you did that, but I have managed to salvage the situation.”
The creature reached across the table to squeeze Michele’s wrist. The only reason Michele didn’t scream was because the vampire wouldn’t let her.
“I have a friend who would like to eat you,” the vampire said. “If I didn’t still think I could use you, I would let him. The Cages are leaving, but I have another assignment for you.”
“Another diversion,” Michele managed to grate out.
“Just so.” The vampire’s attention flicked away from Michele for a moment as one of the Purists arrived and took a seat at the table. The vampire smiled at him. “Hello, Andrew.”
He smiled back, and looked into the vampire’s eyes. “Hi.”
“There’s something I want you to do for me,” the vampire told him. “I want you to kill Phillipa Elliot.”
His gaze still locked into the vampire’s, Andrew smiled more widely. “Okay.”
“Now I know what Octavia meant,” Matt told Jason Cage.
He’d come up close behind the younger vampire, who was projecting a silence that affected every living thing in the backstage space, vampire and animal alike.
Jason didn’t react to Matt’s sudden presence but continued to project calm. There were quite a few caged animals in the area, including a pair of wolves lying in the shadows by the room’s back wall, big cats mostly. Some of the animals were roaming free; Jason’s hand was on the head of a white tiger, and the animal was leaning against him, looking up adoringly.
Jason wore tight black trousers tucked into high boots and a black velvet vest decorated with embroidery and jewels, but no shirt. A modern stage magician’s costume, Matt supposed.
Jason continued petting the tiger as Matt went on. “When Octavia said, ‘Go feed your beasts,’ I didn’t think she meant it literally.”
“Why not?” Jason asked. He glanced sideways at Matt. “The sneaking up is a nice trick, by the way, especially if George and Gracie didn’t detect you.” The wolves’ heads lifted at what must be their names. “But you don’t need to show off for me.”
Matt shrugged. “Keeping in practice. Besides, there was a sign at the door saying no unauthorized persons allowed.”
Jason gestured at the animals. “There’s a good reason for that. I wouldn’t want my babies getting into trouble because some stupid human walked in here and got slashed to ribbons.”
“That would be a shame. I’m happy to see that your sympathy isn’t with the humans.”
“Why would it be?” Jason turned to face him, very much a Prime ready for a fight. Behind him, the tiger began to pace.
“Tuck your fangs in, lad.” Matt held his hands up before him. “Do you have time to take me on right now?”
“Aren’t you a little old for Prime games?” Jason shot back.
Matt chuckled. “No Prime ever outgrows this nonsense—we just come to realize that it is nonsense, even if we can’t stop posturing. I’ll even apologize for provoking you this time. You’ve heard from Octavia?”
“Yes, damn you.” Jason closed his eyes for a second. He was calm when he looked at Matt again. “What do you want?”
Matt didn’t mind that the other Prime was grudging, as long as he followed custom and was cooperative. “I detected a certain amount of sympathy toward the Purists from you.”
Jason gave a harsh bark of laughter, causing the tiger to snarl. “I said they’re pathetic—which is not the same as sympathetic. I’m on stage in three minutes,” he added.
“Tell me where to find them and I’ll leave.”
“Why would I know where—Cooperate,” he grumbled, then sighed. “The only one I know about is a loser named Andrew. He showed up in the audience a couple of times and tried to disrupt the show. Having to keep him quiet and control the animals was a pain. He found out where I lived and tried to get my neighbors to drive a stake through my heart. So I moved, and took out a restraining order against him. It would have been easier to make him forget me—but you know I’m not allowed to do that sort of thing anymore.”
“The details of your parole are not under my jurisdiction, mate. Where do I find this Andrew?”
“The last I heard, he works at one of the old casinos on Fremont Street. If you hang out there for a while I’m sure he’ll find you. Will you leave now?”
“Gladly.”
Matt turned, and before he took a step, he knew. H
er presence was a heady perfume. “Phillipa,” he whispered.
She was here. Nearby. In the theater. And she wasn’t alone.
Why? The thought was mixed with both jealousy and need—to see her again. To claim her.
At least to see her one last time, if only from a distance.
Goddess, bonding made a male pathetic! Especially if the Prime tried to go all Clan-style noble and fight the instinct.
But he also wondered what Phillipa’s interest was in Jason Cage—and he intended to find out.
Chapter Twenty-one
Y our wolf expert is a magician?” Even as she asked, Phillipa realized the answer. “Of course, or why else would we be here?”
Pete grinned as he took the seat beside her. “Because this act is getting great buzz, so I thought we’d mix pleasure with business. I’ve been dying to see the Beast Master do his thing, and we can go backstage afterward.”
Phillipa smiled back at him. Pete was trying to entertain her, and she appreciated the effort. “Thanks.”
She had concerns about stage shows involving trained animals, though she was more worried about the animals being well treated than about tigers jumping into the audience. That scenario was a remote possibility, and she supposed it was the almost subconscious frisson of fear of what might happen that made this sort of show so popular. It was scary-fun, like riding a roller coaster, not nearly as adrenaline-charged as chasing a suspect down a dark alley.
I miss adrenaline. But she was going to have to adjust to living without it, like large helpings of pasta or—
Matthias Bridger?
Even thinking his name was like a knife twisting in her gut. It was as if she’d heard his voice whispering in her ear, and she couldn’t help but look around, no matter how foolish she knew it was.
The theater seating rose in a wide half circle from the stage. The plush seats were upholstered in black velvet, the walls at back were draped in black velvet curtains, and the thick carpeting was also dark. The whole effect was cavelike and mysterious. An exotic tone of sensuality was added by the long-legged waitresses wearing little more than bright feathers and sequins as they moved along the wide aisles taking drink orders. The auditorium was rapidly filling up, and there was a lot of anticipation and excitement in the air.
“Looks like the place is SRO,” she said.
Pete looked smug. “I called in a favor to get us into the performance.”
She reached up to touch his cheek. He was such a nice, normal man, and she really was very touched. She could learn to live without adrenaline, right?
“Thank you. I appreciate this,” she said.
For a moment, everything went red. When the world came back into focus, Phillipa was on her feet, and she was shaking with reaction she knew, from emotions not her own. Anger. Jealousy. Regret. Bitterness—they’d all blown through her in one painful instant, like being hit with a category-five hurricane.
Pete was standing beside her, his hand on her arm. “What’s the matter? How can I help?”
She didn’t want anyone but him touching her! She fought down the urge to shake off Pete’s concerned touch and looked around, certain she was being watched. By a hurricane named Matthias.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She gave a shaky laugh. “A little rattled, that’s all.” She was just imagining things.
“You’ve had a rough day.”
Pete’s sympathy grated against her nerves, but she made herself nod and let him help her back into her seat. As she sat, the house lights began to go down.
She was wearing red, a silky slip dress that emphasized the curve of her breasts and hips and showed off the toned muscles of her arms and back. Damn, but his Phillipa was beautiful. Matt stood in the back of the theater and watched her hungrily.
He had to let the mortal touch her, talk to her, comfort her. He had abrogated his rights, but he hated it. It hurt, too. It was stupid to stand here and watch, but he had to make sure she was all right.
Custom said it was wrong to fight the bonding urge, and he was quickly learning that custom was based on a biological and psychic imperative that was hard to resist. Custom also said the bond was a perfect thing, a beautiful completion.
Maybe.
But he’d witnessed the dark side of the bond, knew what threat it could hold over a Prime and his bonded, knew what devastation came with the loss of such perfect love. He’d watched the Prime who’d trained him fall apart after losing his human lover to a vengeance killing. He wouldn’t leave Phillipa open to that sort of danger.
She’d already been attacked once, in the never-ending war between mortals and vampires, and he wouldn’t leave until he was certain she was safe. He should be out hunting for this damned Andrew right now.
But Phillipa was here—probably only to watch the show—and Jason Cage had just come strutting out onto the stage. He’d stay near Phillipa a while longer, at least until the show was over.
She still felt like she was being watched, but she ignored the sensation to concentrate on what was going on on the stage. The first thing she noticed were the two wolves. They were lovely creatures, lithe and lean, and they didn’t look the least bit tame.
The man they walked beside was amazingly similar to his dangerous pets. He was tall and broad-shouldered but whipcord lean, his sharp features dramatically enhanced by stage makeup. He was dressed in velvet and jewels, and in this totally unexpected setting it took her a moment to recognize him.
“Wait a minute,” she whispered to Pete. “I know that guy. The Beast Master is one of Marc’s innumerable cousins.”
“His name’s Cage,” Pete whispered back. “I wondered if there was a connection.”
“He was at the christening.”
She didn’t mention that when she’d last seen the Beast Master, he’d been trying to pick her up. Of course, that led her thoughts back to Matt Bridger and his possessive reaction to the come on. She’d been annoyed at the time, but remembering it sent a shock of desire through her.
And just like that, all the pleasure went out of the evening. There was a hole inside of her because he wasn’t with her. It hurt so badly, she was tempted to get on a plane to England to find him.
Get over him. She’d made her choice when she took him to her bed. She’d known he was going to leave; she had no excuse to feel sorry for herself. Get on with your life. Watch the show.
She really did try to pay attention, but watching the animals was more entertaining than any of the illusions the magician performed. The big cats were the showpieces, going through their paces with no more direction than a look or gesture.
The wolves didn’t take an active part in the performance, but they went everywhere with Cage, flanking him at all times. This only added to the Beast Master’s strong aura of commanding alphahood, the sort of behavior guaranteed to make the women in the audience all hot and bothered. Phillipa recognized the blatant sensuality, but it didn’t do a thing for her.
While she didn’t exactly get bored, after a while her mind wandered off in other directions. There was something she needed to remember. Something had been said or done at the hospital that had almost brought up a memory. This memory was valuable. It was a clue, wasn’t it? Something? Someone?
Bridger?
Stop thinking about him and get your mind on the case. This someone has something to do with the case, doesn’t he? Okay, it’s a he. Young and tall and—a nutjob.
One of the attackers had been tall, the one that had done all the shooting.
The memory of the conversation at the airport came rushing back to her.
“Let me help you. You’re in danger. They haven’t corrupted you yet, but it’s only a matter of time. It’s dangerous for me to be talking to you. I’m under orders not to approach, but it’s wrong not to try to save the innocent. You’re sister’s already damned, and—”
“All right. That’s it.” Phillipa spun around to face the nut. “What is the matter with you?” she demanded. “What ab
out my sister?”
“It’s not really her fault, but she’s beyond saving now. He made her what she is.”
“Who?”
“The vampire.”
She’d dreamed about Bridger being a vampire, hadn’t she? It must have been her subconscious’s way of connecting the nutjob to the attack. After all, if there was one thing she was bound to pay attention to, it was any reference to Matt Bridger. But it was her sister who was in danger.
Had they attacked her sister because they really thought Jo was involved with vampires? Did they think Marcus was a vampire? Why? Because Brandon already had a tooth? That was a little odd, but no reason to try to kill a mother and baby. There was no reason for what they’d tried to do, and she was going to see that they were put away.
Her gut told her that the nut from the airport was involved. She was going to have to find this guy, and fast.
As applause began, she realized the show was over, and she joined the rest of the audience as they rose for a standing ovation. Pete looked at her, and she saw that he was grinning like a kid.
“Good show,” she managed, though she had no memory of whatever the last spectacular trick had been.
“Great,” Pete said. “Fantastic. Now let’s go talk to Mr. Cage.”
She suppressed a nagging worry that she might have to ask a few questions of another Mr. Cage. Lead on,” she said to the LVPD detective. She was anxious to get this over with, so she could get on with her own case.
Phillipa was always amazed at the places the flash of a detective’s badge could get you into. A headliner’s dressing room was not the oddest place she’d been on police business, but it was certainly the most interesting. The Beast Master’s quarters were bigger than her apartment, with a kitchenette and large seating area. A thick blue floral carpet covered the floor, and the ceiling was painted with clouds and gilded cherubs. Vases of flowers and stuffed animals were everywhere, gifts from fans, she supposed. She was still too new to Las Vegas not to be impressed by the glitz and glamour.
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