by Mark Henwick
“Can you help?” I said. “I mean with Dominé. I’ve never—”
“You handled binding with Jen just fine, Round-eye, and no, I have to stay here and coordinate security—Skylur’s orders.”
“My eukori isn’t working,” I pointed out. “And I don’t want more kin. I have Alex and Jen, and that’s already a mess. If I can’t even rely on my eukori to feel my way around fixing that, the last thing I want is to upset them by adding another kin to the mix.”
Bian frowned. “Jen and Alex are a problem how?”
I couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed. “They don’t have a problem with me. They still have a problem with each other.”
“That’ll pass.” Bian dismissed it. “And one human kin isn’t enough.”
“Alex is—”
“I know you think Alex’s Blood sustains you, and maybe it has, a bit,” Bian said. “It’s not enough. Why do you think Jen’s looking so pale? You’re taking too much from her.”
I shut up. I’d gotten so self-involved I hadn’t really thought about it. Yes, Jen was paler. And there were the dizzy spells she’d gotten once or twice after I’d bitten her.
I didn’t want sixteen kin like Bian, but I needed more Blood.
What about my eukori problem? Surely I couldn’t bind a person while that wasn’t working.
Yelena cleared her throat. “There’s a Carpathian alternative,” she said.
Bian looked skeptical. Her attitude toward Yelena had eased a little, but she was still that Carpathian spy who’d tricked her way into House Farrell.
Yelena paid it no mind.
“Carpathians don’t use the word kin like Panethus, or toru like Basilikos,” she said. “Kin who are part of a Carpathian House are katikia. This means they are bound to the House, not to an individual Athanate who is part of that House. They can also then be bound to an individual, like Panethus kin.”
“Interesting bit of culture,” Bian said neutrally.
“Amber is Carpathian, in her Blood and potential abilities,” Yelena replied. “I am Carpathian, in my Blood and abilities.”
Bian waited. She didn’t say anything. Yelena’s slate-gray eyes checked with me before she went on. There were Carpathian abilities she didn’t want to discuss with Altau until they were less suspicious of her, but we had to start somewhere.
“I believe I can help bind through Amber,” Yelena said. “This is something Carpathians do in training with eukori. I can share eukori, if you want to think of it that way. Amber bites this woman Dominé and then, working together with eukori, we can bind her as katikia.”
Yelena was just full of surprises.
Would it be that easy? I doubted it, but I needed any help I could get.
Bian’s cell beeped and she spoke rapidly in Athanate to someone before turning back to us.
“All clear,” she said. “We’ve tied up every Empire delegate with security and protocols. We know where they all are and where they’re going. That’s your cue. Go start fixing problems.”
Chapter 14
“Nice place,” Yelena said.
We were on the Pacific Coast Highway, in Torrance, standing in front of the LA version of Club Vasana, Dominé’s newest sex club.
It was in a little enclave off the highway, tucked away behind a screen of restaurants, shops and gyms, all surrounding a large parking lot. The building had once been an architects’ office, and intended as an advertisement for their services. It had tall, smooth, honey-colored stone walls, scored with pale horizontal lines and glowing in the late afternoon light. The monumental look was softened by rows of old Spanish-style arched windows with darkened glass, and the lobby, which emerged from the middle of the building like the triangular prow of a ship.
It suited Dominé’s style—it looked open, yet the inside was hidden.
“I hate the idea of just walking in there and biting her,” I said, not for the first time.
I felt sick. Dominé was a friend. She’d risked a lot to help me in New Mexico. But I had orders from Skylur, and already too much of a history of disobeying.
“I can do it for you,” Yelena said. “Bound to me is bound to House Farrell.”
I shook my head. That would be cowardly, and an even worse way to treat a friend. If it had to be done, I had to do it.
I sighed. “Come on, or we’ll be late.”
For once, I’d called ahead. I was expected.
The doorwoman, even before the club was open for the night, was dressed in a gray top hat and tails with white gloves. She tipped her hat, pressed a call button and opened the doors for us.
“Please take a seat, Ms. Farrell,” she said. “Someone will be with you momentarily.”
The chairs were comfortable and I sat with relief, running and re-running through what I could say to Dominé.
Yelena remained standing, inspecting a wide rack of cloaks and masks. The cloaks were brightly feathered and iridescent, gleaming like oil on water in the dim lighting. The masks were Venetian carnival masks, full face and bone-white, with black and gold domino masks painted on around the eyes and forehead.
Dominé always had themed costumes for her staff, but these looked to be for clients. I shivered. There was something slightly sinister about the masks, especially when Yelena put one on.
Dante arrived.
When I’d last seen her in Albuquerque, Dante had been dressed in a pinstripe Al Capone suit in keeping with the club’s theme. Today, with the club not open yet, she was in casual—a white, button-up man’s shirt and tan Capri pants. Her glossy black hair had grown out a little, but she still wore it parted and brushed to the right. And she still looked about sixteen to me.
“Hello, Ms. Farrell,” she said.
“Hi, Dante. You’re looking well.”
She smiled a little.
“Dominé would like to speak to you alone first.”
I traded glances with Yelena, whose eyes were looking at me from behind a baroque swirl of black and gold paint. With my eukori on the fritz, I needed Yelena’s help to bind Dominé. If she wasn’t in the room, we probably couldn’t do it. But Dante had said ‘first’, so maybe later.
Is it cowardly to not want to do it right away?
Yelena slid the mask off and nodded.
“You could watch the dancing rehearsals,” Dante said to her. “It’s a good show. And it’s okay, it’s not rude—they wear sweats for practice.”
Yelena’s mouth twisted. “Then they’ll be less naked than I was when I danced.”
“I can see you have a good dancer’s body,” Dante replied solemnly. “And that beautiful hair. You’d be very popular here.”
Is this slip of a girl teasing Yelena?
Yelena laughed, and we left her in the main club as Dante led me through to Dominé’s office at the back of the building.
She greeted me with a hug and a kiss on both cheeks, European style.
Her office was bright and airy, but Dominé looked tired and worried.
As ever, her dress was elegant and her white hair was done, but there was something in her face. Had she sensed something threatening from me?
“Wine? Champagne?” she said as Dante left us. “Rum?” Her French accent gave the rum a lovely growl.
“Too early. Just coffee would be fine, thanks.”
Dominé spoke into an intercom, and then pulled me over to a table covered with sketches.
“Come. See my next set of costumes for the staff,” she said proudly, passion displacing worry on her features for a moment. “Here, I especially like these for my boys, don’t you think?”
Shiny black pants, vacuum sealed to follow every contour of calf and crotch. Gray wool jackets with built-up shoulders and pattern stitching to mimic rib cages, open to reveal the abs, of course.
The matching female costume included layered satin dresses like old-fashioned conical beehives, but split up the front.
“You’re getting more elaborate,” I said, and then we were interrupted
by one of her staff bringing the coffee. He was in jeans and barefoot at the moment, which made me smile.
She shrugged off my comment, pressing a finger to her lips in thought.
“People’s fantasies are becoming ever more compliqué,” she said. “If you wish, you can see skin on the internet at any time. Pah! At my club, I seek to immerse people. They must be the leading actors in their own movies. For this you need context.”
“And the masks for customers? The cloaks?” I asked as we sat down. “They’re context too?”
“It all helps. Masks have always been used to free the inhibitions.” She made a gesture. “Behind the mask of anonymity, our true selves can come out. The secret inner spirits are freed; even those we did not know existed. The cloak is a good device, too. That is how they say it, is it not: We cloak our desires?”
We sipped the excellent coffee and I struggled to find the right point to start.
“You have not come to talk costumes with me,” she said quietly. “Not even masks and disguises. But I am pleased you came, vraiment, for I have a problem.”
“Tell me,” I said.
And then I’ll add to your problems.
“When we met Rita in Albuquerque, you heard her talk of meeting me here in LA?”
“Yeah.”
Rita was a were-cougar, a lieutenant in the Albuquerque pack. I wasn’t going to forget her, or her werewolf alpha, Zane, in a hurry.
“Part of the deal I struck with Rita for protection was to open a channel for discussion with the pack in any city where I open a club.”
“Zane wants links with the LA pack?”
She nodded. “But this city!” She threw her hands up. “It is not one pack! It is insane! It’s three or four or five. They can’t even agree how many there are.”
Interesting. I hadn’t thought it would start here, but of course, contacting the local Were was a task for the syndesmon.
“But Rita’s not going to hold you responsible for the way the locals are organized.”
“It’s not Rita that’s the problem.” She took a sip of her coffee and I could see her hand shake slightly. “The biggest of the LA packs, the Pasadena, is the most secretive. They will not even speak to me. Today, I spoke instead to the alpha of the pack that is based down in Redondo.” She replaced her cup neatly on the saucer and folded her hands in her lap. “He warns me that Pasadena have said they will kill me because humans are not supposed to know about the Were.”
“That’s not going to happen,” I growled.
Mine.
Even before I’d spoken about it to her, my Athanate and Were had raced ahead. Dominé was my House, my pack. No jumped-up Californian alpha was going to touch her.
I had to laugh at myself, which was completely inappropriate in front of someone who’d just told me her life had been threatened.
She was looking at me quizzically.
Get back on track.
“Sorry,” I said. “Who else knows anything about your dealings with the Were, here or in Albuquerque?”
She frowned. “No one. This is not safe to know. Rita was very clear. As were you, Amber, when we first met in Denver.”
“Good,” I said, and let my breath whisper slowly out.
Start with the positives. Calmly.
“You are safe from them, and you’ll never have to deal with the Were for protection again.”
She was still looking puzzled. “Good, I think. Why is this?”
“Because you will now be part of the Athanate.”
“This is the name you use for vampire, is it not?”
“The vampire is a myth. The Athanate is the reality.”
“Very well, so I am part of this Athanate community now,” she said carefully. “Why? And what does being part entail?”
I sighed. She’d gotten quickly to the point.
“The why: the same reason as the Pasadena alpha wants to kill you. We protect ourselves from humanity by remaining secret. Weres sometimes kill to achieve that. We usually offer alternatives.”
“But I have known about you others for a long time. I have never spoken of it. Why am I suddenly a risk?”
“The Pasadena alpha doesn’t know you. He’s having a knee-jerk reaction,” I said. “For the Athanate, it’s much more complex. I’m afraid that you’re a victim of Athanate politics. On my own, I was satisfied that you were not a risk.” I took a deep breath. “But I’ve been ordered to ensure it. I must make you part of my House. My kin.”
The shock in her face was quickly hidden and there was barely a rattle of the coffee cup as she replaced it on the saucer.
“Kin? You used that name down in Albuquerque. You came, into great danger, looking for kin because of an obligation on you.” Her face went calm and thoughtful. “It is rather pleasant to contemplate being that important to someone.”
Despite the implication of what she said, I was sure that most of her staff thought she was that important to them.
I had to tell her what kin was. At least the Carpathian version—katikia.
My mouth was dry.
Take control of the conversation. Talk about the positives.
“There are other benefits to being kin,” I said brightly. “Health and long life.”
“Oh! That sounds like a drinking toast.” She smiled to take the sting from it.
Dominé was a very clever and sensitive woman. I could see she knew how I was trying to make my case, and no doubt she guessed some of what I was avoiding as well.
And she hadn’t run screaming.
I felt myself beginning to relax for the first time since Yelena and I had set out on this task.
Is this going to be easier than I thought?
“Oww!” There was a yelp of pain outside the closed door.
I leaped out of my chair, hand instinctively closing on the gun in my shoulder holster. Before I reached the door, it had opened.
Yelena was standing there, looking grim and holding Dante’s arm behind her back. “Look who’s been getting an earful,” she said.
Chapter 15
“Shit!” I yelled at Dante. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
A quick check of the corridor showed there was no one else there.
We hauled her inside and let her go.
Dominé had gotten up to comfort her, but the look on Dante’s face wasn’t much about needing comfort. She’d heard every word—about the Athanate, and about me having to make Dominé kin.
“I haven’t heard anything that’s changed my mind,” she said defiantly.
“Because you don’t understand!”
“Explain please, Amber. Explain about kin. Be clear.” Dominé got us sitting down on the sofa with Dante between us and her arm around Dante’s shoulders. Yelena stood behind us, leaning against the back of the sofa.
“To make you kin, I have to bite you,” I said.
“Cool,” Dante said.
“It’s not biting that makes you kin.” I ground my teeth in frustration. This wasn’t how I wanted to present it, all rushed and ugly. “It’s binding. Affecting your brain. You stop being a security threat to the Athanate because we take that option away from you by changing the way you think. By forcing you to be part of us.”
Dante looked a little less sure for the first time.
Dominé frowned. “But if I would not have told anyone else about you anyway, what is it that you have taken away from me?”
“A bit of your free will,” I said.
There. Said it.
“In return for which, we have your protection, which is uppermost in my mind at the moment, and health and longer life.” Dominé sat back. “This is not such a bad thing, at least not for me.”
Dante tossed her head. “I bet there are other benefits, too. Y’know, like friends,” she made quotes in the air, “with benefits. Vampire orgies and stuff.”
“There aren’t…” I started, but Yelena shook her head fractionally.
What? Orgies? Crap, I sti
ll had too much to learn.
“Vamp guys are hot too, aren’t they?” Dante hadn’t noticed my verbal stumble.
“The stories are exaggerated,” I said lamely.
Athanate had to put effort into staying Athanate—constant exercise and training to keep the body in peak condition. Disfiguring injuries would disappear. Features tended to become more regular, more attractive, and being Athanate gave you pheromones and confidence and, yes, Athanate were ‘hot’, but I wasn’t going to tell Dante that. She was already getting the wrong idea. I glared at her.
“Are there any other options for Dante?” Dominé asked.
“Yeah, Yelena could scrub her head out so she remembered nothing from today. Too difficult for you—you’ve been dealing with paranormals for too long, in too many ways. But it’d work with her.”
“No!” Dante said. “You think I don’t know about the deal in New Mexico with the pack? Anyway, not relevant. Don’t you understand? I want what you’re offering. It’s so cool. I mean, why else am I in this kind of club if I don’t dig it on the edge? And I’m sorry, Dominé, the club’s great, but it’s like make believe. These guys are the real deal.”
I gave up on Dante and concentrated on Dominé.
“I don’t think either of you appreciate what—”
She put up a hand to stop me.
“When we first met…” Dominé stopped and closed her eyes. We’d met while I was still in the police and she ran just the one club in Denver. Her staff had been attacked by Basilikos Athanate. I’d killed the Basilikos, but too late for some of her staff.
When she spoke again, her voice had a tiny quaver in it. “My poor Valerie. And my poor sweet, sweet Marcus.” She sighed, looking much older than she had back then. “The Athanate who attacked them—they did not discuss. They compelled. They damaged Marcus’ memory before they killed him. And you say you could do that. You could make us forget or simply compel us to obey, is it not so? And yet you chose not to.”