Sanguinity (Henri Dunn Book 3)

by Tori Centanni

  Shit.

  At least they were on the other side of the building. For now.

  “Come on!” I yelled, leaning down to pop the trunk. I thought about honking, but vampires had good hearing. Lark rushed outside and dove into the trunk, closing it after her. Harold got in my backseat, more covered and able to risk a little sun through my car windows.

  I pulled away just as a second fire truck pulled up to the side of the building. I hoped to god they didn’t realize we’d been inside the building, or that no “Good Samaritan” had seen us flee and jotted down my license plate number.

  I drove downtown, unsure where to go, annoyed at the brightness of the sun. Of course today of all days was bright and sunny, rather than a cool, overcast gray. My nose itched and I kept sneezing, which made it hard to drive.

  Finally, I pulled into a parking garage underneath a shopping center. At least the dark would allow us to talk and figure out something.

  I parked on the bottom floor of the structure in a back corner. The lot was crowded, but I managed to find a space between several empty spots. Harold took off his helmet. I popped the trunk as soon as I parked.

  Lark let out a long breath as she pulled off the ski mask and gloves.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Harold asked. He was still wearing pajama pants that had little white polka dots on them beneath a heavy terrycloth robe that gave his legs extra cover. The polka dots clashed with his duster and biker helmet.

  Lark looked pointedly at me. After all, I’d come rushing in. I must have known something. I hated that she was right, because I really hated to be the bearer of bad news, especially to a vampire who had every right to be utterly pissed off.

  “It was some of the mortals you kicked out,” I said, glancing around the parking garage. No one else was down here right now, but I could only imagine that if a security guard came through, the three of us loitering was going to raise questions. “They started the fire.”

  Lark swore softly. Harold shook his head, as if that definitely couldn’t be true.

  “If you knew what they were planning—” Lark began.

  I held up a hand to cut her off. “Elliot called me. He wasn’t part of the plan and wanted me to stop them.” Not entirely true. If he’d really wanted me to stop them, he’d have called a lot sooner and given me time to stop the morons from setting the library ablaze in the first place. Elliot wanted to save his own ass, knowing damn well that if Lark survived—as she had—she was going to exact her revenge on all of the mortals, regardless of the part they played in this attack. “I got there as fast as I could. The library was already engulfed. The windows had blown out from the heat.”

  Lark seethed, her jaw set tight. Harold’s head snapped up. “Oh shit,” he said. “Where’s Bea?”

  Between my head shaking and Lark’s stone-faced expression, Harold got the picture and swore again.

  A car pulled around the corner and parked in the row across from us. I closed the trunk of my car, as if I had just gotten something out and we weren’t all hanging out here because the vampires needed shelter from the sun.

  When the man got in the elevator, I said, “We can’t stay here. Where do you want to go?”

  Lark and Harold exchanged questioning looks. Neither seemed to have an answer. I sighed, already regretting what I was about to say.

  “My apartment is still vampire-proof,” I said.

  But to my surprise, Lark shook her head. “We need to be somewhere more secure.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  She ignored my sarcasm. “Sean’s.”

  “Sean’s?” I nearly choked on the name, gasping it as it traveled up my throat. But then, why not? Sean was Lark’s sire, too. They’d never been all that close, but there was a bond between sire and fledgling. Sean would definitely help her.

  More than he helped me, a bitter voice inside me said.

  Which wasn’t fair, of course. Our situations were wildly different. It didn’t stop the thought from racing through my brain.

  “Okay. What’s his address?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

  “Not his current one, no. The guy changes houses like people change socks.”

  She made a gimme gesture. “Phone. I was too shocked to grab mine.”

  I dug my phone out of my purse and handed it over. She handed it back with the map app open to an address in West Seattle. Well, at least I’d known that much. “Text him for the front-door code. It’s usually your birthday, but he might have changed it.”

  “My birthday?” My heart hammered in my chest. What the hell did Sean’s fucking security codes matter? Sean wouldn’t even tell me where he lived, and clearly it wasn’t a secret, because Lark knew. So fuck him and all of his security codes. I typed the text as tersely as I could manage: “Heading to your place. Need door code. Emergency.”

  Lark crawled back in the trunk and Harold put on his helmet and off we went to my sire’s house while I blasted loud music and wondered if I shouldn’t have just let them all burn.

  Chapter 9

  Sean lived in an older house on a slope, so it looked like it was one story, but the second story was built into the hillside. The house was green with white trim and nothing about it said “a nine-hundred-year-old vampire lives here.” The front door had a keypad instead of a lock. I typed in my mortal birthday, 11-02-03. The small light on the lock flashed red and the door handle didn’t turn.

  I glanced back at the car, which I’d backed into the driveway. Lark was in the trunk until the door was opened and she could safely race inside and out of the sunlight.

  Sean had not replied to my text.

  I sighed and typed in the date I’d been made into a vampire: 06-25-27. The light turned green, and when I turned the knob, it opened.

  I stepped inside just to check the layout. The entryway was small and crowded by a coat hanger and key rack. There was a wall straight in front of me, and a hallway that split off in either direction. It was dark. There was no direct sunlight.

  I went to the car. Harold was already getting out. I popped the trunk. Lark jumped out like a spider from a trapdoor nest and was inside within seconds. Harold walked at a normal human speed, apparently not unfamiliar with sashaying around in the daytime in his biker gear, although once inside, he rubbed his pajama-clad legs. The pants weren’t really thick enough for a vampire’s safety, even beneath his robe.

  I shut the door and called, “Sean?”

  Lark was already moving inside with the familiarity of someone who’d been there before. That irked me, too. What, were they having midnight vampire tea and not inviting me? Why had she been here and I hadn’t?

  Petty, stupid thoughts. I knew I was being ridiculous and swallowed them down, but they still managed to burn a little.

  I follow Lark to a staircase and we both headed down. The windows on the lower level were blacked out. It was set up like a studio apartment, minus the kitchen: living area on one side, king-size bed and dresser on the other. Sean was sitting on the edge of the bed, his black hair mussed, wearing boxers and a t-shirt. He blinked at us and then turned to his bedside clock.

  “Guess you didn’t get my message,” I said.

  He shook his head. A pang went through me at the sight of him disheveled from sleep, hair flattened by the pillow, his fangs out as he yawned. That had been a familiar sight once. But it had been a long time since then. Twenty years? Thirty? Before I’d come to Seattle, that was for sure.

  He met my eyes and gave me an impish smile when he caught me staring. Bastard. I looked away.

  “I’m happy to host clandestine meetings, but I do prefer to hold them at night,” Sean said, standing and going over to the closet to the right of his bed to find pants.

  “The mortals set the Factory on fire,” Lark said. Her tone was flat, devoid of emotion. She was simply stating facts. Inwardly, I knew she had to be seething and possibly calculating her next ten moves, but she exuded calm and control
.

  “Which mortals?” Sean asked.

  “The ones Lark kicked out,” Harold said. He’d taken off his helmet and taken a seat on the ivory-colored sofa.

  “Why did you kick them out?” Sean asked, pulling on a pair of jeans.

  “They did not belong. Cazimir let them infest the place like stray cats. I decided it was time to clean house.” Lark folded her arms over her chest. “They set the library on fire. I don’t know how they got past the security guards. There should have been people at the doors to keep them out.”

  An uneasy feeling went through me, but I figured they must have bribed the guards. Lark caught my eye and then took a seat in an easy chair that matched the sofa. Her look dared me to speak. When I didn’t, she said, “Go on. Say ‘I told you so’ so that we can move on.”

  “I didn’t say so,” I said. She raised an eyebrow. “I told you it was a dick move to kick them out. I didn’t say they were going to try and burn the damn place down with you inside. I knew they were upset, but I didn’t think they were homicidal.” I glanced from Lark to Harold, whose expression could best be described as “murderous.”

  “Or suicidal,” I added.

  “Odd choice,” Sean said. He’d come up silently beside me and his voice was so close to my ear it startled me. He smiled down at me, amused that he’d caught me off guard, and put an arm around my back. He didn’t pull me closer, but the weight of his arm was familiar. “What exactly are they hoping to accomplish?”

  I thought back to the mortals on the sidewalk, awestruck by their own arson.

  “I don’t think most of them really thought it through,” I said.

  “They’re easy enough to deal with,” Lark said, waving a hand. “The authorities, however…”

  Cazimir had been paying various mortal groups—utility companies among them—to disregard the amount of power and water a supposedly abandoned historical factory used. Now that there’d been a fire, the mortal authorities would figure out that the Factory had housed people like a hotel and it would raise questions. Lots of questions.

  “I wonder what Cazimir would do,” I said, and then immediately bit my tongue. Sean tightened his arm around me.

  “Where is Cazimir?” Lark asked.

  “With a fledgling,” Sean said, not missing a beat. “They’re working on restoring him to immortality.”

  Lark nodded, as if that made sense. And it wasn’t even a lie, just a convenient half-truth.

  Sean used his free hand to push a strand of my hair back around my ear. Then he tugged me backward, toward the bed, until we were sitting on the edge of it, facing the living area. I let him, following his lead, because I was shaking and tired. The smell of smoke clung to all of us like we’d been marinating in it. My throat felt raw and my lungs ached. Sitting next to Sean, feeling the press of his body against mine, was reassuring in a way I hadn’t realized I needed. I let myself indulge in it for once, rather than shoving it away. I’d probably come to regret it, but at the moment, I didn’t care.

  “Tell me the whole story,” Sean said.

  Lark and I took turns explaining the progression of events, from the mortals’ eviction to Elliot’s warning call. Lark spoke about how she’d woken with a start and known something was wrong. I spoke about seeing the mortals watching their dirty work before hopping into a van and speeding off.

  Sean and Harold listened, Harold not bothering to add anything. When we were finished, Sean ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Who owns the Factory? Legally, I mean?”

  “A shell corporation owned by one of Cazimir’s aliases,” Lark said.

  Sean nodded. “We can’t do anything until sunset. I propose the three of us attempt to get some sleep, and tonight we’ll go in as employees of said corporation and mitigate the damage. Then we can assess the physical damage and work on starting repairs.”

  Lark let out a breath. She had been tense, but I only realized it when her muscles relaxed. Sean had a knack for fixing problems, unless they were ones he caused.

  “Come on, Henri,” Sean said, standing. “I’ll walk you out.”

  Sean’s words landed like a slap, but I knew there was no malice in them. It would be boring for a mortal to sit around while vampires slept all day.

  Sean told Lark to pull out the sofa bed and then led me upstairs, to the entryway near the front door. He turned me toward him and examined my face, as if inspecting me for damage. Then he ran a finger down my cheek.

  “You really shouldn’t go running into burning buildings. Have I taught you nothing?”

  I rolled my eyes. I’d saved Lark’s life, and both Sean and she knew it. Sure, Lark probably would have been able to get somewhere dark before the heat of the sun made her burst into flames, but it would have been harder and something might have gone wrong, especially if firemen had stormed in and tried to “rescue” her.

  “How about a thank you?”

  He smiled. “I’m not the one who owes you that.”

  We stood, neither of us moving, only a foot or so apart. I didn’t want to leave, but beyond that, I wasn’t sure what I wanted. To yell at him, maybe. To demand to know why Lark got to be so close to him and I was always held at arm’s length. To ask about why he used my birthday—my vampire birthday—as his door code.

  But I didn’t want to start a fight with Harold and Lark right downstairs. Our fights were loud and often involved breaking things.

  “Why are you here?” I asked.

  Sean’s forehead knit together. “In my house?”

  “Seattle.”

  “Why do you think?”

  “Hell if I know why you do anything, Sean.”

  He smirked. “You are impossibly stubborn. For what it’s worth, I’ve owned this house for over a decade. But I come and go. You know that about me.”

  I opened my mouth and closed it. I’d never seen this house. I’d barely seen Sean in the last decade. I wasn’t surprised to learn he had a house here. He tended to have houses all over the place, paid for with wealth he never spoke about but infused his entire being, from his designer jeans right down to his designer socks. Nine hundred years was a long time to amass a fortune.

  “What do you really want to ask me, Henrietta?” Sean leaned closer, his voice low and soft. His blue eyes were bright, shining with preternatural light.

  Sean and I had a very complicated history, but it was easy to forget the number of times he’d left me cold when he looked at me like that.

  I shook my head. “I should go,” I said.

  He sighed and ran his fingers through his inky black hair. “Of course. Don’t let me stop you.” He kissed my forehead lightly and then vanished in a blink, gone so that I could open the door without exposing him to sunlight.

  I felt hollow, emptied out by everything—dead vampires and comatose Cazimir and the Factory fire, and Sean, and how he always made me so damn cranky.

  I went home to shower until I could get the smoke out of my hair.

  Chapter 10

  The next evening, as I was putting leftover Thai food into the fridge, my phone rang. This time it really was Erin, so I answered.

  “There’s been another ritual,” she said without preamble.

  “Oh.”

  “That’s it? ‘Oh’?”

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to keep me in the loop anymore,” I said. “Isn’t that what your Elders said?”

  “I’m one of the Elders. And I don’t care what the rest of them say. We need help to ferret out who’s behind this. Besides, this victim is a vampire, too. If the vampires find out…” She trailed off and let me mentally fill in the rest. Someone would have some explaining to do, and she wanted that someone to be me. “Can you come look at the scene or not?”

  “I can.” Honestly, if she hadn’t kept me in the loop, I’d have found a way to get in on my own. As long as vampires were being murdered, I refused to stand by and do nothing. But it was a relief not to have to follow Erin and force it out of her, and e
ven more of a relief to have something to do.

  I’d spent the day trolling Craigslist for job postings. There’d been exactly one job that was even worth applying for, and writing the stupid cover letter and filling out the tedious online application had taken me most of the afternoon.

  “I’ll be there in ten. Twenty, if traffic sucks,” she said, then hung up.

  I pulled on my leather jacket, grabbed my purse, and at the last minute, decided to grab my sword. That meant putting on a belt to hold the sheath. Once it was secured, I did my best to hide it with my coat (it didn’t really work) and then I headed downstairs to wait for Erin.

  At the building’s front door, I found Sean and stopped short, my heart skipping a beat. Sean looked handsome, the yellow light of the porch lights casting shadows over his pale face. His dyed black hair had hues of blue that brought out his eyes. He wore jeans, a white t-shirt with indecipherable black graffiti on the front, and a black sport coat. He was fiddling with the call box.

  I pushed open the door. “Looking for someone?”

  He smiled brightly at me. “Not at all. I just love to hit random buttons and see what happens.”

  I shook my head, unable to stop the smile that spread across my face. I was immensely glad to see him, largely because now I could be sure that, although vampires might have been ruthlessly murdered in this new ritual, Sean was not among them.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. That was my constant question for Sean, who did exactly two things well: act on impulse and leave me in the lurch. Sometimes he did both at once. He also had a habit of returning as though nothing had happened, as though he’d left no damage behind.

  “One might get the impression he’s not wanted when greeted in such a way,” he said, still smiling, but there was a shadow across his face.

  “It’s a reasonable question,” I pointed out.

  Something slipped in his expression, the smile flickering like a light bulb that was going out. But he recovered. “I thought you might like to know that the Factory situation has been handled with the authorities.”