The Sin Eater (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 5)

by Jennifer Harlow

  My eyes narrow. “What did you do?”

  “She placed me in charge of one of her budding businesses, a large shipping company, that would have cornered the market, and I neglected it. I wished to travel, to attend parties, explore, enjoy myself, and drumming up clients and submitting permits simply did not seem that important.”

  “She wanted you to grow up, and you wanted to stay in Neverland,” I say.

  He nods. “It was almost a century later we finally reconnected, and she told me she had been grooming me to become the number two in her empire, but at the time I believed it was solely her way to keep me on a leash.”

  “She wanted you to reach your potential, to discover your worth,” I say.

  “Yes. And I failed her at almost every turn. I let near on a century pass before I could face her again. It took her years to rebuild what my negligence destroyed in mere months. But she forgave me. She even admitted my suspicions were correct, that it was in part an attempt to keep me close. She is one of the few people I have ever considered a true friend. Someone I wholly trust. I trust her with my life. And yours. She will protect you. She will know how to proceed.”

  “And if you’re wrong? Forgive me but I’ve never had much luck when I’ve met your exes.”

  “She is different. Truly. We came to Los Angeles a few years before the railroad and after the Civil War. Then it was a mere village. A lawless, wild village, but had such potential. She purchased parcels of land on the waterfront, then where we discovered the railroad stations would be constructed. She built that shipping company despite my fumblings, invested in multiple factories, she even helped expand the harbor at San Pedro to make it a major trade hub. She is a billionaire possibly hundreds of times over and is the first and only ruler of Los Angeles. Connor arrived in San Diego a decade later, easily dispatching Lord Alonzo who held that territory for twenty-five years, and immediately began expanding into Antonia’s. It did not help relations between our waring factions that Lord Alonzo was Antonia’s occasional lover. She immediately challenged Connor to a duel, but he declined as he always does. The woman always knew what she wanted, and what trials and tribulations would be met along the way. She is a master swordswoman. World renowned among my people. Which is why he attempted to make you his familiar. To finally have an edge over Antonia in a duel.”

  “What? How? I wouldn’t defend him after what happened.”

  “Entering the familiar bond…there is no greater connection in this universe. None. It is the literal joining of life energies, of souls, between human and vampire.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “It creates a metaphysical bond. You each give part of your energy, your life-force, your magic to the other. The human becomes stronger and healthier, and the vampire can withstand the sun and silver better. Not to mention the sharing of dreams, emotions, the thoughts of one another as the bond grows deeper.”

  “So the human gets a taste of invincibility and the vampire humanity. Sounds like a win-win to me,” I say. “Why don’t more vamps do it?”

  “Because the vampire gives away a portion of their immortality as well. The familiars age slowly but do age. And when the familiar dies, or vice versa, so does the vampire. The average life span is a hundred fifty years.”

  “Oh. Why would a vamp agree to do that?”

  “It is a rare bond, but if the human does not desire to become a vampire and the pair wishes to be as close as possible, then the ritual can be performed. However the most frequent time the ritual is conducted is when the vampire is near death and it is the only way the human can save them.”

  “Well, Connor didn’t do it for any of those reasons.”

  “No, he attempted it to gain your telekinesis. It is part of your life-force after all. He would personally gain the talent—”

  “And use it during the duel. Bastard. But he’d only enjoy the win for like a hundred fifty years which is like a decade to you vamps.”

  “Perhaps he is aware of a counter ritual to sever the link once you had served your purpose. Perhaps he believed if he dispatched you before the bond strengthened he could survive the severing. Perhaps after over a century of losing to Antonia he is blind to everything but victory. I do not know, and I do not care. It did not work. That is all that matters.”

  “And you trust this woman not to have the same notion? Connor likened me to a nuclear bomb. What if she just wants to detonate me too?”

  “Then…I will protect you.”

  “Even after all I’ve put you through the past few days? Even though you’re in danger, again, because of me and my stupid choices?”

  He looks over at me. “Until my dying day. And beyond.”

  I believe him. I reach across and take his hand, squeezing it. He squeezes it back. “Thank you,” I whisper. “You…” I wipe a tear off my cheek with my free hand. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t.”

  “Trixie…I would not be here if that were true. Where do you think I learned this chivalrous rescuing nonsense from?” he asks with grin #3, no fang.

  “All my fault, huh?”

  “Yes. You have turned a perfectly despicable vampire into some self-sacrificing, respectful, compassionate…nice guy,” he says with fake disdain. “Shame on you.”

  I actually smile. “Sorry to disappoint you but I’m pretty sure deep down that’s who you’ve always been.”

  “Well, you encouraged him to come out and play. Now it seems I can barely get rid of the bugger.”

  “Sorry. I guess Antonia and I were right. You just have to live with it now. You’re a good man, Oliver Smythe Montrose. Maybe the best I’ve ever met. And I guess I’ll just have to keep saying it and expecting it until you believe it too.”

  He studies my face for subterfuge but of course can’t find any. I meant every word. His beautiful face softens, and he gives me a genuine smile. “Then I had best keep you safe until my dying day as promised because I only believe it when it comes from your beautiful lips.”

  “Is that the only reason you keep saving me? For my ego stroking?” I ask.

  “No. I do it for the same reasons you always come to my rescue. Because I made a promise. Because you are my best friend, and I would miss you more than words can describe if I lost you. Because…you would do the same for me without hesitation. Without question. And besides, it is my turn to rescue you.”

  “So we’re just going to go round and round taking turns saving one another like a maddening Mobius strip until one of us drags the other into the grave with them?”

  “Or until we find a way to cut the strip and live happily ever after,” he counters with a genuine smile.

  I gently remove my hand from his and my mouth slowly contorts into a frown. “I don’t think I believe in happily ever after.” I look out my window and press my head against the glass. “Not anymore.”

  After a second, Oliver takes my hand again. “Then I suppose I will just have to keep proving it and expecting it until you believe in it again too.”

  Somehow he brings another small smile to my face. I squeeze his hand before pulling mine away again to wipe the tears away. If anyone can do it, it would be him.

  *

  I must have fallen asleep within seconds of ending our conversation because I shut my eyes to San Diego while Eric Clapton played on the radio and the next thing I knew Phil Collins croons about the air tonight and the neon signs of Los Angeles shops whiz by. Despite my nap, I don’t wake refreshed or even a little less exhausted.

  “…there. Where should I park?” Oliver asks beside me.

  I peer left and he has his phone pressed to his ear. He glances over at me and quickly smiles. “No, I shall find it. I see the lounge now. See you in a few minutes.” He hangs up. “You are awake. Just in time.”

  We pass the red and purple sign for The Crimson Lounge, a medium sized bar where hipsters vape outside on the sidewalk. Unlike the surrounding buildings with boutiques and restaurants, the bar is a story taller with the brick p
ainted black. Classy. We turn the corner toward the beach then down an alley into a small fenced parking lot right at the edge of the sand where a familiar Latino man waits. The side of my mouth twitches as we park and he moves toward us. He seems perfectly recovered from the beat down we gave him last week. The enemy of my enemy. The enemy of my enemy.

  Oliver doesn’t seem worried about the man so I unbuckle my seatbelt and climb out. If he kills me at least I can do it with the smell of the ocean and the sound of the crescendoing waves behind me. But I don’t need to worry. The Latino eyes me up and down even though Oliver reaches him first. I tug the jacket tighter around myself. His icy gaze doesn’t help my chills. Nor does the open surroundings. Connor had to know I could come here and could have men ready to kidnap me. My adrenaline begins pumping again.

  “Alejandro?” Oliver asks the man.

  “Yes. Come on. We have kept watch, but he still may have agents out here,” Alejandro says, reading my mind.

  Oliver waits for me to walk over then wraps his arm around me, pulling me against him. “You are safe now. I promise,” he whispers as we trail behind Alejandro.

  He scans the area, we all do, as we cross the alley to a door with three literal bolts across it which Alejandro open. I feel safer already. Or possibly more trapped. Definitely closer to trapped when we enter the dark hallway and he bolts the three locks on this side too. A woman dressed in red and purple uniform like a cigarette girl from the twenties strolls down the hall with a nod to Alejandro and flirty smile for Oliver, who doesn’t even look at her. We’re led around a corner then up a staircase two floors to yet another door. Alejandro knocks. “Ma’am?”

  “Enter,” a woman says.

  The moment of truth. We obey.

  My first impression of Antonia is she’s not nearly as pretty as I’d envisioned. Not that she isn’t attractive just striking is more accurate. She resembles a late thirty-something Anjelica Huston with the same tall, dancer’s body tonight dressed in black leather pants and purple silk kimono top. Her nose is too large, Roman, her lips too small, but her prominent cheekbones, large almost black eyes, Mediterranean skin, and thick dark brown hair keep her from being homely. Who the heck knows what she thinks of me with my damp, unbrushed hair, bloodshot eyes, and fifteen pounds of extra weight. The familiar Chinese standing man beside her is far easier to read. He practically glares at me. Better than our last meeting where I beat up him and his partner, the same partner who moves to his side. The trio appear imposing standing on the other side of her huge desk with the whole of the art deco bar and lounge behind them seen through the glass. People talk and drink in a place out of The Great Gatsby one story below us. I doubt they can see us. If things go south I can blow out the two-way glass, toss the vamps through it into the bar, and run. Oliver probably has no such thoughts, he simply smiles at the trio. Still better safe than sorry.

  Antonia moves her gaze to Oliver. “No trouble getting here, I assume?” she asks with only a hint of an Italian accent.

  “No. None,” Oliver says.

  “My spies say he is still combing San Diego for you two and her family. Are you sure they are hidden well enough?” she asks him.

  “Yes. My FBI colleagues are aware of the situation and will be moving them to a safe house tomorrow where they will be under guard until the situation resolves itself.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I say.

  “I contacted George after you fell asleep.”

  “Well, if needed, I have homes in Rome, London, and Rio. They are welcome to stay in any of them,” Antonia says with a pleasant smile.

  “I don’t…thank you. We’ll see,” I reply as I smile back. “That’s very kind of you. Especially after…” I look at the men. “I am so sorry about the other night. I had no idea he planned the whole confrontation. I just saw you hit Connor and…I’m sorry. Truly.”

  “Fault lies on both sides,” Antonia says pleasantly.

  “No, he planned the whole event. He knew they’d be there. He manipulated them into attacking him to bring us closer or whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “And they should have seen through his artifice and walked away,” she says. “But that is all in the past. You are a welcome guest here. More than welcome, an honored guest. As is our mutual friend here.”

  “Thank you, Toni,” Oliver says with a nod.

  “Yes. Thank you. Thank you so much,” I say, voice breaking.

  Antonia’s smile wanes. “Oh, dear Agent. I am forgetting my manners. You look as if you can use a drink. Or six. You as well, Ollie. Alejandro, Jin, please take dear Ollie here to get some of our reserve and have Robin bring Agent Alexander a Brandy. It will help quell your nerves, dear.”

  She wants to divide us. She’s up to something. She—

  Oliver squeezes my waist. Antonia’s eyebrow pops up slightly. “I am a tad parched,” Oliver says before removing his arm. I begin trembling slightly as if his arm were the only thing holding me together. A distinct possibility. “Gentlemen, let’s let the ladies alone to their gossip about me.”

  “Nice to see the FBI did not beat the ego out of you, Ollie,” Antonia says with a smirk.

  “An impossibility, darling Toni,” he says, ever the charmer. He gives me a quick, reassuring smile, before looking at the men. “Shall we leave them to it?”

  “Your ladyship, I—” Jin says.

  “Go. Now,” Antonia says without taking her eyes off me. The men continue to glare at me as they pass me out of the office, Oliver at their side.

  “Do you have AB negative? It has been weeks—” Oliver says pleasantly before they shut the office door.

  And then there were two.

  “Jin was concerned that tonight’s drama was all a ploy to get you inside my home to assassinate me,” Antonia says nonchalantly. “It is understandable. Your reputation precedes you, and he has experienced your…talent firsthand. And let’s not forget you have already aided in the dethroning of one Lord this year, another ex-lover of our Oliver I might add.”

  “You’re not worried?” I ask, still shaking a little. Even though my skin tells me it’s warm my internal thermostat is turned down to twenty.

  “You are not worried I may try the same tricks Connor allegedly did? Or that I may have just decided that killing you would ensure he can never get his grubby little hands on your power again?”

  “The thoughts…crossed my mind. Your reputation precedes you as well, your Ladyship.”

  “And yet here you are. Alone. With me,” Antonia says.

  “And you with me,” I point out.

  She smiles again. She’s almost pretty when she smiles. “Then we must both trust dear Ollie with our lives.”

  “I certainly do,” I say without hesitation.

  Her smile grows. “As do I. Good. That is settled. No duels to the death tonight. Now sit down, darling. You truly do look as if you are about to collapse.”

  I’m not a hundred percent convinced she won’t hurt me, but I am a hundred percent convinced my legs will give out if I don’t sit. I take the chair across the desk from her, and she sits in her throne as well. Anyone watching would think we were about to start a business deal. Guess we kind of are.

  “Do you require a doctor, darling? I do smell blood on you. My Robin was an army medic. She can—”

  “No. I’m fine. The cuts were shallow, and I already dressed them.”

  “And those wounds came from my alleged attack on you tonight?”

  “Yeah. But then Connor admitted he set the whole farce up. Right before I broke his legs,” I say with a hard edge.

  Antonia smiles again but the knock on the door wipes it away. “Enter.”

  A tall, blonde woman with a lantern jaw and the shoulders of a linebacker dressed in khakis and pink halter top steps in carrying a tray with two glasses. Growing up in San Diego I’ve seen my share of trans men and women to realize she’s almost fully transitioned or is far down that path. Antonia studies my reaction as the woman
walks past. I must pass her test because the vamp smiles at me again. “Agent Alexander, meet my consort and our resident medic Robin Abbot.”

  Robin hands me the glass of Brandy. “I think this is for you,” she says with a smile too.

  “Thank you.”

  “Robin will be taking care of you during the day,” Antonia explains.

  Great, and I just shook Krista. “Okay.”

  Robin hands Antonia her glass of blood with a kiss. “The spare rooms are ready for them,” Robin says.

  “When we are done here I am going to need you to check Agent Alexander’s wounds. And do you mind entertaining our other guest while we speak?”

  “Your stupid gorgeous ex? You do spoil me,” Robin says before kissing Antonia again. “Love you.”

  “Love you too,” Antonia replies.

  After another smile and kiss, Robin leaves the room. I take a sip of my Brandy. “Your consort seems nice,” I say politely.

  “Yes. She is. We have been together for the past seven years. I intend to turn her when she decides if she wishes to fully transition or not,” Antonia says, sipping her blood with her pinky up. “Connor never mentioned I had a consort? I suppose if he had he would have also had to mention giving Robin’s name, e-mail address, and prior home address to multiple hate groups in an attempt to bypass the law and have her killed.”

  My heart literally hurts with this information. “He did that?”

  “I have no proof, of course, but who else? In our little war of attrition any destabilization is a victory. A Cold War is death by a thousand tiny pinpricks to see who takes the longest to bleed out. Over half a century of this, having to be on one’s toes twenty-four seven, friends and family caught in the crossfire, it is exhausting. Connor must feel the same to attempt such a drastic measure.” She sips her blood. “I wonder how long he had been planning this. Perhaps from the moment he heard of you. Your exploits in Dallas created ripples through our community you know. Almost a dozen dead or maimed, including a Lord, in less than twenty-four hours is quite impressive. He must have recalled that article about you saving the boy and put two and two together. He probably did ample research and just had to lie in wait until you returned home.”