Bonded In Blood

by L Ann

  “You arrogant son of a bitch…” She twisted sharply away from his questing hand. “The thing with my father was nothing to do with you!” She grasped the fingers holding onto her wrist with her other hand and tried to prise his fingers away. “I’d heard you had an ego, but Christ. Do you think I came here because you’re that hot? I don’t think so!”

  Taz’s laugh was mocking. “Son of a bitch? While my mother might take offence to that distinction, I’d have to agree. But arrogant? I’d say confident.” He reached out and pulled her back, closer and tighter this time. “No underwear and a shirt that barely covers you when you could have used the bathrobe hanging on the door? But I’ll give you the benefit of the—“

  He neither expected nor saw it coming, although he should have. Morgan’s free arm swung in a tight pinwheel arc between them and a second later delivered a potent backhanded knuckle smash to the bridge of his nose. It almost dropped him… almost.

  “-doubt,” he resumed, shaking his head. This time he was ready for her and caught Morgan’s other wrist as she cocked her fist for a second time. “Good one, but love taps like that only let me know how right I am.” He dipped his head so that his lips were against her ear. “And just for the record,” his voice dropped to a whisper. “I am that hot. And you know it.” His warm breath on the sensitive skin behind her ear sent fire across her nerve endings. Do not react, she told herself grimly.

  They were at an impasse, neither moving, which gave Taz time to assess the situation. A kiss would be nice, he thought, but he knew her at least well enough to know she’d likely bite his tongue off and spit it in his face. His bed was little more than a few feet behind and to her left, but getting there was the trick. Movement, in any direction, would expose a very vulnerable and tender part of his anatomy, not to mention one he was extremely attached to. He also knew it was one she would not hesitate to go for.

  “When you finally settle on your next move, you will leave part of yourself open,” Morgan said steadily, reading what he was thinking. “And I will make you bleed.”

  “Of that I have no doubt.” He looked away, his gaze going momentarily inwards, then he shrugged. “I’m wondering if it’s worth the pain. I mean, Vegas… it was nice. Like I said, you’re way above average between the sheets. But is it worth losing any more blood over?” Then he grinned. “Oh, what the hell!” In an unexpected move, he bent his head and took her mouth with his, catching her off-guard long enough to slip his tongue past her slightly parted lips. At the same time, he released one of her hands, wrapped an arm around her waist and raised her up off the floor. His destination was the bed behind them and during the short trek Morgan’s teeth closed over his invading tongue. Taz faltered, inches from the mattress’ edge, while visions of spontaneous oral amputation flooded his thoughts.

  Miraculously, it never came.

  What came, unfortunately or maybe fortunately for Taz, was an interruption. The house phone, specifically. A trio of discordant rings which made them both jump as though doused with a bucket of freezing water and immediately separate.

  They stood staring at one another, neither moving until the phone started up again. And even then it was Taz, and only his arm, which he stretched out sideways to snatch the receiver from its cradle.

  “This had better be good!” he barked into the mouthpiece, his eyes still on Morgan.

  “It’s me… Gayle. And I think you better get down to the lobby. Kayla’s here…”

  “Fantastic,” Taz cut in with a peevish groan. “I’m not in the mood, okay? She’s your friend. Get rid of her. Make an excuse. Tell her I’m in a meeting or something.”

  “Oh, I think you’ll want to come down for this,” Gayle countered. “She’s all excited. About the quote-unquote scoop of the century. Seems someone she works with knows someone who has proof – photographic proof of –“ she paused and when she spoke again her voice was just above a whisper, “the existence of vampires.”

  “If this is some kind of bullshit trick just to get me down there –“

  “Not that I’m not above doing something like that where you’re concerned,” he could hear the dark amusement in Gayle’s tone. “But no, this is as serious as a silver bullet.”

  “Jesus,” Taz muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “All right. I’m on my way.”

  ~*~

  Ask ten people who had spent at least a year in the city of Seattle about the weather – specifically the night-time weather – and you would receive ten different answers, but they would all probably contain the words rainy, drizzly, chilly, cold and windy. All recurring atmospheric traits of America’s Pacific Northwest, like it or not. The current weather conditions, for example: humidity 73%; Wind coming from the North at 9mph. Perfect, by some accounts; so-so by others. For the two men who occupied a pair of high-backed wicker chairs on the large balcony of Shadowfall’s Isis & Osiris Suite it could have been raining stones and frogs with gale force winds and they still couldn’t have been happier.

  One was Hamish Satori, current head of Internal Security for the House of Nikaris. A man who bore a very strong resemblance to a certain Scottish film star known for his portrayal of Ian Fleming’s legendary British Secret Agent 007. A man by way of gender categorisation only, since he was neither human nor vampire, though closer to the latter than to the former.

  The other was Zuron I’Ane Dasmalle, reigning Lord of the Vampire Nation’s largest and most powerful House – Nikaris. The second vampire to hold the exalted position since the House was formed so many eons past and a man whose exploits in times gone by both mirrored and surpassed those of his eldest offspring and only son. A fact he struggled to keep secret from the younger I’Ane male.

  “Did you see the look on Taz’s face when you came out with—“ Zuron pulled himself erect in his chair, his expression like stone, and effected a near-perfect imitation of his friend’s vocal tones. “Do you not think she’s beautiful, Taz?”

  “And when Morganna took his arm and said, ‘A weekend with Taz seemed a reasonable choice to take care of that problem.’”

  Both men lurched back into their chairs, quaking with laughter; mindful of the goblets of Napoleon Brandy and well-lighted Cuban cigars balanced in their outstretched hands.

  “You know, old friend,” Hamish began when their laughter subsided. “Amusement aside, we came out luckier than we should have on this little ploy. Getting Morganna to come to Seattle – and keeping Taz here – can be considered minor miracles. She hates this town with a passion. And Taz…”

  “Yes, I know.” Zuron raised his goblet up to eye level, swirling the burgundy liquid before taking a slow pull. “This is the longest he has spent in one place for a very long time. I had made arrangements to keep him occupied. But that could have changed, unexpectedly at any moment. You are right. We are very fortunate.”

  “Indeed.” Hamish agreed. Both men raised their glasses in a quick toast and pulled healthy gulps. Then they sat back, silently savouring their cigars – for a brief time, at least.

  “No doubts? No second guesses?” Hamish asked, rising to stand at the balconies authentic oak guard rail and gaze into the movement of living creatures and stationary vehicles on the street below.

  Zuron joined him a moment later. “If you mean for the use of deception, for manipulating the lives of our children?” he shrugged. “Yes… and no. We do what we must, what needs to be done. We do so with their best interests at heart, and their continued safety and well-being in mind, do we not?”

  “Some would call us arrogant, even self-righteous,” said Hamish. “Are we so certain we are right? That maybe we do this more out of self-serving pride than love?”

  “Jesus!” Zuron quirked an eyebrow at his long-time friend, then lowered his eyes to look at his brandy goblet. “You get any more maudlin and I’ll wonder if age has made you a lightweight.

  “You’ve heard, and read, the reports on Taz’s assignments in the past… what? Eight to ten months? Germany –
a high speed, running gun battle on the Autobahn, with collateral damage of thirteen mortals killed, eight wounded, thirty vehicles totalled. Or Paris – eleven dead in the Eiffel Tower, including three members of the French National Police. And let’s not even talk about San Diego. If that isn’t a death wish then, as the saying goes, I don’t know shit from Shinola.” He took another swig of brandy, noticed his cigar was out and then resumed. “And Morganna?”

  “Well, she doesn’t have a death wish,” Hamish said defensively. “But her mother thinks she’s showing signs of sociopathic detachment.” He sighed. “And I agree. She’s turning into a machine. They are both what we have made them.”

  “Then question answered, old friend. Now…” Zuron drained his goblet. “We need to work on a way to keep them together long enough for the bond to take root.”

  Hamish chuckled. “If they don’t kill each other first.”

  ~*~

  The eleven-thirty to midnight wave – first of the hardcore Shadowfall party crowd – meant the lobby was almost standing room only. There was a literal wall of bodies in a six-deep arc around the elevators; not just vampires (both pure and turned) but also humans, blissfully ignorant to the secret world that existed around them; within as well as outside the club. To varying degrees, Taz was acquainted with several of the former – locals and club regulars and felt obliged to linger for a minute or two. Politics – a pure pain-in-the-ass as far as he was concerned, but as the reigning Prince of the House Nikaris, and heir to the ‘Big Chair’ sometimes playing the game was inescapable.

  After smiling, nodding, spewing and receiving compliments and glad-handing his way toward the lobby’s centre, he finally spotted Kayla, surrounded by her own group of gushing fans and signing autographs, just off the entrance to the gift and speciality shop row. Gayle, also on the scene (most probably there to give heads-up to all vampires present to curtail their normal club activity – public feeding, blood games, etcetera – because there was a ‘normal’, a human, present) saw him at around the same instant and broke away to meet his approach.

  “If my call interrupted anything,” she grinned. “It was my pleasure.”

  “Careful, Little Miss Lollipop, your mask is slipping and the asshole underneath is showing,” Taz fired back.

  “Yeah? Well, you make it easy,” she replied, leaning close to sniff at his front. “You reek,” she sniffed again, louder. “Of another woman. I could smell you at least a foot away.” She tossed a look back at her fan-deluged friend. “And Kayla won’t need vampiric senses to get a whiff of you either, Rico Swa-vay.”

  “Don’t worry your sadistic little head over it, okay? Just give me the four-one-one. What did she tell you?”

  “Well, maybe she’ll tell you more,” Gayle said, lowering her voice as she moved closer, ever mindful of passers-by. “But basically, just what I told you earlier. She got a call from the station. One of her contacts knows a guy who’s got proof that a vampire exists. Then she blabbed something about a police report and a mutilated body. And then that happened.” She gestured with a sidelong nod to the crowd surrounding Kayla.

  “Thanks for the call,” Taz half-murmured and aimed himself in Kayla’s direction. But Gayle placed a hand on his shoulder, delaying his departure.

  “I would have called, anyway. Her main reason for coming here was to see you,” she told him. “She’s got it bad for you, Taz. I… I don’t know what your plans are, and it’s none of my business, but she’s a sweet girl. I like her a lot. Go easy with her, all right?”

  Taz shrugged, then nodded. “You’re right, it’s none of your business. But I’ll keep it in mind,” he said and strolled toward Kayla, watching as she quickly cranked out a few more autographs and moved to meet him as if floating on a carpet of syncopated air, features alight and glowing almost as bright as her ear-to-ear smile. Gayle was right, Taz admitted to himself. If he hadn’t known, or succeeded in ignoring it before, it was more than clear now. She had it bad.

  Taz experienced a pang of genuine regret at being unable to do more than reciprocate on a purely physical level. He returned her embrace, put as much feeling as was possible in their kiss, then smiled down at her when they separated. He didn’t love Kayla, true enough, and she could be truly annoying most of the time but, oddly enough, he did like her. If he was going to be honest with himself the least he could do was not deny that there were times when being with her was extremely enjoyable.

  “How about coffee while we talk?” he suggested, waving toward one of the beverage kiosks on the shop concourse.

  “I can’t stay long,” she nodded, her tone rife with giddy contentment. “But sure, let’s do that.”

  He couldn’t get right into it, Taz knew. The last thing he wanted was to spark her suspicions or put her on her guard. Celebrity dirt-monger though she may have been at that moment, Kayla had started out as a news-hawk – a journalist. A breed unto itself, known to be cagey where their jobs came into play.

  He had another option. He could put her under and take what he needed in a matter of seconds. However, that might prove both unwise and risky for a few reasons. First, they were in a public place – Shadowfall – not everyone who patronised the vampire-owned and operated Seattle venue were vampires or among the select cadre of mortals with limited knowledge of their existence. And humans could be both unpredictable and, at the worst moments, unfortunately observant. And second, contrary to the current tone of literary and Hollywood-ied vampire lore, vampire-on-human hypnosis was an iffy proposition. The human psyche was a complex entity, with many levels both subtle and blatant, of susceptibility and retainability. While putting most people under presented little, if any, problems – there was no guarantee that the post-suggestion would be cancelled out, memories re-emerge, triggered by some outside stimulus at a later date.

  So, Taz elected to suffer through (and that was the correct description) a sufficient period of idle, painfully boring chit-chat. And, more than that, convey the impression of fervent interest in her every word.

  “Oh, by the way,” Kayla’s eyes darted away from him for an instant. “FYI… the interview went fairly well.”

  “Interview?” Taz’s response, though forced, was one of genuine confusion.

  “I’m sure I mentioned it. Sarah Hopkins – the producer from CBC, Montreal?”

  “Oh yeah, I remember now.” A complete lie. Everything past the last minutes of their lovemaking was the mental equivalent of white noise.

  She met his eyes head-on. “I decided not to take the anchor spot. The money and the bennies were amazing but… well, I would have to move. I don’t know anyone in Montreal, all my friends and my family are here. I mean… this is home. What can I say? Guess I’m just not ready to spread my wings and leave the nest yet.”

  God help me. Take me now. Pleeease.

  Now NOW dammit before your brain short circuits out of sheer survival. “I’m not sure if she was supposed to mention it,” he reached across the kiosk’s high-top table to cover and gently caress her hand. “But Gayle said something about a scoop? A big story you’re working on?”

  “Shhhh!” she placed a finger to her lips, voice dropping an octave. “You never know who might be listening.”

  Ain’t that the truth! Taz thought with a grin.

  “A co-worker of mine – Peter Copeland. In fact, we dated a few times in college,” she flashed a self-conscious smile with that last tidbit expecting Taz to respond to it. When he didn’t her smile faltered, and she continued. “Anyway, he’s got a friend who’s working on his Masters at the Seattle Film institute. From what Pete told me, he’s a film fanatic; a photography nut. He was out last night, roaming around with his camera, as he likes to do, over in the Cherry Hill district, near Spruce Street Park. And,” she gave a low laugh. “Well, he claims he caught something on tape, on his camcorder. A vampire attacking a young woman.”

  “Vampire? Seriously?” Taz forced what he hoped was his most convincing amused chuckle. “Like Dracul
a? Black cape, fangs, that kind of thing? Or the type from the Wesley Snipes movies?” He snapped his fingers as if attempting to spark his memory. “Blade! Yeah. Those kind?”

  Kayla quirked an eyebrow, but eventually grinned back. “He said… well, according to what he told Pete. He watched the… the vampire rip the girl’s throat open and drink her blood. And he recorded the entire thing.”

  “Kayla, come on!” Taz cut him. “Pete is pulling your leg. A vampire? Gimme a break!”

  “I don’t know, Taz. Pete checked with one of his sources at the SPD. There was a young woman – twenty-two years old, a waitress, found in the park at around four this morning. Her throat was ripped open.”

  “This is Seattle, Kayla. Probably a mugging gone bad, or a drugged-out ex-boyfriend. Par for the course for Cherry Hill,” Taz rationalised.

  Kayla shrugged. “And maybe it was some nut-job who thinks he’s Dracula. But what if?”

  “What if what? There really are bloodsucking members of the undead loose in Seattle? And what if Elvis really was abducted by aliens?”

  “I don’t know,” Kayla went on. “Some pretty strange stuff has happened here. My family has been in this area a long time. The Monroes go all the way back to the Klondike Gold Rush of 1896. And my dad used to tell me stories, handed down from his father and his father before him. People being found in their tents, drained of blood. I was fascinated by it, always have been. Ghosts, the paranormal, the occult, unsolved crimes.

  “When I was in school, I wrote my thesis on events from Seattle. Did you know, for example, that there have been no less than one thousand cases related to, or called, ‘vampire murders’ in this town between 1950 and 1975 alone? In fact, there are several shelves of boxes in the SPD archive of unsolved vampire-related cases. One of them even mentions this place.”