Deadlocked (The Harry Russo Diaries Book 3)

by Lisa Emme

  I rolled my eyes and stomped my way to the stairs. It was childish, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. As I climbed the curving staircase, I wondered what small fortune Salvador had spent on tonight’s costume. I swear half the time he treated me like his own personal dress-up doll. It totally sucked that he had really good taste and I usually loved what he picked out for me.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Holy crap! I stood in awe of the suite’s walk-in closet. I couldn’t bring myself to think of the suite as mine, although the closet might just change that. It was the size of my bedroom back at the firehall and was split into two sides, his and hers. On the one side, my side, dozens of designer gowns, all my size of course, hung from padded hangers. There were just as many pairs of shoes to match, all neatly displayed in little cubbies. On the ‘his’ side, a half dozen suits, again all the right size, hung from their own padded hangers. Several crisp, neatly pressed, formal shirts hung there as well.

  Nash whistled, shaking his head. “The man knows how to get what he wants.” He ran a finger down the lapel of the grey wool suit jacket that had been hung out on a hook, separate from the other suits. It would complement the colours of the silk organza gown that had obviously been picked for me to wear.

  I eyed the gown. It was gorgeous. A halter style, full length gown, the feather-light material gave it an ethereal look. The multi-tonal print, in hues of pink and grey, was striking. It was also very modest, covering both my front and back completely, leaving only my shoulders and arms bare. I shucked my clothes, pulling the gown on.

  Nash whistled, his eyes giving me an appreciative once over. “Wow! That dress looks fantastic on you.” He came to stand behind me while I admired it in the full length mirror. He leaned over, giving my bare shoulder a kiss.

  I tilted my head from side to side, admiring the dress. It really was gorgeous. “Thanks.” I ran a hand through my short, scruffy hair. “If only the rest of me wasn’t such a disaster.”

  Nash laughed and kissed the back of my head. “You look great. Just the way you are.”

  I huffed out a little laugh. “Liar.” I shook my head. “You better get changed yourself while I try and tame my hair.” I left him in the dressing room – you really couldn’t call a space that big with a full length chaise lounge, a closet – and went into the adjoining bathroom to see what sort of make-up products were there.

  I let out another little exclamation at the sight of the bathroom. Of course, it was just as opulent as the dressing room. White marble tiles, a huge soaker tub and equally huge walk-in shower. There was even a separate cosmetics area with a little stool and extra lighting. The counter top was lined with more make-up than I knew what to do with, but I managed to doll myself up enough, taming my hair into a stylish up-do using copious quantities of gel and hairspray.

  Nash joined me partway through my preparations, running an electric razor over his several days old stubble. He was dressed only in trousers, the crisp, stitched crease accentuating his well-defined legs. The hard planes of his abdomen and the light dusting of curly hair on his chest had me practically salivating. I felt myself flush as I looked across the room at him. He smiled a cheeky grin at me in the mirror.

  “Hold that thought,” he growled, winking at me.

  I rolled my eyes and went to find some shoes. Just in time, it seemed, as there was a knock on the suite’s door.

  “The Magister bids you join him down in the audience chamber,” the muffled voice called through the door.

  I slipped on the towering, four-inch stiletto sandals, obviously meant to go with my dress. They were crystal embellished satin, in a hue of pink that exactly matched one of the colours in the gown.

  “Shall we?” Nash said, as he came to stand beside me, straightening the knot on his tie.

  “If we must,” I replied, taking one last look at us in the mirror. I have to admit, we made a striking couple. Damn that Salvador. Now he was playing dress-up with both of us.

  ***

  The audience chamber was packed when we arrived. Salvador’s customary ‘throne’ had been removed from the dais and several chairs had been added to accommodate his guests. Salvador, Eleanor and Max, all sat together, their chairs arranged centre front on the stage. Salvador sat in the middle, the other two flanking him, their seats turned slightly in, making conversation easier. Off to the side on Salvador’s right sat Tomas in his usual position as the Magister’s lieutenant. To the left, a row of chairs held the remaining members of the Triad and the Conclave.

  We were led to the dais and the empty chairs beside Tomas. Isaac was with us, acting as my bodyguard. Since my little display the other night when I bound Hilde to me, there was no point downplaying Isaac’s bond to me anymore.

  Tomas greeted me with his usual insolent attitude. “Russo,” he purred. “I see you brought your pets.”

  “Can it, Tomas.” I scowled at him. “Let’s just try and be civil and get this show over with.”

  Tomas inclined his head with a smirk and waved to the empty chairs beside him. “Do have a seat, Russo.”

  I sat, relieved to be off my feet. Damn stilettos. Why did the sexiest shoes have to be complete devices of torture? I grabbed a glass of wine off a nearby tray. Luckily, I was spared the necessity of making any idle chit-chat with Tomas by a voice that rang out through the hall.

  “Presenting, la Mariposa de la Muerte and company.”

  The crowd’s murmuring grew hushed and they parted, allowing a group of about a dozen or so to pass by. A few, mostly at the back of the group, were clearly guards, their wary gazes and matching uniforms giving them away. At the front leading the group, you couldn’t mistake the Mariposa for anyone else. She was dressed in an embroidered gown the colour of dried blood, complete with a hoop skirt that must have come straight from the sixteenth century. The bodice was cut in a low square neckline with long sleeves that poofed out at the shoulder then tapered in towards the wrist. On her head, she wore the traditional Spanish mantilla, a lace scarf mounted on a peineta or large decorative comb.

  She was flanked by two male vampires, also dressed traditionally, although less conspicuously, in dark, high-waisted, slim-fitting pants and short-waisted jackets. They sort of looked like something a matador would wear only without all the embellishment. The rest of her group was similarly dressed, traditionally but understated, although no other female wore the mantilla or hooped skirt. One tall, slim vampire stood out from the rest however, not because of what he was wearing but because of what accompanied him. He was flanked by a large, grey wolf that, although not as large as the other wolves I have seen, I knew to be a werewolf. A gold collar circled the wolf’s neck attached to a short leash held in the vampire’s hand. Beside me, Nash growled quietly, his eyes narrowed.

  “Nash,” I cautioned, sending my thoughts to him. I glanced across the dais to see that both Charlie and James seemed to be having a similar reaction.

  “It’s an abomination,” Nash replied, his thoughts heavy with disgust. “He has been forced to remain in his wolf shape, unable to return to his human form.”

  I looked back in horror at the wolf, as Salvador began to speak.

  “Bienvenido,” Salvador purred with malignant charm, rising from his seat as the Mariposa’s party came to a halt in front of the dais. “Welcome. Catalina, what a pleasure it is to see you after all these years.” He bowed slightly, barely bending at the waist, his eyes never leaving the Mariposa’s face. “We were not expecting you for several days, but I’m sure we can provide you with a small token of our hospitality.” He smiled, his eyes remaining cold. He waved his hand and several servers approached the group carrying trays of champagne.

  The Mariposa tilted her chin up, acknowledging Salvador’s greeting. “Gracias Salvador. You are a gracious host as ever.” She turned slightly to the man on her right. “May I present to you my so
n, a child of the kiss, Bartolo.” The man, a greasy-looking vampire with short cropped, black hair and beady eyes, tilted his head at Salvador. He paused as if contemplating the snub, then finally bowed slightly more than Salvador had.

  “And my other son,” the Mariposa continued, gesturing to the man on her left, “also a child of the kiss, Diego.” Diego was tall and athletic. He had rugged, Mediterranean good looks and longer, wavy dark hair, reminding me of a young Antonio Banderas. He gave Salvador a politically correct half bow with no hesitation.

  My eyes passed over the group again as the Mariposa continued her introductions, only half listening. The creep with the werewolf was called Benicio. He gave a curt bow, his lip turning up in a sneer as his eyes fell upon Eleanor. When the Mariposa introduced the next vampire, I started in surprise, my eyes sliding back to rest on the short, cocky-looking man. He was staring back at me, a grin on his face. He winked, firing me a little salute with a finger from his temple. It was that mind-bending bastard from the other night! I scowled at him.

  “Nash!” I whispered, forgetting to use our mind-link in my surprise. Tomas glared at me and I switched to my thoughts. “Look behind the creep with the wolf, it’s him. His name is Juan Carlo. He’s the vampire from the shop the other night.”

  Nash sat up in his seat, his eyes finding the vampire I indicated. “Are you sure?”

  “Oh yeah, the cheeky little bastard even winked at me.”

  Nash’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t reply. He pulled out his phone and discretely began to type, sending a text. I imagine it was to give the SRU a heads up to keep on the lookout for Juan Carlo.

  “Welcome,” Salvador said again, interrupting my thoughts. “Allow me to introduce the esteemed members of our Cimmerian…” He continued on, introducing the members of the Triad and the Conclave that were present on the dais with him. “And I believe you will remember Tomas.” He gestured to Tomas who rose from his seat and turned giving the Mariposa a deep bow.

  The Mariposa’s gaze narrowed as she looked at Tomas. There was obviously some history there, but she flicked her gaze away, her chin tilting up slightly as if Tomas was beneath her attention. Huh, that was interesting. I eyed Tomas curiously, but his expression gave nothing away.

  “And of course, the newest member of our Cimmerian, allow me to introduce Angharad Grainne Russo.” Salvador was holding out his hand to me. I rose from my seat in surprise and placed my hand is his. I hadn’t expected to be introduced. A little warning would have been nice.

  I turned to the Mariposa not sure what was an appropriate greeting.

  “Do not bow or curtsy,” Isaac’s voice slid over my panicked thoughts. “Simply nod your head.” I did as he advised, the Mariposa’s eyes narrowing as she eyed me from head to toe.

  “The infamous necromancer,” she said finally. “The first in generations or so they say.” She looked away, dismissing me with a little tilt of her head.

  Salvador smiled down on her, his fingers squeezing tightly on mine. Surprised, I looked at him just as he replied. “And my daughter.”

  There were gasps all around as that bit of shit hit the fan. I tried to pull my hand from his, glaring at him, but his grip remained firm. How could he? Why would he? I glanced worriedly over my shoulder at Nash. His face was completely blank.

  “Nash?” I sent a worried thought at him. “I can explain.” There was no response, his thoughts and emotions seemed to be completely cut off from me. I pulled my hand from Salvador’s grasp, this time succeeding.

  The Mariposa smiled, a calculated smile. “Yes, I had heard that as well.”

  “I’m curious Catalina,” Salvador replied. “My relationship to Angharad was not common knowledge, in fact very few knew of it. How is it that you did?” He looked at her coldly.

  There was rustling from the back of the Mariposa’s entourage as several members stood aside to let a caped and hooded figure I hadn’t noticed before move to the head of the group to stand beside the Mariposa. She pushed back her hood, her golden blonde hair gleaming in the light and my knees buckled. Isaac came to stand beside me, his hand at my elbow.

  “Why Sal, don’t you think I would know my own daughter,” she said with a laugh. She turned to look at me and I gazed down on my mother for the first time in my life.

  Chapter Nineteen

  My whole body was shaking and I felt sick to my stomach.

  “Hold on Harry, be strong.” Isaac’s voice inside my head was comforting. I took a deep breath and looked closely at the woman who called herself my mother. She was definitely Deirdre Russo, or else a dead ringer for the woman in the few pictures I had of her. In fact, except for her blonde hair - in the pictures it had been black, although I knew from Gran that blonde was her natural colouring - she looked like she hadn’t aged a day. Not a surprise, since she was also now a vampire.

  My stomach heaved again, threatening to rebel. “I’ve got to get out here, Isaac,” I sent to him.

  “Just a few more minutes, Harry. Hold it together.”

  I grimaced, taking another deep breath. I looked back at Nash, his face was as shocked as I felt. His eyes flicked to mine, full of concern.

  “Dear Harry,” the woman who called herself my mother said, “Look at you, all grown up.” She smiled at me with my mouth, looked at me with my eyes. Even without having seen her picture, I would have known her to be my mother. We could have been sisters we looked so similar.

  “Twenty-three years will do that to a person,” I replied coldly. I didn’t care if she was my mother; I wasn’t planning on flinging myself into her arms.

  “What? No hugs for mama?” She cackled out a laugh. “Please, I brought you into this world, what more did you need?”

  “I hate to break up this charming family reunion, but we have business we must attend.” Salvador’s voice was controlled, but you could feel the anger seething just beneath the calm façade. He stared down at the Mariposa who tilted her head to meet his gaze. “Do you accept my hospitality and agree to recognize my authority for the duration of your visit?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you pledge the obedience of your people and stand in assurance for them?”

  “I do.”

  “So witnessed?” Salvador looked about the room.

  “Witnessed,” the assembled vampires answered as one.

  “Bueno.” He returned his gaze to the Mariposa. “Please accept the hospitality of Dante’s for all your needs. There are sufficient willing donors on site; you will find there is no need to seek sustenance elsewhere. I ask that you and your entire party refrain from hunting while within my territory. I’m asking no more of you than I do my own people. The punishment for anyone caught in defiance of this request is the spike.”

  There were a few hostile looks and some murmurings from the Mariposa’s group, but she returned Salvador’s gaze and replied, “You have my assurances that my people will abide by your decree.”

  “Thank you,” Salvador said with a slight bow. “Now if you would like -”

  “We are without need at this time. We will retire to our temporary quarters.” The Mariposa’s voice held an air of dismissal.

  “Of course, as you wish. I’m sure you will find the accommodations at the Riverview more than satisfactory.” He quirked an eyebrow at the Mariposa’s little scowl. I guess that was supposed to be a secret, just like her arrival. Salvador had enjoyed tweaking her nose with that information. Although, since the Riverview was the only five star hotel in town, it wasn’t exactly a stretch to think that was where they would be staying. “Please join us tomorrow evening for a banquet we have prepared in your honour.”

  The Mariposa inclined her head in acknowledgement then turned to leave. Her group parted like the Red Sea, allowing her to move forward and lead the way once again out the double doors.

  As soon as the doors whooshed shut b
ehind the group, I turned in a swirl of skirts. “I’ve got to get out of here,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. Not waiting to see if anyone was going to protest or join me, I all but ran to the private elevator at the back of the room.

  The door slid open and I hurried in, frantically pushing the button for what I hoped was the penthouse. The door closed, but the elevator failed to move. Damn it! I needed a passcode. The door slid open again and I pushed the close button. I didn’t want to go back out there. As the door slid shut again, a hand grasped onto the edge and I yelped in surprise. Stopped from successfully closing, the door slid open again and Nash stepped in.

  “Harry,” he said, his face devoid of expression.

  “I have to get out of here. Please, just get me out of here.” Tears welled in my eyes. I was going to lose it at any second.

  With a nod, Nash punched in a code and the elevator finally began to rise. I wrapped my arms around myself, leaning into the corner of the wall. Nash stood beside me, his hands clenched into fists at his side. He was still closing himself off to me. I felt it like a void in my very being. I had already gotten so used to his constant presence. With a little sob, I let my knees buckle, my entire body folding in on itself to slide down the side of the elevator to the floor. I wrapped my arms around my knees and buried my face in them.

  “Harry!” Nash knelt down beside me, gathering me into his arms. When the elevator opened with a ding, he stood and carried me out into the penthouse, setting me on the end of the couch.

  I curled up in a ball, my thoughts racing over everything that had happened. I heard the scrape of a glass across the counter and then the sound of a drink being poured. Nash came back into view beside me, holding out a glass of amber liquid. “Here, drink,” he said.

  I took the glass and sipped tentatively. It was tequila. I took another, larger sip, feeling the alcohol begin to warm me from the inside out. I sat up, looking at Nash. “Nash, I -”