Deadlocked (The Harry Russo Diaries Book 3)

by Lisa Emme

  There was a commotion and I looked back down the table towards Salvador. Charlie, the werewolf alpha, was standing red-faced, his posture rigid and defensive. He seemed to be having a standoff with someone. I looked again, spotting Benecio, condescension blazoned on his face.

  “…I refuse to break bread with this, this abomination,” Charlie was saying.

  “Then leave,” Benecio replied with a look of disdain. “You shouldn’t be here at a table of your betters in any case.” He sneered at Charlie. “Go back to your kennel, cur.”

  “Why you, blood-sucking –”

  Charlie’s voice cut off. He looked in shock at Benecio and then slowly fell to his knees.

  “That’s right you filthy mutt, down on your knees before your masters.” Benecio stood over Charlie, snarling down at him. Charlie visibly struggled trying to stand up.

  Nash and Eleanor jumped to their feet. Several of the werewolves around the room took a step towards the table, but Nash shook his head.

  Benecio noticed the attention he had garnered and he seemed to stand a little taller, his chin held at a haughty angle. “That’s right. All you mangy curs, none of you should be here at the same table as La Mariposa de la Muerte,” he said, giving the Mariposa her full title. “You should all bow down to her.”

  There was another commotion as werewolves around the room began to fall to their knees. Some visibly struggled against the compulsion, but eventually they all fell. Finally, the only two werewolves remaining on their feet were Nash and Eleanor. Even James, the other alpha, eventually succumbed, although he struggled for much longer than most.

  Nash’s knuckles were white where he gripped the back of the chair in front of him. I could feel an echo of the pain he felt, fighting off the compulsion. I looked at Eleanor. She also visibly strained against the force of Benecio’s command.

  “Fall down and grovel, mutt.” Benecio turned his full gaze on Nash. He groaned, his one knee beginning to bend.

  “Stop,” I said quietly, but the sound of my voice seemed to echo through the room. Nash immediately straightened, throwing me a quick look of gratitude. The werewolves around the room began to recover, picking themselves up off the floor.

  Benecio gaped in surprise. “No!” He looked wildly around until he found me. “You cannot do this!”

  I arched an eyebrow at him. “I can and I have. Your powers no longer work here. In fact, I think you will find that you no longer have your power over werewolves at all.” I gave my words an extra push, putting the force of my will behind them.

  Benecio cursed out a string of Spanish and stepped towards me. One of the werewolf enforcers stepped in front of him. “Get out of my way!” he commanded. The werewolf smiled and stood his ground. Frustrated and angered all over again at the loss of his powers, Benecio grabbed the werewolf and tossed him aside. “This cannot be! Madre,” he said, taking another step towards me and looking across the table at the Mariposa, “she must be stopped.” His voice was almost begging.

  The Mariposa looked at Benecio with disgust. “You are worthless to me now, Bene. Leave before you embarrass me further.” She gave a little flick of her hand, dismissing him.

  “Pinche puta! Te mataré!” Benecio screamed, lunging at me. I wasn’t exactly sure what he said, but I imagine it wasn’t meant for polite company. I heard Nash’s warning cry in my head as I moved to defend myself, but Isaac was suddenly there in front of me. He grabbed Benecio, tossing him away from the table across the room, much like Benecio had done to the werewolf. With vampire speed, Isaac traversed the distance, but Hilde was a step ahead of him. In a blur of motion, she punched her fist into Benecio’s chest with a sickening crack, her arm sinking into his chest cavity past the wrist. There was a stomach-turning slurping sound and then she pulled out her hand, Benecio’s bloody heart clutched firmly in her grasp. She tossed it to the floor with a look of disgust and then bent down to wipe her bloodied hand off on Benecio’s clothes.

  “Well, then,” Salvador’s voice was droll, “shall we eat?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Of course, it wasn’t exactly as easy as that. Besides the fact that no one, except maybe the vampires, probably still had their appetite, the two werewolves that had arrived under Benecio’s control were suddenly free from compulsion and looking distressed and disoriented. The young woman fell to her knees, hugging the wolf and sobbing uncontrollably.

  It was finally decided that Charlie would take them to the pack doctor to see if they required any medical care. Throughout the entire discussion, the Mariposa sat unconcerned, not caring about the fate of her own people.

  Luckily, several of the werewolves spoke Spanish, so interpreting was not a problem. Charlie approached them cautiously, his alpha status helping to calm the woman, who was clearly a subordinate. He spoke to them softly, one of the other werewolves translating quietly beside him in case they didn’t understand English.

  Charlie pulled in frustration at the collar around the young woman’s throat, but it was locked. Who knew where the key would be, if there even was one. I went over, stopping a few feet away until Charlie nodded his head at me.

  “I think I might be able to help,” I said quietly, pointing at the collar. “I’ll have to touch it though.”

  Charlie leaned towards the woman and spoke quietly to her. I didn’t catch what she said but after a moment, she nodded. Charlie waved me closer. I knelt down beside her, keeping my shoulders relaxed and my face turned slightly away so as not to make eye contact and challenge her. The wolf beside her sniffed the air, scenting me. He huffed out a breath and relaxed visibly, nudging me with his head. I guess I smelled like wolf.

  I placed my hand on the collar around the wolf’s neck and whispered a little opening charm. The lock opened with a soft ‘click’ and I pulled the collar off, dropping it to the floor. Across the room I heard a disgusted ‘tsk’ and I looked over to see Deirdre rolling her eyes. Ignoring her, I turned to the woman and did the same with her collar.

  “Thanks, Harry,” Charlie said, giving my arm a squeeze.

  “Take care of them, Charlie,” I replied, placing my hand on his and squeezing it back.

  I returned to the table, all eyes on me. Nash gave me a comforting smile. “Well done, minx.” His voice was like a balm to my frazzled nerves.

  “Well, that cost me an alliance with the werewolves. I hope you are worth it, girl.” The Mariposa eyed me critically.

  “Excuse me?” I looked at her in confusion.

  “An alliance that is coerced is no alliance,” Salvador admonished, staring pointedly down the table at the Mariposa.

  “Let’s get on with it,” she muttered, waving her hand imperiously.

  Salvador raised an eyebrow and then seemed to decide against commenting further. He nodded to the rest of the table and we took our seats.

  ***

  I’m sure the meal was delicious. It seemed to go on forever, course after course, but truthfully, I can’t remember a thing that I ate.

  My mind still reeling with the evening’s events, I was stuck between the Mariposa’s two ‘sons’. I quickly found out it was like sitting between a foul-mouthed, horny teenager and, by comparison, an altar boy.

  Bartolo was the horny teenager. Actually, he was worse than a horny teenager. He was a misogynistic womanizing, sleaze bag who thought he was a stud. And I’m not exaggerating.

  Diego was the complete opposite. A proper gentleman, he left you wondering how he could possibly be related to the rest of his family. He was like the white sheep in a family of black ones. Of course, they weren’t really related. None of them were.

  I found out from Diego that being a ‘child of the kiss’, as both he and Bartolo were, meant that they had been raised as young children by the Mariposa until adulthood when they were given the Eternal Kiss and made into vampires. I had a hard time picturi
ng the Mariposa raising anything, let alone a child, but Diego assured me that he'd had an excellent nanny.

  “So were you two raised together then? Like brothers?” I couldn’t fathom the two men coming out of the same upbringing.

  Bartolo barked out a laugh. “Brothers? No! Not even close. While Diego was being weaned from the tit, I was already fucking pussies.”

  I blinked at his profanity. The guy was a complete pig. Across the table, Max choked on his soup. I caught his eye and gave him a long suffering look.

  Diego shook his head, clearly embarrassed by the crassness of his brother’s reply. “I am much younger than Bartolo,” he said. “Over a century younger.”

  “Wow, talk about an age gap between kids.” I smiled half-heartedly at him.

  “Sí, dear old Madre, I guess she thought she needed an, how do you say, heir and a spare.” Bartolo laughed at his own joke and slurped his soup. When the server leaned in to refill his glass, he goosed her, earning a little squeal and a scowl from her.

  “Madre? Mother? Didn’t Benecio call her that as well? Was he your – ”

  “No,” Diego replied, cutting me off. “Madre is a term of respect that all the Mariposa’s people call her. She is mother to us all.” As he spoke, his mouth quirked up as if he was having trouble keeping a straight face.

  “Speaking of mothers,” Bartolo said, gulping at his wine and slamming the goblet down on the table, “might I say you are even hotter than yours? And she is a fine piece of ass.” He leered at me.

  “Excuse me?” I gaped at him.

  “Your mother, she’s hot. So are you.” He repeated using shorter sentences like he thought I was an idiot or something.

  “Yes, I heard you the first time. I just really don’t think –”

  “That’s okay niña, you don’t need to think, just sit there looking pretty.” He laughed again. “Better yet, I have something you can sit on.” He waggled his eyebrows at me, his hand falling to his crotch.

  Across the table, Max sputtered. “Now see here –”

  I shook my head at him and he stopped, clearly outraged on my behalf.

  “Come now,” Bartolo chortled, “I jest, I jest.” He dipped his head, leaning in towards me. I involuntarily backed away. “Maybe the three of us could...you know.” He made a rude gesture with his hands. “And I could do a side-by-side comparison of the two of you.”

  “You need to stop talking right now.” I looked at him in disgust.

  Bartolo laughed, unconcerned over my discomfort. He opened his mouth to say something more and then a shocked look came over him. His hands flew up to his throat. He opened and closed his mouth as if trying to speak and nothing came out.

  I smiled at him smugly. He banged on the table, his mouth moving a mile a minute.

  “I’m sorry, did you say something?” I put a hand to my ear and cocked my head towards him.

  “Harry?” I could feel Nash’s concern.

  “It’s okay. I’m fine. Just dealing with some trash.” I looked down the table at him and smiled.

  Bartolo continued to flap his lips but nothing came out.

  “Dios mío!” Diego’s face was full of mirth. “That is incredible. Do you think you can leave him like that?”

  At Diego’s words, Bartolo became incensed, pounding on the table even more vigorously. He was beginning to attract attention. With an exaggerated sigh, I replied, “No, probably not. If he promises to not talk to me the rest of the evening and behave like a gentleman though, I’ll release him.”

  Bartolo stopped banging and nodded his head.

  “Fine, you can speak.”

  “Dios mío!” Bartolo rattled off a bunch of Spanish. I have a strong suspicion it was less than gentlemanly.

  “Uh, uh, uh,” I said, looking at him pointedly. He snapped his mouth shut, shifting his body to turn his back to me slightly.

  I covered a laugh with a cough and turned back to Diego. “So, if you don’t mind me saying so, you are, uh, quite different than your brother.”

  “Thank you for noticing,” Diego grinned. He gave a little shrug. “We were raised in different centuries, under different circumstances. I’m not excusing him though; I think he would have been a pig no matter what century he was born.”

  We continued to talk over each dinner course. Diego was a much better companion than Bartolo. We steered clear of vampire politics, instead sticking to less prickly topics like world events and geography. Max even joined in the conversation occasionally so I was able to get to know him a little better as well. He gave me hope for the coven and the Conclave. He seemed to be just the person to bring them into the twenty-first century.

  The most interesting thing I learned was that Diego never wanted to become a vampire. He was supposed to be allowed the choice once he reached adulthood, but the Mariposa took the choice away from him when he was mortally injured during the Spanish Civil War.

  “Whoa, you fought for Franco?”

  Diego shrugged. “I fought for the restoration of the Spanish monarchy.” He went on to describe Franco’s thirty-six year regime and how it eventually resulted in King Juan Carlos I becoming his successor thus reviving the monarchy. I vaguely remembered much of what he said from history class. It sure made it more interesting to hear it from someone who had lived it.

  As they were clearing the last course away and getting ready to serve the dessert, Diego leaned back in his chair and looked at me intently.

  “I must say, it’s a shame really, Harry. We would have made a good team.”

  I looked at him confused. “What –”

  “It’s time,” the Mariposa intoned from her place at the end of the table, ending the possibility of further conversation. “It’s time to end this charade, Salvador.”

  “I’m afraid you will have to enlighten me, Catalina,” Salvador replied, his expression one of feigned innocence.

  “I have come to collect on your debt. I have come to collect my future daughter-in-law.”

  I looked around the table, wondering who she was talking about and what debt she was referring to. You can’t blame me for being hopeful that for once someone else’s life was about to go sideways, can you? It was a little hard to ignore the fact that all eyes were on me though, so my attempt at ignorant bliss didn’t last long.

  “What? I’m sorry. Did you just say you came to collect me?” I looked at her in disbelief and then turned my gaze to Salvador. His eyes met mine and he did one of his infuriating little shrugs.

  “You are mine. You were promised to me.” The Mariposa sounded almost smug. Just who did that bitch think she was? I wasn’t a piece of furniture you could stop by and collect. No one owned me.

  “I’m afraid you are mistaken. I certainly do not belong to you, nor will I ever.” I shot a quick look at Nash. I could feel his protective impulses throbbing through our link. He wanted to jump over the table and gather me safely behind him. Ironically, his own proclamation of “You are mine,” echoed through our link.

  “Surely you jest, Catalina. You cannot think to collect on a promise made over three centuries ago.” Salvador gave her an amused look.

  “A compact was made. Are you saying you do not stand by your word?” She smiled at Salvador like the cat that caught the canary.

  “Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on since I seem to be in the middle of it?” I refrained from speaking the word ‘again’ out loud, but I was thinking it.

  Salvador laughed, At first I thought it was at me, but then he spoke as if I hadn’t said anything. “A few words in what I seem to remember was a hashish infused moment at an orgy in Marseille can hardly be called a compact.” Salvador waved off the thought with a flip of his hand. “Not to mention the fact that the likelihood of either of us having a child was ludicrous.”

  “And yet, there she is,” Deirdre laughed, pointing a p
erfectly manicured finger at me. She looked so damn pleased with herself I wanted to wipe the smug smile from her face.

  “Yes, mother,” I said with a look of distaste. “Here I am.” I arched an eyebrow at her. “I’ve been hoping to have a private chat with you but the opportunity just hasn’t presented itself. Since it all seems to be coming out in the open, why don’t you share your part in all of this?” I looked at her through narrowed eyes. There was more to my existence than just an accidental pregnancy. “Tell us everything, Deirdre. Speak the truth.” I gave her a push with my power and then smiled in satisfaction at the shocked look on her face as the compulsion kicked in.

  “I was tired of being a nobody, living in my mother’s shadow, no real magic of my own to speak of - a failure.” Deirdre’s eyes grew wide and she gaped, not believing she had just spoken that particular truth out loud.

  “Yeah, yeah, cut to the chase. We don’t need your life history.” I waved her on. “Just get to the part where you planned my conception.”

  “I did! I did plan it, right to the tiniest detail. I made you.” She smiled in triumph. “The first necromancer in generations and all because I planned every detail of your genetic makeup.”

  I squirmed uncomfortably. Okay, so maybe this was more detail than I really wanted to know. But Deirdre continued, oblivious to my discomfort. “The colour of your eyes, your hair, your…magic, I coaxed every little improvement I could when you were just a tiny little seed inside of me. I made you the perfect little dhamphir.” She gazed at Salvador with a look of almost manic zeal. “I made sure she had the best of both of us, Sal.”

  “But why?” My voice was a whisper.

  “Why? For power of course.” She turned her gaze to mine. “What else is there?” She frowned and looked back at Salvador. “I thought I had found it with you, but in the end you were weak. You have all this power at your fingertips, but instead of using it to crush your enemies, you make friends with them, alliances. You treat them as equals!” There were murmurings from the living and undead alike at this. Obviously Deirdre fell into the Benecio school of thought when it came to werewolves.