Falling from the Light (The Night Runner Series Book 3)

by Regan Summers

  “No physical abuse other than the cutting,” Malcolm confirmed. “He’s not a recreational sadist, and our information on him shows him to be disinclined to sex. About half of our population doesn’t engage at all.”

  His attention was almost tangible, his power swirling around me, soothing even though he was anxious. I gave him a grimly reassuring smile. I could handle this if it meant stopping Abel.

  “These are the locations we’ve confirmed,” Mal said. “Some of the humans were able to backtrack to the places he held them. In these he was sighted by or met with vampires.” He tapped at addresses written in red, his finger lingering on one. I checked the date. My lip curled.

  Abel had been in Los Angeles when he’d sent humans to attack me in Hawaii, back when he’d considered me a flag draped off of Bronson’s castle or whatever. Back when he’d had some hope for his side winning against the Master and was still pulling strings.

  After that, he’d swung through Arizona and New Mexico, back again to California where he’d meandered along I-5. Even with this many human reports of illicit vampire activity, the reports were spread out, with fuzzy descriptions. When he’d wanted to, or maybe when he’d remembered, he’d forced them to forget his image. How many other vampires operated like that, outside the rules, drifting through an oblivious human population?

  Until his location had been lost, he’d spent almost two months in Arizona. No vampire confirmations, and no more unwilling feeders.

  “How do you know?” I asked, flipping through sketches of run-down homes and boarded-up commercial buildings. Abel wasn’t one for luxury, but he hadn’t gone far enough underground that he’d hidden himself. Rooms empty except for a single chair, a single bed, he gave the impression of a soldier or a monk. He was neither, not if power drove him.

  “Soraya has a talent for tracking, even an old trail. In a few, he or his activities had been noticed and reported to authorities or neighborhood watches. He’s not concerned with humans.”

  “No wonder Bronson didn’t want him.” The Master was in tight with human politicians and corporations. Good relations mattered to him. “So when he had a plan, he stuck to LA and small towns east of there. LA has some vampire protocols; it’s too big not to.”

  “Which is why he spent most of his time in surrounding communities. We think he’d grab someone with a remote home, and dig in. People who live off the grid aren’t missed right away.”

  “I wonder if he set up a safe house or two, in case he had to disappear.” I ran through the dates again. There was more speculation in the beginning of the timeline, more facts in the recent updates. “But since then he’s been circling Phoenix. Why stay in the desert?”

  “He might be sticking close to Tenth World, in case he needs to claim sanctuary in a hurry,” Malcolm said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

  “Something’s keeping him here.” I looked down at the floor. The lobby was nearly full, and the size of the parties seemed to be swelling. Chev got a lot of traffic, important traffic if I had to guess. “Or he’s waiting for someone?”

  “The right someone. He’s tarnished. That’ll wear off in a few decades and he’ll be marketable again. Unless the right master comes along, someone who doesn’t care about offending Bronson.”

  “There are people like that here?” I asked. The Master had sealed a room from prying senses, then casually reached through fire. And I had a feeling that was nowhere near the limit of his power.

  Malcolm nodded, a little smirk dragging up one side of his lips. The candlelight and shadows did impressive things to the elegant bones of his face, which in turn did powerful things to me. He didn’t glamour me. I would have known and resisted even if he had, but he still affected me. His fingers stroked across my forearm, then dipped to caress the inside of my wrist.

  “Shall we go on a tour?”

  “I kind of like it up here.” The center of the floor was open all the way to the ceiling which, since it was mostly dark, seemed miles away. The upper floor was closed to it, but this one was mostly exposed.

  “I need to determine who is here,” he said. “And it wouldn’t hurt to show you off.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I raised both hands. “Why?”

  “I’m not using you as bait. Abel’s no longer striking at Bronson or his people. He’s considering turning himself in. Your presence will help convince him that he is safe to step forward.”

  “How am I guaranteeing his safety? I stabbed him last time I saw him. In the face. Believe me when I say that he did not appreciate it.”

  Mal waved that away, as if it was no big deal. Yet another reason I didn’t really want to go down there. I was fragile compared to people who waved off facial slicing. Weak, protected by a system of rules I’d seen broken more times than I wanted to remember.

  “We need you to be seen by more than him.” He sounded apologetic, but determined, which meant this wasn’t optional. “Others are curious. I’d rather escort you than have them trying to sneak up while I’m not here.”

  I hated having nothing between me and strange vampires but my fear. And Malcolm, who would stand up to anyone who tried to hurt me. I was sure of it, but him wanting to defend me didn’t mean he could. I could sense the power inside of each of them, and while I adored him, there were many he wouldn’t be able to compete with. I looked down, not wanting to let him see what was churning inside of me. This was part of being with him. Just as his vampirism was a frustration for me, my humanity was a weakness for both of us. It would be easier if he were human, or if I were a vampire. Neither was an option.

  I could leave, drive away right now and be comfortable with my life. Except that I’d be leaving him. He couldn’t walk away. Not now, not for some time. My leaving wouldn’t punish Mal. He’d get over it eventually. I’d become one of those things he ignored, one of those things he got over. But I didn’t want him getting over me. I craved the sound of his voice and the feel of him, the fact that being with him made me feel like I was special without anything about me changing. It was difficult to admit that, even in the privacy of my own mind. It seemed risky, liking someone so much, especially someone in a compromised situation. But the promise of how happy we could be, if we didn’t have any obligations, had me building little fantasies in my head.

  “We don’t have to do it right now,” he said, his energy snuffed like a candle as he pulled it tight. Hiding his disappointment. It still stung. I was weak but I wasn’t a coward. Chev had said it would be cool so long as I had a chaperone.

  “We won’t have to do this when you’re done with Bronson’s contract, right?” I slid to the end of the booth.

  “We’ll do whatever we want.” He smoothed his hand over his torso. He’d changed on the way down and wore a black tie over a gray shirt. His pants were charcoal, fitted, which did great things to his thighs. I’d thought that pants were pants until I’d seen the way he wore them.

  He was also in full vampire mode, so pale that his lips, eyes, and hair were the only things that kept him from being a black-and-white cutout in the richly colored room. He touched my arm, and heat flooded me. I couldn’t keep my eyes off his mouth as he pulled me up. He trailed a finger up to my bare shoulder, then along the high neck of my black shirt.

  The wardrobe provided for me revolved around the throat. Everything either covered it while offering samples of other skin, or fell away to leave it completely uncovered. I used to squirm inside of three thick layers to see humans in vampire lounges dressed like that. On display.

  “Stay close,” he said. “If something upsets you, swallow it. Remember that this is all a show. Nothing here matters.”

  “What happens at Tenth World stays at Tenth World? Like Vegas, only the glow eyes are real?”

  He smiled, but the expression sharpened as we left the small room. The collective feel of vampire swirled and fizzed in the air, and I gripped the banister as we descended the wide staircase. Face blank, I tried to match my strides to Mal’s. He r
aised his chin as he peered around the room, attention everywhere other than me. But his energy, warm and intangibly dense, ran over my skin. It condensed in a strategic location, governed by his will, and, tense and startled, I jerked.

  “Malcolm,” I hissed through my teeth. He tilted his head and grinned wickedly, showing a hint of fang.

  “You have nothing to be worried about.” Leaning close, he brushed his knuckle over my cheekbone and whispered, “Just remember that you’re mine.”

  Jesus. Game on.

  He walked and I traipsed along beside him.

  “Check out what they’ve done with the acoustics,” Mal said.

  All I heard were strings—a real-life string quartet in the corner was classing up a song that I vaguely recognized as a country tune—and falling water over a rolling murmur. I watched a female ten feet away. Her lips were moving but I couldn’t even catch the edges of her words. Strings and water, an arrhythmic beat and… I glanced at an arrangement of plants at my elbow. Inside, three-foot-long tubes rotated on a copper rod.

  “Rain sticks.”

  “All filled with a precise balance of stones and grains. She’s calibrated the public areas to make it more difficult to listen in.”

  “Clever and elegant.”

  A shriek cut through the air, a string but decidedly not from the quartet, and more than one of the vampires winced. Mal chuckled.

  “That’s for those of us who lack common manners. If you want to learn something, you have to work for it.” He sounded as though he relished the idea.

  We made a slow circuit. The place was impressive enough that the swarm of vampires weren’t all that disturbing. Tall, leafy plants and burbling fountains gave the impression of a lush, humid place. A token display of wealth in the middle of the desert, plus clever hiding places for Chev’s sound generators. A hallway led to a large sitting area, at the end of which was a bar. For how crowded it was, there were only a few people at the bar itself. Then again, most of the vampires had brought their own refreshments.

  “What’s his deal?” I discreetly pointed at a very young man with dark hair and bright blue eyes. He also wasn’t wearing a shirt, which would have been sweet if the vampires weren’t running their damn fingers over his bare chest and then licking them.

  “Spiced. He ingested something to change the flavor of his blood and, judging by the efficacy, it is too potent.” Malcolm’s expression brightened.

  “What’s fun about that?”

  “This.” He nodded toward two staff converging on the huddle.

  The employees halted a few feet away. Their body language was deferential, their gestures small. No show of force, nothing heavy-handed. It was all very civil. I glanced at Mal, who handed me a pale pink cocktail in a tall, thin glass.

  “What the frou-frou is th—”

  Someone lunged for the boy, who cried out, and the little group exploded into a frenzy of shoving and falling. Ah, that’s more like it. I took a sip. Cranberry vodka and a show. Tenth World really was full service.

  A ripple went through the air, a wave of force that nearly buckled my knees. Malcolm’s arm slid around my waist, his hand closing on mine to keep me from tipping the drink. Time seemed to slow. One of the violinists bumbled a high note, a drawn-out scream that wailed and wailed. Heads turned slowly toward it. Chev appeared, the squabbling vampires tumbling away from her as she strode through them. How was it the suckers were all over the missed note, but not flipping their shit at her manipulating physics?

  She looked about fifteen feet tall, the flex of her power so massive that it seemed to amplify her physical presence. Time came back on line. Her staff pulled the shaken human to his feet. Chev pulled a lanky blond vampire off of him with a gesture. He hung suspended in the air, fangs fully dropped, eyes round and white.

  “Holy shit,” I whispered. “You got that kind of juice?”

  “Nobody here has that kind of juice,” Malcolm said, holding me tight against his side.

  Another worker arrived and handed a paper to Chev. She held it up, but the suspended vampire never took his eyes off of her. His lips moved, forming a single word. Chev nodded, lowered him to the floor, and walked away. I’d half expected her to explode into a cloud of glitter bats and strafe the gaping crowd. But no, off she went, stopping to shake hands with a white-haired vampire wearing pastel pants and a polo shirt. The offending vampire slinked away, his head hanging low.

  I turned to Malcolm, forcing myself to blink. He looked delighted with the proceedings. “Her rules are inviolable.”

  “What’s she going to do?”

  “There was no harm done, only a breach of etiquette, so she revoked his reservation.”

  “She’s not going to throw him out in the sun, is she?”

  “It’s night, and no. She saves that treatment for people who steal towels.”

  I scowled.

  “How well do you know her?”

  His eyebrows arched at my tone.

  “Well enough,” he teased. I elbowed him before his ego could inflate. “Her guests make exotic demands. I specialize in procuring the exotic. She’s strong as a master here, but doesn’t have much clout outside of her territory. For me, filling her orders is…was less dangerous than the things I was usually asked to do. It was a good arrangement.”

  “A partnership.”

  “She’s loyal as the day is long if you abide by her rules. Which is why this is the one house that I do not mind leaving you alone in. She knows how important you are to me.”

  I dropped my chin, trying to duck the implication. But I couldn’t hide, not with him holding me so tightly.

  “For an hour she interrogated me,” he went on. “How could I possibly? After all this time? A human, and one that Bronson’s taken an interest in?”

  I wanted to melt against him. Somehow we were standing in an arena full of vampires and having a moment, and everything inside of me was squirming with discomfort. What the hell was I supposed to do with a moment?

  “Sydney?”

  I shook my head, but then looked up. I couldn’t help it. His brow was furrowed, his eyes dark and seeking. Gold smoke rolled through his irises.

  “Did you tell her we met during an explosion? That we bonded over an assassination attempt?”

  “I told her that I’ve seen you in bad situations and worse, and that you’re strong enough to remain yourself.” His fingers slid across my back. “Determined. Graceful no matter where you’re at. You know what gives you joy and you chase it without losing yourself in the pursuit.”

  It wasn’t a romantic sentiment. These weren’t flattering things for a girl to hear, but they were correct things, for me. If I’d spent hours trying to distill what was important to me, I’d have come up with something close. Stay myself. Have a worthwhile life. He recognized me, and he valued what he saw. Probably for a reason.

  “It’s easy to get lost,” I said. His eyes tightened, and then slid away from me. His hand slid down until his palm covered my ass. I twitched, stilling when he made a low noise without opening his mouth. A warning and reminder that, out here, I belonged to him. Public displays of affection had never felt so cheap. So much for our moment.

  “Sir.” One of Chev’s people stopped in front of us. Her ink-black hair was long and shiny, her skin was polished sand. “We’re going to be hosting an experience in a few minutes.”

  “How exciting. What sort of scene?”

  “Old-world manners and high style. No active feeding.”

  Malcolm squeezed my ass and the female blinked, light blue washing through her irises.

  “Chev asks that you depart the room for a half hour if you find these parameters restrictive.”

  “Finish your drink, dear,” Malcolm said. The lounge was clearing out, except for a few more sedentary groups. Other groups moved in, kitted out in jewels, tuxedos, and sophisticated updos. I finished my drink and slid it back toward the bartender. Our moment had been trumped by a human getting a taste of th
e vampire lifestyle. An intentionally polite and PG version for someone who’d return to the media or his friends—no doubt all part of a rich, influential group—to rave about how civilized and beautiful vampires were. An image they cultivated.

  “Even this place isn’t immune to the PR machine?” I asked as we followed the crowd.

  “Tenth World is ideally placed,” Malcolm said, leaning down to brush his lips against my temple. “For humans too scared to actually venture into our territory.”

  “They think Alaska’s still theirs,” I murmured. He laughed quietly.

  “Not the people in power. Have you ever seen…”

  I followed his line of sight when he trailed off, catching a glimpse of a broad, deep—in all ways large—vampire with orange hair that hung softly past his shoulders.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “An opportunity.” He guided me down a wide hallway, his hand now on my back. The walls were covered in twelve-inch-by-twelve-inch square mirrors. In the stuttered reflection, I appeared to be talking to myself.

  “I’m not understanding your use of the word opportunity here,” I whispered. “Shouldn’t we be moving toward that guy?”

  “He’ll find us. His name is Niall MacInness. His hive is mostly family relations, so they have to be differentiated by given name, but their surname has become a kind of brand. Here we are.”

  We entered a room lined with thick hanging curtains. The walls started white, went through pink toward red, and ended up deep burgundy at the far end of the room. It should have been tacky, but somehow came off as luxurious, maybe because of the vaulted ceilings and the warm glow of the gas lamps.

  The room itself tapered, starting with four widely spaced card tables near the entrance and ending with a single table at the far end. Floor personnel counted chips and escorted players from table to table. It was quieter here, only murmurs, shuffling, and the distinctive clink of chips breaking the silence.

  “What’s the brand known for?” I asked. “Service with a smile?”

  “Resourcefulness.” Malcolm loosened his tie, grabbed my hand, and led me into the room. A handful of humans roamed between the tables, wearing short red aprons over their black uniforms. They were all striking, some more distinct than beautiful. Their smiles appeared vaguely distracted, like they were all wondering if they’d left the oven on. Malcolm signaled to a member of the staff, who crossed quickly to us. Not full vampire speed, but definitely not trying to hide it. The casino must be off-limits for experiences.