by Nell Stark
Like Valentine, and whether there was any way in heaven or hell to reverse what had happened to her.
The bouncers recognized us and waved us past the line of people outside the door. Despite Karma’s reassurance that there would be no vampires in attendance tonight, I was hyper vigilant. I scanned the dance floor as Karma led me past the staircase that rose sinuously out of the middle of the room, but all I saw were shifters. My panther uncoiled into alertness as she sensed the presence of so many other beasts lying in wait.
We stopped at a table near the bar, around which three other women were already perched on chrome stools. My footsteps lagged as I realized I’d be forced to socialize with strangers, and I shot a quick glare at Karma. Was she trying to set me up? But if she noticed my consternation, she gave no sign, and within moments I was exchanging air-kisses with three of her curator colleagues from museums around the city. It was logical, I supposed, for Weres to be drawn to a profession so richly steeped in history, and I found myself genuinely interested in the news they shared about their work. All questions about myself, I redirected with the caginess I was learning in my Trial Advocacy course.
After an hour passed with no sign of a single vampire, I began to relax a little. Our second round of drinks was hand-delivered by Sebastian Brenner himself, the owner of Luna and one of the most prominent players in the younger generation of shifters. As the estranged son of Balthasar, he had come under recent suspicion. Unlike his father, however, Sebastian embraced his humanity and worked to merge his business and personal interests with those of the mortals who surrounded us. He had proven a valuable ally in the struggle to foil his father’s most recent attempt to destroy the Consortium; in fact, I owed him my life. But now I regarded him warily—not because I was afraid of him, but because he had nurtured an attraction to Valentine for a while. He might have seen her recently.
“Hello, Alexa.”
When he handed me my drink, I clutched at it for purchase and fought the urge to take a long sip. I didn’t want to betray weakness in his presence. “Sebastian. How are you?”
He gestured toward the crowded dance floor. “Business is fine, as you can see. You’d almost think the world had gone back to normal.”
I gazed out over the expanse of writhing bodies. “Some of them probably think it has.”
His mouth twisted. “Then they’re idiots.” He was about to say something more when a commotion broke out near the front of the club—a shout, the sound of scuffling, a slamming door. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. One of his bouncers, a heavyset man in a dark blue shirt and gray slacks, hurried across the floor toward us.
Sebastian touched my shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” He met the bouncer halfway and they conferred, dark heads close together. Sebastian gesticulated sharply, and his employee took half a step backward as though he’d been struck, nodding all the while.
“What is it?” Karma asked.
“I don’t know.” The man loped back toward the door and Sebastian returned to our table, waving off our concerns before we could voice them.
“Just a group of rowdy vampires, wanting to get in. Apparently, it’s someone’s coming out party.”
My pulse spiked at “vampire,” and I had to work at keeping the panic from my expression. There were a lot of vampires in New York City. What were the odds that Val had come here, tonight, when Luna was off-limits?
“What exactly is a coming out party in this context?” I asked, my head filled with competing visions of GLBT Pride and debutante balls.
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “It’s an idiotic tradition created by the human hangers-on. They believe being turned is cause for a bacchanal.”
Millions of humans were fascinated by vampires, of course, but only a select few knew of their existence. Usually, they were chosen for their obedience and pliancy. All of them, to my knowledge, hoped one day to be turned. Many died before they ever got the chance, but it was a risk they were willing to take. To someone like Valentine, who had been turned against her will, this tradition must be disgusting. Then again, maybe she felt differently now.
I shook my head, willing the thoughts of her to disperse. There was still some kind of disturbance at the door, and more heads were beginning to turn. I didn’t understand the partyers’ motivations, and I resented their intrusion now. One look at Sebastian’s grim face was proof he shared my feelings.
A different bouncer sought him out, and again he left us. This time, I could hear bits of their conversation. When the man told Sebastian that there were too many in the crowd outside to turn away without risking some kind of incident, Sebastian’s jaw muscles flexed ominously.
“Fine. Let them in. But I want them gone as soon as possible. Find reasons, and boot them one by one so they don’t have critical mass.”
The bouncer was just starting back across the room, when a hush fell over those gathered near the door. And then I heard her voice. It rose in a descant over the heavy industrial throb of the DJ’s beat, and I knew I was in hell.
“Sebastian!” She emerged into my field of view a moment later, and my throat went dry. Dressed in white slacks and a matching tank, her bright gold hair set in jagged spikes, Valentine was a living flame. Slender as a whip and as painful, she crossed to where Sebastian stood and kissed him on the mouth.
“Call off your watchdogs. We only want a drink.”
Judas. That was all I could think. And her kiss had worked; Sebastian’s irritation melted away. He even reached out with one hand to cup Val’s waist in a possessive gesture that forced bile into my throat. She didn’t lean into the caress, but she didn’t pull away either. My panther snarled awake, pushing behind my eyes in search of the danger that had flooded my blood with adrenaline.
I could feel Karma’s hand on my knee, but the rest of me was numb. Frozen. I couldn’t look away. Sebastian had taken Val’s arm and was trying to turn her around. I wondered whether he was worried about what would happen if she saw me. The thought pierced through my numbness, a strange sort of comfort.
Val resisted his pull and sidestepped out of his grasp. And then she went very still as her gaze met mine. How had she known to look? Was it possible that our connection had survived even the death of her soul?
“Alexa.” She spoke my name like a prayer, and a jolt went through me, raising the fine hairs on my arms and prickling the skin at the back of my neck. In that moment, I despaired at her ability to still affect me so strongly. For almost two months, I had forced myself to stay out of her path, to concentrate on my studies. Moving on—that’s what I’d called it. But I had only been running in place.
She walked slowly toward me, as one might toward a frightened animal. And I was afraid—afraid of the hold she still had on me, and angry that I was granting her such power. Distantly, I felt Karma squeeze my leg, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Valentine. Thirst and desire battled for dominance on her face, and the taut muscles of her arms betrayed her tension. She wanted me. Wanted to drink me, wanted to fuck me. Those desires weren’t new, and it had been my pleasure to indulge her in them, but always because they had been accompanied by her all-consuming love.
That love was absent now. No softness lit her eyes, no tenderness inflected her movements. She was Thirst incarnate.
The revelation broke my paralysis, and I surged to my feet. Surprise flickered across Val’s face, and she paused. We stared at each other, separated only by a few footsteps. Separated by a bottomless chasm.
She cocked her head and looked me up and down. The clinical once-over made me nauseated.
“You look good.”
I almost laughed in her face. My Valentine would never have said that. I was far too thin, and I’d had to liberally apply makeup so as not to look like a walking corpse. My Valentine would have been dizzy with worry. My Valentine would have wrapped her arms around me in a loving embrace instead of stalking me like a hunter. My Valentine would have dragged me home—not to gorge herself on my blood, but to cook me a meal
and cajole me into eating every bite. My Valentine was dead.
“Stop.” The word was steady. Pride filtered through the haze of my pain. “I don’t want to hear it.”
It was hard to angle my body away from hers, and even harder to walk away. We were connected still, and every step I took seemed to stretch the frail, invisible cord that held me to her. The stretching was pain. By the time I reached the door, my panther was frantic with the need to confront the threat that was causing me such distress. I jostled one of the bouncers in my urgency to get outside and he snarled.
The crisp air knifed down my lungs, bringing with it the jumbled scents of a crowd. I had emerged into the gathering of vampires who were trying to gain access to Luna. Keeping my head down, I shouldered my way through them, desperate to reach open space.
“Alexa? Is that you?”
Kyle Jordan was one of the Consortium’s human servants who had been raised knowing the secret of vampires and Weres. He was a loyal source of blood to Helen herself. Or rather, he had been. He had been turned recently, his human scent shot through with the wintry chill I’d learned to associate with vampires. And beneath it all, an echo of Valentine’s distinctive fragrance.
The pieces coalesced. Blinded by the hot rush of tears, I stumbled. When he grasped my arm to steady me, I shook him off so violently that he fell to the ground. Kyle smelled like Valentine because she had fed him her blood to turn him. This was his coming out party.
“Alexa!”
Her voice again. The anger pierced me like a knife between the shoulder blades, making it impossible to breathe. My panther clawed her way forward, demanding I shift to face my attacker. I was strong enough to hold her back, but I didn’t want to. I wanted nothing more than to lose myself in the elegant simplicity of her animal brain.
With the last of my strength, I spun to face Val. She was standing at the top of the stairs, incandescent against the dark façade of the club. I wanted to slap her inscrutable face. I wanted to kiss her beautiful mouth. I wanted to fall at her feet and beg her to dig down deeper than the parasite that ruled her blood—to find some small scrap of her former self, and return to me.
I kept my fists clenched at my sides. “Stay away from me, Valentine.”
As I spoke the words, I let the panther take me. Through my transformation, I kept my eyes on Val, despite the hoarse shouts and panicked cries of the crowd. My ears flickered at the cocking of multiple guns, but I refused to be cowed. A low snarl rumbled deep in my throat as I bared my teeth at the shell of the woman I had loved.
And then I leapt away into the shadows.
Chapter Two
The sun was just barely visible over the East River as I approached Constantine’s brownstone. His townhouse was spacious by New York City standards, but it paled in comparison to his former kingdom—the hidden Were city of Telassar, nestled deep in the Atlas Mountains of Morocco. Constantine was living in exile, having been driven out of Telassar by Balthasar Brenner just a few months ago. My jaw clenched at the memory of Brenner, standing outside the walls of the city at the front of his army and demanding Constantine’s surrender. The Consortium’s forces in Africa had initiated a counter siege last month, but so far their efforts had been ineffective.
As I drew closer, I saw Karma sitting on the steps. She held out a Starbucks cup when I approached her, and I caught the aroma of coffee. Pain flared deep in my chest as I remembered how Valentine had plied me with chai lattes every morning for two weeks while trying to convince me to accompany her on a date. In the first few days after our breakup, the mere scent of chai tea had been a painful reminder of our courtship, and I’d made the decision to return to drinking coffee.
“I am so sorry,” Karma said as I took the cup.
Late last night, after finally transforming back to my human self, I had wanted to blame her. But in the intervening hours, as reason began to gain sway, my anger had cooled. “It’s not your fault. You were just trying to help. I have terrible luck.” I took a tentative sip and found comfort in the bold flavor that slid over my tongue and down my throat. “Thanks for this.”
“You’re welcome.” She smoothed her gloved hands over her slacks in an uncharacteristic show of anxiety. “Any casualties?”
A swell of affection rose in me as I realized that even if I answered in the affirmative, she would have my back. “Not unless you feel a strong affinity to subway rats.”
She laughed, clearly relieved. “Were they big ones?”
“The size of housecats.” I slid in next to her, shivering as the cold stone of the step seeped through my jeans. “The transit authority should compensate me for getting rid of several.”
We sat in silence for a while as the city began to wake up around us. Across the street, a woman in a fuzzy pink bathrobe was letting her dog out to do its morning business. A few doors away, a man in an expensive suit hurried down his front steps and turned toward the nearest subway. Normal people going through their normal routines, but the rhythm of the world still felt alien to me without Valentine at my side. Would I ever adjust?
“I didn’t know about Sebastian.” Karma rested her palm on my knee as she spoke. “Whatever it is that he’s doing with…her…I’m out of the loop.”
I closed my eyes against the echo of last night’s rage at witnessing Sebastian’s hands on Valentine. Their kiss. The only saving grace was the memory of her body language—rigid and aloof in response to his possessiveness. Whatever was going on between them, Sebastian had far more of a vested interest in it than she did. She still wanted me, not him. I could cling to that fact until I was strong enough to let her go.
“I’m sorry you’re getting caught in the crossfire.”
Karma stood and offered me her hand. “If I hear anything relevant, do you want to know?”
I weighed my options. I could remain willfully ignorant of Valentine’s actions and lie awake at night imagining every scenario under the sun. Or I could take whatever scraps Karma discovered and lie awake at night mourning the loss of my soul mate. Every day, I told myself that her actions were no longer any of my business, but that was always a lie. Valentine was mine. We had promised each other forever in a way most lovers couldn’t.
“I want to know anything. Everything.” My gaze never left Karma’s as I accepted her outstretched hand. “You’ll think I’m crazy, but I haven’t given up yet on getting her back.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy. I wouldn’t give up either.” She squeezed my fingers then gestured toward the door. “It’s time. After you.”
A few seconds after ringing the bell, we were buzzed in. One of Malcolm’s guards stood sentry just inside the door, and I nodded to him as we made our way down the foyer. The hallway opened onto a bright and spacious room populated only sparsely with furniture: a large oak dining table, a matching desk under one of the windows, an armchair near another. Brightly colored shag rugs covered much of the hardwood floor. Contentment radiated from my panther, who loved the airy feel of Constantine’s home and felt comforted by her sire’s proximity.
While most humans would have hung a large television on one of the walls and arranged couches to face it, Constantine’s only wall decorations were landscape paintings, and his guests usually lounged on the floor around a low coffee table. He and Malcolm were already seated, and after peeling off our coats, Karma and I joined them. Soon, the business of the day would begin, and Malcolm and Constantine would join their vampire colleagues at Consortium headquarters. But for now, our select group could discuss shifter politics and strategy without fear of betrayal or interference.
“Good morning,” I said, trying to gauge the mood in the room. Neither of them were particularly expressive men, and I couldn’t tell whether they were displeased with something or just preoccupied.
Constantine turned his laptop screen toward me. “Explain this.”
His browser was open to someone’s Twitter feed. I didn’t recognize the username, but he or she had last tweeted at tw
o o’clock in the morning. Just saw a HUGE BLACK CAT run down stairs of 51st street station, read the update. A fucking panther in Manhattan, riding the fucking 6 train!
Torn between apprehension and amusement, I shrugged. “No one will believe it.”
“That is not the point.” Malcolm’s tone reminded me of my father’s when I had misbehaved as a young child. “Your control must be better than this. Our situation is far too precarious to risk any kind of exposure.”
He dared to accuse me of not knowing the stakes? I wanted to lash out, and my panther snarled as my temper rose. But I held my tongue, and her, in check.
“It’s my fault,” Karma said.
“It’s not.” I met Malcolm’s gaze. “And it won’t happen again.”
“I know the past few months have been emotional ones,” Constantine said, “and we’re all under even more stress than usual—”
As much as I appreciated his sympathy, I wanted to stop talking about last night. Every moment spent reliving it made my chest constrict and my head throb. I held up a hand to forestall him. “Like I said, it won’t happen again. Let’s move on to the important topics.”
Malcolm wasted no time. “The siege of Telassar remains in stalemate. If, as we suspect, traitors in our army are covertly supplying the city, we have yet to determine who the culprits are or how they make their arrangements.”
Constantine muttered a string of expletives in French as he ran his fingers through the several inches of curly black hair that crowned his normally-shaven head. He had vowed not to cut a single lock until Telassar had been restored to his command. Now it was my turn to feel sympathy for him; I could only imagine his frustration at remaining in New York while others commanded the forces meant to reinstate him to power.
“More and more fools are flocking to Brenner’s banner every day.” Malcolm’s disgust was palpable. “Karma, you have news on the latest domestic attacks?”