The Scarlet Deep

by Elizabeth Hunter

  Murphy still waited breathlessly until Oleg’s face softened just a hint and he began nodding. His face was grim, but he was nodding and he’d taken Anne’s hand and held it affectionately.

  And if Murphy had the inclination to be jealous, he would have been jealous of that look. Because for a short moment, he saw the buried longing on the Russian’s face. He did want Anne. He also knew he couldn’t have her.

  Anne turned her eyes to him and nodded silently. Murphy walked over and slid into the booth next to his mate as Oleg released Anne’s hand.

  “Oleg,” he said. “I hope—”

  “I offer my felicitations on your reunion, Patrick Murphy. Anne is a good woman and a powerful vampire. She will make a wise and excellent consort for you.”

  Murphy slid his hand to Anne’s and clasped it. “Thank you, Oleg.”

  “It is only because of my respect for her judgment that I will share this information with you. I trust Anne will share it only with those for whom that information is necessary. I trust your mate to make that determination.”

  Anne said, “You honor me with your trust, Oleg.”

  The Russian’s eyes glinted. “I know a good friend when I have one. Should… certain things come to light, I expect you will be a friend then, as well.”

  “I understand your motives, Oleg.”

  “As few do.” Oleg looked at Murphy. “Anne shared with me that the American tells you Zara is behind the shipments of Elixir coming out of the Black Sea.”

  “He implied that she’s running Istanbul and the Bosphorus.”

  “The American is correct. I have been forced to contend with her for two years now. There is no need to detail how successful that has been. Zara hates me. Most sincerely. Luring Laskaris into an affair was a very effective revenge. I had no quarrel with the sleepy Greek until Zara started whispering in his ear.”

  “Oleg, surely a lover’s quarrel—”

  “She was not his lover, Patrick,” Anne said. She looked at Oleg. “Please?”

  Oleg growled, “Zara is my daughter.”

  Murphy blinked. “All reports I’ve been able to find since I talked to O’Brien say she is a water vampire.”

  “She is a water vampire.”

  “But you’re sired from earth—”

  “Did you know I had a mate once?” Oleg said, eyes falling to their clasped hands. “I envy you, Patrick Murphy. For my mate was not as yours is. She was quite insane.”

  “Oleg,” Anne said, “I don’t think you need to talk about Luana. We really only need to know about Zara.”

  “Zara is a water vampire,” he said, “because my mate, Luana, was a water vampire. Though it is rare, when two vampires exchange blood—and Luana and I exchanged much blood—a vampire’s child may be sired to their mate’s element. This is why many people misunderstand our relationship, which I have done nothing to clarify. Zara was a favorite of Luana’s when she was human. Luana asked me to sire her plaything.” Oleg shrugged. “It was not the wisest decision. But then, many of my decisions with Luana were not wise.”

  “So Zara is your daughter, but she is a water vampire,” Murphy said, ignoring the truly twisted dynamic that made a vampire sire a child to be a lover or “plaything” for their own mate.

  Oleg raised the pint of lager he’d been drinking. “A stroke of luck, I thought at first. My mate is happy her favorite is of her own element. Zara is very powerful. And after some time, I thought she could run my ports on the Black Sea. The council in Athens is entirely water vampires. They have always preferred working with their own kind. I thought Zara would be an excellent intermediary.” He took a long swallow of the beer, then shoved it to the side with a curled lip. “Why is there no good vodka? I do not understand England.”

  Anne reached in her handbag and drew out a narrow bottle of very high-end vodka she must have swiped from one of Terry’s cars. “I found reinforcements,” she said. “Just in case.”

  “No no,” the Russian demurred. “The beer is fine.”

  “Oleg, you hate beer.”

  He paused. “I do hate beer.” He let loose a stream of Russian that sounded very complimentary as he opened the bottle and went to the bar to help himself to three glasses. Murphy had no idea how to speak Russian. He wondered if Anne did.

  “Beautiful woman,” Oleg finally said as he poured for them all. “You are a treasure, Anne O’Dea. Irishman, I would steal her from you if I did not see so much happiness in her eyes.”

  Oleg raised his glass and offered some toast Murphy assumed was the equivalent of sláinte in Russian. Then he and Anne followed Oleg’s lead and sipped the vodka, which was decent, though Murphy had never been a fan of the liquor.

  “So yes,” the Russian continued. “Zara was a good choice to run my ports in the south. Luana was often with her there. They were happy—as much as Luana was ever happy. It was peaceful… mostly. But then I hear rumors. I ignore them. Zara makes me too much money. And then more rumors. Even after Luana died, I ignored many of the rumors because it was easier. Zara was effective. And I did not have to deal with her if she was in the south.”

  “What happened two years ago?” Murphy asked.

  “I discovered Zara had stolen the remaining Elixir from me,” Oleg said. “There were pallets Livia had hidden. The Roman thought the rest of us were stupid.” Oleg shrugged. “Maybe the others were, because they are dead. I am not. I watched Livia carefully. After I discovered what this… poison did to humans, I wanted nothing to do with it. Madness, I thought. What do we have to gain from poisoning the humans? Would the mortals kill all their cattle? Salt their own fields? It was then I realized that Livia was as insane as my mate had been. I left her in Rome when Vecchio arrived. Then I instructed my people to steal the remaining Elixir and secure it in one of my warehouses in Moscow.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you destroy it?” Murphy asked.

  “Do you know how to destroy Elixir?” Oleg asked. “Please tell me. Do I burn it and risk putting it into the atmosphere? Do I dilute it? I didn’t know enough about it to safely destroy it, so I secured it—I thought—and figured that I would destroy it when I discovered how.” He shrugged. “I didn’t think anyone would steal it because who would be enough of an idiot to want to take a poison?”

  Anne said, “You forgot that Zara likes to manipulate people for fun.”

  “See?” Oleg tapped his temple. “This is why I should have seduced you fifty years ago, lapochka. You would keep me from forgetting things like this. Yes, Zara likes to… twist people. Manipulate them. She finds it amusing, like Luana did.”

  Murphy asked, “Was she involved with the initial theft?”

  “Not directly. She was a lover to one of my lieutenants in Moscow. He is the one she convinced to help steal the Elixir. He is dead now. Unfortunately, Zara still had the Elixir. By the time I discover my man’s betrayal, Zara had already become the Greek’s lover. I cannot openly oppose Laskaris, or he will cut off my access to the Bosphorus. Zara will not return to St. Petersburg to face punishment from me, of course. So I cut her off. I close all her accounts and tell her she is no longer under my aegis and must leave my home in Sevastopol.”

  Murphy asked, “And her settlement?”

  No sire, even the most evil, would release a child from their aegis without a financial settlement. It wasn’t a matter of the worthiness of the child, but the resources of the sire. To release a vampire without providing for their independence would be seen as an embarrassment to anyone, but especially a vampire like Oleg, who had vast wealth.

  “Her settlement is generous, of course,” Oleg said with an evil smile. “Millions in gold waiting for her in a chest in my home. All she has to do is come retrieve it.”

  Murphy had to admire the vampire. No immortal could find fault with his cunning. Zara had been provided for, but not without facing discipline from her sire. And Murphy knew firsthand that no vampire would interfere with a sire’s discipline of their offspring.

 
; “But she refused to come to you,” he said. “And she went to Laskaris.”

  “I’m sure the old Greek finds her very exciting. And she has made him much money, some of which I’m sure she has probably put into producing more Elixir.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am sure of very little with Zara. If she is producing it, Athens is not ignorant.”

  Murphy said, “Laskaris may know about it and not care. Athens will see this as an opportunity to raise their profile. To be a world power again, which they’ve been wanting for some time. Libya looks poised to become a major power again with Inaya’s rise to power. That would leave Athens as the oldest and most static player in the Old World. They won’t like that.”

  “But Zara isn’t in London?” Anne asked. “You’re sure of it?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “So who is she using in London?”

  Oleg shook his head. “I have no idea about this, my friend. She likes money, and she’ll be careful with Laskaris, at least for some time. So look for some financial incentive. Whoever is helping her will be wealthy, or be convinced that Zara can make him wealthy.”

  “Him?” Murphy asked.

  Oleg shrugged again. “Or her. Zara will use anyone. But the motivation will be financial, I’m certain.”

  Anne asked, “Who makes money from Rens being dead?”

  Tywyll piped up from across the room, “I do. But I didn’t kill him.”

  Murphy shook his head. “Rens wasn’t likely killed for money, but because of what he knew.” He looked at Oleg. “Did Anker know about Zara?”

  “The Dutchman? Probably. If he was interested to look, there are plenty of people who might talk. It wasn’t a secret, though Zara does not like to gain attention. She prefers to work behind the scenes.”

  Who, of the remaining summit attendees, was poised to make money as Zara continued to spread Elixir? Murphy thought. Jetta? The Scandinavian was the least likely. Most of her financial investments were energy related. Leonor and Jean were the only two left, and both would make money from Elixir infection because both produced blood-wine.

  As did Terry.

  “Do you know where Zara is?” asked Anne.

  “Yes and no. I don’t think she leaves Greek territory often, because she’d be fair game. Laskaris hasn’t officially declared her under his aegis, because that would make him accountable for her actions. But she’s not under mine, either. As long as she stays near Athens, she’ll be protected. But other than that, I have no idea. There are many places she could be hiding in comfort. They have so many islands it’s ridiculous. They’ve long been a haven for those looking to disappear.”

  “But Athens is protecting her?” Now that Murphy’s anger had a focus, it began to burn brighter. “This drug she’s been producing and shipping has killed hundreds. Possibly thousands now. Vampires. Mortals. She’s poisoned them, sent others out. Whoever was shipping into Ireland for her has killed humans and vampires under my aegis. Most recently, a good man whose only fault was being curious and wanting to help me.”

  “Tell me”—Oleg leaned forward—“are you prepared to go to war with Athens, Irishman?”

  Murphy had to bite back a growl because he knew he wasn’t. He didn’t have the resources to attack Athens, though he’d certainly do what he could to harm them in business.

  “You know I’m not,” he bit out. “But you could.”

  “I could.” Oleg nodded. “And I might. I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Murphy.” Anne squeezed his hand. “Oleg has asked that—in exchange for him being so open about his daughter—that we leave Zara to him.”

  “And let her get away with poisoning our kind and tainting the blood supply?” Murphy was steps away from livid. The water drew to him, dampening his clothes where he sat. Anne held his hand firmly.

  “Zara will not be ignored,” Anne said. “Not anymore.”

  Oleg said, “Find the one responsible for the deaths in London. Take your vengeance on those working with her. But Zara is my blood. Leave her to me.”

  “Then get your blood under control, Russian.”

  The booth heated immediately, though Oleg’s expression didn’t flinch. Murphy felt the steam rise on his skin where the Russian’s fire met his water. Tywyll muttered something across the room, and the heat died back slightly.

  “Out of respect for her”—Oleg nodded at Anne—“you live. But do not speak of things you know nothing about. And pray you do not meet me without your mate, for I do not tolerate disrespect. I have nothing more to say to you.”

  The Russian stood and left the booth.

  “Move!” Anne said, pushing him. “Let me out.”

  Reluctantly, Murphy slid out of her way and Anne ran to the door. She grabbed Oleg’s hand before he could leave the pub.

  “Oleg, please—”

  He said something in Russian.

  “I know,” Anne said. “But he has lost people who looked to him for protection. You of all vampires understand this.”

  “Fine.” Oleg sent a withering look toward Murphy, who leaned against the side of the bench with his arms crossed over his chest. “He is rash, lapochka. You should teach him wisdom.”

  She smiled. “Because I’ve been so successful with you?”

  Oleg put his hand on Anne’s cheek, cupping it. Murphy stood up straighter, but Tywyll caught his eye, shaking his head deliberately.

  Murphy gritted his teeth and stayed put.

  “You have taught me more than you know, Anne O’Dea.”

  “Oleg—”

  “But I must bid you farewell now.”

  Anne froze. “I’m not going to see you again, am I?”

  A wicked smile curled the corner of Oleg’s lip. “Will you run away with me tonight?”

  Anne sighed. “The answer is still no.”

  “Then no, my friend, you will not.”

  The Russian bent down carefully, kissing her cheeks before he straightened. He said something quietly in Russian. Anne nodded. Then Oleg nodded to Tywyll and walked out the door.

  WHEN Murphy, Anne, and Tywyll made their way outside, all the previously drowned guards were standing mutely by the riverbank, their faces written with embarrassment. Murphy went to stand in front of them, his hands hanging loosely in his pockets.

  “The Russians all leave?”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “Took off in a boat,” another said. “High-end. Headed away from the city.”

  Murphy said nothing. Oleg would have arranged his departure with Tywyll. If the old vampire was satisfied, he wouldn’t complain.

  That still left four men standing dripping wet and shamefaced by the river.

  “I’d say I was angry, but it’s Tywyll.”

  One of the men coughed up a piece of sea grass and a spurt of river water that must have lodged in his throat.

  “Come on then, lads,” Murphy said, nodding toward the cars. “Back to Mayfair. We’ll all pretend this didn’t happen”—he glared at Tywyll, who only laughed—“and none of us will speak of it again.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “But don’t even think you’re riding in the front car,” he added. “And you’re cleaning the second one when we get back.”

  One of his men said, “But boss—”

  “I always carry a change of clothes,” Murphy said, straightening his tie. “None of you did. There’s a lesson about preparation there. Think about it while you clean the cars.”

  Anne slipped her hand in his and tugged him toward the car where Ozzie was waiting while Murphy began to chew over the information Oleg had given them.

  Jetta.

  Leonor.

  Jean.

  Ramsay.

  He slid into Terry’s car with Anne at his side. At the end of the night, it was really only Terry that Murphy trusted.

  He’d dismissed Jetta earlier because she had no financial incentive to spread Elixir and her territories were harder hit. But Jetta didn’t count
the Russian as a friend, and Zara might use that to persuade Jetta to help her cross her sire. Oleg and Jetta were rivals when it came to their energy interests. They coordinated when they had to, but both were heavily invested in petroleum and gas.

  Leonor and Jean would both make money off blood-wine, even with Jean producing a lower-end product. If Elixir spread far enough, everyone would be drinking it. Leonor might have come across as innocent the night before, or she might have covered herself well because she had known she’d be a suspect. After all, Jean didn’t have a history of ambition outside France, and few would call him violent unless someone had personally offended him. He was mainly proprietary about his people—

  His people.

  “Anne,” Murphy asked, “where did Terry get his winemaker?”

  “His winemaker?” Anne frowned. “I believe Brigid said he hired him away from Jean Desmarais.”

  “That’s what I thought I remembered.”

  Leonor’s comments the night before came back to him.

  I acquired a new winemaker last year.

  He treats his people like horse-dung and expects them to be grateful.

  It was easy to tempt the young one away.

  Jean had lost two of his employees to Terry and Leonor. One after the other. Two employees who were poised to become some of the most valuable people in his organization.

  Murphy banged on the front divider, and Ozzie rolled down the window.

  “Yes, boss?”

  “Turn around. Go back to the pub.”

  Anne looked confused. “Patrick?”

  “I know who’s helping Zara, and we’re going to need your father’s help.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  ANNE WATCHED MURPHY standing at the front of Tywyll’s barge as it moved across the river. The night was clouded, and no moon shone in the sky. A boon, her father had said. The red-sailed barge would be nearly invisible in the night, which was just how the old waterman liked it.

  When Tywyll had told them the French vampire was keeping a reefer ship at Tilbury, on the north shore of the Thames, Murphy was quick to ask for passage across the river.