Thomass laughed—a gentle, warning laugh. "It's no problem. Let one of us do it." Stephen could see pleading in Thomass' eyes.
"I will handle it," he repeated.
"You'll eliminate her?"
"She won't be a problem."
"See that she's not, or we will take care of it," Simon said. "Stephen, we don't know who is responsible for these recent deaths, but you do hold a history with this Council. We will do whatever is needed to protect this Community."
He couldn't fault Simon's desire to protect his people. "I expect nothing less." Stephen turned. It was time to leave. He had what he needed. They didn't seem to know any more than he did. Less, really. They were of no more use to him tonight, and he had things to do before dawn.
"You'll excuse me."
He didn't wait for permission. He turned and headed for the door, pausing as he walked by Dylan. The young vampire flinched. Stephen didn't bother to look at him. "You're no longer welcome in my house."
Stephen walked out, stopping only when he'd reached his car. He replayed the scene in his head.
Two things were obvious.
He was the target. The Council was the weapon.
The answer he didn't have—who was behind it?
And why? Stephen allowed himself a grim smile. With his history, it wouldn't be difficult to find enemies. He'd spent two hundred years bound to those he hated the most. Maybe someone had decided it was time to end it.
"Stephen!"
He tensed at Thomass' call. He didn't want to deal with the other vampire right now.
"Wait."
Stephen released his grip on the door handle and turned around.
"Do you see what I mean?" Thomass asked as he approached. "Robertson is leading the charge, but the others are right behind him."
"I'm not worried about them."
"You should be," Thomass snapped. "They have a lot of power on the Council."
"The Council has no power over me."
"They do if they grab you and stake you out with silver chains." He waved his arm toward a distant hill. It faced east, ready to catch the morning sun. "That's what they'll do, Stephen. With just the slightest provocation."
Thomass stared at Stephen, clearly looking for a response he wasn't getting. "And why didn't you tell me about this woman? I could have helped."
"She's not your concern."
"Stephen, you don't have to deal with this alone." Thomass shook his head. "I've known you longer than anyone." He smiled. "We were cellmates, remember? I know you have nothing to do with this, but please, keep your head down. For once, do what the Council wants."
"I said I would deal with her."
"Fine." Thomass capitulated. "You'll have to deal with Dylan as well. He's very upset. He's afraid he might have given them the wrong impression."
Stephen laughed without humor. "Yes, lying will do that."
"I'm sure he didn't mean to lie. He said you kicked him out of your house." Thomass placed a fatherly hand on Stephen's shoulder. "Please, talk to him. Let him come home. Out of respect for Joshua."
"Joshua was your mentor as well. You take his fledgling." Stephen pulled his car door open.
"Can I at least bring him by for his stuff?"
"Make sure I'm not there when you do," Stephen growled.
He started the engine and drove off, leaving Thomass standing in the dark.
He should go to Madeleine's. For once he agreed with the vampire leaders. Enough time had passed. It was the perfect opportunity to stage a suicide by the distressed cousin. But tomorrow would be soon enough. His mood wasn't suited for a delicate death.
Instead, he drove to Gayle's club. The huge, black building sat back from the street. A tiny sign with the words "Death's Door" in red-black letters hung by the entrance to the gate. During daylight, it looked like a southern mansion, painted black by some madman. At night, it was dark and menacing, the home of the dead—or the undead. Just the look Gayle had been going for when he built it.
The entrance was dimly lit—for effect and to accommodate the eyes of the less lively patrons. To enter Death's Door, visitors had to navigate a pitch-black maze that led to the actual bar. The squeals of laughing fright proved Gayle's theory—humans loved a little terror with their nightclub.
Stephen nodded to the doorman-parking attendant, who checked every vehicle that came through. Stephen was known here. Not always welcome. Gayle had told him on more than one occasion that he was bad for business—he scared the humans and the vampires.
Avoiding the maze, he slipped in through a side entrance. The bar was divided into two sections, one side with tables and almost no light, the other an open area with a dance floor and enough light for human eyes.
Stephen stood near the back of the darkened side and looked out at the small crowd, humans and vampires mixed together. It was a game—one the humans didn't know they were playing.
He waited, knowing Gayle would find him. Moments later, Stephen sensed a presence behind him. He slowly turned. Gayle leaned against the back wall, his arms folded over his chest.
"Come to apologize?" he asked with excessive casualness.
"Yes."
"Good." With that, their relationship returned to normal. Stephen wasn't quite sure what that meant. He'd never had a friend like Gayle. Gayle tossed his mane of blond hair over his shoulder and strolled to Stephen's side. "You look pale. Have you dined?"
Gayle was nouveau-vampire. While other vampires "hunted" and "fed," Gayle "made reservations" and "dined."
"I'm fine."
"You need to keep up your strength. Word on the street is you have a new pet."
Stephen whipped his head around and nailed Gayle with his eyes. "Male or female?"
Gayle leaned back. "Pardon me?"
"What do the rumors say? Is it male or female?" Stephen demanded through tight teeth.
"Male. Which is why I was pretty sure you'd deny them outright." Gayle glanced quickly over Stephen's shoulder. His eyes widened briefly before he smiled at Stephen. "You have one of each? You are a busy boy. What's her name?"
"You're not asking about him?"
Gayle shook his head. "No. If it's male, it's not a pet." The term "pet" in the vampire community had a sexual connotation. "Hmm. Was she the one who ran from your house tonight? Tsk, tsk. That's no way to woo a lady."
"I'm not trying to woo her."
"What's her name?"
"Maddie, uh, Madeleine," Stephen corrected instantly. "And it's business. She's not a pet." He couldn't see Madeleine as anyone's pet. A pet needed to be compliant, submissive, malleable—none of which could be applied to Madeleine.
Gayle looked vaguely disappointed. "Too bad. You could use the distraction. As I recall it's been a while since you were distracted by anyone. Let alone a human."
"I've never been one to play with my food."
Gayle chuckled and snapped his eyes to the corner of the room again.
Stephen looked at his friend. He had no reason to trust him. Gayle was flip and flirtatious and sometimes irritating as hell. But he was loyal. Or at least he appeared loyal. And more importantly, he gathered information like an anteater on a feeding frenzy.
"I need a favor." He hated to ask it, hated to bring anyone near to the situation, but he needed information. "Keep me up on what you hear."
"About you or everything?"
"Anything to do with me, dead vampires, or silver daggers."
"So, you want only the best gossip," Gayle teased.
"Yes." Stephen cocked his head to the side. "Why do you keep looking over my shoulder?"
"Matthias is here."
"Ahh." Just what I need tonight. "And you'd like me to leave."
Gayle winced. "Well, things tend to get violent when the two of you meet."
"I have that effect on people lately."
"Yes, well, my insurance costs skyrocketed after the last time you two were both here. And it took some doing to convince the police that you were ju
st actors rehearsing and that you didn't really have fangs."
Stephen nodded. Matthias was the last person he wanted to see tonight. "Don't worry. I'm leaving."
When he arrived home moments later, the house was silent. Dylan was gone. Nicholas was watching Madeleine, and Cassandra was downstairs asleep. Her heartbeat pounded in his ears but he felt no desire to feed. It was probably time to release her. Things were going to get dangerous.
Stephen climbed the stairs to his room and walked to the wall safe hidden in his closet. He spun the dial until the lock clicked open in his hand. A single black case sat in the gray lined vault. Stephen tensed and opened the box.
Slashes of silver rested against the dark black velvet. Silver daggers given to him by his father. The father who'd believed in vampires.
The case held slots for ten silver daggers—only seven remained. Stephen smiled at the irony of it.
After two hundred years, his father's knives were being used for the purpose for which they'd been designed—killing vampires.
Chapter Four
"This is insane."
Madeleine looked up from her place on the edge of Stephen's couch. Scott had repeated the same sentiment several times this afternoon. She was a little tired of hearing it. He paced the opposite side of the room beneath the curved staircase.
She glanced out the window. The sun was beginning to set.
Cassandra, the housekeeper, had let them in and hadn't objected when Scott showed her the search warrant he'd obtained. She'd stepped aside and let them search, asking them only to keep things as tidy as possible. She didn't look as exhausted as she had last week, but the same pale skin made Madeleine wonder if Cassandra wasn't part of the club.
When the police had left and only Scott and Madeleine had remained, Cassandra had been polite as she'd offered them coffee and told them Stephen would arrive shortly after sunset. Staying true to nature, Madeleine thought as she rolled her eyes.
"Maybe you misunderstood him."
Madeleine ground her teeth together and resisted the urge to growl. They'd been through this several times as well. But her temper wasn't Scott's fault. She hadn't slept well. Even though she knew Stephen was crazy, he'd still followed her into her dreams—more seductive and daring than before.
She took a deep breath and forced her lips into a tight smile. "It's a little hard to misunderstand when you hear people talking about drinking blood."
"It doesn't make any sense."
"It makes perfect sense," Madeleine corrected. She ticked off each item on her fingertips. "There was no blood in Danielle's body. She had a cut on her neck and a stab wound in her chest. Maybe they thought they'd turned her into a vampire and had to kill her. They stake vampires, right?"
Scott spun toward Madeleine. "How do you know that?"
"I watched horror movies as a kid."
"No. How did you know about Danielle's wounds?"
Madeleine rocked back at the anger and shock on Scott's face.
"You told me about the wound on her neck, and I read the autopsy report for the rest of it."
"Where the hell did you get the autopsy report?" He stomped forward, stopping in front of her.
"Someone sent it to me. I thought you had."
"Why would I send you a confidential report?"
Madeleine shrugged. She'd thought he'd been trying to help. So who'd sent her the report? And why?
After a few moments, Scott sighed. "Okay, we'll fight about that later. Go over this with me one more time."
She sighed. "I was here. They were in the kitchen talking."
"And you're sure they didn't know you were listening? Maybe they were playing a joke on you."
Madeleine wrapped her arms around her chest to ward off a chill she couldn't seem to shake. "It was no joke. They think they are vampires. If you'd heard this conversation, you'd almost believe it, too."
***
Stephen pulled the Jag into a narrow parking space and climbed out. The sun was just below the horizon. The sounds of the city murmured around him. He took a moment to savor the muted noise, then extended his hearing, focusing the sound and turning it from a dull hum to distinct echoes.
Voices sharpened from inside the homes, laughter, tears, the slither of a bicycle tire across the sidewalk. And a heartbeat. Nearby.
He turned his head. Nicholas stood silently in the shadows.
"What are you doing here?"
He cocked his head toward the house. "She's here."
"Madeleine?" Stephen couldn't quite keep the surprise from his voice.
Nor could he control the physical reaction. The changes were startling and immediate. His teeth extended, stretching, straining for the need to pierce her flesh. Lower down, remnants of his human flesh began to lengthen and grow hard. He traced his tongue over the sharp points of his eyeteeth, briefly enjoying the spike of pleasure that jolted his body. More surprised because it had been years since he'd had any kind of sexual reaction to a human. Or to anyone. He'd thought the human desires had left him, as they did some vampires of a certain age. He hadn't regretted the loss much. He hadn't formed any particular attachments, and seducing a human was too simple and typically a waste of time.
Somehow, he didn't think seducing Madeleine would be either easy or a waste of time. The images he'd implanted in her mind flooded back on him and his body tightened, preparing to act out the fantasies. Yes, Madeleine would do nicely.
Now that he knew she was near, he focused on her heartbeat—the familiar, distinctive rhythm. She was tense and irritated.
And she wasn't alone.
"Who's with her?" Stephen asked.
"A cop. I think his name's Lambert. They searched your house."
Stephen nodded. He'd convinced the police to discount his role in the situation. Until Madeleine brought them back.
The corner of his mouth kicked up into a smile. He had to admire her tenacity. It took a lot of persuading to convince the average human, let alone a cop, to search for a vampire. But she'd managed to do it.
Stephen nodded to Nicholas. "I'll deal with Madeleine." He wasn't worried about the cop. He was rather concerned about the Council. They'd almost assuredly have someone watching.
"I'll wait for her here."
"No. You won't need to watch her tonight."
Regret washed across the fledgling's face, but he didn't say anything.
Good. He's learning.
Stephen turned away.
He hadn't expected Madeleine to be able to move this quickly, but caution had saved him. Just before dawn, he'd decided to sleep elsewhere—too many people had taken an interest in his actions—and he'd returned to Death's Door. Gayle had installed a vault below the club that he let his friends use.
A light breeze ruffled Stephen's hair. He stopped inside his front door and ran his fingers through the wayward strands, putting them back in place.
"Good evening, Detective," he drawled as he wandered down the hall and turned the corner into his living room. "Find anything interesting?" Tension clung to Lambert like a tightly wound spring. I wonder what it would take to set him off.
Comparatively, Madeleine looked calm seated behind the coffee table. Her eyes locked on Stephen as he entered. With any other human he might have expected her to look away, drop her eyes. Not Madeleine. She steeled her spine and stared him down.
"Good evening, Cassandra," Stephen acknowledged when she came in from the kitchen, her hands clenching and unclenching nervously at her sides.
"You said I should let them in if they came." The confession broke from her mouth.
Stephen bowed his head. "So I did. Thank you. Will you bring our guests some tea?" She nodded and returned to the kitchen. He stepped to the edge of the coffee table, blocking Detective Lambert from Madeleine's view. "Good evening, Madeleine." He dropped his voice to a low, seductive whisper. Her hands tightened in her lap. And shivers ran down her spine.
"I invited Ms. Bryant because she is—" Stephen could
almost hear the detective's mind searching for the right word. "Involved."
Stephen kept his focus on Madeleine. "Yes."
She lifted her chin a little higher and stared defiantly into his eyes, daring him. He could feel the tension bind her body. She was fighting the most basic animal instinct—to run in the face of a predator. She was being hunted. But unlike most animals, she forced herself to remain still, knowing that if she ran or showed fear in any way, he'd be on her.
Very good, Maddie.
She flinched at the sound of his voice in her head but didn't drop her gaze. She pressed her shoulders back even farther.
Stephen closed his eyes for a brief moment, creating an image in his mind, then returned to Madeleine's gaze. Think of us, Maddie. He sent her his mind's latest creation.
She gasped. Her heart started to pound as the brief fantasy played through her thoughts. The sound of her tight breath reached his ears. She was waiting for him, preparing for his touch.
The points of his eyeteeth drilled downward, anticipating the penetration of her body, the glide into her warm flesh. He wanted her. Wanted to fill her, enter her in every way.
"Mr. Smith?"
Stephen pressed his lips together. He'd forgotten about the detective. And now his teeth were fully extended. He closed the flaps of his jacket to hide the evidence of human arousal and kept his lips closed.
He glanced at Madeleine. She stared at the carpet, her chest rising in short, shallow breaths. A faint tinge of red covered her cheeks.
Stephen turned to face the detective. "Yes?" He had to speak carefully until his teeth retracted.
"I asked if you mind if Madeleine stays while we talk."
His body tightened at her name. "That's fine."
While he fought to regain control, he strolled to the far end of the sitting area and lowered himself into a high-backed chair. From there he could watch Madeleine and Lambert.
Madeleine's fingers twisted together in her lap. She hadn't quite recovered from their mutual foray into fantasy. Stephen felt a strange sense of satisfaction at that. His body was slowly releasing the tension, and everything was shrinking to normal size.
Silver Dagger Page 6