by Jenna Barwin
Pivoting, he swung behind Rolf, poised to drive the jagged glass into Rolf’s back, but a sudden wave of empathy stopped him. The younger vampire was no match for him—he’d tweaked Rolf’s pride. It was the only reason Rolf attacked.
Henry took a deep breath. He stepped back and strode to the far corner of the room, dropping the bottle neck into an industrial-sized trash can. The crash of breaking glass resonated in the room.
“You’re right,” Henry finally said. “This is not about Erin.”
Rolf pushed to his feet and picked up the pieces of the bottle’s bottom half, placing them on the workroom counter. “Then why take up with Leopold’s envoy? There must be hundreds of women you could date.”
Henry shrugged. “She is the first woman I have been interested in for a long time.”
“Are you in love with Cerissa?” Rolf asked incredulously.
“It’s a distinct possibility.”
“You do have a self-destructive streak, Henry. She’s dating Zeke.”
“That’s not true,” he snapped.
“Zeke phoned me. He’s due back in a few nights and told me he plans on taking her out again.”
Henry hesitated, frowning. “I don’t believe you.”
“You only pick women who bring out the worst in you.”
“Do not continue—”
“Even if Cerissa dumps Zeke, she’s still Leopold’s envoy. Not smart.”
“She will not always be Leopold’s envoy. If she does find a mate here, I suspect she’ll withdraw as Leopold’s envoy, to the run the lab full-time.”
“You don’t know women, do you?” Rolf scoffed. “She will be nothing but trouble for you.”
“Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be fine,” Henry replied with a slight nod. “Now I have to get another bottle out of storage and think up an excuse to explain the broken one.”
Henry left the workroom to go into the storage vault. He glanced over his shoulder at the door. Rolf didn’t follow him. Good.
He took another bottle from the wine rack and stared at the label without reading it. Why was Cerissa still seeing Zeke if she had accepted Henry’s invitation to the dance? Perhaps she hadn’t understood its significance. He tightly gripped the wine bottle and closed his eyes.
Memories of the duel with Nathaniel flitted across the back of his closed eyelids, threatening to drag him down into his own personal hell. He fought to suppress images he didn’t want to recall. When he heard the sound of breaking glass, he opened his eyes in time to see the shattered bottle slice into his fingers. The pain didn’t register in his brain. What did register was what he saw: falling in large droplets from his hands, blood and wine darkened the white tile floor beneath him, reminding him of the stain on his soul he could never erase.
Chapter 37
Mordida—two nights later
Cerissa walked down a beige hallway of a corporate apartment building, the type business people used for extended stays. As if I don’t have enough going on. Why is Leopold suddenly in Mordida? His summons had arrived one hour ago, demanding she meet him here.
“Come in, my dear girl, come in,” Leopold said when he opened the door.
His intense, dark eyes were like Henry’s, except they looked more severe against his pale white skin, and something about his thin, angular mustache looked asymmetrical, like one side was slightly longer than the other.
She followed him into the sterile apartment, the living room’s décor bland in a stylish sort of way, the kitchen a mere alcove, visible through the opening at the serving bar. A door opened to a bedroom, with big picture windows facing Sierra Escondida’s mountains.
“Where do you sleep?” she asked.
“Under the bed. Now please have a seat.”
He gestured impatiently to the sofa, and she sat down, crossing one leg over the other, tucking her black skirt around her legs and unbuttoning her suit coat so it hung more gracefully, revealing the soft white blouse she wore. “When did you arrive?” she asked.
“A few days ago, enough time to look at the properties you’re considering.” He pulled a chair from the dinette and positioned it across from her, then handed her a large envelope.
“What’s this?”
“The dossiers you requested—everything we have on all Hill vampires, not just the politically influential. As you requested, I included current visitors, like Blanche. I even included information on Hill mortals, though you don’t need their background to do your job.”
“Thank you. This will be a big help.”
“So tell me, have you made any progress signing up investors on the Hill?”
“I’ve provided prospectuses to Zeke Cannon, Henry Bautista, and Gaea Greenleaf, but no one else seems interested in investing yet.”
“You’ve been here almost three weeks and that’s all you’ve done?” He ran his index fingers along each side of his mustache, a habit he had when upset.
“Don’t forget I was shot,” she replied. “Since then, Gaea has refused to let me meet other potential investors.”
“Yes, yes, I know. Well, forget about Henry. I don’t want to be in business with him again.”
Huh? They’d been in business together before? Henry hadn’t said anything about a prior business. “Look, he’s in favor of the project—”
“What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?” A dark look crossed his face. “Henry can stay on the outside and watch me get rich.”
“But he would make a good partner in our project. I mean, he’s a founder. With his backing—”
“Never. I’ll move the lab to another community before I let him be involved.”
Another community? Oh, no, that won’t work, not now. She had to build the lab here; it was what Henry wanted. “But the delay,” she said. “You wanted us online by next year.”
“I do. With your lab, we’ll have a reason to reopen negotiations on the treaty. Henry and his cronies forced us to agree—no new vampires.” He made a fist and shook it. “I finally had a solid community, a safe community, one in which I could sire new vampires, but he denied me that.”
Oh shit. Why didn’t I figure this out before? What he’d lost in life, he wanted in death. His wife had died in childbirth when he was still mortal, the baby stillborn, and he had translated this deep loss into a desire to make new vampires.
“I warned Henry—the treaty was only a temporary fix,” he continued, this time pointing a finger in her direction. “You, my dear, are the permanent fix. The blood supply you produce will allow us to take this yoke off our necks and expand our numbers.”
Her stomach churned. The Protectors would have a fit. “Now, Leopold, when we first spoke, I told you the supply would be limited, just enough to replace bagged blood.”
“Initially. With time, you’ll expand production. I have every confidence you’ll figure it out. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can expand. So yes, speed is important, but I’ll take a little delay to keep Henry out.”
“What do I tell him?”
“That’s not my problem.” He stood and motioned for her to follow him to the door. “I’m going to be here a few nights longer. Next time we meet, I want a better progress report.”
She drove straight back to Gaea’s. Leopold’s idea of creating new vampires wasn’t going to sit well with the Protectors, but it wasn’t the immediate problem. Unless—could Leopold be part of the vampire dominance movement? Leopold had struck her as nonpolitical, particularly after his experience with Count Gustaferro. He wanted nothing to do with mortal politics, but turning mortals into one big cattle ranch wasn’t the same thing. Still, if he was part of the vampire dominance movement, why would he invest in producing clone blood?
With the next break in traffic, she signaled and pulled over to the curb. She sent a text to Ari, asking him to monitor Leopold’s communications, and explaining why. Finished, she resumed driving and considered her more immediate problem: how to woo Hill investors. When she arrived home
, she found Gaea in the parlor off the main hallway, talking with Blanche.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Cerissa said, standing in the doorway, the dossier packet tucked tightly under her arm.
Gaea smiled graciously. “Not at all. Do come in. Blanche and I were sharing the latest gossip.”
“I just had a quick question. How do I reserve a room at the country club?”
“Why would you want to do that?” Gaea asked, looking puzzled.
“To hold a meeting and invite the community. It’s time I explain the project to a broader audience and solicit potential investors.”
“My dear, you must understand. Now is not the time.”
Blanche looked smug. “Give her the real goods, Gaea. No one’s gonna invest in her project.”
“Now, Blanche, there’s no need to be mean,” Gaea said.
“You’re not doin’ her no favors pretending. No one on the Hill wants her here.”
“Is that true?” Cerissa asked.
Gaea gave her a weak smile, sympathy in her hazel eyes. “You must understand, it takes time for the community to accept an outsider.”
“But I’m Leopold’s envoy. Under the treaty—”
“Fuck the treaty,” Blanche spat. “Bunch of stupid old fellas wrote it.”
Gaea shot Blanche an unmistakable warning glance. Turning back to Cerissa, she said, “Be patient. Give them time.”
“Don’t make no never mind,” Blanche sneered. “Ya might as well pack up and shuffle off. They all know Leopold is using ya to spy on us. He’s behind the shootings.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s what the mayor believes.”
How did that happen? Had Rolf convinced the mayor? “Gaea, tell her it’s not true.”
“Enough, you two. Cerissa, the mayor is just being cautious. He’s letting you go to the dance, but he doesn’t think the community is ready to invest in your project just yet.”
Blanche turned her nose up. “He doesn’t trust ya.”
“Blanche, I said enough. Cerissa, come with me.” Blanche stood as well, and Gaea held up her hand. “You stay here,” she ordered.
Gaea slipped an arm around Cerissa’s shoulders and walked with her into the hallway.
First Leopold, and now this—Leopold probably wanted their project on the Hill to lord it over Henry because of the treaty. Without that motivation, would Leopold pull the plug? This was her first mission as a Watcher for the Protectors. What would they do if she failed? Certainly nothing so drastic as taking her wings…would they?
“Cerissa,” Gaea said, getting her attention.
“I have to find some way to prove we’re serious.”
“Be patient, dear.”
“I can’t afford to be patient.”
She said goodnight to Gaea and walked upstairs to her room. She had to find a way to convince them. Something, anything, to show them the project was the real. With Henry out of town, she couldn’t turn to him for help.
She opened the door to her room, and almost screamed.
A man stepped out of the shadows near her window.
Chapter 38
“Hey, Ciss, how’s it hanging?”
“Ari!” she screeched in a whisper, clutching the packet of Leopold’s dossiers close to her thudding heart. She held her breath and looked behind her. No one in the hallway—Gaea hadn’t followed her upstairs. She sucked in air and pressed her fingers against the bedroom door, quietly closing it. “Don’t ever do that again,” she said in an angry whisper.
At six foot four, Ari towered over her. He crossed his arms. “Do you want to know what I found out or not?”
She clenched her jaw and gave him the evil eye. “Keep your voice down. Gaea will hear you.”
“Okay,” he said, lowering his voice, but not by much. He grabbed one of the slipper chairs, turned it around, and straddled it, his chin propped on its back, his large frame dwarfing the little chair.
She wouldn’t let his silliness lighten her mood. “You have results on Leopold already?”
He laughed. “I’m good, but not that good. I’ve been monitoring his emails and phone calls for years. I’ll use what you learned and search the data to see what I can find.”
“If it’s not Leopold, what’s so important you just popped in?”
“Well, good news and bad news.”
Damn. The last thing she wanted to hear. “Do I have to ask?”
“Let’s start with the good news. Even though Zeke does work for the government, they have no clue vampires exist.”
“You’re sure?”
“Look, Ciss, we have contacts so deep into all the secret agencies—of all the countries—that they can’t hide anything from us. It’s time you started paying attention to the playbook. We keep close tabs on what humans know about the supernatural—including us, remember?”
“We’re not supernatural, and I’m not arguing it with you.”
“Keep telling yourself that, kid, keep telling yourself that,” he said, smirking at her. “Anyway, those agencies don’t know vampires exist; they don’t know we exist. So all is well on that score—Zeke hasn’t sold out his people.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Now here’s the bad news. Zeke is working for the government—black ops, special assassination work. They use him a few times a year, mostly in Central and South America, to get rid of people they view as troublesome. He’s a reliable operative, as far as they’re concerned. He always gets his target, and is in and out without getting caught.”
She collapsed onto the other slipper chair. “Damn. Double damn.”
“You’re so cute when you swear.”
She leaned back in the chair, using her arm to cover her eyes and block out the light. This was worse than any news she could have imagined. “Just get on with it,” she said.
“One thing does concern them. They think he’s a psychopath, since he always slits the victim’s throat and drains their blood. He leaves them dangling by their feet or leaning over a bathtub, and he takes the blood with him. They don’t know he’s drinking it—they just think he’s got this obsession, and they like it, because of the terror factor.”
She lowered her arm and looked over at her cousin. “Do they know where he lives?”
“Nope. He picks up his instructions in Los Angeles, at various prearranged drop locations. They’ve tried tracking him and can’t, but as long as he delivers what they want, they keep paying him.”
Thank God. If the government figured out Zeke lived on the Hill, it wouldn’t be long before they took a closer look into what the Hill hid.
“How do they get in touch with Zeke?”
“They wire $10,000 into his bank account. When he sees the transaction hit, he goes to Los Angeles to pick up his next set of instructions. They pay him the rest when he’s done.”
“Wow. I felt something was off, but not this off.”
“Too bad, too. The guy’s stinking rich, though he doesn’t spend any of it. I hacked his account. He sends his earnings to a bank account in a country that refuses to share information with the good ole U.S., and then he funnels it to different stockbrokers around the world. He’s set up his own investment firm, with one client—him. That’s how he hides it. He believes in buying and holding stocks for the long term.”
“Why is he gone for so long if he’s just there to kill one person?”
“Good question, Ciss. From what I could piece together, he does his own investigation. If he doesn’t think the scumbag deserves killing, he passes on the assignment. His government handlers are quite irritated, it shows in the file, but there’s nothing they can do to force him to kill someone. They need him more than he needs them.”
“At least he’s not killing innocent people,” she said, letting out a little sigh.
“Yeah, but he’s a hired killer. You can’t have him as an investor in the lab. You’re going to withdraw your offer to him, right?”
She ran her hands
through her thick hair, pushing it back behind her ears. She needed Zeke as an investor. Maybe the Protectors would understand. Maybe she could make them understand.
“Ciss, are you listening? A Watcher can’t be involved with someone like him. You know the rules.”
“Just give me some time to figure it out. He has money, and I need investors or this thing is going to fall apart.”
He tapped his watch. “Five minutes. That’s all the time you need to consider it. You can’t have an investor who’s a cold-blooded killer. Not even one who kills bad guys.”
“Yeah, but I need to get investors from somewhere.”
“Why don’t I just transfer a couple million to your account?” he asked, taking out his phone and swiping the screen. “The Protectors will never miss it.”
“Can’t. Leopold believes I’m a poor but honest researcher. If I suddenly showed up with a lot of money…”
He looked up from his phone. “Okay, then I’ll set up a shell corporation to fund it.”
“Still won’t work—Leopold won’t trust outside money. He holds veto power and he only wants investors from the treaty communities. We need Zeke’s money.”
“Too bad, toots. You got to cull Zeke from the herd.”
“I said I’d think about it.”
“You do that, so long as you decide the right way. I’ve got to report it.”
“Why?” she asked, her stomach churning, a thread of fear forming. “It’s not what the Protectors are looking for—why give them ammunition to hate vampires?”
“Kiddo, if you’re going to lose your objectivity, maybe you are the wrong Watcher for this assignment. Our job is to watch and report. The Protectors decide.”
“But we’re already keeping things from them.”
“That’s to save your skin. We can’t hide every bad fact.”
“But—”
“A group of vampires is conspiring against humanity. Zeke might be part of the conspiracy. You’ve got to get back on track and do your job.”
He was right. As much as she hated it, they had had to report Zeke’s contract work. “Okay.” She sighed. “Do what you must.”