Tales of the Were: Magnus

by Bianca D'Arc

  Raintree seemed taken aback for an instant, but he hid his response almost immediately. Good, she thought. Let him realize I’m different now. Experience tempers a person.

  “What brings you to my door? Aside from the obvious, of course.” Raintree was smooth. She’d give him that. “And who is your very interesting companion?” He turned his head just fractionally toward Mag.

  “Magnus Redstone, this is Aramis Raintree, second only to the Master of Las Vegas.”

  “Redstone?” Finally, Raintree deemed Mag worthy of his attention. “One of the five brothers, I presume. The Master speaks well of the eldest, Griffon.”

  “I’m the middle brother,” Mag answered politely, but said nothing more. Good, Miranda thought. Let Raintree work for whatever information he got.

  “And how do you know our Miranda?” Raintree asked, looking only slightly pained at having to make small talk with a shifter.

  “We are old acquaintances,” Mag replied with a somewhat vague wave of one hand. Miranda loved the byplay. Much was being said here, without words. It was the power struggle between shifter and vamp that really held everyone’s attention.

  “She claims you saved her from a mage? Tell me, Miranda,” Raintree shifted gears, seeming to realize that he would have to work harder for information from the cat. “What exactly happened to you?”

  She’d known she would have to report the incident, but now that the moment was upon her, she was just tired of it all. Tired of the game playing. Tired of the posturing. Tired of the hierarchy and all their insidious rules. She sighed heavily before abbreviating her answer.

  “I hunted in the wrong place and got caught in a trap. The mage caged me in silver and starved me for a long time, cutting me and taking my power. Mag and his family were hunting the mages that murdered their matriarch. The man who caged me was one of them. Mag found me, freed me, and he’s been taking care of me while I regained enough strength to try hunting for myself. This is the first time I’ve been back to the city since I was captured. I came here to report in and do my duty. Apart from that, I wish only to feed and then leave once again. I request right of passage and license to hunt in your domain.”

  Raintree seemed nonplussed, as if he had expected a lot more detail and less backbone from someone her age. By vampire standards, she was very young and the elders always seemed to want to rub in how much she had yet to learn. But Raintree’s gaze held nothing of the indulgent contempt she was used to from him. Rather, he seemed almost impressed. A new respect seemed to gleam from his dark eyes. It quickly turned to suspicion when he shifted his gaze to Mag.

  “Are you feeding from him?” Raintree demanded bluntly. You know it cannot be allowed on a continuous basis. One hit might be overlooked. I mean, who hasn’t wanted to walk on the wild side if given a chance? But the elders will not be pleased if you have reached some kind of arrangement between yourselves to try to enhance each other’s power. That would be seen as cheating and could get you both sanctioned.”

  “Look at my neck, dickhead,” Mag said quietly, stretching his chin upward and scratching with his middle finger. Crude, but funny. Miranda had to hold back a laugh. How Mag could be so calm while challenging one of the most powerful vampires in the city, she had no idea. The cat had balls. Big ones. “I gave her what she needed to live the night we rescued her, but it’s been a strict diet of wine and small amounts of donated human blood ever since, just to get her strong enough to leave the house. She’s been following all your stupid rules.”

  “How did you know what to give her?” Raintree’s mask slipped yet again. He seemed both astonished and intrigued.

  “My little brother has friends among the Napa Valley bloodletters. There’s a guy named Sebastian who gave me some pointers. He said your Master was welcome to check with him, and he offered to vouch for my family. So did the Napa Master, Marc LaTour. Call them if you want confirmation.”

  “Rest assured, I shall.” Raintree’s speech slipped back into the patterns of days long past—a sure sign of stress. He seemed to catch himself and took a deep breath before continuing in a more businesslike tone. “I think the Master will want to talk with you both. Expect a summons. In the meantime, you have leave to hunt, Miranda, but all the usual rules apply. And under no circumstances are you to drink from your shifter host or offer him the benefit of your fluids. It is not allowed. You’re lucky I can’t demand you separate, but that is up to the Master.”

  Mag stood before she did. “Good,” he said with a hearty smile that had to grate on Raintree’s already stressed nerves. “Then we’re done here?” Miranda had to stifle a giggle at the way Mag tempted the powerful vampire. The cat was pushing the big, bad Rottweiler, bopping him on the nose with a quick, furry paw.

  “We’re done. For now. Watch your step, cat. This is my domain and I don’t really care who your brother is when you’re in my establishment.” Raintree stood as well, which was a clear sign Mag had rattled him. His pose of indulgent, almost insulting repose was well and truly shattered. Miranda rose gracefully from her chair and took Mag’s arm.

  “Thank you for your kindness, Aramis,” Miranda said in a deceptively calm voice. She’d never dared call Raintree by his first name before, but it was her little way of standing in unity with Mag and confirming that she had changed. The other vamps had better watch out. She was about to move up in the hierarchy—whether they liked it or not.

  One didn’t survive the ordeal she had gone through without changing on a fundamental level. She had grown. She had come through it stronger. Mostly thanks to Mag. She owed him her allegiance. By contrast she owed her fellow immortals nothing. They would have let her die when Mag had done all he could to save her. That was something she would never forget. Not as long as she lived, which could be a very long time indeed.

  “This isn’t gonna work,” Mag growled an hour later.

  He’d watched while Miranda had selected a young, human male. She’d chatted him up at the bar and used her vamp mojo to get him out onto the dance floor. Then she’d taken him toward the back of the room where there were a few private alcoves in which the vamps could do their business with the mortals they preyed on.

  Mag had bristled all the while, watching closely should Miranda need backup. The other bloodletters in the room gave him a wide berth and the bartender served him like he did all the humans. Apparently the barman didn’t recognize a shifter when he saw one, though he was careful to give the vamps only the best wine, held in a separate cooler just for them.

  Mag nursed his beer, sidling over to the back of the room so he could watch over Miranda and her mark. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Not in a place like this. No matter what the bloodsucking twerp upstairs had said, Mag didn’t trust any of the vamps here.

  His inner cougar was clawing at him as he watched Miranda lead the young man to one of the dark alcoves. Humans couldn’t see well in the dark. Not like vamps and shifters. To Mag, the darkened area was as clear as day. He moved closer. He would remain within leaping distance in case anything went wrong. Miranda was far from full strength. Even a human could overpower her in her current state.

  But she needed fresh blood to continue healing. It irked him to no end. And it drove his cat to the point of insanity. His wild side didn’t understand how he could just stand there and watch his mate making time with another guy. Touching a human. Leading him into a dark corner and…yes…she struck, biting him cleanly.

  Mag wanted to growl and screech and drag the guy away from her, preferably breaking every bone in his miserable body along the way. But the rational side of him knew this was what she needed. He tried to be analytical as he watched her suck and swallow. Once. Twice. A third time. Mustn’t be greedy. Don’t leave the prey too weak to explain.

  She looked up, her red-rimmed eyes meeting his and he watched her regain control. She moved back, licking the wounds on her mark’s neck closed with a little zap of her vamp magic. Already she was stronger for having fresh, pure, hu
man blood.

  She dropped her prey to the chair behind them, setting him up with a fruity energy drink the vamps kept back there for exactly that purpose. He had a dreamy look in his eyes as he drank without even realizing what he was doing. No doubt, she’d left him with a pleasant memory of fucking some nameless, faceless girl in the back of the club. As far as the guy knew, he’d gotten lucky that night.

  It was neatly done and Mag had to admire her skill as she walked toward him, a little more spring in her step than there had been since he’d rescued her. He’d hated every moment of watching her feed from some other guy, but seeing her returning strength made it all worth it.

  She strode right up to his side and slid under his outstretched arm. He dropped his beer bottle on an empty table as they walked together out of the noisy club.

  “This would be so much easier if you could just drink from me,” Mag observed in a soft tone meant only for her to hear.

  She drew back, her eyes widening in alarm as she looked over at him. “You know I can’t. You heard Raintree. And he’s just the tip of the iceberg. Your people wouldn’t like it either.”

  Mag sighed as they exited the club and the valet ran to get his car. “I know, but my beast doesn’t understand.”

  “You don’t have to come with me. I’m strong enough now to do this on my own.”

  “No way, baby. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He was stopped from saying anything more by the arrival of the car.

  He sniffed unobtrusively and realized someone had put some kind of electronics on it. He could smell nothing explosive or dangerous, just electrical, giving off an intermittent high-frequency whine that was outside the range of human or vamp hearing. But not shifter. Amateurs.

  It was probably a tracker. Maybe a listening device, though it seemed to be on the outside of the car, so that was doubtful. Still, he’d be wary. Whatever it was, it had probably been put there on Raintree’s orders. Mag would have to stop somewhere and fix that, but for right now, the night was ahead of them and they were in Sin City. Might as well have some fun.

  “The night is young. What do you feel like doing? Gambling? Catching a show? Taking a stroll down the strip? Your wish is my command, milady.”

  “There’s a wine bar near the Venetian that stocks Maxwell’s wines and some other good vintages. Do you mind if we just go there and take it easy?”

  “Do you feel okay?”

  “Better than I have in a long time, but as you might imagine, I’m still not quite up to my usual stamina. Still, tonight was a good start.”

  Mag guided the car through traffic and Miranda gave him more exact directions as they neared their destination. The wine bar was well hidden and obviously catered to an elite clientele. There were a lot of secret places like this all over Vegas that were meant for the really high rollers. Mag knew most of them, but shifters usually left wine bars like this for the vamps.

  He parked the car in the public lot on purpose. It was in the open when he used his cell phone to send a few well-placed texts. It was time he called in a few favors from members of his Clan. They wouldn’t ask why he needed his car picked up and swept for electronic devices. They’d just do it and report the results. That was the beauty of being part of a shifter Clan. Especially one with as many diverse skills as the Redstone Clan.

  Another text summoned their ride home. Something that couldn’t be tampered with or traced too easily. Mag smiled as they entered the bar.

  The lighting was low, but again, no problem for his enhanced night vision. A pianist tinkled the ivories from a small stage set only a step or two above an empty dance floor. There was a long, gleaming bar along the right hand wall as they entered with groups of people sitting on stools and drinking from shiny crystal glasses. A few steps down to the left led to a more private seating area with booths and tables set around the small dance floor and stage.

  Mag had a quiet sniff around and didn’t scent any Others. No other shifters. No other vamps. Just humans. Wealthy, highly civilized humans.

  Mag kept his arm loosely around Miranda’s waist as they were led to a dark corner by a hostess who had greeted Miranda by name. She was known here. Mag filed that information away in his mind. Vamps usually kept a low profile in their hunting grounds, so this probably wasn’t a place Miranda came to feed. There had to be some other draw.

  A perfectly chilled bottle of wine was delivered to their table a few moments later. All Miranda had to do was nod at the bartender and it was on its way.

  “You must come here a lot,” Mag observed.

  “I do. In fact, I’m one of the owners. Though not a lot of people know that, so keep it under your hat.”

  “My lips are sealed, sweetheart. But why invest in a human business. I don’t sense any Others here. What gives?” He kept his voice so low that only the two of them could hear his frankly worded question.

  “It suits me,” she answered somewhat flippantly, taking a long sip of her wine.

  At that moment, some unseen lighting person was bringing up a subtle spotlight on the little stage in front of the pianist. A young woman took the stage as if she belonged there. She sat on a stool situated in the curve of the piano and a microphone was set up before her. She was elegant and sleek in a long, shimmering black dress, and her features were familiar. Looking from the human girl to Miranda and back again, Mag could see the resemblance, though he knew humans would be susceptible to Miranda’s vampire magic and would never see her features all that clearly.

  “Who is she?” he asked, almost fearing the answer. He knew Miranda was young for a bloodletter, but he didn’t know her exact age.

  Miranda smiled softly. “She is my grandniece. My sister’s granddaughter.”

  “She’s the reason you invested in this place.”

  Miranda gave him a wicked grin. “She’s the owner. I’m merely the silent partner. My girl has a wicked head for business in addition to her lovely singing voice.”

  At that moment, the girl on stage began to sing an old torch song. Skylark had never sounded so beautiful. Mag sat back to listen, his shifter hearing picking up every nuance of the girl’s exceptional voice. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was part siren.

  “Magic?” Mag tilted his head, listening carefully. He wasn’t as sensitive to magic as some others he knew, but his hearing was keen and there was definitely something different about the woman on stage.

  “She has no idea, but I always believed her father was part nymph or maybe sprite. Something magical, but I’m not sure exactly what. He had the most amazing voice. She’s inherited his gift. My side of the family didn’t have any magic that I know of. We were completely normal before me.” Her tone was wistful and held a trace of regret, if Mag wasn’t mistaken.

  The song ended and it was clear the singer had noticed them sitting in the dark corner. She stepped off the small stage while the pianist took the spotlight. Her pretty face was wreathed in smiles as she approached their table, holding out both hands to Miranda.

  “And how is my favorite fairy godmother? I haven’t seen you in ages.” The young woman bent down to kiss Miranda on the cheek as they embraced lightly.

  Mag stood, politely pulling out a chair to invite the younger woman to join them. She did, shooting him a quizzical smile. They hadn’t yet been introduced, but Miranda took care of that in short order.

  “Randi, where have you been? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for months. Of course, if this guy is the reason you’ve been in hiding, then I fully understand.” She gave Miranda a playful wink as she smiled in Mag’s direction. The younger woman was full of life. Vivacious and bubbly. Mag could see the family resemblance though the Miranda he knew had never been quite this cheerful.

  “Melissa Zealand, I’d like you to meet Magnus Redstone.” Miranda made the formal introductions.

  “Call me Mel.” The younger woman reached across the table to shake hands with Mag.

  “And you should call me Mag
. My full name makes me feel like a comic book villain sometimes.” She laughed, as he’d expected, the tinkle of sound washing over him. It was infectious. It was magical. Oh, yeah. This girl had magic in her voice.

  “So are you two…?” Mel twirled her finger from Mag to Miranda and back again, a teasing question in her gaze.

  “None of your business, Mellie.” Miranda slapped playfully at that teasing finger, effectively stopping Melissa’s overt snooping. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around in a while. I had business out of town. I should’ve told you, but things just got away from me.”

  Melissa instantly sobered, her brows drawing together in concern. “That isn’t like you, Randi. Is everything okay?”

  Miranda smiled to soften the mood. “It’s all good now. Mag actually helped me straighten some things out and I’m back on track now.” Miranda reached over to place her hand familiarly on Mag’s forearm. He covered her hand with his, liking the feel of her voluntarily touching him, even in such an innocent manner.

  “Redstone…” Melissa seemed to be thinking, then her eyes lit up. “Are you one of the Redstones from the big construction company? There are all kinds of rumors about the handsome Redstone brothers.” Her eyes flashed. “Which one are you?”

  Mag had to laugh as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m the middle one. I run a few of the crews. You’ve probably heard how mean and overbearing my older brothers are. And how lost the younger ones are without my guidance.” He sipped his wine, enjoying the way Melissa laughed. There was something so pleasant about any sound she made. He knew it was part of her magic and he realized right away why her business looked to be so successful. She drew people to her with that voice. Drew them right to her little bar.

  He also liked the genuine affection and concern he saw in her eyes when she looked at Miranda. The younger woman cared about her relative—though she didn’t realize they were related. Miranda wasn’t allowed close contact with her mortal family. Once they were changed, bloodletters had to let go of their former identity. They could watch from afar, but never reveal their continued existence to their relations. That had to be hard.