“One of my best guards.” A concerned frown creased his forehead. “Who seemed to be rather fond of you, so I am not sure how you ended up at such odds.”
I shook my head. “We were just messing around.”
“Hmmm.” He blinked and glanced away from me to acknowledge the guards stationed outside his office doors as we passed through the foyer. It was just a subtle dip of his head to each of them. A silent thank you for your service.
“If Murphy is one of your best guards, why didn’t you take him with you on your disrupted Denver trip?” I asked after we’d entered the south wing hallway.
“Because Ursula needed his protection more than I did.”
“Good call.”
He sighed and folded his hands behind his back. “Not good enough, apparently.”
“That’s not Murphy’s fault.”
“Of course not,” he said. “He cannot be everywhere at once, and I am sure even if the assassin had not made it past the perimeter, the council would have used it to their advantage.”
We neared my room, and I noticed a guard standing just outside the door, holding two pistol cases.
“Is that… Are those…” My breath hitched hopefully, and Dante’s nervous grimace was all the confirmation I needed.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the cases from the guard. “I shall be fine,” he added as the man made to follow us inside my bedroom. “You may return to your scheduled post.”
The guard shot me a nervous glance but bowed his head obediently. “Your Grace.”
“Come.” Dante nodded me farther into the room and closed the door behind us with his elbow. “I do not have much time to spare.”
“Is my Browning in one of those?” The gun had belonged to my mother, and the last time I’d seen it was when Vanessa confiscated it from me in the field behind Ursula’s safehouse. She’d also taken my mother’s old Mossberg shotgun.
“Do you have a drawing for me?” Dante asked, laying one of the cases down on the gray duvet cover. I huffed and circled the bed to dig out the sketchpad from under my mattress. He crept closer, but I turned my back to keep the other drawings from his view as I flipped to the portrait of Raphael.
“There.” I turned around and held it up to him. “Happy?”
He took the pad from me and cringed. “It is hard to be certain with his face in such…pandemonium.”
I stared at him long and hard. “He was killing me—and not with kindness.”
“Point taken.”
“So…my guns.” I pointed a finger at the case he’d left on my bed. “May I?”
Dante nodded, and I eagerly popped open the laches. My range Glock and the .380 Mandy had salvaged from my kitchen were nestled down inside foam cutouts on either side of my mother’s Browning. Bittersweet relief squeezed my heart as I ran my fingertips over the vintage pistol’s barrel.
“I left your shotgun in storage,” Dante said. “You will not be needing it this weekend—and I would really prefer that you use the Reaper TDs the rest of the royal guards carry.”
He dropped the second case on the bed beside the first and opened the lid, revealing a pair of .40 calibers tucked in foam cutouts that were better fitting than those around my personal firearms. I picked one up and tested its weight. The grip texture felt nice against my hand.
“Reaper TD?” I echoed.
“True Death,” he explained. “They are a specialty model.”
“Sorano Munitions?”
“And the guard uniform holsters are designed for them.”
“Uniform? You mean the catsuit and the Renaissance fair cape?” I snorted and put the gun back in the case, taking note of the series of empty cutouts in the foam beneath the firearms. When I turned back to Dante, I found him fingering through my earlier drawings. My face burned as he paused on the one of Roman and cocked an eyebrow at me.
“The guard uniforms are made from material akin to shark-resistant wetsuits,” he said as he closed the sketchpad and handed it back to me. I snatched it from him with a scowl. “And the cloaks are made from the same material as bomb blankets. They are quite expensive, and you should be honored to have one.”
“I’m…overjoyed,” I said dryly, biting off the word as I snapped the gun cases shut. “But I’d be even more thrilled if these guns were loaded and I had the extra magazines I’m sure come standard with them.”
“Friday night, before we leave.” Dante gave me an apologetic smile. “Humor me for one more night. Give my advisors extra time to warm to the idea.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And perhaps work on your etiquette,” he added. “It will be expected of you in the formal presence of the council and the crown. The royal family does not take kindly to disrespectful subjects.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” I dipped into an exaggerated bow, but he quickly pulled me upright by my chin, drawing a gasp from me. His chestnut-colored eyes searched mine.
“Do not make me regret this, Ms. Skye.”
Chapter Eight
Mandy returned before sunset Thursday night. I woke with her arms wrapped around my waist and her head nuzzled against my stomach. She smelled like pizza and car air freshener, so I knew she couldn’t have been back for long. Her hair stirred in the wind of my reanimated breath, rousing her instantly.
“Yoshiko told me about the assassin,” she said, crushing me in a bear hug. “If I’d been here, I would have eaten his face clean off.”
“Uh, thanks.” I wriggled away from her and tried to sit up. “How was working with the Cadaver Dogs? Did you help them crack a tough case?”
“We tracked down the daughter of the Álvarez Pack’s alpha. She’d been buried alive—even though the ransom was paid.” Mandy didn’t sound as thrilled as I expected her to be over such an accomplishment.
“Did she…survive?”
“Yeah.” Mandy chewed her bottom lip, and her eyebrows knit together as she tucked a lock of unruly hair behind her ear. “We even found the creeps who abducted her, but someone beat us to them, and they took the money, too.”
“The girl’s dad?”
Mandy shook her head. “I don’t think so. He wouldn’t have had the opportunity—he was with the search party the whole time.”
“Huh.” I shrugged. “Well, at least you saved the girl.”
“One of them.” She pressed her lips together, but her chin trembled anyway. “Serena dumped me.”
“Oh, sweetie.” I opened my arms, inviting her to abuse my ribs some more. “I’m so sorry.”
“She said she needed someone who could be there for her, and that I hadn’t been lately.” Mandy sobbed against my shoulder, taking deep, gasping breaths as I stroked her back.
“Maybe she just needs some time,” I suggested. “After everything that’s happened—”
“No. She hates me, and she has every right to.” Mandy sniffled and pulled away from me.
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“She should. I’ve been keeping the truth from her. About you and her dad. About me. It’s just too much. You know? Living with all this guilt all the time. It’s better this way. She’ll find someone who deserves her. Someone who isn’t a monster—”
“You’re not a monster.” I squeezed her shoulders.
“I am,” she insisted. “I have to be. Especially this weekend.”
“You’re coming to the trial?”
“I’m your official daylight attendant, sworn to watch over you while you rest.” The pride in her voice fell flat. “I’ll be sharing a suite with the duchess’s harem when off-duty, but you get to bunk with ol’ Red herself.” Like I needed anything else to look forward to.
“Maybe the trial won’t carry into a second night?” I gave Mandy a strained smile.
“Yeah, and maybe you’ll stop oversharing with our benevolent jailer.” She leaned over the edge of the bed and stuffed her hand between the mattresses, coming away with my sketchpad. “I saw who you drew in here, and I can smell the duke on it.”
“It’s not what you think.” I held up my hands, and she huffed at my embarrassed surprise.
“I swear, I’m gone for two nights. Two nights.”
“There was no way around it, and at least now he knows about Kassandra, and I obviously didn’t tell him how Raphael kicked off,” I hissed under my breath. “I mean, I didn’t actually see how it happened, so…what was there to tell? What’s the harm in assuming he burned up in the sun? And besides, the duke is in no hurry to share the news with the world.”
Mandy’s nostrils flared. “Blabberfangs.”
“Really? You’re gonna resort to name-calling?”
“Don’t you know that loose lips sink ships?”
“Good thing we’re not pirates then.” I folded my arms and copied her indignant scowl.
“Yeah, well, snitches get stitches,” she tried again.
“If you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas.”
“Where?” she squealed, grabbing a handful of her hair. “Did you see one?”
I snorted out a laugh before I could stop myself, and Mandy smacked me across the face with a pillow, knocking me off the bed. I curled into a ball on the floor, still cackling as she straddled my legs and attempted to smother me with the pillow.
“I didn’t mean it,” I said in between laughs, gasping for air.
“Say you’re sorry!” she demanded.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“You don’t sound sorry. You sound like an asshole.”
“I’m an asshole, and I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t stop laughing, and soon, Mandy was laughing, too. It felt good. And needed.
“I missed you,” she admitted once we calmed down and caught our breaths. I grinned and let her help me off the floor.
“I missed you, too.”
“Oh!” Her face lit up, and she bounced on her toes. “Wait till you see the fancy costumes we get to wear this weekend.”
Chapter Nine
The night passed too quickly with Mandy’s return and the impending trial. We visited the library and the gym, though I didn’t see Murphy. I suspected he’d been given some time off to rest up for the weekend venture.
Mandy and I dropped by the harem, too. I was surprised to see how well she was getting on with the house donors. She pointed out a few that I hadn’t realized were werewolves, and they spoke about who all would be coming with us for the trial and who would be staying behind. Some sounded a bit jealous to be missing out on such a high-profile event, while others seemed relieved.
Sooner than I would have liked, it was Friday evening, and we were preparing to leave the manor.
“I can’t stop touching myself,” Mandy said as she gazed into the mirror on the inside of my closet door. Her hands smoothed over her stomach and breasts, caressing the skintight guard uniform. “Does this thing make me look like a porn star?” She glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of me in my own catsuit. “Because it definitely makes you look like a porn star.”
“What? No.” I nudged her aside to look at myself in the mirror. “Okay, maybe a little,” I admitted.
“Uh-huh.” Mandy turned around to get a peek at her butt in the mirror’s reflection. “Oh, yeah. Total slutsville.”
“Maybe the cloaks of elvenkind will tone it down a bit,” I grumbled.
Someone pounded on the bedroom door, and I attempted to cover myself despite being fully concealed from the neck down. I snatched up the red wrap from my bed and threw it over my shoulders.
“Special delivery,” Murphy called from out in the hall.
“Just a minute!”
Mandy snickered and leaned against the closet door, watching me fumble with the drawstring at my throat. She didn’t seem bothered by how little the uniform left to the imagination, but then again, she was comfortable licking her own butt in wolf form so she couldn’t be expected to adhere to the standard principals of modesty.
I finally gave up and held the mantle closed with one hand as I crossed the room and opened the door for Murphy. He filled the doorway, clad in his own leathery one-piece, red cloak spilling behind his shoulders. An ammo box was tucked under one arm. The handle of a gun case that matched the one Dante had delivered the pair of Reaper TDs in was grasped in his opposite hand.
“Hello, mooseknuckle,” Mandy said under her breath as Murphy joined us in the room. He blinked at her, taking in her uniform with dispassionate eyes.
“Boss was right,” he finally said. “You’re far too skinny for the .40s. Stiff breeze, and they’ll knock you right over.”
She glanced down at his crotch. “Stiff breeze and you might become an innie.”
“Ooh, big bad wolf. Why don’t you do some huffing and puffing and find out?”
“Is this the one you wiped the gym floor with?” Mandy asked, hiking a thumb at him. Murphy’s head jerked back, and he gaped at me.
“That was a draw! We were interrupted,” he balked. “I want a rematch.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to hide my amusement at his outrage. “Sure. After the trial.”
His brow and chin crumpled as he dropped the gun case on my bed and shot Mandy an unfriendly look. “I brought you new toys, too.”
“I’d rather shift than use a gun any day,” she said, though her eyes lingered on the case as he set the ammo box down beside it.
“These are the Reaper TD 9Cs.” Murphy opened the case and twisted it around so Mandy could get a better look at them. “They’re a lot like the .40s, just a compacted 9mm variety.” There were six additional magazines tucked in the foam beneath the pistols. He opened the ammo box and unpacked eight larger magazines, handing them to me.
“The duke said something about holsters?” I said, clutching the cloak tighter around my neck.
Murphy gave me a tight grin. “Ditch the outerwear. You don’t have anything I ain’t seen before, and it’s going to be hard showing you all your suit’s hiding places with that thing in the way.”
I groaned and rolled my eyes, but I did as he said, discarding the cloak and throwing it down on the bed. Murphy cleared his throat and cocked his head at my Reaper TD gun case. I’d stashed the one with my personal firearms in the back of the closet, having nowhere better to keep them.
The TDs had a solid feel to them. Their grips were thicker than I would have preferred, but they were shaped and textured in such a way that I didn’t think I’d have any problems handling them. I ejected their empty magazines and traded them out with a pair of the loaded ones Murphy had brought before turning around to catch him gawking at my ass.
“I will kill you dead.” With the two pistols in my hands, the threat ripped his eyes away instantly.
“Panels!” He shook his head and slapped his ribcage on either side. “Right beside your—under your arms,” he said, easing a step away from me.
I felt along the odd folds of the material, occasionally glancing up to make sure he wasn’t ogling. Just as my finger hooked inside a mesh-lined pouch and I began to see how a gun barrel might fit in there, Mandy clicked her tongue.
“Done,” she announced, patting the pair of 9mm nestled under her arms. “Now, where do the magazines go?” She ran her hands down the insides of her thighs and then over her hips, shamelessly searching for more pockets as she felt herself up.
Murphy turned to instruct her by pointing out the subtle bulges on his uniform that encircled his waist like a belt. I took the opportunity to slide my pistols in place without an audience and then began tucking away my own magazines. With my blond braid, I looked like Assassin Barbie. My decorum and the red cloak called to me from where I’d abandoned them on the bed.
Once we were all loaded up with artillery and overnight bags—and fully dressed—Murphy led us to the garage located at the end of the north wing. Lights glared down from the cavernous ceiling, reflecting off a brigade of shiny, black vehicles parked two deep and three wide. I spotted a large SUV parked against the far wall. It reminded me of the ones
used by Blood Vice, complete with puck antennas spaced out in a line across the roof. The rest of the vehicles were larger sedans, all spotless and perfectly aligned, facing the closed overhead door.
A guard slipped in behind us and patted Murphy on the shoulder before moving out of the way for a pair of harem donors. Before long, we were joined by enough people in hooded cloaks to perform a Satanic ritual.
“Just for the record, I’m not a virgin,” Mandy announced. “You know, in case the evening agenda involves any sacrifices.”
“Really?” Murphy gasped. “You’re not? How shocking.”
“Stuff it, mooseknuckle.”
He snickered, but then his face grew serious as he clapped his hands to garner everyone’s attention.
“The duke and duchess will be with us in a moment, so let’s get situated,” he said, glancing over the gathered crowd. “Who here is with the harem?”
Five humans and one of the wolves Mandy had introduced me to lifted their hands into the air. “Six. That’s everyone.” Murphy nodded at one of the vampy guards. “Y’all will be riding with Lane in the SUV. Go ahead and get loaded up,” he said, passing off Mandy’s and my overnight bags to one of the donors. Apparently, they were in charge of luggage, too.
We were left with a guard I recognized from the gym, one I’d never noticed before, and the two wolves Mandy lovingly referred to as Tweedledee and Tweedledum. They seemed less annoyed to see her, which made me wonder if she’d earned some sliver of their respect while they were out hunting down the wolfy princess together.
“Skye and Starsgard will ride in my car with the duke and duchess,” Murphy said. “The rest of you go with Donnie, who’ll take lead. I’ll follow, and Lane will play caboose with the harem wagon.”
“Yes, sir,” the men echoed and then headed off to one of the shiny black cars just as Belinda delivered the royal fam to the garage’s north wing entrance.
The duke and duchess wore the same red cloaks as everyone else, but the similarity stopped there. Dante had slicked his hair back again, and he wore a collared dress shirt with a red, baroque waistcoat and black trousers. If he popped out his fangs, he would have been ready for a Halloween contest.
Thicker Than Blood (Blood Vice Book 5) Page 7