He walked back to the wood-paneled kitchen and poured himself a glass of Triple Voice before returning to the living room. Taking a seat in the comfortable white leather recliner, he turned on the TV, keeping the volume low. Is it Rory’s or Lorcan’s turn to be my friend tonight? he wondered idly. With all his running around between the three embassies, he’d lost track. Better not to call either of them, just to avoid any hard feelings if he picked the wrong one. He had enough problems without getting his lover or his best friend in a snit. He flicked through the channels, avoiding anything that even remotely touched on the Armistice. News, news, news, news, cartoons.
Okay, not the most intellectually stimulating choice, but I can deal with cartoons. He let his mind go blank, occasionally sipping his drink as he watched the brightly colored figures cavort across the screen.
About ten minutes later, he noticed the rustling of Toby moving around on the couch as his brother sat up and yawned. “Hey, Nick. Did I miss anything?”
Nick shook his head, took another sip of his bloodwine, and focused back on his cartoons. “Nada.”
Toby was silent.
Hearing his brother’s heart race, Nick looked up at him again.
The whites of Toby’s eyes showed as he stared at him—well, not at him, exactly. Nick followed Toby’s gaze to the glass in his hand, still half-full of scarlet liquid. Shit. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll dump it.” He shifted in his seat to get up.
Toby waved him back. “No, you don’t have to. Really, I’m okay. It’s just a little freaky to watch you drinking blood. I’ll get used to it eventually.”
“Toby, I—”
“Nick,” Toby interrupted sternly, “would you please stop apologizing for being a vampire? It’s not like you had a choice about it or anything.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“Now what did I just say?” asked Toby, exasperated.
Before Nick could answer, Rapier spoke to him. “Nicholas, Takeshi Nakamura is trying to contact you.”
Nick raised his eyebrows. “Put him through.”
A black rectangle appeared in the air in front of him, framing Take’s head and upper body, surrounded in the background by his office in Armistice Security Headquarters.
“Nick,” Takeshi said, his voice tired. He looked to the side. “Toby.”
Toby waved at him. “Hi, Take.”
“What can I do for you?” asked Nick.
“We’ve got a new security issue, and I’m not sure how serious it’s going to be, given the state of your negotiations.”
Nick shrugged. “No one is sure of anything these days. What’s the problem?”
“It’s me and Rory.”
Nick leaned forward. “I beg your pardon?”
“You know how I was invited to that big fashion show in New York, and I asked Rory if he wanted to tag along?”
“Sure. Rory was all excited.” He thought for a second. “Wait, wasn’t that supposed to be tonight?”
“It was tonight,” said Take.
“What happened, Take?” asked Nick, concerned.
“A TV reporter buttonholed us on the red carpet and started asking questions about you and Ana.”
“Aw, shit. Don’t tell me.” Nick put his hands to his temples and slumped back in his seat, trying to massage away his imminent headache.
“Yeah, you know how Rory is. When he gets pissed, he totally shoots his mouth off without any shred of caution or common sense.”
“How much did he tell them?”
“Enough, but that’s not the real problem.”
“It gets worse?” Nick asked in disbelief.
“The reporter said something insulting about you, and Rory lost his temper.”
Nick sat up straight in his seat, staring worriedly at Takeshi. “Exactly what do you mean he lost his temper?”
“He’s very protective of you, Nick. Always has been.”
“Takeshi,” said Nick sternly, “what did he do?”
“He vamped out. On camera.”
CHAPTER 12
New York City, New York; Three hours earlier
Takeshi and Rory walked down the red carpet toward the fashion show, camera flashes surrounding them with flickering light. Take’s sharkskin suit shimmered in the spotlights. Rory had been ill-at-ease, departing from his usual all-black attire, but Take had insisted, and the emerald green suit made his eyes glow even without the need for magic. Obviously enjoying himself immensely, Takeshi waved to the crowd that strained against the maroon velvet ropes. Rory, more reserved, smiled shyly at the cameras.
“Lighten up, Rory.” Take grinned. “It’s a party, not a funeral. Live a little!”
Rory smiled at his lover’s enthusiasm. “I haven’t been to a real party in years. Give me a minute to remember what to do.”
“Just smile and be happy. Doctor’s orders.”
Rory laughed. “Since when are you a doctor?”
A hot white light shone on them as a TV camera turned their way.
“Mr. Nakamura! Mr. Brennigan! Can you answer a few questions?” An attractive female reporter hailed them from the sidelines. She wore a stylish red suit over a black silk blouse, and a large pendant of a gold cross hung on her chest.
Takeshi faced the camera smoothly, speaking directly into her extended microphone. “I’m always happy to answer questions, Ma’am. What would you like to talk about?”
Flanking him, Rory smiled silently and reinforced the disguise spell that maintained his aged appearance. His skills in dealing with the media were rusty, so he let Take lead in handling the reporter.
She rattled off her name and television station call letters before diving right in. “What are your thoughts on the events in Los Angeles three weeks ago?”
Takeshi’s good humor evaporated immediately. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your former bandmate, Anaba Nizhoni, and a group of your musical colleagues, the Journeymen, openly revealed themselves to have magical abilities. What is your reaction to that?”
“No comment,” said Takeshi.
“Given your common professional circles, did you ever see any sign they were in league with supernatural powers?”
“I don’t think they claimed to be in league with anything,” Rory butted in, his voice betraying his irritation.
“They indicated that they represented an entire organization dedicated to the protection of dark forces.”
“Really?” Rory said sarcastically. “I must have missed that part. Did you see the same broadcast as me?”
“Nick Jameson claimed to be a vampire, Mr. Brennigan. He revealed fangs and claws. You don’t consider such creatures to be evil?”
Take reached out to Rory over their link. “Rory, calm down.”
Rory ignored his love, and his pale skin flushed in anger. “You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, lady.”
“I know what I saw, Mr. Brennigan. If that isn’t evil, what is?”
“He didn’t have a choice,” snarled Rory.
“Rory, what are you doing?” Takeshi queried urgently over the link.
“Really, Mr. Brennigan? And how do you know that?”
“Because I saw the railroad spikes sticking out of his wrists when we found him crucified on the wall of his living room,” Rory said angrily. “No one chooses to die like that!”
“Rory!” Takeshi yelled.
The reporter recovered instantly from her surprise. “Are you saying you already knew he was a vampire?”
“Of course I knew.” Rory was seething. “I was one of the first people he talked to afterward.”
Take grabbed Rory’s arm. “I think we’re done here.”
She persisted, turning her microphone on Rory. “Would you care to tell us how you reacted to finding out that Nick Jameson was an evil, blood-sucking monster?”
Rory heard Takeshi gasp, but he was completely lost in bloodlust. Cold, relentless rage swept through him. Without even thinking, he spoke an activating word of
power.
The reporter’s eyes widened as a lambent azure glow burst from the cross around her neck. Rory’s fingers seized her hand that held the microphone. Scorn and hatred burned from his bright red eyes, leaving her dumbstruck with fear.
“My dear,” he said, tilting the microphone toward him, his voice acquiring a much lower register as he continued, “if you think Daywalkers are evil, you have no idea what’s actually waiting for you in the darkness.” Reaching out, he gently lifted the glowing cross from her chest, staring at it dispassionately as his fingers sizzled under the assault of the holy light. The disguise spell dissipated at the touch of the white magic, revealing his true face—decades falling away from his features. He let the cross go, lifted his blackened fingers before her terrified eyes and casually blew the acrid smoke from his burnt flesh into her face. She whimpered as he sneered at her, his fangs fully extended and visible. “No idea at all.”
“Rory,” said Takeshi, firmly grabbing his shoulder, “let the nice human go.”
Rory growled, a deep, animalistic sound layered with subsonics that made the reporter’s bones vibrate. Then he abruptly let go of the microphone, turned, and walked away down the red carpet.
“The Armistice is the only thing that stands between you and them,” Takeshi told the reporter, who stood white-faced and hyperventilating. “Think about that when you try to sleep at night.” He spoke a second word of power, and the light of the cross faded away. “Well, I guess you’ve got your exclusive,” he said, one eyebrow lifted sardonically. “That’s what really matters, isn’t it?”
The reporter gaped wordlessly as the Sentinel turned and followed Rory down the red carpet.
Chapel Hill, North Carolina; Three hours later
Nick watched numbly as the video clip finished and Takeshi’s image reappeared on the virtual screen. “Take,” he said incredulously, “what the hell was he thinking?”
“I think he was trying to defend your honor.”
“That’s crazy. I can defend my own honor.” Nick swallowed another sip of Triple Voice before placing the glass down on the coffee table. “Let me talk to him.”
Take sighed. “He said he didn’t want to be disturbed. In fact, he specifically requested that I not put you through if you asked.”
“He deliberately endangered himself for my sake and now he won’t talk to me?” Nick said angrily. “Who does he think he is?”
Takeshi frowned at him. “He’s your Magister, Nicholas.”
Nick threw up his hands. “This has nothing to do with me being Primogenitor Jiao-long, Takeshi! Rory is one of the most levelheaded people I know, especially for a Nightwalker. Losing his cool in public like that is totally out of character. What the hell is going on with him?”
“Everyone’s under a lot of strain,” Take snapped. “Deal with it.”
Nick rubbed at his eyes. “Is he all right, at least?”
Takeshi nodded. “He’s feeling like a prize fool, but otherwise he recovered pretty quickly. We actually stayed for the party, although we did leave early.”
“So now all three of you are in the open?”
Takeshi shrugged. “I had already told the press I wasn’t going to talk about Ana. Even so, I should have expected the questions. As for Rory, I understand why he did it. He made the decision to let Luscian into the country, and he still has a lot of unresolved anger and guilt over what happened to you. I realize how emotionally charged the situation was. The question is—how will this affect the Armistice?”
Nick forced himself to consider the situation objectively. “Honestly, it might actually help.”
Takeshi tilted his head curiously. “How so?”
“Now we can give the humans a face for Nightwalkers, as well as Sentinels and Daywalkers. Rory is probably going to have to get used to doing interviews.”
“He won’t like that.”
“It’s his own damn fault.”
“Yeah, it is. Well, I’ll let him know what you said. Sorry to spoil your evening.”
“No problem, Takeshi. Thanks for letting me know.”
The video link closed, and Nick slumped back in his chair, thinking how best to spin the new events to their advantage.
“Nick?” Toby watched him with a pained expression.
“What’s wrong?”
Toby fidgeted nervously. “Exactly what did Rory mean when he talked about railroad spikes?”
Oh, my God. Nick hadn’t even noticed Rory mention it. “Toby, you don’t want to know about that. Believe me.”
“He said you were crucified.” Toby stared at him, his eyes questioning.
“Toby, please,” Nick muttered. “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter.”
“I’ve stood by you this whole time. Even though you’ve been lying to me all these years. Are you going to be honest with me, or will I have to ask around behind your back?”
Nick glared at him. “No one will talk to you about it if I tell them not to, no matter who you ask.”
“Does everyone else know?” Toby asked relentlessly.
“Yes.”
“Then I need to know, too.” He reached out and laid his hand on Nick’s arm. “The only one I’m asking is you, Nicholas. Tell me what happened.”
Pulling away from Toby, Nick stared fixedly at the framed photographs hanging on the wall in front of him, his enhanced sight picking out the faces of his family and friends. Happy memories, for the most part. “I told you I didn’t have a choice about becoming a vampire; I didn’t tell you how much Luscian hurt me while waiting for my Gift to awaken enough to make me a stronger servant. He tortured me for hours, then he killed me in front of Rory to provoke him into starting a war. I was just a pawn to him—a plaything for his amusement. When he was done with me, he nailed my body to the wall as a final act of spite toward the Triumvirate, to show them they couldn’t protect their own people from him.”
“What happened to him?”
“I killed him. With Rory and Takeshi’s help, I cut him to pieces and drained him dry.” Nick turned back to Toby. “I had my revenge, little brother. It’s over, and he’s gone. I may have to live with the memory of what he did, but at least I have that much.”
Toby’s expression was unreadable. “Nick,” he said uneasily, “in Los Angeles, Jeremy said you were in a death spiral, that you were losing it because of what Luscian did.”
“That was true. The drinking, the drugs, all the reasons I left California, almost all of it went back to that.”
“What Jeremy did to you, filling you full of all that light and power, did it really help?”
Nick closed his eyes, remembering the Light. “Yes,” he murmured. “It helped so much.”
Toby sat back in his chair. “I guess I owe Jeremy an apology.”
Nick’s smile lacked conviction. “If you like, I’ll let him know you said that, but I don’t think he’ll care. He’s kind of socially detached. He just does whatever he thinks is right and lets the chips fall where they may. It’s kind of refreshing to meet someone so direct after years of dealing with Nightwalker politicians and showbiz types.”
“You actually like him?”
Nick shrugged. “I think he’ll make an interesting friend, if I can get past the barriers he’s built around himself.”
“You know he’ll never be able to leave the Armistice, right? If he ever shows his face in public, he’ll go directly to prison, just like the others.”
“Obviously.” Nick finished his drink. Minutes of silence passed. “Think you could do something for me, Toby?”
“Sure. Anything.” Toby leaned forward, concerned. “What do you need?”
“It’s too quiet.” Nick propped his feet up on the coffee table. “Play me something soothing.”
Toby picked his violin up off the coffee table, where he had set it after their earlier jam session. As he picked up his bow, he grinned at his brother. “Here’s a little number I’ve been working on, called ‘Early Retirement’.”
<
br /> CHAPTER 13
Armistice Security Headquarters, Anchorpoint City, Grand Mesa, Colorado
Rory swiped his brush over the canvas in short, angry strokes, heedless of the paint splattering his white silk designer shirt. He furiously ground the soft bristles into daubs of color on his palette and continued to work, his fangs visible. His thoughts branched and spiraled disjointedly, the vampiric part of his mind directing his talent while he consciously berated himself. I shouldn’t have let her get to me. What was I thinking? Nick probably thinks I’m a complete moron for defending him. He sighed, knowing his judgment was messed up when it came to that particular Daywalker. He’d known that from the start.
December 2032; New York City, New York; Seven years earlier
Rory wandered through the Christmas party, nodding and laughing in the right places but secretly bored with the whole tawdry spectacle.
“Rory?”
He turned to find Nick Jameson grinning at him.
“I thought that was you! It’s been ages. How are you doing?”
“Hey, Nick. I’m all right. You?”
The last time they’d met, when Nick’s former band had opened for them on tour, Rory had been mortal and in love. When Nick had made a teenage pass at him, he’d laughingly brushed him off, saying he was taken. Now, he opened his vampire senses a little to get a feel for the other man’s emotions—happiness and calculation. He also noticed Nick’s scent was shading distinctly toward sexual desire.
Interesting. The vampire was surprised the younger musician was still interested in him, given that his disguise spell added another twelve years to his face. Rory kept up the banter, chatting about the musical side projects they’d been involved in, while he considered how he felt about Nick’s attraction. Well, I’m never going to be with Takeshi, so why not? Without the heady emotions he felt for his former bandmate, he shouldn’t have trouble maintaining enough control not to bite. Maybe a one-night stand with a hot young guy would even do him some good.
Sunset: Pact Arcanum: Book One Page 13