He fingered the tiny GPS tracker in his pocket. He knew what her car looked like, from the security guard’s description, now he just had to find it.
********************
Alexander purposefully slowed his pace, keeping to a speed that the others could maintain. Fergus rolled the mind of the concierge without breaking stride and then turned aside the attention of the rest of the humans so that they never noticed the squad of ten unsmiling Vampires ploughing through their midst. He bypassed the elevator and slammed open the stairwell door, for no other reason than it was quicker.
As they traversed the length of the third-floor corridor, Alexander reflected that he was relieved to have Fergus backing him up. He’d always had an unshakeable thread of animosity towards the Scotsman. He’d blamed many things for that tension, but he knew now that it was nothing more than his own ego. Fergus had always been stronger than him, more powerful, more dominant, more respected by others. The only reason Fergus hadn’t been made Julius’s second was that he wouldn’t have accepted the post. And Alexander had always been painfully aware of that fact. It made him feel as though he didn’t deserve the position.
Now that he was stronger and more powerful, a genuine second to Julius, that poisonous self-doubt and sense of inadequacy had begun to slowly purge itself from his mind, like a lanced boil. The feeling of peace and confidence that replaced it was the best thing he’d experienced in centuries. He owed Fergus an apology.
They reached door 308, the apartment Trish had identified as the only one a large party had checked into in the last several hours. Alexander knocked loudly. On the other side there was a brief flutter of conversation in a language Alexander didn’t understand before the door opened.
A male Vampire with a wary look on his face cocked his head at them.
“I can help you with something?” he asked, his accent heavily Spanish. It was obvious he knew why they were there, but Alexander would play the game. For now.
“Yes.” He inserted a little more upper-crust English into his voice than normal. “You can invite in the acting Master of this City.” He kept his hands carefully folded in front of himself while Fergus and the others stood a little behind him, looking suitably menacing.
“Let them in, Bernard,” a female voice drawled from the room behind him. Her accent was a little less guttural than his, but still distinctly Spanish. “You are not showing your manners. I have taught you better.” By the slight lift of Bernard’s lip, Alexander knew that he was doing exactly as she’d told him. Reluctantly Bernard dropped his gaze from Alexander’s and backed away from the door.
As Alexander was about to step forward, Fergus inserted himself between Alexander and the door, entering the apartment and using his bulk and physical presence to force the other man back into the room. Fergus made a quick visual sweep of the bedrooms leading off a sitting room, one hand on his broadsword, before nodding briefly to Alexander.
“They’re all here and accounted fer, Sire,” Fergus said, his eyes warning Alexander to remember the role he was required to play here.
“Thank you, Master at Arms.” Alexander used the Scotsman’s formal designation. “Set a guard at the door,” he ordered as he swept into the suite. The order was unnecessary, but it sounded good. “And now would someone care to explain who you are and what you are doing in my City?” He directed his questions towards the female Vampire. Even without Gabi’s suspicion that the most powerful of them was a woman, her bearing and attitude left no doubt as to who was in charge. The five male Vampires formed a loose semicircle around her, alert and narrowed eyed.
“Please, call me Chica,” the woman said with a sultry smile. She was standing in the centre of the room, resplendent in a full-length, emerald green evening gown, one hand suggestively on her hip. Layers of skilfully applied make-up gave her skin a healthy glow and accentuated her large hazel eyes and ebony curls.
Alexander raised an eyebrow, his Spanish wasn’t the best, but he was pretty sure chica was an endearment used for young, petite girls. There was nothing young or petite about the woman in front of him. Though she was alluring, sexy even, in her own way; just not his type. He quickly banished the image of a slender blonde Magus that sprang unbidden to his mind and focused on the six Vampires before him.
“I am Alexander,” he told her. “Unless you are an invited guest, it is protocol to approach the Master of a city before taking up residence in one. Are you unaware of this decree?”
One of the Vampires standing to her left bristled a little, taking offense at his tone. Alexander ignored that, his eyes never leaving Chica’s face. She twitched a hand at her lackey and dropped her eyes from Alexander’s in mock acquiescence.
“I must ask for your forgiveness, Master Alexander,” she said. “We have been travelling a long way, and were tired. I was going to request an audience with you tomorrow evening once we had risen. I did not think it would be such a problem.” She swayed a little, making her dress move against her body provocatively.
“What are your intentions here?” Alexander asked, not distracted by her display. But as the words left his mouth, he felt a strange lethargy come over him. He’d never experienced the effects of anaesthetic, but if he had to imagine it, this is what he thought it might feel like. He blinked, trying to force his body to remain rigid and his mouth to form the rest of the words his mind was telling him to. Just as he felt his head fall forward, an icy breeze blew across him, except it wasn’t really a breeze. It was the slap he needed. The lines of power between himself and the nine other Vampires of the Clan around him flared to life, and their life force, the very power that kept them alive, flowed down the threads towards him, burning him with the fiery essence.
In that instant Alexander understood so much more about Julius, about every Master Vampire in existence. The sheer weight of each life that was his to nurture or to exterminate, the knowledge that every one of them would willingly give their lives if he asked it of them. And he understood so much more about Fergus. The Scotsman had been the one to show him the way, had snapped him from his stupor, and was by far the biggest pool of energy from which he could draw.
And draw on it he did. He could sense the threads that connected him to every member of the Clan so clearly that he could almost see them. He drew on each of them just a little, careful to avoid any that seemed weak or close to empty; he drew heavily on Fergus, his reservoir seemed virtually bottomless. As the weakness left him and the infusion of raw Vampire power charged his body, he looked up and speared the female Vampire with his gaze.
“You would try to roll the Master of a city?” he asked in a deadly calm tone. The shock on her face, the realisation that her play had just gone horribly wrong, was almost comical. “In that Master’s own territory?” Not one of his men moved a muscle, but hers had become restless, twitchy. “Do you know the punishment for an unofficial challenge to a Master’s authority?” He watched the emotions flit across her features.
“But…but you’re not the Master.” Panic stiffened her features as she began to back away from Alexander, her arms outstretched in front of her. “You’re…they said you’re not strong enough. How did you…” She broke off, agonised inevitability dulling her eyes. Fergus was in front of Alexander before she’d finished pulling the dagger from her thigh.
The fight was quick and brutal. As soon as the challengers realised Alexander was trying to keep them alive, they turned their weapons on themselves. They’d never had any intention of coming out of this alive.
“Fuck,” Alexander growled in anger and frustration as they stood surveying the aftermath. Untidy piles of clothing covered in a fine grey ash littered the beige carpeting. There was little else to say.
“Find their bags, clear up,” Fergus ordered the others. “Let’s get back to the cars, Sire.” He nudged Alexander. “Gabrielle will be worried.”
“Yes, of course,” he replied, turning to leave as the others set about making it look as though the group had left
unexpectedly. As he and Fergus left the suite and swept towards the stairs, he put a hand out to stop the Scotsman for a moment.
“Thank you,” he said simply, catching Fergus’s eyes.
Fergus nodded once, and it was clear he understood everything those words encompassed.
********************
Kimberley was looking tired, or perhaps she was still a little shaken over Sally figuring out that she wasn’t Gabi.
“It’ll be fine,” Julius reassured her quietly as all six of them followed a different Court staff member towards the Princeps’ Hall. He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, now aware that they needed to show more intimacy, but forced affection was harder than either of them had anticipated. She gave him a sidelong smile, but it was strained and showed nothing of Gabi’s cocky self-assurance. Julius knew he needed to wrap this up as quickly as possible, before Kimberley faltered.
As Court protocol dictated, they, as the accused, stood to the left of the Princeps’ table, while a retinue of Santiago’s Clan stood to the right. The accusers were a motley bunch of mostly young Vampires; they stirred nervously and one held a small, heavy-looking metal case. Moments after Julius’s group arrived, the doors behind the ornate marble table opened and the Princeps’ personal guards filed inside, taking up positions behind each high-backed chair. The Princeps themselves entered the hall soon after, Oleksandra in the lead and the rest in no particular order, though they each walked to their own assigned chair. As in the trial the previous night, Dendara took up Helene’s old seat and Magnus filled Santiago’s. It was an immense relief to Julius not to have to be faced with Helene in a judge’s seat again. The female Vampire had possessed the ability to turn men into whimpering puppy dogs, ready to fulfil her every wish and desire. She’d tried her wiles on Julius, and though he’d been able to resist her powerful call, it had made their encounters thoroughly uncomfortable for him.
Julius kept a surreptitious eye on Benedict, hoping to gain at least a feel for the mood of the Princeps by Benedict’s attitude to the proceedings. The youthful-looking Vampire appeared relaxed and unperturbed; his casual lack of formality as he slouched into the end seat and noisily chewed gum gave Julius hope. They both carefully avoided eye contact.
The formalities began and Cassandra stood to read out the allegations: ‘unlawful killing of a Master Vampire’ in Gabi’s case, and ‘conspiracy to unlawfully kill another Master Vampire’ in Julius’s case. She reminded them all that Faruq would be confirming that they spoke the truth; lies would not be tolerated. Before allowing Santiago’s Clan the floor, Cassandra asked Julius if he would like to address the allegations.
“Yes, Princep,” Julius said, stepping forward. “I put on record that I am unhappy with being detained to answer to these charges. The lady at my side had absolutely nothing to do with the death of Santiago, nor was I in any way involved in this so-called conspiracy. I am told they have some kind of evidence, which I strongly suspect has been planted to make my Consort look guilty, and I would like a guarantee that once disproved there will be no further blackening of our names by ex-members of Santiago’s Clan. I also respectfully ask that these proceedings are concluded as quickly as possible, as I have urgent business to attend in my city.” He kept his voice even, but it was heavily laden with disdain and annoyance.
“He speaks true.” Faruq spoke up from his position to Oleksandra’s left. Cassandra made a few notes on a sheet of parchment on the table before her.
“Thank you, Master Julius,” she said once she’d put the pen down. “We will endeavour to settle this matter as expediently as possible.”
Julius inclined his head respectfully and ran his gaze over the rest of the Princeps. With the exception of Klara, Eliasz and Akshita, they were all looking some degree of pleased or relieved. Apparently Gabi had been the prime suspect in everyone’s mind.
When Cassandra called on the accusers to speak, a woman stepped forward. Her hair was neatly pinned into a bun on top of her head, and she wore a demure, full-length dress. Julius sensed she was one of the few older Vampires in the group, but would have loved to know what Gabi’s Vamp ESP told her. There was something about the woman…she kept her gaze respectfully on the floor, but, despite her modest appearance, there was nothing deferential about her bearing. She must have been high up in the ranks of Santiago’s Clan, but he had never seen her before.
“My Princeps,” she said, her voice full and clear like that of a skilled orator, “there is no doubt in our minds who perpetrated the horrendous assassination of our revered Master. Many of you were witness to this Consort’s aggression directed towards our Master at the ball just a few hours before his untimely death. At first we, the Clan, were too dreadfully upset by his loss to think clearly, but once we came to our senses, we knew foul play had been at work. It was then that we began looking for clues as to the identity of his murderer.” The woman’s eyes slid sideways to stare at Kimberley, but what Julius saw was not what he’d expected to see. It wasn’t the flame of vengeance or wrath, not anger or anticipation of retribution. It was instead cold, hard and utterly emotionless. A frisson of dread snaked up his spine.
“It took much searching,” she continued, “the murderer was extremely careful, but eventually we found a single hair. One that clearly did not belong to anyone in the Clan. We are utterly confident it belongs to Santiago’s murderer, and that his murderer is Master Julius’s Consort Gabrielle.” The woman swung her arm wide to point at Kimberley.
“She speaks no lies,” Faruq interjected.
“Where exactly was this hair found?” Fianna asked; scepticism dripped from her Irish lilt. “People lose hair all the time. I’m sure if you looked hard enough, you’d probably find one of my hairs in the kitchen, a place I have never set foot in. A single hair near the scene of a death is hardly evidence of murder.”
“I think they’ve been watching too much CSI,” Benedict whispered loudly to Magnus behind his hand. No one laughed, but a few facial muscles twitched as grins were suppressed.
“The hair was in Sant—our Master’s bedchamber,” the woman said sharply. “It had been very recently cleaned. There was no reason for it to be there unless she’d been in the chamber.”
“Who cleaned it?” Fianna asked.
The woman opened her mouth to speak, but then her gaze settled on Faruq and she faltered. “It would have been the cleaners. The ones who always clean the Master’s chambers.”
Julius wondered what she’d been about to say before she knew it would be picked out as a lie.
“And have you thought that perhaps the cleaners had cleaned Master Julius’s chambers before they cleaned Santiago’s. That the hair you are so concerned about travelled into the room with one of the cleaners?” Fianna pointed out.
Benedict could no longer suppress his grin.
“It’s hers,” the woman ground out from between clenched teeth. “We know it’s hers and we know that she killed him. We demand retribution.” The rest of the Clan moved restlessly behind her. She was going off course, and they knew it. Their case was slipping away. Another Clan member, the one holding the metal box, stepped forward, gripping the woman’s arm and tugging.
“Our apologies, we mean no disrespect, Princeps,” he said, his head deeply bowed. “You must understand the depth of our loss. Would it be too much to ask that the Consort addresses the Court and tells us herself that it was not she who committed this atrocity? Princep Faruq would be able to confirm her answer.” He was almost pleading, but his expression gave away his eagerness. They thought they had her trapped.
Benedict opened his mouth to speak, his earlier joviality vanished, but Kimberley stepped forward to Julius’s side.
“If it will put an end to this once and for all, I will answer the accusations,” she said simply, a note of hardness in her voice.
“Agreed,” Oleksandra said sharply. “If Lady Gabrielle denies involvement and Princep Faruq confirms her truth, that will be the end o
f this matter. The Clan that was once Master Santiago’s will refrain from bringing further accusations against Master Julius, his Consort or any of his Clan. If she is lying, a trial will be held.” A murmur of agreement travelled through the Princeps, even Klara and Akshita.
Kimberley took another step forward, away from Julius and towards the Princeps’ table.
“I did not kill Princep Santiago,” she said, enunciating each word carefully and keeping her eyes trained on Oleksandra. Julius was watching Faruq; he was unsure if the Princep had been advised to lie himself in the event of Gabi’s guilt, or if he was planning on condemning her. Either way, he was unable to hide the flash of surprise on his face at her words.
“She is speaking the truth,” he said, his accent heavy in his shock.
Julius’s gaze settled on Benedict, who was now staring intently at Kimberley with a look of dawning comprehension.
CHAPTER 13
They wasted no time readying to leave the Princep Court, though Julius sent Kimberley to his room to rest and recover for a few minutes while the others packed up. There was little conversation, they all felt the urgency to be away from the castle before the lucky star they’d been sailing under fell, and their ruse was somehow uncovered. He was expecting Benedict to arrive at any moment, but would leave without seeing the Princep if the Vampire didn’t turn up soon.
He folded the formal letter he’d just finished penning and tucked it into an envelope, sealing it. It explained that urgent matters in the City required his immediate return, and that he and Gabi would discuss the issue of the special task force with his advisors and the rest of his Clan and he would contact them soon with an answer.
Come Hell or High Water (Hellcat Series Book 5) Page 17