by Cara Villar
“Des doesn’t like me,” I stated, watching mournfully as he started putting all the food away. I’d have to make my own later, after my shower.
“Nope. Definitely not,” Porcia piped in with a grin. “You showed her up in front of her Alpha. In front of Vincent. Add your reputation into that, and you’ve probably shot right up to first on her who-to-kick-the-living-shit-out-of list.”
I frowned over at her. “My reputation?”
“As a wolf-killer,” Felix supplied happily, dumping chips onto the plate next to the sandwich.
As I looked at the food, I nearly cried. I wanted a sandwich. My tummy rumbled a grumpy affirmative.
“Is that what they call hunters?” I asked, curious despite myself about these particular wolves. Okay, fine. I’m curious about Vincent. But did you see him? He was huge! Built like a god – all brawn and beauty with intelligent, shrewd eyes. There was this strange tug when I thought of him. Even as his image flashed in my mind, I wanted to go to the library and just…. What? Look at him? Maybe. Listen to him? Probably. The wolf in me recognized an Alpha, but the wolf in me also realized it did not want to be dominated. I wasn’t a submissive character, and the idea of having an Alpha boss me around was what was keeping me away from the library and in the kitchen.
“Um…” Porcia as she fidgeted, biting her lip. “No. I’ve never heard them use that term before. I guess that’s just what they call you.”
My brow furrowed, disconcerted to be called such an explicit name. Yes, I had killed wolves, but I’d also taken out Shifters, Ghouls, Vampires and Fae, at the commands of their sires and lords. Who had I killed that would reward me with such a clearly hateful name?
Suddenly, Felix pushed the plate with the big sandwich, distracting me from my thoughts. I looked at the sandwich, then at him, then at the sandwich, then at him. He smiled, eyes dancing like trees in the wind, and the ice in my chest melted away.
Do I want to eat him or the sandwich? Oh-h-h damn… that’s a toughy.
“You need to eat,” he said, by way of explanation, that hints-at-my-dimple smile that I was pretty sure I was starting to love, making an appearance.
“You made me a sandwich?” I asked. Apparently, surprised delight takes away brain cells. Articulate, Red. Real articulate.
"Well, I would have given you blood, but I figured you'd enjoy this better."
I wrinkled my nose. And yet…Darling, sweet man. He pressed me back into a bar stool and nudged the plate at me again. When I glanced at Frost and Porcia, their faces were carefully blank, but watching us curiously. Watching them, I lifted one half of the sandwich and took a massive bite. I should really work on perfecting my own blank face.
I moaned, “Damn that’s good…” The meats were tender, the sauces and spreads tasty, the salad bits crisp and the gherkins sharp. It was like heaven in my mouth, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t eaten since that morning. Yesterday morning then.
Felix cleared his throat, and Porcia blushed something furious, even with a straight face. Frost just looked really interested in his cuff. “Anyway, pet, Osiris wants to discuss the hunt, and Chicago, with us while the wolves are chatting.”
“What?” Porcia’s spine snapped straight. “How come she gets to go?” she asked Felix in a whiny tone.
I couldn’t answer, my mouth full of heaven.
Felix pinched the bridge of his nose. “We discussed this, sweetheart—”
Sweetheart? How come she gets ‘sweetheart’ and I get ‘pet’?
“Where I’d be going…” His hand dropped to the counter. “You barely look legal, Porcia.”
My brows shot up, and I looked at Porcia again. She did look kind of young. For anyone who didn’t know her, she probably looked only about seventeen, eighteen most. Definitely not old enough to drink—funny. Felix was right. When hunting, you had to be able to get in anywhere, whether through breaking and entering—which I’d done—or by walking right in the front door—also done. Surprisingly the latter was harder. I have a fake ID just for the times when I get carded at nightclubs.
Porcia’s shoulders sagged, the disappointment heart-wrenching on her beautiful face.
Mental note: try and swing a sitch where Porcia can get involved.
“Red, on the other hand,” Felix went on, merciless. “Could pass for a teen, or someone in their twenties. I can use someone with such a versatile look as she’s got.”
I arched a brow up at him, and his mouth quirked.
“Fine,” Porcia murmured, turned on her stool, slid to the floor, and walked out the kitchen.
My heart lurched, and I dumped my sandwich on my plate, my stomach a knot of shame.
Frost sighed, “I’ll check she’s okay.” And followed after Porcia.
The moment I thought no one could hear us, I swung my stool around to Felix. “What was all that about?” I asked.
“What?”
“That whole ‘versatile look’ crap.” I shook my head. “Porcia could get away with it as surely as I could.”
“Porcia doesn’t have enough field experience,” Felix replied.
“Then give her more.”
“This hunt is too important.”
“Are you saying she won’t take it seriously?” I asked.
“No.”
“Are you saying she wouldn’t be professional?”
“No.”
“Then, are you saying—“
“I’m saying,” he sharply interrupted, “that I don’t want Porcia to see what I do.” He stared at me, unblinking, his face void of expression.
I stared back, my face completely blank too, though mine was more a confused blank. “I don’t understand,” I finally admitted.
He nudged my plate again, and I dutifully picked up my unfinished half, and took a bite, chewing as I waited for him to answer. He sucked in a breath, held it, and then exhaled on a flurry of words.
“I don’t want her to see how much of a beast I can be when I’m out hunting. I don’t want her to see me kill someone. I know what I am, I know what I can do, and I know what my job is for Osiris. That doesn’t mean I want my position advertised to the most impressionable in the clan.”
“You don’t want her to see you kill someone, even if that someone is bad?” I instantly asked.
“Even if.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “If I have to torture for information, brutalize to get questions answered, she’d never look at me the same way again. I know it.” His eyes clashed with mine, and his were muted, dark, concern making them steely.
I suddenly wondered, with a sting of jealousy, if there was something more between Felix and Porcia. From what I’d seen, she was treated like a younger sister by both Frost and Felix. But then, if you don’t want something known, you do it behind closed doors.
I nodded, shoving aside the burn in my chest. “But you don’t mind me seeing that?”
“I know you’ve seen worse.”
Ain’t that the truth, I thought.
Then he added, softly, “I think you’ve got some of your own darkness too.”
Blood. Pain. Screams…some of them mine.
I cleared my throat and looked back down at my sandwich. “The darkness is all that’s left,” I said, and took a bite of my sandwich before I said anything more.
I finished my food in record time, practically licking the plate, purposely keeping my mouth full and focused on the next bite to avoid talking with Felix any longer. The evening’s events had wrought nothing but chaos on my emotions, drudging up unwanted memories of a time so long ago it was a wonder I still remembered it. And yet, I could never, ever forget.
The images were permanently engrained into my mind. Glenn’s shout of warning blurring into a scream of such sheer pain, that I felt it all the way to my soul. The splatter of something black and sparkling on the forest floor beneath a full moon. The burning of breath being ripped from my lungs and my own screams of pain. Yes. Such memories haunt.
Besides, food always tast
es so much better when someone else makes it, especially when you inhale it to keep your mind off anything but how good it tastes. I had this horrible feeling that if I let myself think, or feel, I’d just crack and crumble. I needed something to distract me from my inner emotional turmoil, however selfish that might be. The memories were always locked away, buried deep, ignored, but never forgotten. Since being there with the coven, they’d turned into a bad rash that was becoming increasingly aggravated by the constant scratching.
I was starting to bleed.
So, as I followed Felix into Osiris’s study, my focus on Chicago and a potential hunt became primary. I let the thoughts of it consume my mind, smothering the memories under work-mode as savagely and soundlessly as a mental pillow held tight to its face.
“So,” I chirped, faking my enthusiasm as I took a seat before Osiris’s…uh, new desk, eager to begin, even if it was about the missing Immortals. “Who are we hunting?” I set my iPad on my lap, having retrieved it from my pack just in case I needed it. Most people never thought to just Google people. It’s criminal how much you can find on the internet nowadays, just by knowing what links to click.
Felix sprawled into a chair beside mine, oddly somber, as Osiris leaned back in his chair and tapped his lower lip with two fingers, considering me with sharp eyes. For a moment, I didn’t think anyone was going to answer, and then Osiris’s smooth, maddeningly calm tenor rippled over me.
“His name is Ambrose.”
You’re kidding!
I rolled my eyes at the name. “Jeepers, that guy? What is it with you Vampires and your names?”
Felix’s brows shot up.
“Oh, come on! ‘Immortal’? Really?”
Osiris arched a fine brow as Felix said, “Names after recreation are important to us. Osiris is the God of the dead. Porcia is short for Porcelain, for obvious reasons, and Frost is named after the snow-covered land he hails from.”
“I knew he came from somewhere with snow!” I beamed, then frowned, and swung my gaze to the Vampire with his hint of a dimple. “And yours means?”
Hint-of became full-blown. “I’m just lucky.”
I rolled my eyes again.
“Red?”
I swiveled my head to Osiris.
“What did you mean by ‘that guy’?”
“I had an email,” I replied, bringing up the mass request on my iPad. “The sender was anonymous,” I handed over my iPad to Osiris, “but the request was for information and possible apprehension, and gave a brief description of the man, but no pictures. The email stated that any true leads would be rewarded handsomely, so I was planning on having a look around, rounding up some contacts, calling in some favors.” I tilted my head and said deadpan, “I want to install a Jacuzzi.” I took the iPad back as Osiris handed it over.
“And did you?” Felix asked.
“Install a Jacuzzi? No, not yet. But I’ve been shopping around.”
Felix growled, “Find anything.” He pointedly looked at me like this was no laughing matter.
Oh boy. Hunting with Mr. Grumpy-pants was gonna be epic!
I gave him a saccharine smile. “Unfortunately, no,” I said sweetly. “You see, this really bossy Vampire encroached on my territory, and when I tried to kick him out, he knocked me out twice, took me hostage and then nearly ripped all my clothes off.” Osiris made a choking sound as I continued, “So I didn’t get a chance to do any hunting.” My eyes narrowed. “Why were you in Summersville anyway?”
Felix opened his mouth to respond but Osiris interjected.
“I’d be curious to know who sent this mass request.” A chin tap, and then, “How long would it take for your contacts and favors to bear fruit?”
I tilted my head in thought. “A couple emails, a couple calls…hmm, maybe a couple days?”
Osiris nodded, and then said to Felix, “Check in with your contact in Chicago first, and see where that gets us.”
“Can I ask?” I glanced between a brooding Felix and the expressionless Osiris. “Who is this guy?”
Black eyes flashed as Osiris leaned back and removed a file from his drawer. He placed it on his desk, and slid it across to me. I lifted it and noted instantly how light it was. As I opened it, I understood why; there wasn’t even a picture of the guy.
“Ambrose was a non-entity who suddenly found himself the resulting ruler of a roaming clan after his sire, the former-ruler who then went by the name Charaka—”
Vagabond. Nice.
“—was reportedly killed. The circumstances of the death are unusual, and many believe Ambrose killed him, despite his rather…fervent denials.” Osiris cocked his head to one side. “In fact, we suspect that the recent spree of Immortal assassinations—”
My head came up sharply. “Excuse me?”
“—are orchestrated by him.”
Immortal assassinations? Immortals are killing their own kind? Since when in the hell did hunting become assassinating? At least when I did it, the fuckers usually deserved it. You don’t make a contract for immortality and then split when it’s time to pay up. Or go on a blood-thirsty, murdering rampage. I’ve had that a few times.
“I’ll need a list of the victims and any ties between them that you’ve been able to discover,” I said.
Osiris looked to Felix, who nodded. Osiris nodded as well, and continued, “Our sources suggest that the killings are part-revenge, and part…” Felix glanced at Osiris, who nodded after a brief moment of silence. “Part- implementation of a new regimen of Immortal rule.”
I waited for the punch-line. Neither of them spoke. I frowned, my throat a knot of dread. “What kind of rule?”
Osiris’s index finger tapped his desk, and when he spoke, his tone was icy cold. “The kind where he is Emperor.”
9
It took just over two hours to drive from Osiris’s residence in Florence to Charleston International Airport, and though I tried to spend that time reading over the file on Ambrose, I found myself seriously lagging. I ended up putting the file aside because no matter how many times I read the same line, it just wasn’t computing. My vision was blurring and watering from my yawns. My back was aching, and I suspected maybe a little bruised by Des’s personal introduction of me to the wall. I’d seen the damage to said wall, and I was surprised I was only hurting now.
By the time we arrived in Charleston, and navigated our way to the hangar that housed Osiris’s private jet, it was bordering on lunch time. I hadn’t slept in nearly thirty-six hours; I was hungry, and beginning to stiffen up. It didn’t help that Felix, who probably had been awake longer than me, was still looking bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and breath-taking.
Blah.
Getting out of the car proved interesting. Lots of wincing while Felix wasn’t looking, and bitten off groans so he wouldn’t hear me either, and then cracking vertebrae as I stretched upright. I hadn’t looked at my back since Frost had tidied me up, and I didn’t particularly want to. The skin lacerations were healed, but the muscular bruising was taking its sweet time. I needed food to speed along the recovery, but I guessed sleep would suffice until then. Blood would have made it faster, but I wasn’t particularly game for taking another sip of Felix, however advantageous it may be.
“Red?”
I jumped at the sound of Felix’s voice, and then grimaced at the small pang of pain it caused. He hadn’t spoken loudly, but I was dead on my feet and hadn’t even noticed him…shocking!
“Hmm?” I replied. Anything more articulate was beyond my comprehension as I took the handle of a small duffel bag from him. He’d loaned it to me for the—hopefully—short trip. I turned for the plane as he fell in beside me, the soft bleep of the Maserati’s alarm system sounding behind us.
“Vincent wanted to speak with you before we left,” he stated calmly, and I didn’t try to hide my grimace.
I’d managed to dodge bumping into the big Alpha all morning, not relaxing until we were rolling down the driveway, not releasing my breath unti
l it was a sigh of relief mingling with the soothing purr of Felix’s car along the highway. I wasn’t ready to deal with him, or whatever measures and demands he wanted to impose on me because I happened to be in his territory. And he would impose them. You only had to look at Vincent and know the guy was all about giving orders and expecting them to be adhered to that instant. Des certainly liked to ‘how high?’ his ‘jump’.
I will admit to spying on him though. Watching him when he was too busy arguing with Des or discussing first impressions of me with Mark was too much a temptation to resist. I could hold out on the pull of him only so much, keeping away from a direct confrontation. I didn’t want to know what I would do if left alone in his presence.
For one, I didn’t know if I’d attack him, or sweet Jesus on a pogo-stick, jump his bones! But spying I could do. I told myself repeatedly that watching the way he prowled around a room wasn’t as intoxicating as it felt, nor that the heat I felt wash over me while observing the way his mouth moved when he spoke wasn’t a direct result of wondering what his lips would feel like moving over me. Complete bollocks, obviously.
I walked up the steps to the jet like a zombie, then shuffled inside and dropped instantly into a plush cream leather swivel seat. I hissed in a breath at the impact on my back that made Felix’s eyes narrow and didn’t even bother putting my bag in the over-head compartment. Felix arched a brow as he stowed, first his bag, and then mine. The seatbelt lights blinked on and the creamy-smooth whir of the jet engines intensified.
“I don’t want to talk to him.” I yawned, dragging my seatbelt around me and buckling it in place. “It’s bad enough that I have to put up with you.” I managed a sleepy grin before yawning again.
“I’ll have you know, pet,” he began, taking the seat opposite me, buckling his own belt. “I’m far better looking than that overgrown flea-bag.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Porcia seems to find him rather dashing.”
“Yes, well…we’ve all agreed Porcia has the mentality of an over-wrought teenage girl.” He smiled softly, fondly, taking the sting from his words.