Now the Spear was inside me, and we didn’t know how to summon it.
And we had no one to ask about it, because asking would only get me locked up for poking and prodding by the Conclave. After all, the Spear was theirs, and if the Spear was locked up inside me, that must make me belong to them as well. At least that’s how I thought it would play out. And Roland had agreed.
In short order, the gates began to open, and the guards let me through, their faces decidedly pale. I smiled at them, waving before I continued on to the house.
Not having to sneak around this time, I was able to appreciate the house much better. I had known it was nice, but whereas before I had been lurking and searching for sentries and guards, now I was walking through the front door. Different Masters had different customs. The King is dead. Long live the King.
Master Haven was in charge now, and although he had been a friend of Simon’s, he had understood my position in killing him. Simon had been working with a demon, leaving me little choice. So, this meeting was to set some ground rules, have a good time, and put each other at ease. Roland must have missed that memo because he looked ready to bite off vampire ears.
I clucked my tongue and he glanced at me. “There is literally no point to this meeting if you’re going to pick a fight. They’re already our enemies, by default. This is to see if we can be… if not allies, at least pleasant neighbors.”
“If they step out of line—”
“I’ll be the first to pull the trigger. But they haven’t. And neither will the local Shepherd. Especially if you want the Conclave to consider your defense tomorrow… Starting a war before we leave won’t help.”
He flinched as if struck, eyes widening in disbelief. “That’s low, Callie.”
“It got your attention, right? Now, play nice until they give you a reason to do otherwise. You’re too high-strung right now. Let me handle this.”
He grunted agreement, but didn’t sound happy about it.
We parked on a large circular drive and climbed out. Haven was standing at the top of the stairs, smiling at us. He was a tall, pale man, very handsome, and his eyes danced with cunning. I had first met him a few months ago, thinking he was an enemy, but he had been angling to turn on Amira just like I had. Or so he had said. She’d backed him into a corner, and he was fresh in his new position of power of an already weakened coven of vampires.
But… he’d had every opportunity to kill, maim, or torture Beckett after kidnapping the detective for Amira. Instead, Haven had given Beckett the keys to his own handcuffs, injected him with some Holy Water, and then handed Beckett over to Amira, giving us a wild card for our final confrontation. Then the Master Vampire had surrounded the area with snipers, men ready to take down Amira at the first chance.
Without that action of giving Beckett the keys to his handcuffs, I wouldn’t have survived and either Amira would have won, or Haven’s snipers would have taken her out and he would have been the hero of the city.
So… I didn’t quite trust him, but his actions had spoken pretty loudly, so far.
He had earned a sliver of trust, despite Roland’s deeply-ingrained prejudices. The Shepherd was simply too old school. He couldn’t comprehend that the world was changing, and that both the humans and the monsters were adapting, using social media, politics, and any number of paths to victory. Hell, Dorian Gray had even helped us take her out.
However, Roland had an image of Count Dracula sitting in Transylvania stuck in his head, and his instinctive response was to storm the keep to kill the vampire on his throne.
But nowadays, those in charge were typically business savvy investors, had a bevy of lawyers, and were typically above reproach, untouchable by the mundane or Regular police.
Like a supernatural Mafia. At least that’s how Kansas City seemed to operate.
And I had realized very quickly that all those mafia families knew about me – the Woman in White, as they called me – and I knew nothing about who occupied my city. When I had invaded Johnathan’s office, I had seen that the city was divided up into five sections, like territories. The bears controlled one, the vampires with Haven had one, and the wolves had controlled one – but they had fled town a long time ago.
Which meant there were two more factions in town, and I had no idea who – or what – they were. Were the Nephilim crew one of the mafia families? I knew my Church wasn’t, because it had been drawn outside the territory lines on the map I had seen.
But Haven might be in bed with these mystery families, and to be a good cop, to keep people safe in my city, I needed to know the players before someone snuck up on me and killed me in my sleep.
I smiled at Haven, motioning to the Shepherd. “Roland Haviar, Vatican Shepherd of Kansas City. Stacks of titles and accomplishments that you wouldn’t pay attention to if I told you, so we’ll just say he’s got the Silver Star in kicking bloodsucker ass.”
Haven blinked, staring at Roland, and then burst out laughing. Roland – already pissed at my introduction – did not like being the butt of vampire laughter. Before he could do anything stupid, Haven stepped forward, and gave a very formal bow, still struggling with his laughter.
“My apologies, Mr. Haviar. I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing at the unorthodox way Miss Penrose decides to do things – and at the most unexpected of times. I imagine it’s quite infuriating to train her,” he said, standing as he smiled politely at Roland.
Roland was now in an uncomfortable situation.
He could either accept the apology, and agree with the vampire – which was against every fiber of his being – and basically team up with the vampire in mocking me, even though it was likely something he wholeheartedly agreed with. Or, he could take offense and we would throw down. Either way he would be doing something wrong.
He simply nodded. I smiled back, hiding my small exhalation of breath. I hadn’t expected him to get so bent out of shape, although I hadn’t really considered this a formal meeting, since I had already met Haven once and spoken with him on the phone a few times.
I had made a miscalculation, and Roland would make me pay for it later. Because the Shepherd was on his last nerve, too focused on the girls in Italy.
“I am a lot to handle,” I said, smiling at Haven. It was very obvious that my reply could be taken multiple ways, and Roland’s lips curled in a very faint smile. “But I meant well. Roland is like a father to me. A father that taught me such tough love that even two demons couldn’t slow me down.” I shrugged.
Haven’s forehead creased in contemplation of that. I was beginning to realize that Haven would be a lot of fun to talk with in the years to come. If I didn’t have to kill him, of course.
“Roland, this is Haven something or other. The King Fanger. The Grand Bloodsucker. The—”
“Master Vampire of Kansas City,” he interrupted, rolling his eyes in mock frustration, showing Roland that he shared the Shepherd’s pain. He extended a hand. “Haven Frost,” he said, smiling politely. “And the other esteemed titles Callie mentioned,” he said with a faint smirk.
Roland grunted in agreement before he thought about it, scowled momentarily at the vampire, and then shook his hand.
Haven leaned back, nodded at the two of us, and then said, “Pleased to have you. No vampire weapons will be permitted beyond the door.” I shot Roland a look, and he grunted.
“You have my word,” he said gruffly. He wasn’t happy about it, though.
“Then you may enter my home.” Then he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at us with a guilty smile. “Whoops. Force of habit. You two don’t need permission to enter buildings, do you?” he chuckled, referring to how vampires needed invitations to cross thresholds. It was one of their weaknesses. Something about a home – the magical energy that built up in a home after a group of people lived there long enough, experienced enough there, had been kept safe there – built up a magical protection against them. Vampires couldn’t cross them without permission.
I batted my eyelashes at Haven. “I’ve always thought it’s better to beg forgiveness than ask permission,” I said, pointing a thumb at Roland. “But forgiveness is kind of his bread and butter. I think he uses it as an excuse for a lot of things.”
Roland played along. “I never ask permission either. But I always grant forgiveness.”
Haven turned all the way around. “Ask forgiveness, you mean.”
Roland smiled, miming pulling the hammer back on an imaginary finger pistol as he clicked his teeth and winked. “That, too.”
I clapped. “This is going to be fun.”
“You were more fun alone, Callie,” Haven said before turning back to the open door and striding inside.
I turned to Roland and he shrugged. “Just because I played along doesn’t mean I’m happy with you right now,” I warned. “We’re here to potentially make an ally, or at least not make him a personal enemy. Let’s stop pressing buttons, shall we? It’s immature.”
He sputtered in argument as I turned my back on him and followed Haven inside. I pretended not to hear as he grumbled under his breath about me starting the button pressing.
He had a point, but mine was not confrontational. Mine was a social lubricant, breaking tension. Roland’s was passive aggressive. Threatening. Mine was sly. Show them up front that I was snarky and mouthy, so that when I acted sincere, they bought it.
Whether I was actually being sincere would never cross their minds, since they knew I had a penchant for speaking before thinking. But with Roland ratcheting the tension back up, he wasn’t helping. He was making things a lot worse.
“Just follow my lead,” I hissed over my shoulder. “Trust me.”
Roland sighed wearily. “I will, but we are going to have a long talk later.”
I entered the living room, mentally considering the next few minutes.
I had made sure to leave my weapons in the truck. We’d given him our word. There was always the chance that if Roland couldn’t calm the hell down, he might decide to whip out his manliness wang on the table to make a point to Haven.
Ironically, men simply couldn’t understand the long game. Such emotional, frivolous creatures. A lot could be solved by them just keeping their hammer of justice in their pants.
Chapter 17
Roland nodded at Haven, smiling politely. “Women can be overly emotional at times, yes. They often make things harder than they need to be.”
I gritted my teeth, scowling at the both of them. It was astounding how quickly they had shifted from mortal enemies to long-lost friends. I wondered if Roland was just trying to be agreeable with Haven, like I had asked him to be. If he actually meant this drivel, I was going to carve out his ears and stake them to a Bible.
With Haven’s fangs.
“Alright, boys. That kind of talk isn’t good for your health,” I warned, plastering on a thin smile. They chuckled, lifting their palms at each other as if I had just proven their point.
But Haven dipped his head politely in my direction, smiling playfully.
Haven had taken us on a tour of the property, showing us every single door, floor and room. Then, asking if we were satisfied with our inspection, we had agreed and had assumed we were heading back inside the mansion for a few refreshments and idle talk. But an elegant Maybach had pulled up beside us. The driver got out and held the door open for us to enter with Haven behind the wheel. Roland and I had grown uneasy, but after the guard had left us, Haven told us he had one more thing to show us, in honor of full disclosure.
He had taken us to a nearby cave on the edges of the large property. Inside the cave – which had ceilings thirty feet high – he had parked the car and taken us on a tour through the majority of it. Recessed lighting had been built into the rock, and the central corridor was fifty feet wide in most places. He had shown us refrigeration units filled with blood bags – and, to Roland’s surprise – all the requisite paperwork showing that it had been legally obtained. They were also individually warded so that they resembled transparent intravenous fluid, not blood. Haven had waved a hand over one, murmuring a spell, and presto! Blood. They did it to prevent awkward questions in transit. No smell. And it didn’t look like blood. Roland hadn’t looked pleased.
On the other hand, Roland had been impressed by Haven’s transparency. By the end of the tour I caught him studying Haven when the vampire wasn’t looking – likely realizing that his old methods of dealing with vampires might very well be out of date. My words hadn’t meant crap, but a Maybach, invisible blood bags, and a tour of Haven’s Batcave had done the trick. Men!
We were now back in the mansion, and the two were joking around like teenaged boys after summer break. I never would have connected the new Roland with the one from an hour ago.
Haven held out a hand, indicating the chairs near the fire, motioning us to relocate. Before I could move, Haven was already walking past me. I remained perfectly still as he did, my shoulders relaxed, even though I sensed Roland was suddenly very alert, reminded of what Haven really was beneath the calm, friendly demeanor. I didn’t want Haven to see I feared him. The whole point of this was to establish trust.
As he passed, he stopped, leaning in close to my neck. He reached out with long pale fingers, and removed a loose strand of hair from the side of my neck, careful to not touch me in the process. He held it up for me to see, and then dropped it in my palm with a smile before continuing on to one of the leather couches. I pocketed it without a word.
I let out a small breath and flashed Roland a tight look, reminding him to back down. He let out a barely concealed sigh and tried to sit beside me on the couch, as if to protect me. Right before I sat down, I suddenly stood again, shooting him an accusing look to let him know I didn’t need his help.
Then I sniffed and walked over to a third chair.
Haven watched me with amusement, but Roland simply looked frustrated. He was too used to protecting me, but now it was time for him to cut that shit out. If everyone saw me as his little helper, I wasn’t going to be of much use in Kansas City. And I was finished standing in someone else’s shadow. Because I had done pretty damned well on my own. Against two demons, no less.
Haven’s eyes sparkled briefly, too quickly for Roland to notice. The Shepherd finally seemed to get my point and folded his arms with a patient sigh. Perfect. I needed Haven to see us as associates, not a two-on-one Holy Tag Team sitting directly across from him. Also, sitting apart from Roland forced Haven to split his attention between both of us, a psychological ploy I had read about – while at the same time masking my action as simply being annoyed with Roland.
Roland had picked up on it quickly. Or he really was annoyed. Either emotion worked. Haven would see the wedge between us, and realize that my fresh blood – no pun intended – might be just the thing to change an old Shepherd’s opinions. And that this meeting might just be worth his time after all.
I glanced around the richly furnished room. The last time I had seen it a swarm of vampires had flooded up from the nearby basement door in an attempt to kill me. I made sure I kept the door in my peripheral vision. “Where are all the other vampires?” I asked. We had spoken to a handful while touring the property, but had seen fewer than I had expected. Now that we were secluded, I felt we were private enough to ask without offering offense.
Haven grinned. “Hearing of your unannounced arrival, they may have found more urgent matters to attend. Quite suddenly. Some might even have called it a scurry.”
I flashed a proud smile at him and he grinned, shrugging. “Vampires scurrying…” I mused.
Haven cleared his throat. “Have I not entertained you in good faith, even with your early arrival? Shown you areas of my property that I very easily could have concealed?”
I shot a look at Roland that very easily translated to I told you so. He let out a sigh, as if having to refute the existence of God, and finally nodded. “To say I’m pleasantly surprised would be the biggest understatement ever,” he
admitted with a guilty shrug.
Haven nodded in gratitude, lifting his glass of blood to signify a toast. We matched him and were sipping our pricey scotch when he spoke again. “Then why have you broken your word during our truce? Our peace talk?” he asked in a soft yet firm tone.
I coughed on my drink, ready to argue with Haven. But I realized he wasn’t staring at me. And a very disgusting sensation wriggled inside my stomach as I turned to look at Roland. What had he done?
His face was guilty as hell. He set his drink down very slowly. “Old habits…” he admitted.
Then it hit me. We had given Haven our word that we wouldn’t bring vampire weapons on the tour. He… had lied. I wanted to punch him in the face. Everything had been going so well!
“You lied to me,” Haven murmured. Oh, that voice was so soft.
“Perhaps it explains your hospitality,” Roland argued, eyes defensive.
I slapped the table with my palm, glaring at Roland in disbelief. “What the Hell?!” I shouted. Because breaking a promise was not good. It was so not good, that I considered fleeing on the spot. We were in deep shit now. Roland had likely assumed he could get away with it. It wasn’t as dangerous as breaking Guest-Right, because he hadn’t directly harmed the Master of Kansas City. Roland might have instantly lost a chunk of his power if that had happened. But he – a Shepherd – had broken a direct promise during a peace talk. That was a declaration of war. I wondered how Haven had even figured it out, and what Roland had brought. Not that it mattered.
Roland very carefully reached into his coat and I suddenly heard the sound of a rifle cocking from the hallway. Roland hesitated, eyes turning to flecks of stone at the sound, but he continued until he set a round glass bottle of clear liquid on the table. Such a small thing to signal the start of a war. Roland stood very slowly, holding up his arms. “You may search me if you wish. I brought only enough to guarantee a distraction if we needed to flee. A backdoor, if you will.”
Whispers Page 8