Chapter Three
“WHO IS GEMMA TO YOU?” Ben asked.
René’s eyes narrowed. “Who is she to you?”
“A friend,” Tenzin said. “She’s certainly never broken into our home. Ben, why don’t you call Gemma now?”
A flash of concern in René’s eyes when Ben pulled out his phone. “I wouldn’t.”
“Oh?” Ben asked. “Why not?”
“She won’t thank you for it. My aunt has known I’m here for weeks. If she can deny it, she can leave me in peace. If she can’t…”
“No offense, Frenchie, but your peace is not my problem.” Ben unlocked his phone. Tenzin gripped René’s hair and pulled his head back, exposing the slow pulse in his throat.
“We have a common interest!” René said.
“What’s that?”
“The Sanguine Raptor.”
Ben’s eyes met Tenzin’s. Her grip on the blade tightened, and a drop of blood spilled from René’s neck. Ben held up a hand and her grip relaxed.
Slightly.
“What do you know about the Sanguine Raptor?” Ben asked.
“Not as much as you,” René said, his eyes dancing again despite the blood that rolled down his neck to meet his collar. “I must confess, I was simply… curious at first, but now I’m quite fascinated. My father has spoken of Brennus’s greatness for as long as I can remember. This is the first time I’ve actually been able to imagine the reality. Rumors are that you are close to finding it.”
Ben shrugged. “So what? You think we want your help? You may not know this, René, but Tenzin and I do this—as in professionally. We’re working for a client, and we don’t need extra help.”
René’s face fell. His eyes were stricken. His shoulders slumped and Tenzin released her grip on his hair. She looked at Ben.
He rolled his eyes.
Tenzin dropped her sword and stood to the side, but her hand remained on René’s shoulder.
Ben almost felt bad for snuffing out the vampire’s excitement until René threw his head back and burst into laughter. His dark curls bounced around his head as he leapt to his feet and darted to the corner of the room. From the safety of his corner, René bit his lip and winked at Tenzin, who stood, her arms crossed, watching him with a blank expression.
“My dear human,” René said with a smile. “Whyever do you think I would want to help you? I’m not going to help you find Brennus’s hoard.” His smile fell away. “I’m going to steal it.”
…he didn’t have a coin for the new king’s stone.
So here was the one who put stock in trinkets and tricks. Even with Tywyll’s warning, René had surprised him. Ben had been spotting cons since he was a boy, but he’d lowered his guard once he knew René was in Carwyn’s clan.
He was getting soft in friendly territory. He’d have to change that.
Ben decided to play along. “So you’re going to steal it from us? And how are you going to do that, René?”
René cocked his head. “Well, you may not know this, Benjamin Vecchio, ward of the great assassin Giovanni Vecchio, but I do this. As in professionally.”
“You’re a professional thief?” That was a new one. Since when did thieves advertise? “I’ve never heard of you.”
“If you had, I wouldn’t be very good at my job, would I?” René turned to Tenzin and pressed his hands together in front of his chest. “But you, my lady Tenzin. Daughter of Penglai. Commander of the Altan Wind. You…” His eyes heated. “The honor you have given me by marking my neck humbles me. I am at a loss for how I can repay you.”
Tenzin frowned. “Are you trying to flatter me?”
“Flattery would be dishonest, while I speak only the truth.”
Oh brother… Ben tried not to roll his eyes. “So you think you’re going to steal the treasure from us?”
“Oh no. I know I will.” René was still staring at Tenzin, and a smile teased the corner of his mouth. “Lady Tenzin, your human is impertinent.”
Tenzin smiled, and her clawlike fangs became visible. “He is not my human.”
René sucked in a breath. “Beautiful.”
“Lethal.”
“Is there a difference?” René’s gaze swung back to Ben, and feigned merriment turned to swift calculation. “So he is not your human? I understand.”
“I very much doubt that,” Tenzin said. “Ben is my partner. I am not looking for another. You may leave now.” Tenzin cocked her head. “But perhaps it is too late for that.”
René’s eyes narrowed and darted toward the entryway a second before Gemma roared into the house, her appearance causing the foundation to tremble beneath him.
René showed his first real emotion in the very odd night.
“Oh damn.” He grimaced. “Good evening, Gemma.”
✕
GEMMA Melcombe was seething.
“You will get out of England, René. You will leave tonight and you will not come back.”
René spread his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Ma tante, you are overreacting.”
Ben and Tenzin were watching the show playing out in the living room. Ben started a fire and decided this was the best entertainment he’d seen in weeks. Tenzin grabbed two beers and handed one to him before she perched on the back of his armchair.
“You think this is overreacting?” Gemma’s face was colder and more vicious than Ben had ever seen it. And the first immortal lady of London was regularly referred to as the Ice Queen. “I intervened for you years ago, René. You were a foolish boy then, and you’re a foolish boy now. Nothing has changed.”
Ben whispered, “What did he do?”
Tenzin said, “I’m not sure.”
Gemma whirled on them. “You want to know what he did? He aided in the death of Terry’s sire and my friend. He was part of a coup—”
“I didn’t know they were planning those things!” René shouted. “For pity’s sake, Gem—”
“You will get no more pity from me!” She bared her fangs. “It was unwitting. Fine. But isn’t that typical? You bounce around the world, charming your way in and out of trouble. Leaving the most horrendous wake as you sail past the little people who are forced to clean up after you. Is that what Guy would want for you, René? Your father—”
“My father doesn’t give a damn about me,” René snarled. “He wishes he’d never turned me. He said so himself.”
“Grow up.” Gemma practically spat out the words. “He’s tired of your antics. Just as we all are. Find something useful to do with your eternity. Then maybe your father will speak to you again.”
Tenzin handed Ben a bowl of popcorn that seemed to appear out of nowhere.
“Where did you get this?” he whispered.
“Shhhhh.”
“You’re leaving tonight,” Gemma said. She glanced at the clock over the mantel. “You have eight hours to get your affairs together, but you’re leaving our territory tonight.”
René kicked up his feet on the coffee table, and Ben kicked them off again.
The Frenchman glared and said, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not afraid of Terrance Ramsay.”
Tenzin snorted and beer sprayed through her hand.
“Gross,” Ben said.
“He’s not afraid of Terry,” Tenzin said. “That’s funny.”
René said, “And I am not afraid of you either, Gemma. You may cluck like an angry hen, but at the end of the day, I am your blood.” He shot an arrogant look at Ben. “You will not sell me out for these two.”
“I don’t care one damn about these two,” Gemma said. “But if you think I’m going to let my mate deal with you, you’re very much mistaken.” Her voice dripped scorn. “Terry will kill you, René. Because Terry keeps his promises. He’ll kill you, and then he will hurt. He will feel regret. Sorrow. Not for you, but for me. For your father.”
René narrowed his eyes.
“Do you think I’m going to let that happen?” Gemma’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Do you thin
k my loyalty to you will allow me to let my mate hurt?” She bent over his shoulder. “I will kill you myself, little boy, before Terry ever sees your face. I will kill you so he doesn’t have to. You have eight hours, René. Make the most of them.”
René’s eyes locked with Benjamin’s. His eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips in a sneering kiss.
Then—in a blink—he was gone.
Ben heard the night wind gusting down the hallway as the old oak door squeaked on its hinges.
✕
SHE stared at the fire, sipping the glass of wine Tenzin had poured for her.
“He’s incurably charming,” Gemma said. “That’s most of his problem. He’s also very smart and very capable.”
“Is that why you followed us?” Ben asked. He hadn’t noticed a tail.
“I had you followed, Ben. You’ll be happy to know I made sure to put one of Terry’s best men on it. I wouldn’t want to insult you.”
“Fine. Why did you have us followed?”
“Because René likes to play with his prey. It’s as simple and as complicated as that.”
Arrogant, interfering vampires.
“What does he do?” Tenzin said.
“He’s a thief. More or less. A gambler.” She sighed. “René is whatever he wants to be when he wants to be it.”
“He’s a hustler,” Ben said. He knew René’s kind. His mother was René’s kind.
“Yes, he is.” Gemma gave him a wry smile. “So is my husband, if we’re being honest. The difference is, René doesn’t care who he hurts along the way. And he’s much more comfortable lying.”
Ben asked, “What does he know about Brennus’s treasure?”
Gemma took a deep breath and paused. She looked at Ben. Then Tenzin. Then back to Ben. “You won’t leave this alone, will you?”
“No,” he said. “Especially not now.”
“Your research has attracted attention,” Gemma said. “That’s the only reason René is here. I don’t know who hired him, but he’ll have a client. He doesn’t hunt for the sake of hunting.”
Ben leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees. “How much do you think he knows?”
“If I were a gambler… I would bet that René knows as much about Brennus’s treasure as you do. I made inquiries after Tywyll brought it to my attention. He’s been in London for weeks.”
But he didn’t give a coin to the riverman.
René didn’t know what Tywyll had told them. That was Ben’s bet. And Ben was a pretty decent gambler himself.
But Ben hadn’t counted on someone shadowing his steps. René could easily have followed Ben’s movements. He might know what offices and universities he’d visited. What books he’d borrowed. What experts he’d interviewed. With the proper use of amnis, René could get a fairly clear idea of Ben’s movements so far.
Of course, René was also limited by daylight, so Ben had that to his advantage.
“Whatever you have planned,” Gemma said, “I want no part of it. I have too much happening in my own city to seek drama elsewhere. My one word of advice is this: René—whether you like it or not—carries Brennus’s blood. If you find anything and he can make a claim that supersedes yours, no vampire will be on your side, Benjamin. You’re human. And your partner is from the East.”
Ben said, “So hire me to find it for you. I promise my terms are very reasonable.”
She raised her hands, palms out. “Not even for Giovanni’s son. I refuse to involve myself in this, and I don’t want you bothering my father either. Carwyn has more than enough to worry about at the moment.”
He’d already interviewed Carwyn, who had been less than forthcoming and quickly changed the subject to far more entertaining things than treasure. The old earth vampire was good at that. Ben would go visit him for one reason and quickly find himself in the middle of some lunacy that had nothing to do with the original purpose of his visit.
One Christmas Ben had ended up herding sheep in nothing but his underwear. He still wasn’t quite sure how that had happened. “Listen, Gemma—”
“Don’t bother Carwyn,” she said again. “However…”
Gemma seemed to deliberate again.
Come on, you know you want to help me.
Finally she said, “If you happen to head north…” She gave him a loaded look. “I imagine Max and Cathy would love to meet you.”
Yes!
“Oh?” he said, trying to keep his heart rate steady.
“If you happened to be in Edinburgh,” Gemma said. “I’m sure I could call.”
Well, it appeared that Gemma knew far more about Brennus’s hoard than she’d let on. And René must have really pissed her off.
Ben couldn’t stop his smile. “I would love to meet Max and Cathy.”
“It would only be polite,” she said. “Considering your… ongoing connections to our family.”
Score. Max was one of Carwyn’s sons, and Cathy was Max’s mate. She was also a fire vampire and chief of security in Edinburgh. Ben had been going to ask for an introduction anyway, but Gemma calling ahead more than took care of any political hoops. More importantly, if Ben could convince Max to hire them, he’d be in the clear over any claims René might make. Max was a generation closer to Brennus and would have a greater claim on any recovered artifacts.
“So Scotland?” Ben tried to look innocent. “What a lovely idea. I love Scottish weather in the fall.”
Tenzin frowned. “Why?”
Ben slid from his chair and scooted over to Gemma, taking her hand and kissing it. “You’re a peach, Gemma Melcombe. And no talk of bloody retribution will convince me otherwise. A peach.”
Gemma rolled her eyes. “God save me from charming men.”
✕
Edinburgh, Scotland
THE rollicking thump of Scottish punk filled the pub where Ben and Tenzin dodged drunken festivalgoers fleeing the more traditional concerts that filled the city during the Scots Fiddle Festival. Bagpipes clashed with electric guitars. A singer wailed into the microphone as drums crashed in the corner.
“I love this!” Tenzin yelled, earplugs stuck in her ears. He’d forced them on her a block from the pub.
“I’m glad!”
“I can’t hear you!”
“I can’t imagine why!”
He grabbed her arm after they’d procured two pints from the bar and made their way down a long hallway where the music was still clear, but less demanding. Max and Cathy sat canoodling in a corner booth.
Yep. Ben was pretty sure that was the word for it. Canoodling.
Tenzin stopped. “I’m judging them.”
“Just because you’re not a fan of public displays of affection doesn’t mean they can’t be.”
“He looks like he’s devouring her face. That can’t be pleasant.”
“Will you stop?” He tugged her hand. “I’m sure they’ll cease and desist when we sit down.”
Except they didn’t. Or… not right away.
Cathy eventually came up for air. Ben could feel the heat of her skin from his seat across the booth.
“Sorry. Max has just come into town tonight. We haven’t seen each other in four weeks.”
Ben said, “If tonight’s not a good night, we can—”
“It’s fine,” Max said, his voice rough as he pressed kisses along Cathy’s neck. “It’s very nice to meet you, Ben. Tenzin, you too.”
“I don’t feel like we’ve actually met yet,” Tenzin said. “Though I feel that I’m well acquainted with your mate’s breasts.”
Max lifted his head and looked at the hand resting under Cathy’s sweater. “Oh. Sorry about that.”
“I’m not,” Cathy said. Luckily, she straightened her sweater anyway and faced them.
“Oh,” Tenzin said. “You both have faces. Imagine that.”
“Is she always this way?” Cathy said.
“Yes.” Ben took a drink.
Cathy smiled. “Cool!”
Ben continued, “So
Max, I’ve heard a lot about you. All of it is good.”
“Well, that’s nice to hear.”
Ben said, “And Cathy, apparently you’re a raging she-beast who will devour me and destroy my sense of dignity if I allow it.”
“Ah!” Cathy said. “You’ve been talking to Deirdre then.”
“How did you know?”
Cathy laughed and laid her head on Max’s shoulder. “I love your sister, Max.”
“It’s to your credit that you haven’t wiped her from existence, darling.”
“I’m sure you tell her the same thing.”
“Of course I do.”
Tenzin looked back and forth between Cathy and Max as if she were watching tennis. “I like you. Well, now that you’re not showing me your tongues. I found that episode rather disgusting.”
“Thanks,” Cathy said. “I’m not sure how I feel about you.” She leaned forward. “Are your fangs always down?”
Tenzin leaned forward too. “Yes.”
“How do you eat?”
“I suppose like everyone else. I don’t remember not having my fangs down, so I don’t know any other way.”
Cathy frowned. “Fascinating. Can I ask how you—?”
“No.” Max pulled Cathy back. “No, you cannot.”
“You don’t know what I was going to ask,” Cathy protested.
“Yes, I do.” He cleared his throat. “So, Ben, what did you want to talk to me about?”
Ben said, “You changed the subject so gracefully I barely noticed.”
Max smiled. “Thanks.”
“I sense they both have boundary issues.”
“I heard you were a young man of sense”—the vampire finished his whisky—“and it appears the rumors were correct.”
Max was one of the most human vampires Ben had ever seen. From his dress to his mannerisms, he struck Ben as a thoroughly well-adjusted immortal. All of Carwyn’s humanity without as much comedy.
“Tenzin and I,” Ben started, “have been heading up a new branch of Giovanni’s business.”
“I’ve heard a bit,” Max said. “New York, right? Working in O’Brien territory?”
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