Death's Servant (The V V Inn, First Prequel Book)

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Death's Servant (The V V Inn, First Prequel Book) Page 6

by C. J. Ellisson


  He turns to his wife, his light blue eyes burning with agitation. “Dria, think of all the humans those werewolves were in contact with in their daily lives—at their jobs, in their neighborhoods, heck, maybe even who they are dating. Those people will miss them. They will raise red flags. It could very well explode into a huge stink.”

  Dria doesn’t answer, but her face takes on a contemplative look as she stares out the window.

  “I considered approaching the police with a human trafficking case,” I say.

  Rafe touches my arm and motions to the door. He walks me out into the hall and whispers, “Give what we’ve said to her time to sink in. Come back in two days.”

  Frustration at my own inability to do anything snaps my mouth shut. Can he really talk her into helping me? And why would he? I nod, grateful for his assistance and reluctantly leave.

  I’ve said everything I can to convince her. There’s no amount of money I could pay her that she couldn’t just take from anyone if she wanted it. I’ve got to figure out something to offer this vampire for her help, some type of payment. Something she needs that would sway her. Question is, what do you offer a creature that can take whatever they want?

  I pace the floor of my hotel room for hours, wondering what the options are. I need to talk to someone who knows more about the supernatural world than I do.

  Romeo and Elsa, my old alphas, are the first to pop into my mind. Yes, they refused to put their pack at risk to help, but they might have answers.

  I call the pack house, using the new cell I picked up in Maryland. Much to my relief it’s Elsa who answers this line, too.

  “Why are you calling this time, Jon?”

  “I need some advice. Are you willing to hear me out?”

  A sigh comes over the phone. “Okay, go ahead.”

  “A couple of questions first—why do vampires like werewolf blood so much, is it tastier or something?”

  “Kind of, but my understanding is it’s the power in our blood they want.”

  “Power?”

  “Yeah, something about our blood is almost like an adrenaline rush of long-lasting strength. Like humans on PCP without the high and hallucinations.”

  “I see why that would be addicting.”

  “Not all vamps get addicted.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “Romeo and I talked about this once. We think it’s akin to people who become addicts. For some, dependence comes quickly—whether it’s cigarettes, caffeine, alcohol, drugs...whatever. They have an addictive personality or character flaw, I’ve even heard it called a genetic weakness. Makes them more susceptible to any kind of addiction. What if those same people become vampires? Wouldn’t their addictive traits still be there?”

  “So you’re comparing a vampire drinking Were blood to drug addiction and how some people can become addicted to substances easier than others?”

  “Yes, that’s the closest analogy we’ve come up with. It’s the only thing that explains why some vamps become ruled by their cravings and others don’t.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Why? What are you planning, Jon?”

  “You know what I’m doing—what you two refused to do. I’m trying to save a pack of wolves. Anything I learn about their predicament might help with finding a solution.”

  “Aside from finding a bigger, badder vamp to shut down the place, I don’t know what you can do.”

  I have no idea if Dria is bigger or badder, but her husband’s deference and respect make me think she might be. “The real question, Elsa, is when you find that vamp, how do you persuade them to help?”

  “Simple—offer something they don’t have.”

  “You make it sound easy, but seriously, woman. How am I going to figure out what the powerful vampire doesn’t already have?”

  “Start with what you have to offer. Does she have a werewolf servant at her side?”

  “A servant? Like a bellman or valet or something?”

  “No, Jon. Vampires usually have an entourage. The more powerful, the more people surround them.”

  “Damn, this one only has one person with her.”

  “Are they traveling? Vamps might travel light to avoid being noticed.”

  The thought amuses me, vampires being inconspicuous and not bringing many “bags” with them. “She’s here with her husband.”

  “Whoa. Did you say husband?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “That means he’s her bonded mate. I’ve known over two dozen vampires and only three had mates. The others had devoted servants, meaning plural. Depending on their relationship, she might not have any servants in order to keep him happy. He might be the jealous type.”

  Rafe didn’t seem like the jealous type to me, but what the hell do I know from a few minutes in his company? It’s not like I was stupid enough to hit on his wife, for crying out loud. Or that I’d want to given the fact she’s happily married. And she could drain me dry on a whim. Yeah, that last thing really is the clincher.

  We wrap up our call and I sit in the growing darkness of my hotel room. A vampire’s servant. Would I be required to do her bidding and wear some stupid outfit like a chauffeur? Somehow, trailing behind her in a black suit would be even more humiliating then just doing her bidding.

  Could I do it? Could I offer myself as a servant to this vampire to save werewolves I barely know? Would my sacrifice be worth their lives?

  Now really, what the hell kind of choice is that? Soldiers die to protect our country every damn day. They do it for people they’ve never met and for rights and ideals that sometimes get distorted over time. But they do it nonetheless.

  Back in Manitoba, I talked all the time about uniting wolves and creating a communication network. What would the purpose of such a network be if not to save packs from fates like the one Raine’s is facing?

  Resolve spills through me, clearing my brain for the first time in months. I have no idea what offering myself to Dria will bring me, but I know in my heart it’s the right thing to do.

  Now, I just have to convince that stubborn redhead and her husband they need me in their lives. I wonder if dressing in skimpy shorts and a tight t-shirt would do the trick or if I should be my loveable smartass self?

  I’ll go for smartass. I don’t think her husband would appreciate the skimpy shorts.

  Chapter Ten

  Now that I have a plan, I’m reluctant to wait the full two days Rafe suggested. Instead, I trail the couple wherever they go the next day. Surprisingly, they continue to do the tourist thing, venturing outside their hotel and into museums once the worst part of the afternoon sun has past. When the museums close, the couple visits outdoor monuments, lingering again over the new World War II one.

  I keep my distance, giving the couple privacy. But Dria knows I’m here, shooting a dirty look my way every hour, discovering my location no matter where I hide. Her advice to calm my surface thoughts seems to have helped my involuntary projection of what I’m thinking. Or at least, I assume it’s helped since she hasn’t tossed my inner thoughts back in my face.

  That vampire is unnerving. From what I was told, her kind has to avoid the sun, but she seems to have no problem walking in summer daylight after four o’clock. Could she handle being out earlier or would she still be susceptible to damage at high noon?

  The couple’s love for each other is an almost tangible thing. People standing near them smile, and laughter spills from the two frequently. There’s got to be more than a small shred of humanity left in this woman or she’d never be able to blend in with humans so easily—and I doubt her husband would be so devoted if she was a horrible creature.

  Everyone has to have a few redeeming qualities, so even if she is shooting me death-ray looks she must be a decent person inside.

  Or so you keep trying to convince yourself.

  I’m not a monster just because I turn into a werewolf. At the root of who I am, I’m still me. Could this vampire be the same? And
if that is the case, can I devote my life to serving her?

  I watch the pair as they stroll hand and hand toward the long reflective pool outside the Lincoln memorial. The summer evening holds a refreshing breeze, chasing away a bit of the humidity the area is famous for. Dria and Rafe pass a bickering couple whose wandering toddler aims straight for the shallow water.

  Dria notices the child and my body tenses. She wouldn’t be contemplating taking that kid, would she? A chill steals over me as I see her attention zero in on the small body climbing the stone edge of the pool. A quick glance at the parents reveal they are unaware of the danger lurking so close to their little one.

  The vampire drops her husband’s hand. The small teetering body miscalculates on the wide edge of the pool, and plunges toward the dark surface of the water. Instantly Dria crosses the distance between herself and the child.

  I leap into action, drawing level with Rafe, while Dria calmly grasps the child and rights him before his parents notice. She twists and sits, quick as a wink, making it appear as if she was headed to the water’s edge to take a seat the whole time.

  A pent up breath I didn’t know I was holding whooshes out. Heat burns my face as I realize I immediately thought the worst of the vampire. Like she’d be bold or stupid enough to grab a child to feast upon.

  Rafe’s low chuckle has me spinning to face him. “You should see your face. Fucking hysterical. Did you really think she meant the child harm?”

  Shame courses through me. “I... uh...”

  He nods his head in the direction of Dria. “My wife is very old. She doesn’t need much blood to survive.” Rafe stares me in the eye. There’s a hardness to him I hadn’t seen before. “And if you think she’d ever harm a child then you should never have asked her for help.”

  The tension coiling in me eases out. “You’re right. I’m being an idiot.” I rub my hand over my face. “I’m exhausted and have been running for days. It’s been almost a week since I escaped the mansion. I don’t know if the wolves I left behind are alive or dead.”

  When the parents come to retrieve their child, Dria dips her chin in greeting, as if nothing is amiss and the toddler didn’t almost fall in while they were distracted.

  “If he’s addicted,” Rafe says, “he won’t kill them. They’re too valuable.”

  I nod, not really reassured by his assessment but unable to prove him wrong.

  Dria saunters to us, her face guarded. “You certainly are a determined son of a bitch aren’t you?”

  I jam my hands into my pockets, unsure of my decided course to offer myself to her, even though it’s the only option I’ve got. “I have a proposition for you.”

  Her deep green eyes trail down my body. “I bet you do.” Rafe clears his throat. Dria’s face lights up with a cheeky smile. “I was just teasing him, love.”

  “Hear the boy out.”

  My spine stiffens at his words. Boy? I’m twenty-one. Hardly a boy. Then again, next to the older man’s obvious fifteen years on me, I’ll let it slide.

  The people visiting the pool wander off as the last of the late afternoon light fades. We’re not alone by any means, but no one stands close, either. I guess this is as safe a place as any to voice my concept.

  Only one tiny hitch I need to clear up first. “You’re not addicted to Were blood, are you?”

  A pensive look crosses the vampire’s face. “No. I don’t suffer from such a weakness.” Her eyes turn calculating. “Were you worried if I did agree to help I might try to take the place of this ruling vamp and seize his captive pack for my own needs?” Anger colors her tone and fear grips my heart at the rage I see boiling in her eyes.

  Her misunderstanding was not my reason for asking—I was more worried she’d feast on me and kill me by accident—but damned if my line of questioning doesn’t sound suspicious of me in hindsight.

  “No! I swear that thought hadn’t occurred to me.” I look from one to the other, noting doubt clearly on Dria’s face and amusement on Rafe’s. “Couldn’t you just look inside my head and clarify I didn’t intend what you inferred?”

  Dria glances into my eyes. Her face sets in a hard mask and she whirls away, “Get rid of this fool.”

  Crap! I stepped in it again. And this time I wasn’t even trying.

  A loud sigh escapes Rafe. “Damn, you really need to think before you speak. I almost had her convinced it was the right thing to do.”

  “What the hell did I say wrong?”

  “Well, furball, you managed to insult her three times in less than five minutes.” He nods toward the pool. “First, you briefly entertained the thought that she might snack on that family’s child.” The expression on his face clearly proclaims he thinks I’m an idiot. “Then you ask if she’s an addict, even though she showed no interest in drinking from you. And now you practically accuse her of slipping into people’s heads whenever the fancy strikes her.” He stares where his wife went to sit on a park bench.

  “But didn’t she read my mind in the elevator? Isn’t it a common thing for vampires?”

  “No—and not the way you think.” At my look of confusion he continues, “Okay, in the elevator you were projecting, like she said. She didn’t have to attempt to read your mind so much as you made your thoughts clear as a bell to anyone sensitive enough to hear them. Most vampires don’t go around poking in other supernatural’s heads. It takes effort on their part to do so and the action is considered exceptionally rude. In some cases, with strong mental shielding, extra skill and strength must be used to read thoughts, which can be detectable to the person the vampire is trying to read. With such risk of discovery, the ability is used discriminately.”

  “Oh.” Hope deflates out of me. “I’ve essentially called her a pedophile blood-drinker, an addict, and insulted her honor as a vampire. Nice.” I shove my hands in my pockets. “Usually it takes more of an effort to score so hugely as an ass.”

  Rafe’s hand comes down on my shoulder. “Don’t give up. If saving that pack matters to you don’t let a few ruffled feathers thwart your task.”

  Thwart? How old is this guy? Who the hell talks like that? I mentally brace myself. He’s right, dammit. No matter what I think of myself and my actions, I’ve got to go through with my plan.

  I stride across the gravel and kneel at the vampire’s feet. Being submissive doesn’t come naturally to me and I have to rein in every impulse I have to stare her straight in the face. Through herculean effort, I avoid looking directly at the redhead and say, “I’m sorry about my behavior tonight. It doesn’t change the fact that I need your help. I can’t fight this vampire on my own and I haven’t found any wolves to help me. You’re the only option left.”

  “Hmmph.” Her breath huffs out in annoyance. “Not much of an option since I already said no.”

  Rafe wanders over and sits next to her, snaking an arm around her waist—making sure I understand they are a package deal. Well duh, they are married.

  I steel my resolve and get to the difficult part. “What if I offer you something you couldn’t resist?”

  I chance a glance at her face and see her intense eyes narrow at me in speculation. “And what could you offer that I need?”

  “A vampire servant with werewolf blood. Someone who willingly donates when you need to increase your strength.”

  A small gasp escapes her. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

  I look up, boldly meeting her gaze. “Yes. Yes, I do. I’m offering my life in exchange for Raine’s pack. No matter how you cut it, those are good numbers: one life for fifteen.”

  Her voice softens with a gentleness I haven’t heard from her. “You aren’t simply offering your life. The bond can affect you. You might very well lose your sense of self.”

  Rafe’s gaze turns calculating, not angry or jealous like I feared. “He’s thought about this long and hard, haven’t you, Jon?”

  I nod.

  “He knows what he wants, Dria. He wants your help and he’s wi
lling to risk his future for it.”

  Dria stands and walks past me. “Let me think on it.”

  I bolt to my feet and grasp her hand. “There isn’t time. I need to get them out and stop him before he captures more wolves.”

  She hesitates and looks to her husband. They are both silent for a moment before she nods. “I’ll do it. I’ll help. But we need a plan.”

  Elation surges through me, the rush so intense my vision fades for a moment. “His place is about ninety minutes away. We could end all of this madness tonight.”

  “No. We strike tomorrow. Let’s check out of the hotel and find a place as close as we can without alerting him. I have an idea on how to proceed.”

  Chapter Eleven

  After a late dinner, we pack and drive our two separate vehicles to Middleburg, where the property was indicated on a map, not Purcellville like I thought. All those twists and turns when I followed Raine wound up leading to the outskirts of where many remote palatial estates lie, quite common in the affluential area.

  The three of us check into the closest motel, which is still a ways from the vampire’s location, and then met in the couple’s room to discuss a plan. Dria refuses to visit the mansion tonight, even to case the grounds. She didn’t want to risk Cecil getting a hint of what was to come. We discuss arriving at his place the next night, dressed like we’re going to a party—well, she’ll be dressed anyway. I’ll be going in wolf form so he doesn’t recognize me.

  After a brief trip to a local pet store to buy myself an expensive collar, I spend the next day sleeping. According to Dria it will be the only clothing piece I need to look like a well-kept vampire servant in his werewolf form.

  We meet again in the couple’s room to go over details and annoyance vibrates off the vamp’s husband. The plan dictates that Rafe will stay at the hotel. For Dria’s ruse of being an addict to work, she stresses arriving with only a “pet” would appear more believable. He grumbled a lot last night but seems more agitated now that we’re leaving soon.

 

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