“I’ve come to request a negotiation on behalf of Clanmaster Steele.”
Just the sound of the name made my hackles want to rise. Steele was one of the master vampires from the Seattle area. I fought to keep the lengthening fangs inside my mouth. The bare desire to forgo the thin veneer of diplomacy and give in to instinct, which was to rip him limb from limb and throw the pieces into the ocean, burned white hot just below the surface. He could see it, just as I could see how he wasn’t really there to negotiate. He was just there to humiliate me.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Brusquely, I stepped back to allow the boy to enter. He kept his shoes on. From the moment I let him across the threshold of that house, a small voice in the back of my head told me how things were going to end. But he didn’t have to know how limited his time had just become.
Neither he nor I dared to sit in the parlor with the massive fireplace taking up the center of the room. The logs in it were cold at the moment. A shame, but I supposed I could use one to beat him to death in a pinch. His emotionless eyes flicked to the heavy iron poker set sitting at the side of the hearth. Our thoughts had drifted to the same cruel place. Maybe the kid knew his destiny after all.
“Clanmaster Steele wants to…acquire your territory.” If there was one thing I had to admire about this whelp, albeit grudgingly, it was his unabashed directness. He was rude and lacked decorum, but at least he didn’t waste too much of my time.
I laughed. “That’s very funny. How does he think he’s going to make that happen?”
The young man shifted his weight from foot to foot. He was bored, annoyed, impatient. An insult to my very presence. “He’s open to an act of diplomacy, but he’ll take it by force if he has to.”
Again, I let a smirk curve my lip. “I hope for his sake that whatever force he plans to use packs a harder punch than you.”
Steele’s messenger scowled. I could practically see his temper rise like the mercury in a barometer. He clenched his jaw, and then he opened his mouth. “Listen, asshole. You think you’re so high and mighty, running your little Podunk backwater cult? Yeah, right. I bet my boys and I could clean you out ourselves in one night.” His fists clenched at his sides, white-knuckled and tense. All of his energy had been drawn in to focus on not taking a swing at me.
“You call this a worthless place, yet Steele sent you to negotiate its takeover. Interesting.” I held my ground, cool and calm. The air crackled dangerously between us. But I knew better than to be the one igniting the powder keg. Not when my opponent was so green and easily manipulated.
“I told him it was a bad move,” the messenger boy spat. His flat eyes had finally lit with a baleful gleam that revealed him to be on the very edge of sanity. “I said he would only be wasting his time.” He shook his head, bewildered. “But the guy insisted.”
“And you had no choice but to follow his every command, whipping boy.” Frank amusement colored every word I spoke. The boy was so close to the edge, the glorious point of no return.
Then his nostrils flared, and he tipped himself over. “Shut the fuck up! I came here as a favor to Steele, not to be insulted by some two-bit miniboss!” Unable to contain his fury any longer, he let out a frustrated roar. “That’s it! I can’t take this bullshit anymore. I’ll just bring him your head!”
He flew at me in a rabid frenzy, a hail of rapid-fire strikes. Not intimidated, I met him with equal force, and I rushed at him, both of us clashing. I shoved my hand at his throat, hurling him across the room. But the kid was fast, and reasonably strong, but his unbridled arrogance crippled his charge. I dodged his haphazard charge and buried my fist in the pit of his stomach, so hard that I swore I could nearly feel his spine. He buckled over, gasping.
“Let it be known that I’m a merciful creature,” I told him quietly, my lips close to his ear. “This is your one chance to walk away.”
Seconds passed. He stood precariously on the balls of his feet, his right shoulder hunched down. The effort to keep his balance made his whole wiry body tremble. I drove my knuckles harder into the scant flesh of his abdomen. He made a strangled groaning sound.
“Steele will waste your rotten blood!” was what he choked out in response.
“That’s harsh.” Now we could both see the end approaching, as fast and as hard as a speeding train. Opening the hand that had punched him, I shoved the kid back hard. He stumbled, arms pinwheeling for balance. Predictably, I saw him try to grab for the poker set. It was a pure defensive reaction.
It was also too late. In the next instant, I had caught him by the face, gripping his jaw in the vise of my thumb and fingers. The nails on that hand crept upward toward his temples as they lengthened into vicious talons. This time, I put the fangs on full display.
He couldn’t talk, although he did try. His hands clawed uselessly at my arm, feet scrabbling against the smooth wooden floor. I glanced down at the scuff marks left by his heels and shook my head.
The voice that left me was not the one that mortals heard. I spoke to Steele’s doomed henchman in my true voice, the one that belied the depths of my age. When it touched his ears, the young vamp squirmed in terror.
“You were never a negotiator, boy.” I propped his chin up on the razor-sharp tip of a claw. “No. You were a sacrifice.”
His terrified eyes widened. Then I was the one grabbing a poker out of the stand, gripping it firmly in my palm. Its blunted end plunged through his chest with little fanfare. The dull light drained from his eyes. His mouth went slack. No blood whatsoever dripped from the brand-new wound.
I dropped him where I stood. Out of view of the sun’s descending eye, he sprawled limply over the floorboards. Nothing but a wretched shell now, a lifeless ghoul. If I had the option of waiting until morning, he would simply be incinerated into dust and blown away. But there was no doubt he’d be missed before long. After the first outsider vamp had turned up dead in the street, they’d be keeping a close eye on the rest.
Gazing down at the body, I had to admit I felt something like a stab of regret. Not because he was dead by my hand, but because I had just created more work for myself by killing him. I grimaced, bent down, seized him by the leg, and dragged him unceremoniously toward the cellar door.
Other than the thump of the corpse on the steps, the house was quiet. I could count on Seth to be gone more often than not, but I wondered if Logan was hidden in his roost, silent and listening. The thought was only disconcerting for a moment. What could he do? We were in league with each other, all three of us. Hell, I could force them to help me take the garbage out, so to speak.
And maybe I would, if for no other reason than to remind them who was in charge.
Minutes later, I locked first the cellar door, then the front door of the house behind me. I needed to gain the upper hand against those who would come searching for him in hours, if not sooner. I needed to track their movements. And there was one place I knew the rats from Seattle loved to congregate—among the bars downtown.
The trail led me toward the run-down, unimpressive façade of a place called Inlet Drive. Neon signs flickered in the two front panes of glass as I approached. I could hear the faint strains of music coming from inside.
Then there was movement in the narrow alley on the left. All my senses went on high alert. I listened for the sound of a heartbeat, a pulse, the smell of blood pumping just beneath human skin. As a figure emerged around the side of the building, heading for the entrance, I melted back into the darkness. But I could still see her with all the intensity of a beacon, especially the strange, silvery rose glow of her hair.