“You will have to excuse Genti, here, Ms. Robinson,” said Niall. “He was born without the ability to carry on a civil conversation.”
Genti stuck his chest out so far he looked like he’d just snapped himself into a pair of child’s pants. “While you obviously believe the Trust has nothing to lose from Vayl’s reappearance, I beg to differ. To allow strangers here, ever, is risky. But now? I say it is insane!”
Was he talking about Samos? Or something even more sinister? Before I could decide, a blur of movement demanded my full attention. Binns, sensing major distraction, had decided to jump me. Ignorant creature. Did he really think I’d panic when I saw him coming at me a million miles an hour, sure death in his blood-filled eyes? Naw. I just channeled that jolt of attack-inspired adrenaline into my arms, raised my crossbow the necessary three inches as he leaped at me, and shot him.
His jaw gaped in utter disbelief as the finely polished maple pierced his heart. And then he faded. Wafted into the night while his clothes and the last bits of his material remains dropped to the stone at my feet, some of it scattering on the toes of my boots when I didn’t step away in time. I resisted brushing them against the backs of my jeans and dropped my arms with relief as Grief rolled another bolt into the chamber.
“You killed him!” cried Genti’s Bomber boy. Though he’d probably been smoking stogies before my Gramps Lew learned to crawl, he looked young enough to be rapping his pencil against his desk as his driver’s ed teacher walked the class through the dos and don’ts of lane changing. I learned later his name was Rastus and he’d only joined the Trust six months before. He slapped the back of his black-nailed hand against Genti’s lace-covered chest. “I say we tear her limbs off and beat her to death with them!”
Before I could blink, Vayl had unsheathed the sword that rode inside his cane, closed the gap between himself and Rastus, and rammed it straight into his throat.
I laughed. Yeah, I know, wrong reaction. What can I say, my timing sucks. In my defense? Gaping vamps look hilarious. Like big, stupid bats with great tailors.
“So,” I said, turning to the group at large. “Where were we? Oh yeah, I believe someone was discussing the merits of beating me to death with my own severed limbs.” Stab of fear on my part—typical delayed reaction. Ignore it, Jaz. If these predators smell weakness, you can kiss your ass goodbye.
I shook my head and forefinger at the same time. “Not a wise choice, as you see. Vayl can go left or right with that sword, but if we find we can work together, I’m sure he’ll be willing to yank it straight out. Plus, where’s the fun in dismemberment? I’d definitely bleed out before any of you got off on it.”
“In addition,” Niall said, “Rastus has not walked in the Trust long enough to have earned a voice.”
Hmm, should I point out the irony of that comment, or does everyone already get it? Deciding I’d better make my point before somebody with an actual vote suggested an even grislier end to me, I said, “Edward Samos wants an alliance with you.” I maintained eye contact with Niall and Disa. Niall, because I sensed in him a potential ally. And Disa because she clearly had the final word. “Eryx knew that really meant Samos wanted to absorb you. Eat your autonomy and then flush it for all time. He also knew if you refused Samos’s offer he’d destroy your leadership and replace it with his own.” I paused. Let them wonder . . . had it already happened? Admes and the female vamp in Genti’s crew both sent curious looks in Disa’s direction. “So Eryx contacted Vayl,” I finished.
“And who are you to speak within these walls?” demanded Genti.
“She is my avhar,” said Vayl.
He’d prepared me for the Big Announcement. I guess vamps have problems hooking up at the sverhamin level, so the reaction to those who do is usually pretty red-carpet. Ironic that we’d be viewed as celebrities among Vayl’s peers, creatures who called their own communities Trusts but rarely pulled off the avhar/sverhamin connection.
Not that I was completely at ease in the relationship. I still hadn’t read all the subparagraphs relating to late-night talks and who-gets-the-last-cookie moments. But I was sure as hell happier than Disa, who looked like she’d just bitten into a rotten tomato.
The other vamps reacted more like I’d expected. Niall came forward to congratulate us. Sibley’s jaw gaped even wider than her neckline. Admes stared at Vayl as if he’d never seen him before. Marcon bowed his head respectfully and said, “I believe you can release Rastus now.” As if Vayl had him in a headlock. And the scariest thing? I could quickly get used to the total disregard the Vampere seemed to have for bloodletting. Considering I’d come into this mission thinking they were whacked, what did that say about me?
Vayl yanked out his sword, stepping aside so the spurt of blood missed him and instead sprayed a fanlike arc on the ground. It stopped almost immediately. And not just because Rastus had covered the wound with his hand. He was already healing.
Genti huddled with his crew, making a big show of supporting Rastus with his shoulder, though the vamp could clearly stand on his own. He threw a couple of annoyed looks back at Vayl as my boss turned to Disa, his long leather coat billowing out behind him in a sudden breeze that brought with it the smell of rain.
Despite the fact that he was surrounded, Vayl gave no sense of being intimidated. Part of it was his stance, patient as a hunting panther in his black knit shirt and light gray slacks, his new boots shining like onyx daggers. Part was the way he cleaned his sword on his handkerchief and sheathed it. Deliberate. Dangerous. Death on a short, frayed leash.
He said, “We are willing to continue the contract. If you choose to honor the voice of your former Deyrar, we could even be persuaded to forgive the insult brought upon us by these two.” He pointed the reconstructed cane first at Rastus, then at the remains of Alan Binns.
Wow, that takes some nuts. We attack them and then force them to ask our forgiveness. For the most part our hosts seemed to feel the same. But I saw respect on a few faces.
“We can take care of ourselves,” snarled the female vamp from Genti’s group. I spent some time studying her because, to be honest, I’d never seen a frumpy one before. It was nothing a good bra and some time in front of the makeup mirror wouldn’t cure. But her look seemed to be full-immersion.
“You know my name,” I reminded her. “What should I call you?” I asked.
“Koren,” she said, spitting the word at me like it might land somewhere close to the corner of my mouth and drip off, sending me into dry heaves.
“Well, Koren, I’m going to have to differ with you there,” I drawled. “Because if you could take care of yourselves, you wouldn’t have a power-hungry madman trying to gobble up your Trust like it was made of goat cheese. And really, if you were any good at self-preservation, don’t you imagine Eryx would’ve called the florists, or the caterers, instead of a couple of American assassins? Gosh, if you had any skills maybe he’d even be alive right now. Or do you have him tied up in a dungeon somewhere?” Vayl threw me a look that said, Hey, I told you to act like the alpha, not to actually screw the pooch.
I shoulda listened. But I wanted to see how hard I could push Disa’s buttons. I didn’t realize somebody’d already goosed Koren’s. She got this wild look on her face that told me she was close with Eryx. Maybe even his avhar. And anything I said about him would be used against me. Now.