“It was nothing,” Troy insisted. “Somebody got lucky and got the drop on me. I was going to take care of it. Tonight.”
“Hmm.” Benson cocked his head to the side, as though Troy were some curious specimen he was examining. “And yet here you are, all alone, in an empty garage. That doesn’t give me a great deal of confidence in you, Mr. Mannis.”
Troy’s eyes flicked from the face of one vampire to the next. For the first time, he seemed to realize that his boss and his entourage hadn’t dropped by for a polite chat. He swallowed and rubbed his hands on his jeans to wipe the nervous sweat off his palms.
“I can explain, Mr. Benson—”
“Explain what?” Benson cut him off again. “How someone threatened, embarrassed, and beat up you and two other members of my organization, the men I specifically gave to you to help with the new distribution at the college? What do you have to say about that?”
“I—I—I—” Troy sputtered, but he couldn’t get the words out.
They wouldn’t have saved him anyway.
“Don’t you know that your embarrassment is my embarrassment?” Benson said. “You know that I don’t tolerate mistakes or people hiding things from me. And I especially don’t like my employees talking about my business interests to outsiders.”
I frowned. It sounded like Troy had been blabbing. But about what? And to whom?
“But you’ve done all of those,” Benson continued, “with your worst offense being running your mouth when you should have known to keep it shut. And now I’m afraid that you have to suffer the consequences of your actions, all your actions, Mr. Mannis.”
Troy bolted.
He knew what was coming, and he wanted no part of it. Couldn’t blame him for that. But the two vampires at the front blocked his exit and pushed him back into the waiting arms of the four men behind him. Two grabbed Troy’s left arm, while the other two held tight to his right side, immobilizing him.
Beside me, Catalina let out a soft gasp, her right hand fisting in the fabric of my T-shirt sleeve, even as she clamped her left hand over her mouth to muffle the noise she’d made. Lucky for us, everyone was focused on Troy and his frantic attempts to buck, thrash, and kick free.
Everyone except Silvio.
The vamp frowned, his gray gaze scanning the garage before latching onto Catalina’s car. His frown deepened, his brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed. I tensed, wondering if Silvio might ask one of the men to make sure that the garage was empty and how many of the vamps I could cut down before they surrounded me. But after a few seconds, Silvio fixed his attention on Troy again.
By this point, Troy’s struggles had dwindled down to tremors that racked his body from head to toe. “Please, Mr. Benson,” he begged. “Please. I’ll do better. You know I can do better.”
“I’m afraid that it’s too late for apologies, pleas, and promises, Mr. Mannis,” Benson said, his voice calm, if still very nasal. “You are only as strong as you appear to be, and I can’t have any weak links in my organization. Especially not now, when I’m rolling out a new product.”
New product? I wondered if he meant the red pill Troy had given me at the college.
Benson snapped his fingers. Silvio reached into the Bentley and drew out a long white coat, the sort that a scientist might wear in a lab. Benson held out first one arm, then the other, and Silvio carefully helped his boss into the garment, smoothing the fabric down over his arms and back the way a valet might. Silvio even did up the buttons on the front, so that the white coat covered Benson’s clothes.
Troy shuddered, as if he knew what was coming next. So did the vamps holding on to him.
Benson smiled, his fangs glinting like pointed diamonds in his mouth, the sharp tips ready to cut through flesh and bone—Troy’s. He strolled toward his minion, his stride smooth and steady, and snapped his fingers again. At the command, the four vamps holding Troy let go and stepped back. If I was the kid, I would have been hightailing it out of here, but he didn’t move at all. Instead, he stood absolutely still, as if he was frozen in place by the Medusa gleam of Benson’s glasses.
I thought that Benson would grab Troy, snap his neck to the side, and bury his fangs in the kid’s throat, but to my surprise, Benson clapped a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, as if to let him know that there was no real harm done. Troy sagged in relief.
And that’s when Benson made his move.
His hand darted over and wrapped around Troy’s throat. Benson lifted the other man up as easily as he had snapped his fingers, then pivoted and slammed Troy down onto the ground, hard enough to crack the concrete. It was an impressive display of strength, even for a vampire.
Troy must have had some giant blood in his family tree to survive that kind of blow to the body, because all it seemed to do was daze him for a few seconds, before he started gasping, choking, and clawing at Benson’s hand around his throat.
Instead of tightening his grip, Benson actually let go of his dealer. He crouched over the terrified man and started stroking his hand down Troy’s cheek, as soft and easy as you please.
“There, there,” he cooed. “Don’t be frightened. It’ll only hurt for a minute.”
Benson’s crooning only made Troy panic more. He heaved and kicked and flailed, but it was as if all the strength had suddenly left his body, because he didn’t actually go anywhere, and his struggles were the weak, pitiful thrashes of a dying animal.
Silvio and the other vamps stood by, still and silent, in a ring around the two men. Everyone but Silvio averted his eyes.
A strange blue glow began to emanate from Benson’s hand, so pale at first that I thought it was just a trick of the fluorescent lights overhead. But the glow grew and grew, and Benson’s eyes took on the same eerie tint, magnified by his glasses.
But the strange thing was that the glow seemed to be moving from Troy and into Benson. Every time the vampire stroked his hand down Troy’s cheek, the blue light intensified, like Troy was some sort of human cigarette that Benson had taken a quick hit off of.
The normal thing, the expected outcome, the logical action, would be for Benson to plunge his fangs deep into Troy’s neck. All vamps needed blood to live, since all those frosty pints of O-negative contained essential vitamins they required, just like other folks needed solid food to maintain a healthy playing weight. And depending on whose blood they were swilling down, vamps could get more than minerals from it. Regular human blood was enough to give most vamps enhanced senses, along with extra speed and strength. But if they drank from giants, dwarves, or elementals, vamps could absorb the traits of those races—a giant’s strength, a dwarf’s durability, an elemental’s magic.
But Benson didn’t go for Troy’s throat. Didn’t bare his fangs. Didn’t seem at all interested in all of that sweet, sweet blood pumping through him. Instead, Benson kept stroking his hand down Troy’s cheek, as if it was enough for him just to smell the salty sweat streaming down Troy’s face; hear his small, weak, incoherent cries; and see the pain, panic, and fear twisting his whole body.
Maybe that was enough for Benson.
Maybe . . . maybe Benson wasn’t feasting on the drug dealer’s blood because he was dining on something else instead: Troy’s emotions.
Some vamps could do that, could tear all of the pain, fear, anger, and love out of a person as easily as they could rip open someone’s throat with their fangs. I’d never seen that sort of vampire in action before, though.
And I wished that I hadn’t now.