Quinn glanced at him. “They feed off emotion. Therefore it is to their benefit to amp it up where possible.”
“Ah.” Rhoan considered this for a moment, then said, “So my anger and fear for Liander is something she’d likely play with?”
“Most likely. If she doesn’t take heed of the warning.”
I glanced back at him. “Is that warning going out telepathically?”
He nodded. “And emotionally. I’m empathic, remember.”
He was also something else entirely—something that wasn’t just vampire. Though his mother had been human, his father came from a race known only as the priests of Aedh—beings who were more energy than flesh, and who were seen by humans as being tall, golden, and winged. They were, in fact, the race that had apparently instigated the legends of angels. I didn’t know a whole lot more than that, but I had a sneaking suspicion that the skills inherited from his father were coming into play, as well.
After all, Vinny didn’t seem the type to be scared by the presence of an old one—but an old one who was something that no longer existed in anything other than myth? Yeah, that would shake her overly confident little world.
We reached the top floor. A different girl guarded the door, but like the previous girl, she was dressed casually and again had a suspicious bulge on her right hip. Unlike the previous guard, this girl also looked worried.
“We’re here to see Vinny,” I said, stopping little more than a foot away from her. Her scent was orangey, but underneath it ran fear.
Not of me, not of Rhoan. Of Quinn.
She licked her lips and said, “Vinny is rather busy—”
“If Vinny doesn’t want a busted door, you had better open it,” I said.
Her gaze went blank for a moment, then she said, her voice several octaves lower than it had been moments ago, “The old one stays outside.”
“The old one will rip this place apart if you do not open this door, Vincenta.” Though Quinn’s voice was still decidedly mild, there was a hint of steel underneath that was warning enough to anyone with sense.
Vinny had sense.
The guard stepped back and opened the door. Quinn held out his hand and said, “Give me the gun.”
The note of command was in his voice and the girl obeyed without question. Quinn pocketed the weapon, then waved us on.
Rhoan went through the door first. I followed, my gaze sweeping past the velvet lushness to come to rest on Vinny’s cozy little setup at the far end of the room. Like before, she was attended by several toga-clad teenagers but, unlike before, their tension was something I could taste. There was no caressing, no languid eyes or secretive little smiles.
How many weapons did they have hidden under their outfits? More than a few, I suspected.
“I do not appreciate my home being invaded like this,” Vinny said, her voice as frosty as her expression. Her gaze barely even touched me or Rhoan, but rather centered on the man who walked behind me. “It is outside vampire custom, as you well know, old one.”
“Vampire custom is adjustable according to the circumstances,” Quinn replied, voice dry. “A fact you’ll learn if you live long enough. Which is a debatable event at the present moment.”
The air filled with sudden murmuring, and the anger of many different minds seemed to lash at my senses.
“Is that a threat, vampire?” Her voice was soft. Deadly.
Quinn merely smiled. “Simply a fact, Vincenta. I am not, however, the one you have to fear in this little trio. Though I can be, if you wish it.”
Her gaze flicked to Rhoan and myself, seemingly dismissing Quinn for the moment. “Why are you here uninvited, wolf? Have you caught the bastard who murdered Ivan yet?”
“No, but we will. Because you’re going to tell us everything you know about him.”
She smiled and leaned back in her chaise lounge. “You know the cost of information.”
I didn’t get a chance to answer. Rhoan simply stepped forward, wrapped a hand around her pale neck, then yanked her off the lounge and into the air.
The toga-clad vamps behind the chair blurred into action, some leaping across the leather lounge at Rhoan, others whipping out weapons.
I didn’t move. I didn’t have to.
Rhoan casually battered away the two that attacked him, then swung the dangling Vinny in their direction. “Shoot, and she dies. Move, and she dies.”
“You can’t—” Vinny’s voice was hoarse and, while vampires didn’t actually need to breathe, her face was going an interesting shade of red.
“Oh, I can,” Rhoan said, voice all calm iciness. The voice of the killer, not my brother. “We guardians have the power to kill pests on sight. The question that has to be answered now is whether you’re a pest or not.”
“I can’t—” She stopped, gasping for air like a fish out of water.
I glanced at Quinn, and opened the link between us. Is she faking it?
His amusement rolled down the psychic lines. Hell, yeah. She could win an Academy Award with this performance.
One of the toga-clad teenagers shifted slightly. Energy whispered down the link, a mere echo of the power that Quinn flung across the room at the kid who had moved.
“Stop,” he said, voice holding the steel of command. The kid froze and his eyes went wide. As wide as his mistress’s suddenly were.
“And drop that weapon,” Quinn continued. “All of you, drop your weapons.”
Weapons clattered to the floor. Every kid had at least two.
“Kick them under the chaise lounge, out of reach.”
They did so. I glanced at Vinny. For the first time, there was fear in her eyes.
“Ready to be a help rather than a hindrance?” Rhoan asked softly.
She nodded. Rhoan lowered her back to the ground and eased his grip on her neck. “Now, be pleasant and answer Riley’s questions.”
Vinny licked her lips, then said, “What do you want to know?”
“Why is Aron Young kidnapping and murdering those who were in tenth grade with him?”
“As I told you before, he seeks vengeance for his death.”
“Why now, though? Why not in the years immediately after his death?”
“Because he was unable to get out before now.”
So he had been kept prisoner by his parents. “How did he get out?”
“His mother—she was sick. Her heart or something. She let him out.”
And then she’d died, and he’d buried her rather than let her rot where she lay. I guess even evil bhutas had one soft spot. “Tell me where he is.”
“I gave you an address—”
“One address,” I cut in sharply. “Vampires intent on foul deeds always have more than one hidey-hole.”
I’d learned that the hard way.
Amusement flitted briefly through her eyes. “That is true. I cannot, however, give you that information, because I do not have it.”
Shit. I was so hoping that Vinny would give us the easy answers, but I guess I should have known better. Fate was never one for giving me the quick way out.
“Is there anything else you can tell me about him? Anything that might help us find him?”
She considered me for a moment, then said, “Try his home. I tasted memories of it in his thoughts.”
“We have people in his home. He’s not there.”
“Which home, though? I do not speak of the home after his death, but rather the home when he lived. The place where it all started.”
Beechworth. But how would he get that many people up there, let alone keep them contained? Beechworth was a good three-hour drive from Melbourne. There were eighteen teenagers in that school photo, which meant there could still be fifteen on Aron’s hit list. That was a whole lot of people to hunt down. A whole lot of people to control.
And then I remembered the plate number I’d gotten from Ron Cowden. Young owned a van, and that could certainly carry a number of people.