The Cold Kiss of Death (21 page)
I suddenly realised I was scratching my neck; I forced myself to stop, wondering how long Grace was going to be. Maybe Hari would find me some G-Zav if I asked nicely ... or desperately ...
‘Thing is,’ Bobby brushed a hand over his hair, fingers hesitating at the silver circlet, ‘I never even get a chance to talk to any of the other masters. If I’m not here, I have to be at the Blue Heart. They sell tickets with fifteen-minute time slots, like I’m on a production line or something. I have to bite them one after the other, and the other vamps are all jealous, saying that I should be in vampire heaven or something, but I end up using so much energy making each bite feel great that half the time I don’t even get a decent meal and I’m still hungry at the end of the night.’
‘Well, don’t start looking at me,’ I said, feeling vaguely sorry for him, but a little worried that all his chat was the equivalent of him inviting me out to dinner - vampire style.
‘I can’t, can I?’ He moved to stand in front of me and a sullen look settled on his face. ‘The bastard ordered me not to, remember?’
Oh yeah, Declan did have his plus points at times. Forbidding all the vamps under his control from sinking their fangs in me was one of them. Of course, that still left Declan and a lot of other suckers out there who had no such inhibitions.
‘Good, just so we’re clear on that,’ I said, my voice calmer than I felt.
‘But there is something I wanted to ask you.’ His expression turned hopeful. ‘I was wondering if you could speak to your master for me, y’know, put in a good word, see if she’d consider having me.’
‘I don’t have a master,’ I said, baffled.
He frowned. ‘But everyone’s talking about you and Rosa.’
Rosa: the vamp whose body I’d been magically borrowing whenever I used my Disguise spell. Damn. Malik had mentioned something about that; the vamps all considered me her property now. ‘Rosa isn’t my master,’ I said slowly. ‘She’s something else - and don’t ask me to explain, it’s way too complicated.’
‘Okay,’ he agreed, obviously not interested in an explanation anyway. ‘But if you could tell her I’ll do anything, whatever she wants - I mean, I’ve heard the sort of things she’s into, and I’m fine with whatever.’ He lifted his cuffed hands and grinned, flashing fangs as he leaned closer. ‘See, I’m getting a bit of practise in already! But seriously, I’d do anything to get away from that bitch Fiona.’
I held my hands up, needing him to back off a bit. ‘Look, I can’t—’
‘No!’ He grabbed my hands, lifting them to his mouth. ‘
Please
. I know I can’t influence your mind, but whatever you want, whatever you and Rosa want, I’ll do.’ His lips chilled my knuckles and the handcuffs chinked like heavy chains in my ears. I stared transfixed at where our hands joined. Around me the peach-coloured waiting area disappeared and in its place was a large square room lit by hundreds of thick creamy church candles, walls hung with rich burgundy drapes and stone-flagged floor sloping down to a grate in one corner, a river of blood streaming ...
Please
. I know I can’t influence your mind, but whatever you want, whatever you and Rosa want, I’ll do.’ His lips chilled my knuckles and the handcuffs chinked like heavy chains in my ears. I stared transfixed at where our hands joined. Around me the peach-coloured waiting area disappeared and in its place was a large square room lit by hundreds of thick creamy church candles, walls hung with rich burgundy drapes and stone-flagged floor sloping down to a grate in one corner, a river of blood streaming ...
For a stunned moment I wondered where I was, then the memory crashed into me.
... I grasped the chain joined to his manacled wrists tighter and jerked my arm back. The force yanked him off his knees and his body crashed onto the hard floor. I pulled the chain, dragging him screaming and spitting across the blood-slicked stone flags until he lay shaking at my feet. I smiled down at him, seeing only the youth of his body, cusped on that edge between adolescence and adulthood, ignoring the centuries that lurked in the darkness of his eyes.
‘What did you call me, cara?’ I asked, my voice full of silk and seduction.
‘Bitch, you’re a fucking sadistic bitch,’ he sneered up at me, lips curled back, his fangs stained red with my blood.
I threw back my head and laughed, delighted. ‘Such sweet words, my lover.’ I flicked my wrist and a gun-shot crack sliced through my laughter as the metal-tipped whip flayed another blood-thin line across his naked stomach.
He screamed again, high-pitched, his spine arching with the edge of pleasure the pain brought him. Then grabbing the chain that joined us, he pulled me down, forcing me onto my knees next to him. ‘I promise you, on my honour,’ he snarled, ‘I will break the bones in your body, bitch. And then I will fuck you senseless.’
Eagerness and lust tightened my body, liquid heat flooded between my legs and I touched my tongue to my own fangs, tasting the sweet liquorice of my venom. ‘Yes, do all of that, cara,’ I breathed, my own excitement mounting as I lowered my mouth to kiss his. ‘But first it is my turn to feed.’
‘Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was that?’ Bobby’s voice brought me back to the here and now.
I stared into his shocked grey eyes, too shaken to speak. ‘It’s a memory, isn’t it?’ Bobby’s grey eyes went from shocked to amazed. ‘I shared one of your memories - yours and Rosa’s.’
Shit, I’d
felt
it,
lived
it, as though it was my own. And I knew the boy, or rather the vampire, I knew his name - Bastien - and I knew he’d taken as much pleasure from the game as Rosa had ... and I knew he had been true to the promise he had made to her. Bastien was the Autarch; not only that, he had been my betrothed—
felt
it,
lived
it, as though it was my own. And I knew the boy, or rather the vampire, I knew his name - Bastien - and I knew he’d taken as much pleasure from the game as Rosa had ... and I knew he had been true to the promise he had made to her. Bastien was the Autarch; not only that, he had been my betrothed—
Sweat broke out over my body, my stomach lurched with nausea and I pressed my lips together, willing myself not to vomit. Bastien wasn’t here. He couldn’t hurt me. And it wasn’t
my
memory; it hadn’t happened to
me
. I swallowed back the taste of bile. The memory belonged to Rosa. So what the fuck was it doing in my mind?
my
memory; it hadn’t happened to
me
. I swallowed back the taste of bile. The memory belonged to Rosa. So what the fuck was it doing in my mind?
‘Look,’ Bobby broke into my thoughts, ‘seeing that doesn’t put me off, okay? I still want you to talk to Rosa—’
‘I told you, I can’t speak to Rosa for you,’ I said, frowning. How could I when I didn’t know where she was, or even if she, as opposed to her body, was still alive? I hadn’t even used the Disguise spell in the last month—Was that why I’d had the memory? Was something wrong with the spell, or with me?
‘Please,’ he pleaded, squeezing my hands. ‘I don’t know what else to do. If there’s anything you want—I can’t bite you, but I’m good-looking, I’m great in bed, I’ll do any type of sex you want, or anything else ... ’
I shook my head, feeling frustrated sympathy at his desperation. ‘Bobby—’
‘I’ve got to get away,’ he interrupted, ‘but if I just put myself out there and none of the other masters want me, then He’s got the right to take the Gift back, and then I’d be truly dead and that would leave Dad with no one to look after him. Please. I’m
begging
you.’ He jerked my hands up to his lips again—
begging
you.’ He jerked my hands up to his lips again—
His fangs caught my knuckle, splitting the skin and the jagged pain so soon after the full-on sensory memory sent lust and panic spiralling through my body. Without thinking, I tried to pull my hands away.
He groaned, his pupils dilating with need, his hands convulsing around mine. His lips drew back, all four fangs glistening sharp as he licked the blood welling from the cut. The liquorice scent of venom curled around me, heat flushed my skin and I froze. He shoved me back against the wall and raised his head back to strike—
The gems in his silver circlet glowed, the yellow stones shining like cats’ eyes in the dark, and Bobby’s face crumpled with pain. The jade chips embedded in the silver cuffs flashed green and bright, and his fingers spasmed open, releasing me. He thudded to the floor, whimpering, pink-tinged tears rolling down his cheeks as he curled into a foetal ball.
I gazed at him, wanting to help him, but knowing there was nothing I could do. I let my head fall back against the wall and took a deep breath, feeling guilt and remorse as well as frustration at his plight. Even without the restraints he was wearing, Bobby wouldn’t have been able to actually bite me, so I’d never been in any danger. I looked at the bloody scratch on my knuckles, then closed my eyes; it had been stupid to pull my hands away from him. I’d been taught better than that. Matilde, my stepmother, had drummed into me that struggling and running only got a vamp more excited. Of course, freezing wasn’t going to stop a vamp biting you if they were lost in bloodlust, but submitting might keep the vamp from killing you. But Bobby hadn’t been lost in bloodlust, he was just young, hungry and desperate, even before you threw in the ‘memory’ we’d just shared. I shuddered and slammed that thought away in a locked corner of my mind. So I should’ve remembered to stay calm and freeze.
‘Ms Taylor, are you all right?’ asked a male voice, soft and concerned.
My eyes snapped open and I blinked at the man in the smart grey suit hovering a few feet away, a worried look on his twentysomething face. His well-trimmed van Dyke and gelled highlighted hair looked familiar. Then I noticed the red Souler cross pinned to his lapel and I came up with a name: Neil Banner.
A Beater goblin, a nearly five-foot monster, was standing next to him.
‘Would you like Thaddeus here to assist you with the vampire, Ms Taylor?’ he asked.
Thaddeus the goblin hoisted his shiny aluminium baseball bat and bared his black serrated teeth in a warning grin; they glinted red where small cross-shaped rubies had been embedded. His long grey-and-red-streaked hair was bandaged like a horse’s tail so it stood a good eight inches straight up from his head, then cascaded down over his massive shoulders. His own red cross was pinned in pride of place above a dozen other badges, right in the centre of his chest. And over the usual
Goblin Guard Security
uniform, his navy-blue boilersuit, he wore one of the Soulers’ grey tabards, again marked with a large red Crusader cross.
Goblin Guard Security
uniform, his navy-blue boilersuit, he wore one of the Soulers’ grey tabards, again marked with a large red Crusader cross.
‘Just say the word, miss,’ Thaddeus growled in a voice deep enough to be a troll’s, ‘and I’ll make mincemeat of the sucker.’
I gave Bobby a sympathetic look where he was still curled on the floor. ‘I think he’d probably appreciate it more if we left him alone to recover, gentlemen.’ I slid my finger down my nose, offering Thaddeus the respectful goblin greeting along with a closed-lip smile; no way did I want him to think I was challenging him. ‘But thank you,’ I added politely. ‘If I ever need to make mincemeat out of a vampire, I’ll know who to call.’ I wasn’t joking either, and not just because Thaddeus stood head and shoulders - literally - over any other Beater goblin I’d seen. The standard-sized ones were ruthless enough; I imagined dealing with a pesky vamp would probably be like swatting an irritating fly for Thaddeus.
‘No problem, miss.’ Thaddeus’ grey wrinkled skin fell into sombre lines as he lowered his bat. He slid his own finger down his nose, returning my greeting.
Neil Banner smiled eagerly. ‘Ms Taylor, I wonder if I might have a word?’
I held my hands out, indicating my Glamoured appearance. ‘Only if you call me Debby,’ I said drily. ‘Debby-with-a-y, that is.’
‘Oh, of course.’ His smile widened. ‘I was forgetting you were incognito.’ He fished in his jacket pocket and produced a neatly folded handkerchief. He held it out to me. ‘Er, you’re still bleeding ...’
I took it from him. ‘Thanks.’ I dabbed at my hand, frowning. He’d obviously had his Crusaders and their pet Gatherer goblins out looking for me - the poodle-perm Souler who’d taken my picture with her phone on the Underground was evidence of that - but just to be sure, I asked the question anyway. ‘I’m curious, how did you recognise me?’
He pulled out his phone, thumbed the keyboard and held it out to me. The screen showed a picture of my Glamoured self. ‘I had a little help.’ He smiled sheepishly. ‘And I apologise for the cloak-and-dagger antics, but it’s important that I speak with you, and with the situation as it is, I assumed, rightly as it turned out, that sooner or later you’d use the Underground, or come here. And quite possibly be in disguise. And of course, there’s not much magic that can fool a goblin’s nose.’
Why was he babbling? ‘I take it you’re not going to inform the police of my whereabouts?’
‘Er, not at this moment, no.’ His smile wilted a bit round the edges.
Which made whatever he wanted vaguely threatening. ‘What is it you want to talk about that’s so important, Mr Banner?’ I said calmly.
‘It’s a rather delicate, Ms—’ He clasped his hands together nervously. ‘Um ... I think you might have something in your possession that belongs to our Order. As we’ve met previously, my superiors decided it might be easier if I approached you instead of a stranger.’
‘So what’s the item?’
‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to tell you,’ he said apologetically. ‘All I can say is that the item was a bequest to the Order from someone recently deceased. The solicitor dealing with the will maintains that it is in your safekeeping.’
I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘Why all the mystery, Mr Banner?’
‘The item is important, apparently, so you’ll know if you have it or not.’ He was practically wringing his hands. ‘But my superiors don’t want any information about the item becoming public knowledge.’
‘In other words they don’t trust me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he rushed on, ‘I advocated being straight with you, I told them that you saved my life at risk of your own when that vampire attacked me, that you deserved to be told everything, but—’
‘I’m a suspected murderer on the run. Don’t worry, I get it. It hardly makes me trustworthy material, does it?’
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