Bitten 2 (43 page)

“I’m sorry, Ms. Chrismer, he’s on the phone. You’ll have to—” Katarina began to say.

Coming to a jarring halt, Chrismer turned her head with the stiff and unsettling motions of a killer robot intent on murder and destruction, and pinned the younger woman with a withering glare. Even I shrank back from her when she spoke, her voice cold and sharp like shards of glittering ice.

“He’ll want to hear this.”

Once Katarina had been sufficiently cowed and had retreated to the safety of her desk, Chrismer lurched back into motion, moving like a whirlwind as she swept towards the double doors to Cordova’s swanky private office and thrust them open. The master vampire looked up at the intrusion and, after a slow blink, uttered something in rapid Russian into the phone and hung up.

“Jessica. I assume there is a reason behind your interruption,” he said in a tone that left no doubt as to the degree of his displeasure at being disturbed. Looking past her to see me, he added, “Ah, and you have brought the ever genial Ms. Cray with you. How
delightful
.”

Tempted to flip him the bird, I settled for baring my teeth in a humorless smile as I slouched into the room.

“Funny. You should consider a career in comedy,” I deadpanned.

The air around Chrismer fairly crackled with her exasperation, but she didn’t say a word until her boss had returned my smile, and then turned his attention to her. At his brief nod, she moved to his side and bent to murmur in his ear. Even from across the room, I had no trouble making out her words, and assumed that the precautions were to prevent anyone outside the room from overhearing and accidently tipping Chuckles off to the fact we were on to him. Focusing on Cordova’s face, I watched for the smallest reaction to the news being whispered into his ear.

The centuries old vamp was a master of obfuscating his emotions, but it didn’t take a behavioral expert to catch the tightening around his lips and eyes. I’d have liked to believe that it was just my imagination when the temperature in the room plummeted twenty degrees in the span of a few seconds, but the darkening of his eyes and his Day Servant’s sharp inhalation made me think otherwise. The flare of silver in her wide eyes confirmed my suspicions, and my muscles tensed in anticipation of making a quick exit. With a lazy blink of his eyes, the moment passed, and both Chrismer and I let out a shuddering breath of relief, though I noted that she remained as tense as I was.

Cordova’s movements were controlled to the point of appearing as though he were a living statue when he reached for the phone on his desk and punched in an extension number. Another string of rapid-fire Russian answered the salutation on the other end of the line. Even though I didn’t understand a word of it, I had to admit that I was impressed by how calm he sounded when he was so obviously ready to snap.

* * *

Cordova’s mask of emotionless control had fallen back into place long before Chuckles sauntered into the room with a self-confident swagger that instantly raised my hackles. Sensing the rage welling up inside me, I curled my hands into fists at my sides to stop myself from lashing out at him at the first whiff of his walking corpse aroma.

“You wanted to see me?” Chuckles asked, inclining his head in a shallow bow, displaying no hint that he thought anything was amiss. I would have felt sorry for him if I hadn’t seen the suffering his actions had caused.

“Yes. Ms. Cray has some information regarding the attacks I believe you may find interesting.”

“I what?” I squeaked at the same time Chuckles grew unnaturally still, only his eyes moving to take in the room and its occupants. Whatever his intention had been, Cordova’s act of throwing me under the bus lent new fuel to my anger, giving me the courage to confront the broad shouldered vamp.

Shooting an angry glare at Cordova to let him know that I’d deal with him later, I turned to Chuckles.

“That’s a nasty cut you’ve got there,” I said, gesturing to the lurid red gash across his cheek, taking a great deal of pleasure in the knowledge that Alastair and his boys hadn’t let him get away without getting in a few licks of their own. It didn’t even come close to making up for the attack on Dermot and the others before him, but it was a start.

Surprisingly, he didn’t waste his breath trying to deny what he’d done, and I felt a stab of betrayal in my middle as the last traces of his easy going persona slipped away to reveal the bitter creature beneath.

“You stink of fae blood,” he hissed with a vicious smile.

“You son of a bitch!” I shouted as I leapt forward, my nails already lengthening into claws.

All the better to gouge your eyes out with, you undead bastard.

I didn’t really expect to get the drop on him, and was even more stunned than he was when my hands connected with his face, my claws slicing through his cool skin. His shock only lasted for a moment, and before I knew what was happening, he’d knocked me back with a single sweep of his arm that left me sprawled on my ass and gasping for breath. I didn’t feel any pain yet, but the numbness in my hip told me I’d be nursing a hell of a bruise later.

I’d gotten halfway back up to my feet when the next blow came, a fist that I could have sworn was made of marble impacted with the side of my face. Thankfully, my skull seemed to be made of similarly hard stuff, but that didn’t stop a wave of nausea from making the room swim around me. Blinking the blurriness from my vision I rolled over onto my wobbly hands and knees. Glaring up at Chuckles through the tangled fall of my hair, I let my lips spread in a wide, albeit lopsided, grin at the dark blood dripping down his face.

Another punch like that and I was sure to be out for the count, but I wasn’t about to get taken out lying flat on my back. Using one of the chairs in front of Cordova’s desk, I hauled myself up, relieved when I didn’t fall back down in an embarrassed and dizzy tangle.

“You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that,” I said. “I’m gonna tear your shriveled black heart out through your ass.”

Just as soon as the room stops spinning,
I added to myself.

“You’re pathetic,” he spat back. “It was nothing but pure dumb luck that saved you from the Day Crazed younglings.”

“That was
you
?”

“Of course it was. Who else would it be?”

“Honestly? I thought Chrismer was trying to get rid of me,” I admitted, my brain still too rattled to come up with a lie. Glancing at her where she remained standing stiff beside Cordova’s desk I lifted my shoulders in a brief shrug.

“Trust me, if I wanted to get rid of you, I wouldn’t outsource the task,” she sneered, the threat behind her words sending a shudder down my spine. Human or not, she was more dangerous than I gave her credit for.

“Enough!” Cordova said in a voice that, although quiet, commanded the collective attention of the room.

Dismissing Chrismer and me as if we were no longer of importance, Cordova’s attention was narrowed down to his progeny. “You would betray me, Marcus? You would deal with the Children of Cain? Why?” his words started as a fierce whisper, but grew steadily in volume until his last question was a thunderous bellow.

“I’ve betrayed you no more than you have me,” the bald-headed vamp spat back, words dripping with scorn. “You’re a disgrace to your people, and this city. Valuing a human above even your own bloodline,” he ranted, turning milk-white eyes towards Chrismer. She showed no outward signs of discomfort or alarm, but I could smell the sour note of fear coming from her, and was sure that the two vampires could hear the furious pounding of her heart.

“You would dare to question me? I, who gave you life?”

“You gave me servitude,” Chuckles snarled, spittle flying from his lips. “You gave me bones already picked clean by your
shlyukha krovi
.”

I didn’t know what his last words meant, but from the angry flush that colored Chrismer’s cheeks, I didn’t think it was a sweet endearment aimed at the Day Servant. Either fueled by anger, or borrowing speed and strength from her master through their bond, she stepped close to Chuckles within the blink of an eye and landed a furious slap across his face.

“I am no one’s whore,” she hissed, eyes flaring silver.

When she stepped back, visibly shaking, I saw that Chuckles’ cheek bore a perfectly shaped pink hand print and the dark blood oozing from the scratches I’d inflicted was smeared across his face. A minute tensing of his muscles was the only warning he gave before moving towards Chrismer, hands outstretched to wrap around her delicate, human throat. Cordova lurched into motion at the same instant, his greater age and strength making the other vamp seem slow in comparison. Between one heartbeat and the next, he had traveled from behind his desk to materialize between his lieutenant and his Day Servant. Only the air stirring the stray curls against my cheeks signaled his passage.

Struggling to track what was happening while staying out of the fray, I could do little more than stand by and watch Cordova bat Chrismer out of the way as he closed in on the other vamp. Chuckles couldn’t get out more than just a low sound of alarm before he was reduced to a gurgling gasp by the fingers curled around his neck. With no need to breathe besides the oxygen it took to speak, Chuckles wasn’t in any danger of being choked to death, but that didn’t erase my certainty he was moments away from meeting the final death.

Frozen in shock and fear, I could only watch as Cordova drove Chuckles down to his knees, his grip growing tighter, threatening to crush the bones in the bigger vamp’s neck. It wouldn’t kill him, but it was guaranteed to hurt like hell and leave him unable to speak. Sensing that my chances of discovering who Chuckles had been working with were slipping through my fingers, I cried out.

“Wait! I need to ask him something.”

At first Cordova didn’t appear to have heard me, but after a pause that felt like it lasted hours, he eased his grip and took a slow step back.

Daring to move forward to stand beside Cordova, I looked down at Chuckles. His face was as pale as ever, save for the dark smear of blood and the lingering imprint of Chrismer’s hand. Milk white eyes stared up at me in defiance while a cocky smile curved his lips. He knew as well as I did that he was going to meet his end whether he helped me or not. He held the cards, and he wanted to be damn certain I knew it.

Seeing his smug smile, even in the face of death, reignited the fire that smoldered in the center of my chest. Innocent people had died, lives had been ruined, and a friend of mine had been brutally attacked, all because his tender feelings had been hurt because “Daddy” didn’t love him enough. His petty jealousy made me see red, and it took a herculean effort to resist picking up where Cordova had left off.

“You’re working with someone. Who is it?” I demanded in a growl that was more wolf than human.

I didn’t expect him to give up his partner, so it came as no surprise when he replied in a lackadaisical sing-song tone. “Poor little wolf, doesn’t know who to trust. How sad.”

Beside me, Cordova was devoid of emotion, his fury passing beyond the realm of mortal detection into a black and unfathomable abyss. My skin crawled with the desire to move away from the vacuum of hatred he had become. Standing my ground, I experienced a swelling of vindication when Chuckles cringed and leaned a fraction of an inch away from the master vampire.

“Answer her and I will grant you an honorable death.”

Chuckles’ abrasive bark of laughter was like a sharp slap to the face after the controlled quiet of Cordova’s voice. “Fuck you. I have nothing else to say to you or the wolf. Go ahead and kill me.”

If Cordova was at all surprised or disappointed by his progeny’s response, he didn’t show it. His voice, when he spoke, was as bland and emotionless as if he were discussing the order to restock the bar in the club. “So be it.”

I don’t know what I’d been expecting in terms of Chuckles’ death sentence, perhaps a ceremonial affair complete with heavy velvet robes, indecipherable chanting, and a sacred weapon of some sort, all of it taking place in the subterranean tunnels beneath the club. Whatever it was, it wasn’t watching in horror as Cordova literally tore the other vampire’s head off.

There was a noise akin to tearing paper followed by the thump of Chuckles’ head landing on the floor at his feet. It took me a second to realize that the moisture on my face wasn’t tears of regret but the sour smelling blood of the now headless vamp slumped in front of me. The feeling of it tracking down my face combined with the sight of the bloody stump where Chuckles’ head had rested seconds before was enough to send my stomach into a full on revolt. Turning my back on the grisly scene, I was already moving towards the trash can I’d glimpsed behind Cordova’s desk when Chrismer pushed it into my hands.

* * *

My stomach was still giving the occasional spasm when I slumped down into one of the chairs in front of Cordova’s desk, cradling the trash can in my lap and wiping my mouth on back of my hand. I hadn’t expected there to be so much blood, or for it to be so dark that it looked more like ink spreading across the floor, staining the white carpet. Silently, Chrismer sat down in the chair beside me, her face several shades paler than usual beneath her perpetual tan. It gave her a sickly look, and in a rare moment of charity, I offered her the use of the trash can. Not much ruffled the ruthless journalist, but I suppose if anything could, it would be the sight of her vampire master decapitating someone in the middle of his office.