Bitten to Death (2 page)

The mansion’s stone-walled front entrance discouraged visitors. Its path led, not to the lane where we’d parked our green metallic Range Rover, but northeast down a steep hill to a warehouse-sized building surrounded by weeds. So we’d come around back, through the double-doored gate to our right, which still stood wide open. Vayl had expected Eryx to open the way for us, but now the walk-in kinda made you wonder about their security.

Behind us a long mosaic-topped table surrounded by teak chairs ran the length of a jasmine-covered pergola that had been built off a three-car garage. Its quaint wooden door was also framed by vines. To our left someone had arranged another seating area, almost restaurant-like in its scattering of round metal tables and director chairs. Large planters filled with miniature orange trees softened the stone wall that formed the perimeter of that section of courtyard.

Between us and the villa, the Trust members formed a united front. At first glance anyway. Six vamps and five humans, all dressed in special-occasion duds, ranged themselves in a rough semicircle around Disa except for two human guards, who stood like giant totem poles behind her.

The vamps’ combined powers, as intense and unpredictable as a lightning storm, practically made the air crackle. Vayl had warned me about this, but words fell way short of the reality. Facing them felt like opening up the door of an air-conditioned SUV and stepping into the heat of the Sahara. My cheeks burned as I experienced the force of a unified Trust, something Vayl had said even he might have difficulty resisting. Especially if we had to stay any length of time. We were going to have to watch each other’s backs every second on this one.

And damned if a couple of vamps didn’t try to move behind us just as the thought crossed my mind. But a jolt of Vayl’s arctic strength stepped them back. That and his pronouncement, delivered in his clear baritone. “We come at the invitation of Hamon Eryx. He signed a blood oath guaranteeing us safe passage in return for a boon to the Trust. Do you honor your
Deyrar
?”

“
I
am the
Deyrar
!” Disa screeched.

“So the
Vitem
has decreed,” said a busty, tavern-wench type as she laid her hand on Disa’s shoulder.

Vayl had either sketched or found pictures of the major players still likely to be, as he put it, “walking in the Trust.” I recognized this one as Sibley. A member of Eryx’s
Vitem
, which my boss had compared to the president’s cabinet, she’d been his most conservative adviser. Now her role seemed to have morphed to ass kisser and morale booster. But she didn’t seem comfortable in it. As soon as she touched her leader, Sibley yanked her hand back and brushed it down the skirt of her long red dress. In that moment I saw a whole lot of white in her eyes.

Since she stood closest to Disa, I’d tagged Sibley as the most powerful member of her
Vitem
. Otherwise I’d have assumed that honor went to the dude standing next to her. His silver hair, pulled back in a tight ponytail, accentuated his smooth, fine-boned face. I guessed an age, added twenty years for the hair, and decided he’d been turned sometime after his fiftieth birthday. Given his maturity and office, he could’ve puffed and strutted like an elder statesman. But the way his eyes darted around the scene reminded me of a chipmunk ready to jump for cover the second he spied an owl.
This guy’s gotta be Marcon
.

It was easy to pick out the other
Vitem
members from the fact that they lined up on the other side of Disa, each with his own set of groupies. The vamp directly to her left kept glancing at her and nodding whether she had anything to say or not. I figured he had his head so far up her ass he should probably learn sign language. But then, Vayl had already given me the lowdown on his old nemesis, Genti. To give the toady credit, at least he was a simple soul. All he wanted from life was the quickest route to Easy Street.

He and his crew looked to have raided Bob’s Costume Supply before rushing out to confront us. Genti wore a furred, feathered top hat and a purple velvet smoking jacket over leopard-print pants. The other male vamp was dressed like the gunner for a WWII bombing crew, while the female seemed to be impersonating a homeless woman. Since I didn’t recognize either of them, I decided they must have arrived after Vayl left the Trust. Their human guardian, while beautiful in a Californian blonde sort of way, wore her hair in dreadlocks. Ick.

The last
Vitem
member caught my interest because, of the entire group, he seemed the least scared. And he was the first vamp I’d met since Vayl who didn’t smell of the grave. I’d begun to believe this meant something significant for their souls. It was just a theory, though. And really, who knew?

Vayl’s psychic scent reminded me of a walk through a pine forest. This guy I’d put more in the area of . . . freshly picked grapes. I studied him as closely as I dared, considering I was still covering a wanted felon. Though his hair hung longer, straighter, and redder than mine, it somehow accentuated the masculine planes of his face and the iron gray of his eyes. A sleek blue-silver pinstripe suit complemented his slender build and his height, which equaled Vayl’s.

So this must be Niall,
I thought. Though Vayl hadn’t said so, I’d gotten the feeling he and Niall had been friends before the break. Niall’s partner, a Greek stud named Admes, was a fierce warrior, according to Vayl, and absolutely loyal to Niall. A human in his mid-forties rounded out their group, his quiet, alert demeanor telling me if I ever wanted to get to the vamps, I’d have to mow through him first.

“The Trust has always respected the wishes of its
Deyrar
, both past and present,” said Niall, whose accent put his birthplace somewhere in the vicinity of Dublin. It made me wonder how a son of Eire had wandered so far. Or if he’d been exiled from his homeland just as Vayl had been over two hundred years ago. “What was the boon Hamon asked of you?”

“What does it matter?” shouted Genti. “Vayl turned his back on the Trust. He deserves nothing from us!”

Vayl had told me Genti’s roots lay just north of Greece, in Albania, though he looked like a native with his coal-black hair and dirt-brown eyes, which were starting to cross with rage. I couldn’t decide if he and his group were genuinely pissed at Vayl for leaving, or if they despised him for returning. Only the human’s message was clear. And the come-get-me look she sent Vayl made me want to grind her face into the ground.

Niall gave the Albanian a slap on the shoulder that seemed friendly. It made him wince. “Honestly, G-boy, do you ever stop shouting long enough to hear what’s actually being said to you?” he asked. “Because it sounded to
me
as if Hamon was after something from Vayl.”

“My name is Genti Luan, you Irish hound, and if you do not say it with the respect it deserves, so help me I will pin you to a cross and watch you sizzle!” As soon as Genti revealed his whole name, Niall darted his eyes at me, his lips quirking.
Hmm, interesting
. In this place, where knowing someone’s full name gave you real leverage, Niall had just handed me a weapon.

“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.