Companions (18 page)

"Who's the stereotype?" she whispered to Steve.

"Rosho."

"Thought so."

It was only after a moment of deep, intense, suffocating silence that she heard the hatred Steve put into saying the name. Each letter had been etched in acid. She didn't think it had anything to do with Sandy Schwimmer.

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She, Sandy, and all the other vampires might not have been there for all the notice the two older vampires took of them. The edgy silence drew out, and Selena noticed that the sound of sirens was no longer part of the background noise. There was no background noise. It was as if Chicago, with all its millions of lives, didn't exist. What did exist was the palpable awareness that these guys
really
didn't like each other and hadn't for a very long time. She watched them watching each other and wondered if they'd even bother with fangs and claws when it was obvious they wanted to feel their bare hands around each other's necks. Selena considered grabbing Sandy and making a run for it while the staring match went on, but it didn't go on long enough for her to make a move.

Rosho broke the silence with a soft, derisive laugh. "I heard you were slave to the Council." He waved his hand. "What a mistake she made in letting you live." He shrugged. "Go back to your mistress. You aren't needed here."

Selena didn't think she'd heard right for a moment. It sounded like Rosho was dismissing the Enforcer's Enforcer like he was a parking attendant who'd just brought around the Mercedes. After incredulity, her next reaction was indignation. How dare he talk to Steve like that! "Excuse me," she started. Not that either of them paid her any mind. Instead of bothering to answer Rosho, Steve bent down and drew Sandy to her feet. Selena took a step forward.

So did Rosho. "Get your hands off my property." Selena fought down bitter anger at the vampire's words. "Let's get her out of here," she said to Steve. "Get her away from him."

The enforcer ignored her. He turned Sandy's face up to his. She whimpered, and he ran a hand gently through her hair.

"Give her to me," Rosho demanded.

"No."

Selena shivered at the blood-chilling finality of the word. There was nothing reassuring in Steve's refusal.

He touched Sandy with a gentleness she might have envied, if his face had not been expressionless and his eyes hard as glass. When he asked, "Did you kill them?" Selena knew it was only a formality.

"You don't have to answer that," Selena heard herself say, like some parody of a police officer.

What was an Enforcer supposed to do, read a suspect their rights? Companions had none. Strigs had none. Even Law-abiding nest dwellers went in fear of the Council, and the Nighthawks who hunted the hunters. Enforcers were judge, jury, and executioner, answering to a secret, faceless cabal. As far as she knew, no one had elected this Council, but they ruled just the same. That stank. It was wrong.

"Get away from her," Selena said, echoing Rosho for entirely different reasons. "Or help me get her away from here until this can be settled."

"Settled how?" Steve wondered softly, sparing Selena a moment's glance. "In a civilized manner?"

"Why not?" Selena focused all her psychic energy on the bond between them, silently pleading for mercy, for time, for the vampires' worst nightmare to show a shred of humanity. She could feel all her emotions bouncing off a dark, blank wall. She said, "Whatever she did, there were extenuating circumstances."

"I don't do plea bargains, Selena." He turned away, totally dismissing her every word, thought, and
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gesture.

Rosho wasn't done yet. Donavan had recovered from the head wounds enough to come forward.

Selena couldn't see the puppet strings, but the sense of Rosho pulling them was strong. The younger vampire moved reluctantly but inexorably at the other's command. When he spoke, the words might as well have come from Rosho's mouth.

"I belong to Rosho, Hunter. The woman belongs to me. Give her back to him. That is my wish."

"You can't give her back to them," Selena pleaded.

"I won't."

Steve's attention was focused on Sandy again. Her gaze was glued to his.

"She is our rightful prey," Rosho said. "You remember what it's like to be prey, don't you, boy? Her blood belongs to me… when I choose to take it. As yours belongs to me."

"The Law is with us, Hunter," Donavan said. "The nest leader decides — "

"Shut up." Steve turned a sneer on Donavan. "Weakling. Protect what's yours.
Never
give it away."

Donavan looked around in panic. "But he — "

"Donavan," Sandy whispered, pulling away from the Enforcer's influence at the sound of her lover's voice. She stirred in Steve's grasp, trying to get to the vampire who'd been her lover.

"She wants to go home," Rosho said. He glanced at the sky. "It grows late. Let her go."

"It grows late," Steve agreed. With no effort at all, he shifted his grip and broke Sandy's neck. He gently eased her to the street. "Take your companion," he said to Donavan.

Donavan didn't hear; he'd fallen to his knees with a howl of pain the instant Sandy died.

Rosho bellowed in outrage. The vampires in the shadows gasped, shouted, one let out an animal snarl of outrage.

Selena barely heard any of this over her own shout. "What the hell did you do?"

She was dead. Just like
that,
Cassandra Schwimmer was dead. Show's over, folks. Move along.

"No." Selena spoke to deaf ears. She might as well have been a ghost; no one took any notice of her.

Selena looked down at the discarded rag doll's body; only Donavan's sobbing gave any recognition to the death, and even that was cut off by a cuff from Rosho. The rest of the nest members were more interested at looking up at the sky and checking their watches. Steve and Rosho had gone back to glaring at each other. Sandy was a broken toy, a lost plaything. Rosho was pouting. Steve was unapologetic at having taken it away from Rosho. A human was dead, and nobody gave a damn. What justice had been served?

How could Istvan the Enforcer do this? How could he be so unjust?

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Why hadn't he listened? Why hadn't he cared? Why had he given her a moment's hope when he said he wouldn't give Sandy back to the creature who'd abused her?

"You didn't investigate. You didn't ask her why. You killed her because Rosho wanted her, didn't you?"

He didn't bother to answer, but she saw him give Rosho a thin, smug smile.

Justice had to be served. Justice was all that mattered.

Somebody had to protect mortals when the Enforcers couldn't be bothered. Someone had to acknowledge the crime, and the gold coin was still in her possession.

Selena raised her gun. Futile as it was, she couldn't have stopped herself if she tried, and she didn't try.

"Enforcer Istvan, you're under arrest for the murder of Cassandra Schwimmer."

He turned a look on her that was completely blank. If he recognized her, he gave no sign. He gave no heed to the gun aimed at his chest.

"You have the right to remain silent."

His eyes narrowed. "Not now."

"You have the right to an attorney. If you can not afford an attorney, one will be provided — "

"Be quiet." He turned away again.

She took this as proof of resisting arrest. The last time she'd shot him, it had been in the chest. She'd learned a lot since then. This time she went for the head shot. Her hands shook so hard she was barely able to squeeze the trigger.

The white-hot pain that followed filled her head and the world. The searing agony was nothing compared to the soul-devouring loss. The loss nothing compared to the guilt. The shame was worst of all. She'd struck her lover. She'd hurt her lover. Dear, God, what had she done? She'd hurt her lover. How could she have… how could she have… how could she have…

"Oh, for God's sake." Her words were a strangled gasp, but at least she'd forced more than a scream out of her lungs. There was asphalt beneath her knees, and her knees hurt almost as much as her head.

She must have gone down hard. Her hands clutched at her head, she felt her nails digging into her temples. Where was she? What was that pain in her chest? Had she been shot?

Her gun? Where the hell was her gun? She needed her —

There was a roar. An awful, terrible, animal roar.

Selena looked up. She was surrounded by feral faces with pitiless, intelligent eyes. She was surrounded by vampires. She felt too bad to be afraid. She couldn't breathe. Fire exploded inside her. She'd been here before. That time Istvan had saved her. Istvan. Her Steve. A moment of joy intruded on the fearsome bleakness as she thought of Steve. He was here. He would —

She looked up, seeking, yearning. She saw him coming toward her, and held out her arms to him.

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The last thing she saw before descending into dark hell were Steve's fangs striking down toward her throat.

"Drink this."

"It tastes like blood."

It is blood.

Damn, it tasted good! Lava hot, thick and rich as melted gold, it was like drinking stars. Or liquid crack.

That image almost made her stop, but a hand pressed her head closer to the wound, and she couldn't halt the sweet, orgasmic suckling. Why would she want to after having craved it for so long? She was enveloped by hard muscle and warm skin, and there was nothing in the world but this total closeness for a long time. Somehow, through all the heady, delicious, delight, Selena managed to form a thought directed at the source of all things.
What happened?

I bit you on the neck.

You never bite me on the neck.

I had to this time.

Why?

To make it look like I ripped your throat out.

Oh. Of course. She should have known his sinking his fangs into the soft, pulsing flesh of her white throat wasn't because of some romantic vampire gesture. Only she couldn't remember what had happened or why.

"Just as well," she heard him say. The sound of his voice was sweet in her ears, caressing, though it seemed to come from miles and miles away. Selena was stretched out languidly, riding a warm, soothing river of bloodred, sparkling light. She never wanted it to end.

She managed to ask,
Why's it just as well?

"
'Cause it's too late to have a fight." Though she whimpered in protest and clutched at it, Steve drew his wrist away from her mouth. He pulled her down beside him, holding her close. His hands stroked her, caressed, drew out the pleasure. Then he said, "It's dawn."

A moment later, he was inert and cold, and she was deeply aroused and caught in his marble embrace.

His blood sang inside her. Her body sang with need, but her soul was content, sated. She was loved.

Selena smiled as she went to sleep, cradled in a vampire's arms.

"Wait a minute. Okay. I think I remember what happened now."

Selena would have rubbed her aching temples, but Steve was heavy, and his body pretty much covered
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hers. She wasn't yet ready to make the effort to push her way out from underneath him. Vampires didn't snore, but they didn't roll over in their sleep, which made sharing a bed with one damn inconvenient.

Jesus, her head hurt!

But she was pretty much conscious and very nearly lucid, so she'd ignore the pain while she got her head completely together. She was aware that it was very late in the afternoon. She had vague memories of coming partially awake several times during the day when the ringing of the telephone filtered through heavy sleep. She was stiflingly hot, sweaty, her hands tingled from lack of circulation. And her head…

oh, God, her head. She felt hungover, but this was more like a reaction to too much sex than if she'd been drinking —

She'd been drinking blood, hadn't she?

She'd done it before, but never so much. If you thought about it, it was really disgusting, drinking blood, at least from another sentient being. Okay, so there were whole tribes of people who lived on drinking the blood of cattle mixed with milk, and a rare steak was a joy to slice into, but there was a large degree of difference between enjoying the blood of cattle and the blood of humans. In fact, she knew that drinking human blood made humans sick. It was something you shot up rather than ingested, if you wanted to compare an intravenous transfusion to taking a drug. Transfusions saved your life, they didn't make you high. Ah, but the point was, vampire blood was a drug to humans, and humans were cattle to vampires, and maybe she wasn't as awake and lucid as she thought and had better start over.

"I'm going to open my eyes now."

When she opened them, the first thing she saw was Steve's ear. She studied it for a moment, fighting off the longing to kiss it and any other part of him she could reach. His ear was beautiful. His hair was beautiful. The way his head pressed into her chest was beautiful. A glow surrounded him; she worshiped his presence in her bed. She knew that was the blood talking, the fresh infusion making her want him more than ever. Just to prove that the blood wasn't going to get its way, she made an attempt at craning her head up to bite his ear, only she couldn't quite reach it.

"Bummer."

She closed her eyes again and wished she hadn't, as pain from her headache soared to migraine proportions. Lights danced behind her closed lids and turned into horrible, leaping satanic figures made of fire, rather like cartoon characters out of some rip-off of
Fantasia,
she made herself think, to prove that a hallucination wasn't going to get the better of her.