Master of Darkness (13 page)

The root of Joe's frustration lay in the fact that his brothers were not around. And it wasn't only because werewolves were pack creatures. Joe was way too overworked, and beginning to feel out of control. This was not a state he thrived in.

On top of that, now there was something going on in the vampire community, and he strongly suspected he was going to get more involved in it. The drugged-out Primes he'd encountered yesterday must have something to do with the hunter/Clan operation Sid had turned over to a relative.

He checked e-mail and voice mail, but there were no messages from either of his brothers or Sid Wolf. “Guess I'm on my own. What are you doing here, Daniel? And would you like a job?”

“Waiting for Sid.” He nudged the antique Murano glass paperweight on Sid's desk out of the way to make room for his coffee cup. “I'd love to help you find missing persons, Joe. That's why I'm waiting for Sid.”

Daniel had a strong psychic gift, but it wasn't much use for anything practical. Daniel Corbett could visualize the person who'd last been in a place, or held an object, and tell you all about them with frightening accuracy. If the person had lived a thousand or two years ago, that is. Daniel put his talent to use as an historian, or tried to. His colleagues in academia tended to think of him as a crank and a nutjob when he couldn't provide actual hard evidence for the things he
knew
.

Sid had been teaching him how to focus his gifts on reading more modern objects. So far Daniel had managed to work his way up to occasionally seeing visions from about fifty years in the past. If he ever made it up to the here and now, he would be an invaluable asset to the missing persons firm.

“While you are good company,” Joe said to Daniel, “you take up valuable space.”

“And drink too much of your coffee,” Daniel agreed. “Go chase your tail,” he added, and went back to reading his book.

Joe pulled up a file and began to type, but his phone rang before he could type more than a few words. Joe felt a moment of dread before the second ring sounded. He trusted his instincts and hesitated to answer. But on the third ring, he picked it up.

The caller was Sid's mother, Lady Antonia. And, sure enough, there was trouble.

Warning bells in his head urged Laurent to leave, and he paced the apartment, longing for the night. He'd gotten away with playing a Clan boy for three days, and it was bound to fall apart soon. He needed to make escape plans.

But you had to work with what the fates gave you, and they'd given him Eden. The worst part of it was, he wanted to keep her. Such insanity had to be nipped in the bud.

Nipping
. He smiled. He liked the idea of nipping Ms. Eden Faveau. Often. It made his fangs ache just thinking about it. Thinking about it too much would make him hard, as well.

You really only need her for one thing, he reminded himself sternly. And sex isn't it.

Still, he closed his eyes and instantly saw her naked. With her clothes on she appeared rather angular, almost gawky. But naked, oh, my, the treasures that were revealed. He liked her back, and the way it tapered down to the lovely round curve of her ass. He liked her strong arms and legs. Her limbs were long and supple and nicely muscled. Her belly had just the right feminine curve. Her hips were a bit narrow, but maybe after she had a kid—

Whoa—what darkly wholesome part of his imagination had
that
thought bubbled up from?

He also liked being with her, and he wasn't supposed to like being with people. Not that he liked being with his own kind. Who
was
he supposed to like being with?

Well, he did like Eden naked, and that was acceptable. If he decided to keep her—own her—he'd keep her naked all the time.

That was a much better thought for a Tribe Prime.

He checked the clock, though he didn't need to. Awareness of the movements of light and dark was born in him. Did that sense dull in those who used the daylight drugs? Maybe he'd get his hands on a dose of Dawn and find out for himself.

Should he use Eden to help him acquire the Dawn as well as break into the Patron's computer? No. That was an excuse to stay around her longer. He knew who to go to for the drug, but that would wait until after he'd acquired the Patron's wealth. He could have anything he wanted, then.

Trying to cure his restlessness, he sat down at the computer. He had no clue how to get online, but he did discover the PC version of Escape from Butcher Bay, so he played the computer game for a couple of hours.

As sunset neared, Eden still wasn't back. He'd been mentally searching the whole time he'd been playing, hunting for any vampires in the area. Even with the nasty zapper thing off, the safe house seemed to still be clear. Several nights of fights and an apparent bad reaction to Dawn had thinned the ranks of Manticores.

It was time for him to venture out on the streets alone. He needed to stretch his legs. He needed the fresh air.

He needed to retrieve the laptop, and he was tired of his Clan-boy impersonation delaying that.

He stood and dug a coin out of his pocket. Heads, he'd leave Eden a note. Tails, he'd do what a Prime should—go about his business without regard to some lowly female's sensibilities.

The toss came out tails.

Chapter Fifteen

“H
ow nice to see you.” There was acid in the sweet tone of her aunt's voice.

“Hello, Aunt Michele.”

She wanted to ask,
how'd you find me?
And,
what are you doing here?
But it was known in the family that this was her favorite coffee shop in a small open air mall near the condo development that was her real home.

Aunt Michele was called in when total psychological domination was called for.

“Here for an intervention, are you?” Eden asked.

She was already annoyed with the rest of the hunter team, and now this. A lot of progress had been made on the Dawn problem, but to hear the rest of the team tell it, she was somehow being corrupted—going soft—by having spent a couple of days in the company of Sid Wolf.

“That, and a latte,” her aunt answered, sitting opposite her in the coffee shop's back booth. She eyed the shopping bags next to Eden. “Isn't Bosworth's a men's store?”

“Yes, Aunt Michele.”

While her aunt's tone hadn't exactly been accusing, Eden hated that her answer had been accompanied by a twinge of guilt. What did she have to be guilty for?

“Are you running errands for one of
them
now?”

This time Aunt Michele's tone was distinctly more hostile, and there was a disappointed look in her eyes. Her father's sister, Michele Darabont, was not officially a Purist—the radical sect of vampire killers the hunters officially disavowed. But rumor had it that she was in contact with the leaders of the Purist fanatics, and she certainly didn't disagree with their agenda.

“We're working out of the safe house. He didn't have a chance to bring any clothes with him.”

“This—person—has a lair,” Michele pointed out. “Contacts of his own. Your serving him like this is just the sort of thing they expect.”

“I picked up a few things on my own initiative. He didn't ask me for anything.”

Aunt Michele was silent while a very large cup of coffee with a high head of frothed milk was set before her and the waitress moved out of earshot. She glared reprovingly at Eden, who glared right back, refusing to flinch.

“He'll accept what you offer as though it's his right, and you'll get used to his high-handed behavior. Perhaps you already are. They're insidious and subtle. They don't even notice their own arrogance because, after all, they are Prime.” She snorted derisively. “Prime users. Prime takers.”

“I've heard this lecture all my life, Aunt Michele. I know the drill.”

“But this is the first time any of our own have had to deal face-to-face with them for an extended time. Remember your training. Believe what I tell you now.”

This was getting old. And very, very annoying. “Wolf's helping us.”

“For his own purposes. His loyalty is to his Clan.”

“I understand that. But as long as the problem is solved, and no humans get hurt, who cares?”

Besides, the hunters were working with the vampires for their own purposes, too. Nobody's motives were clean and pure. Keeping the Tribes
in line served both sides of the alliance. Eden couldn't recall if she'd been a narrow-minded idealist like her aunt before actually getting her hands bloody with fieldwork, but she was certainly more of a pragmatist now. Getting to know Wolf was part of her changing attitude, of course, but not all of it. Yet any deviation from the party line would now be blamed on the vampire. He was the big, bad Wolf in their eyes.

Michele took a sip of latte, then wiped froth off her mouth with a napkin. “You're starting to like him.”

It was not a question, and not
exactly
an accusation.

Eden admitted to herself that she'd started liking Wolf from the time they'd had a conversation in this same coffee shop a few nights ago. He challenged her assumptions, made her think outside the box. Not just about vampires, but about her life, and the things she wanted to do with it. They made a good team. She trusted him in a fight.

“He saved my life.”

And he was fantastic in bed.

Which was the last thing she'd tell any other hunter; especially not a relative.

“Am I still in charge of this operation?” She already knew the answer to that, because she
knew tradition as well as her aunt did, but it was time to clarify the point.

“I can't relieve you. Only your father can do that.”

“But you did call him, right?”

“He asked me to talk to you. You spent a lot of time alone with the vampire yesterday. That has us all worried.”

“We were working.” Eden could almost hear Wolf say,
That's my story and I'm sticking to it,
which made her smile.

Which, of course, made her aunt frown even more.

“Do you know what I was doing when you showed up?” Eden asked. “I was thinking very hard about what needs to be done to keep my emotions neutral here, and the partnership professional. I've been thinking about this stuff for hours. I'm not about to go over to the Dark Side, Aunt Michele.”

She wasn't. She hoped.

Her attraction to Wolf was strong, and on many levels, but she was going to fight it. She'd been giving herself reasons for not wanting him to touch her, trying to forget the texture of his lips, the precise warmth and weight of his hands on her breasts.

“He'll be gone soon anyway,” she reminded
both herself and her anxious relative. Eventually she'd forget his smile, his laughter, his sarcastic comments and challenging opinions. “Once this op is over, I don't plan on dealing with vampires ever again.”

Michele looked somewhat relieved. “Then you don't mind my reinforcing what you've already worked out?”

“Yes, I do.” Eden tempered her annoyance with a smile. She also managed not to grit her teeth when she added, “But I do appreciate your concern.”

Michele relaxed and nodded. She sipped her latte, Eden finished her fourth cup of coffee, and an almost comfortable silence reigned until they were done.

As it turned out, Daniel's presence in the office was useful. He could drive a car, which was something Joe couldn't do while morphed into wolf form. He needed to be in wolf form to find a trail, so he'd brought Daniel along with him on his hunt.

He decided to go wolf after they'd checked Sid's house and several hangouts, but found nothing out of the ordinary, or a scent new enough to pursue. Fortunately, he knew that there was one trail he might be able to pick up.

Not only had Sid not shown up for work, but the august Lady Antonia was very worried about Sid's not having been at the Clan compound over the weekend.

According to Antonia, the Clan didn't know anything about an agreement to work with vampire hunters. Joe had agreed to look into it discreetly instead of Antonia asking any Primes for help. The lady and he agreed that it was better for him to find his partner than for the matter to exacerbate tensions that already existed within the clan over Sid's lifestyle.

“It's your car, shed on the upholstery if you want,” Daniel commented when they headed for the beach.

Joe bared his impressive set of fangs in response, but Daniel ignored the threat.

That was one of the problems with people who spent time around werewolves—not that there were many, either human, vampire, or other, who knew about werefolk. But those who did tended to have this sense of security that their dear friends wouldn't hurt them in morphed form. It was mostly true, but not always, and Joe felt shapeshifters ought to receive more respect from the monoform population.

After a few seconds in the front seat of the
convertible, Joe forgot about being disgruntled and let his most basic instincts take over. Strongest of all was the sense of smell, and Joe loved the way the city smelled.

Unlike most werewolves, Joe had been born and bred in an urban environment. Most came into cities only when they had to. But the Bleythin boys made the streets and alleys, with all the grunge and grit and garbage, their playground. It took him a while to get his mind on the job, what with all the myriad layers of aroma to explore and sort out, but Joe's human brain wasn't needed for a while anyway.

By the time they reached the scene of the vampire weirdness, Joe had his mind on business and was ready to work. Because of where they were, he allowed Daniel to hold one end of a long leash until they got down to the beach. He didn't mind that people always ooohed and aahhed and stopped to ask what kind of dog he was; it was all part of undercover work. And better to be looked at as a large dog—most people guessed some kind of malamute/Newfound-land mix—than to be suspected of being any kind of wolf.