Master of Darkness (7 page)

“Turn right at the next light.”

She didn't have to be psychic to be aware of how tense he'd become, and how curious.

“Is there something about the Manticores I don't know?” Eden asked.

He was silent for a minute, then he said, “Apparently there's a lot about the Manticores I don't know. Tell me about them. And no Prime's dick is that little,” he added.

Eden had to bite her tongue. “Let's make this
a mutual exchange, shall we? Of information,” she added hastily.

“Pull in here,” he said, indicating the entrance to a mall parking lot. “Let's see if anything nasty comes looking for us.”

“I haven't detected anyone following.”

He tapped his forehead. “I've got a little telepathic buzz going. Might not be anything, but I'm not about to lead anyone to the laptop. The night's young enough to exercise a bit of patience and caution.”

They'd already been driving in circles for over an hour. Ever-widening circles, Eden had to admit, cautiously weaving through areas with heavy traffic and quieter side streets.

“I wouldn't mind getting attacked,” Eden told him, but she pulled into a parking space. She killed the engine and lights. “If we take a prisoner, you can read his mind for information about who's dealing Dawn.”

“But the information on the computer might tell us who is manufacturing the drug, and where. For all we know, the Patron himself might have been selling the drug to vampires, using the money to fund his research. Shutting down the source will get the drug off the streets.”

“Good plan.”

“Of course,” he added thoughtfully after a moment, “the drug isn't actually illegal by any mortal laws, and I haven't seen any clinical proof that it causes psychotic behavior.”

“You're splitting ethical hairs.” Wolf's attitude was downright disturbing. “If we capture a few Tribe users, your scientists can study them.”

“Like lab rats.”

“That's an insult to rats. The point of this operation is to keep monsters like the Manticores from inhabiting the world twenty-four/seven.”

Wolf turned to face her. She assumed his psychic senses were on watch for any approaching vampires, while his gaze was turned intently on her.

“Ah, yes, the Manticores.” His silky tone was practically a purr. He put a hand on her arm, the touch warm and electric. “Tell me all about the Manticores. From the beginning.”

Eden felt almost hypnotized. Not threatened or anything, but she very much welcomed the opportunity to share a bit of knowledge. She lived in two worlds, and the secrets of her nighttime life were hard to bear. Here was someone from outside her own claustrophobic little circle but still in on it all. Someone new to talk to, someone interested in what she had to say. She and Wolf were—

“Manticores?” he prompted.

“Right. Sorry, I think the change in my sleep patterns is making me unfocused,” she finished.

“And here I thought it was my overwhelmingly sensual effect on you.”

“No. That's just irritating.”

He put a hand on her thigh. “You're not denying it.”

Eden had to concentrate hard, but she pretended his touch didn't affect her, and went on. “The hunters first encountered the Manticores in the Middle Ages, though there are some scanty ancient records preserved in monasteries in the Sinai that link a whole bunch of tribes with names that pertain to dragons to a Middle Eastern god, or demon. They worshipped this dragon god or—”

“Demon.” He snorted. “Our version is that the dragon-born vampires kept this creature as a pet and used him to extort tribute from mortals. But do go on, the human version is probably much more relevant for hunting Manticores.”

She hadn't heard about the pet and extortion theory, but his comment made her think that this dragon of legend might really have existed. And why not? If the world could have vampires in it, it followed that other mythical creatures also existed. Just because her family specialized
in one kind of hunting didn't mean that there weren't other things to hunt.

“The night world is bigger than I've been led to believe, isn't it?”

He grinned. “Oh, the creatures I've seen and heard of. No doubt sometime in the future, we'll all have separate cable channels and equal rights advocates lobbying in Washington. But that's for the future. You're giving me a history lesson now.”

“While we wait to be attacked,” she added, and took a quick glance outside the car's windows. She didn't see anything, so she went on. “The one thing we've been certain of about the Manticores from the fifteenth century on, is that they specialize in slave dealing, within and outside the vampire community. Mostly they kidnap human women, but they take Family and Clan females when they can. The humans they train as sex slaves, but vampires are used as breeders.”

“You make it all sound so sleazy. Manticores consider this a valuable service within their community.”

She gave him a disgusted look. “I wouldn't think a Clan Prime would joke about such a thing.”

“Bad taste.” He shrugged. “The Clans do not
take losing their females lightly. No vampire does.”

“You don't have that many women,” she said. “You have to protect them for self-preservation, even more than the duty, honor, and respect you claim toward your matriarchs.”

“We do need to keep the species going.”

“The children you have with mortal women don't inherit many vampire traits. I've heard that they're called mules by vampires.”

He lifted his head proudly. “No Clan Prime would ever call his child by such a derogatory name. I've heard that hunters call such children abominations.”

Okay, she'd baited him, he'd baited back. She let it go. “A pack or two of Manticores came to America in the early 1800s. They settled in the Five Points area of New York City, where they fed and preyed on the poverty-stricken immigrant community. Then the Family Caeg moved in and drove them out of New York. They moved south to New Orleans, and out to the Californian gold fields. Wherever they went, people disappeared, especially young women. In the wilder parts of the country, those women were openly used as prostitutes. By the end of the century they operated brothels in several California cities, as well as dealing
slaves to other tribes. Over several months at the turn of the twentieth century, the hunters burned down the Manticores' brothels and freed the women.”

“Didn't the newspapers of the time report all this as some sort of gang warfare? Criminal elements at war with each other? And they editorialized about how both sides needed to be stopped,” he said.

“And weren't some of the newspapers of the time owned by Clan members?”

“That I know nothing about. Really. Go on; tell me all about
old
Justinian.”

He had that seductive tone again, as if he was urging her on to some sin. Eden wondered if that was a Prime thing, or if it was just him. And his hand was still on her thigh. She was exquisitely
aware
of his touch, of his presence. She had to take a deep, steadying breath, but at least that didn't draw a smug chuckle from him. She began to suspect that he wasn't noticing being hot.

“Justinian
is
old,” she finally went on. “We have reports about him killing and raping going back at least three hundred years. He has a lot of followers, even though he's never been officially the king Prime of the tribe. His exploits have made him popular among his peers.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

The Clan vampire's almost admiring tone confused her. “You guys claim to loathe the likes of Justinian.”

“We give points for style.”

“He's a slimy, slippery, altogether putrid excuse for a semi-sentient living being. He ran the Manticore sex slave operation. He breaks women and turns them out. He's been a pimp for centuries.”

“Is that how he built up the fortune stolen by Garrison?”

“It would have to be. You do know that he started a war between the Manticores and local clans, including yours, back in the 1880s? In fact, it was over his stealing a female from the Wolf Clan, wasn't it? We hunters don't know many of the details, even though we helped run the tribes out of town. Did you ever get her back?”

He had gone very still. He was staring out the windshield, his expression blank. “No.”

For all that his answer was brusque and cold, it made her aware that in some way he was hurting and vulnerable. It occurred to Eden that Sid Wolf was likely related to the kidnapped Wolf female. What was somebody else's ancient
history for her might be a recent tragedy for the long-lived Clan.

“Did you know her?”

He gave her a look that made her wish she'd kept her mouth shut.

“Do you know that you're hurting me?” she asked.

Chapter Eight

L
aurent hadn't realized his claws were out. Or that he had such a tight grip on the mortal's leg. He wished he could get some pleasure from hurting her, but it didn't ease his own pain at all. So he let her go.

He even said, “Sorry.”

Her words echoed around in his head.

Did you ever get her back?

“I never saw her again.”

“What?”

Laurent realized that he must have spoken aloud, because the woman beside him was no telepath. She did have a talent, though. She was cursed with the ability to make him remember things he'd deliberately buried—things best
left
buried.

Not that he wasn't to blame as well. He'd been the one who'd given in to sudden curiosity about his sire. His
possible
sire. Justinian had teased him about the connection all the years Laurent spent under the pack leader's thumb. Laurent had even let the old bastard use the promise of truth at last to get under his skin again a few weeks ago. It was one of the reasons he'd gone along with the scheme to retrieve the Manticore fortune from the Patron.

Justinian used knowledge as punishment, reward, and torture. Laurent had seen Justinian break the women he trained with words as much as with beatings. The pack leader wasn't any kinder to the vampires he ruled.

Laurent fell for it, briefly. Then he learned that Justinian wanted revenge against the Garrison family even more than he wanted the money, while Laurent was strictly in it for the money.

Laurent shook his head. He had to get away from the pack. He had to get on with his life. Nostalgia was stupid. Curiosity was stupid. How had he allowed himself to be so self-indulgent?

“Are you all right?”

Her hand was on his shoulder. It was warm—and comforting.

He pushed it away as though it burned.

He didn't need a human's touch for anything but pleasure. Justinian was right—break them, use them, make them pay for their life in the light, and—!

Then Laurent calmed down as he suddenly recalled that he
was
using Eden. She was his ticket to all the wealth he'd ever dreamed of.

“I don't mean to be scary,” he murmured in his most soothing tone.

She eyed him warily. He suspected she was holding a weapon in the hand he couldn't see, and he didn't blame her. “What's the matter with you?” she demanded.

He told her the truth, all the while reveling in the irony of how the truth could be twisted. “Hearing about Justinian's past had a strong effect on me.”

“Gave you a longing to rescue all those maidens in distress, did it?”

He heard the longing that the Clan boy beside her really was a hero, and it twisted something inside him. He reminded himself that he did not come equipped with a conscience.

“It's too late to save anyone,” he told her.

Then his attention was drawn back to the outside world. He smiled.

“Something wicked this way comes?” she asked, alert to his reaction.

He nodded. “And just when I'm in the mood to do some damage.”

She was suddenly hyper alert, and all business. “How many? Where are they coming from.”

He reluctantly admired this side of the mortal, even though it was no way for a female to behave. “Modern women,” he murmured.

“Don't know our place,” she added for him.

“I could rise to the bait and say something sexist and sexually provocative here.”

“But we don't have the time.” She started the car and eased out of the parking space.

He stroked her bruised thigh. “Remind me to kiss this and make it all better. Where are we going?”

She turned toward the nearest exit. “We don't want a riot at the mall.”

“No witnesses or collateral damage,” he agreed.

“Do you think they'll notice that we've been waiting for them to ambush us?”

He chuckled. “Tribe boys? They have the same instincts as a greyhound—they see a rabbit and they run after it. In this case, a bug,” he said, patting the dashboard.

“A tricked-out bug,” she answered. “Don't let her staid outer appearance fool you.”

Laurent looked the mortal woman over with growing hunger. “Oh, I won't,” he told her.

He felt the heat of her blush across the short distance between them, but resisted the impulse to stroke warm, soft skin. Her attraction to him was further balm to his frayed nerves, and he was going to make very good use of that attraction.

Then he focused on their opponents. He let his shielding down for a moment, sending a bolt of surprise and fear, as though he had just discovered them. He'd felt a trio of them circling the perimeter of the huge parking lot; they'd been faintly aware of the mental scent he'd been broadcasting at a very low level. When he lowered his shielding he picked up more information, as well as broadcasting it.

“A pair of Manticore,” he said. “And a Hydra, I think. The Hydra is hunting alone.” He pondered the meaning of this. “Two for me, one for you, maybe.”