Roaring Dawn: Macey Book 3 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 10) (8 page)

“I’m afraid he’s rather tied up right now too,” Flora said in a smooth voice. Her eyes danced with malicious delight and her lips—painted blood red, perhaps in an effort to hide any evidence of feeding—curled up at the corners.

Because, after all—what could Macey do? She couldn’t exactly attack the vampire right here in the middle of a party. Especially when Flora had an entire tribe of men at her beck and call.

She hid her irritation and acquiesced—at least outwardly. “Have a lovely evening then, Flora. Excuse me, gentlemen.” She turned and walked away, feeling the weight of her friend’s blazing eyes boring into her back.

Macey ground her teeth. Now what? She’d been jilted by Temple; run into the last person she wanted to see; had encountered an astonishingly subdued gangster king; and had found a vampire she couldn’t do anything about—and now she had to leave her to whatever devices she had in mind.

But what if there was a distraction? That might free the gentlemen from Flora’s thrall—or at least give Macey the opportunity to drag the vampiress away. She needed to stake her, yes, but just as important, she needed information.

So what sort of distraction could she manufacture? Cutting out the lights was an option, if she could figure out how to do it. People might even blame it on the bad weather.

But that was impractical—for even if Macey found the fuse box and pulled the correct fuses, she’d still have to make her way back here to the hall in the dark, and among panicked people, and by then, who knew where Flora would have disappeared to—and whom she would have taken with her. Macey needed an accomplice…but Temple was otherwise occupied. Hmm. What about Capone? Perhaps she could appeal to his Venator side and get him—or better yet, one of his minions—to help. But she didn’t see him anywhere in the room.

Another option was for Macey to find a way to lure Flora from her post.

She pursed her lips. What a frustrating situation for a Venator to find herself in. Being held hostage, in a way, by a single female vampire. She doubted Victoria Gardella had ever found herself stymied in such a manner.

By now Macey had walked far enough away that she could still watch the cluster of gentlemen and their vampiress coquette, but Flora couldn’t see her. Her arms folded over her middle, Macey leaned against one of the columns that held up the archways at the top of one flight of stairs, looking around for inspiration.

She saw Grady, without his
older
lady photographer, and felt a stab of relief that he seemed to have divested himself of her—or vice versa…and then she felt guilty about the thought.

Dammit. It wasn’t as if
she
could be in his life, so why was she hoping for him to be alone? He’d never done anything to warrant what she’d done to him—erasing his mind, indiscriminately taking away memories both good (she hoped) and terrifying. And now here she was, wishing and hoping he’d be alone. To what end? So he’d be as miserable as she—without even knowing
why?

You’re a selfish bitch, Mace
.

The thought was sobering in its raw truth, and her heart ached a little more. She’d done the right thing; she
knew
it in her heart. She had loved Grady, and she didn’t want him to experience pain or suffering simply because a woman targeted by the undead had fallen for him. He didn’t deserve that.

He deserved a woman who could love him, who could have a family and make a home with him. Not someone who had to creep around dark, dangerous streets every night, putting her life at risk every day.

Not someone who was the most wanted woman in the world, according to the undead.

Not someone who had a vampire “baron” that could make her bleed in a
damned dream
.

Grady didn’t deserve to be tortured and torn into ribbons as Macey’s mother had been, simply because she’d loved Max Denton. Simply because she’d meant something to a Venator.

She tasted sour in the back of her mouth, and Macey swallowed and then stilled. Grady was making his way toward Flora and her cluster of men.

Her heart began to thud harder. Flora not only knew who Grady was—and what he meant to Macey—but she also had helped herself quite liberally to his blood on that horrible night two weeks ago, when Iscariot tried to kill Sebastian.

Macey’s palms dampened and she moved away from the wall.
No, Grady, stay away from her
, she thought, sending the mental message as strongly as she could, and fully realizing the huge flaw in her decision to have herself removed from his memory.

The gold disk Wayren used might have erased Macey from Grady’s mind, but it couldn’t remove
him
from
the vampires’
memory. And she wasn’t even certain to what extent the disk worked—did it erase everything about her and their memories together, and leave everything else? Did Grady still believe the undead existed, just as he had done before they’d met?

And as long as the vampires knew—or even suspected—Macey cared about Grady, there was nothing to keep the vampires from using him as they saw fit.

“I can give him something that will help keep him safe.”

Wayren’s words, the single thread of hope Macey clung to, came to mind. She clenched her fingers tightly into her palms, hoping the woman had done what she promised. Hoping whatever it was whatever she’d given Grady, it was enough.

Macey continued to move closer, feeling for the stake anchored to her thigh beneath the heavy, silky shift. If it came down to staking Flora here, in front of everyone, she’d do it. Let the chips fall where they might.

Grady was still moving purposefully toward the mayor—it made sense for the ace reporter to want a statement from the man—and Macey lingered nearby, watching from the corner of her eye while pretending to admire a photograph of the Parisian catacombs. Gruesome things they were—walls studded with skulls arranged like bricks, and skeletons everywhere.

Just as Grady came within view of the group of men and Flora and hailed them, a waiter passed in front of Macey and paused to offer the items on his tray to a couple strolling by. They all clustered in front of her, effectively blocking her view, and there was little she could do other than push them away to see what was happening as Grady shook hands with the mayor.

“No thank you,” Macey snapped when the waiter turned to offer her the tray after the indecisive couple had finally made their choices and strolled on. She dodged around the waiter and nearly knocked over an easel as she began to rush toward her quarry. Then she came to such an abrupt halt that her shoe made a sharp
smack
on the marble floor.

Flora was gone.

Grady was there, conversing jovially with Mayor Dever, but the tall, slender redhead had disappeared.

Macey paused to send up a prayer of heartfelt thanksgiving, then started off quickly in the direction she knew Flora must have gone. Gauging the sensation at the back of her neck, she determined there was still an ugly, lingering chill. And it was getting stronger, and—

“Looking for someone?”

Macey spun neatly and yanked the stake from beneath her shift as she lunged into the quiet alcove at her elbow. She had her stake raised before she actually saw Flora, and the momentum of her movement had her slamming the taller woman back against the wall.

“I found her.” Macey had one hand on her old friend’s shoulder, pinning her in place. The other held the stake poised over her heart.

Flora bared her fangs, her eyes burning red. “Really? And now what are you going to do?” Instantly, she faded from feral undead back into the familiar, cheery face of Macey’s old friend.

“I’m going to put you out of your misery,” Macey told her. Then she lowered the stake slightly. “But first I need some information.”

Flora laughed, low and guttural, and her fangs peeked from beneath her upper lip once more. “That’s a convenient excuse. You need information, so once again you’re going to neglect to ‘put me out of my misery,’ as you said. There’s no reason for you to keep spouting the fairy tale that you’re going to stake me, Macey, because we both know you can’t do it.”

“I’ve already done it,” Macey retorted.

“Oh, yes. Right. But you missed the target, didn’t you?” Flora thumped herself in the center of her breastbone, right where her heart was. “So I don’t believe that actually counts as staking me. How many times have you missed when stabbing a vampire, Macey?”

“What are you doing here?” Macey asked, moving the stake back into position again. Flora’s taunting was making Macey’s vision flush red with anger. She had no qualms about slamming the stake into the vampiress’s heart, old friend or no.

“I told you, I’m looking at the photo—”

Macey drilled the stake tip into Flora’s sparkling, sunshiny frock, right between the breasts, and held it there with two hands. One good thrust and her childhood friend was dust. “I don’t have any patience left tonight, and regardless of what might have happened in the past, it’s impossible for me to miss my target tonight. So talk, Flora. If not, I’m sending you to the devil.”

“I’m already with the devil,” Flora snapped. “I came to you for help, remember, Macey? And now look at us. Two weeks ago, you said you’d try and find a way to help me save my soul.”

“And then you immediately went and mauled a man.”

“I have to eat.” There was a hint of whine in her voice.

“You didn’t have to leave him to
die
.” Macey had no desire to go over this conversation again. “I want to find Iscariot. How do I find him? Where is he?”

“Why should I tell you that? The minute I do, you’ll pin me through the heart and that’ll be the end of me. At least if you leave me alive, Macey—Wait a moment, just think about this. If I’m alive, you have someone you can trust who’s close to Iscariot.”

Macey snorted. “If I could trust you, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

“Fine. Maybe trust isn’t the word. Maybe just someone you
know
. Doesn’t our history mean anything to you? We’ve been friends for thirteen years.”

“We were great friends—until you decided you wanted to become immortal.”

“Look, Macey, I’ve never tried to harm you—which is more than I can say about you.”

Macey contemplated this excellent point for a moment, then retorted, “But you’ve hurt others. Without remorse. And you went down this path because you were trying to get back at me.”

“I’d never hurt you, Macey. I truly wouldn’t. I might have…needs—a gal has to have sustenance—but—”

“It’s not me I’m worried about. I can take care of myself. It’s all the other innocent people you might decide you need for sustenance, and then leave to die. Look, I’m not going to stand here all night. Tell me how to get to Iscariot, tell me
something
relevant and valuable, and maybe I’ll let you walk away tonight. One time. For old times’ sake. But you’d better make it worth it.” She pushed the stake deeper, and a blossom of red began to seep around the wooden point.

“Now you’ve stained my frock,” Flora said. “All right, just give me a minute,” she added when Macey’s expression darkened and the stake thrust a hint deeper.

“Thirty seconds. Spill something, or it’s over.”

“All right. All right. I’ll tell you this: he wants the Rings of Jubai.” Flora’s eyes widened when Macey twisted the stake a little deeper. “All right, you already knew that. But do you know he has the amulet of Rasputin?”

Macey eased up on her weapon. “Rasputin? He was the mystic who served the Romanovs of Russia, just before the Great War. He supposedly saved their son’s life.”

“That’s the one. He’s nothing but ash now, but his medallion somehow came into Iscariot’s possession.”

“Tell me about the amulet. What does it do?”

“From what I understand, it gives the vampire stronger powers, and can help protect him from the sunlight. Rasputin used it to cloak himself and enthrall the tsarina while he was living at the Russian court. There might be other powers. Iscariot wears it all the time now.”

Macey felt a sudden shivery spark. “Does it glow green? Like an emerald with a light behind it?”

Flora nodded. “Yes.”

Macey kept her attention on the stake and its position, but her mind was reeling and the pit in her stomach was growing deeper. In her dream, Iscariot had been wearing something glowing green. But she’d never seen him in real life with it on. “What else? What’s he after with the Rings of Jubai? Tell me that and I’ll let you go—this one time. If you promise to leave the premises.”

“There’s something in the pool—you know about the pool, I assume? The one the rings help access—right, well, there’s something in there that had been placed there centuries ago, around the time Vlad the Impaler made his contract with Lucifer. You don’t know about that? About the Dracule? Stars, Mace, I thought you were a librarian and knew everything. You always acted like—”

“Enough commentary on my lack of education on the topic of vampire history. What’s in the pool?”

Flora shrugged, and the stake shifted slightly. Macey tightened her grip; she wasn’t about to be taken off guard by her sly friend. “Rekk’s Pyramid is what it’s called. It’s not very big—that’s all I know, I swear it.”

“You swear it? On what? The Bible? Don’t make me laugh.”

Flora’s eyes flashed coal-burning red, then her lips twisted ruefully as her fury ebbed. “Guess I can’t blame you for speaking the truth. Look, Macey, really, truly…I do want your help. I…”

Her attention had strayed to somewhere behind Macey, and she seemed to catch her breath and almost recoil, backing even further into the corner. “All right, I told you what you wanted to know. You said you’d let me go after I did.”

Macey eyed her suspiciously, even as something itched behind her, as if she should turn and look at what caught Flora’s attention. Capone, perhaps?

But she didn’t trust the woman enough to take the chance of removing her eyes from her, even for a second. And as the back of her neck wasn’t any more chilled or prickly than it had been a moment ago, she had no reason to fear an approaching undead.

Unless, she supposed, Iscariot
was
here and he was wearing Rasputin’s amulet, safely cloaked from her notice by its power. Nausea pinched her belly. That sort of freedom made him all the more dangerous.