Stone Guardian (16 page)

Fallon swallowed, caught in that gaze. Inside her was a shifting, a growl, a warning to leave which she ignored. She inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Reign.”

Reign murmured, “It’s been a long time.”

Wulver stepped in front of her, protecting her and partially blocking her from Reign’s gaze. “Vampire Reign, thank you for seeing us.”

“Wulver.” Not bothering with any courtesy, Reign turned his attention toward the male of the group. Reign’s voice was deep, cultured, giving even ugly words an elegance they did not otherwise deserve. “Make no mistake, I granted this meeting as it was a personal request from Fallon.”

“We appreciate it no matter the circumstances. We can only hold the peace as long as all stay within the boundaries that were agreed on after the Great Collision. This protects both your interests and ours.”

“Not that you have any boundaries, huh?” Laire piped in, gesturing to the many scenes behind her.

Reign’s attention turned to Laire for the first time of the evening. “Everything done here is consensual, as was agreed upon in those long ago talks and sealed by each leader of the Seven Houses. Blood is life, and we agreed not to seek it out from unwilling sources as long as willing sources were not stopped from seeking us.”

Laire looked like she wanted to say something else, but Wulver raised his hand in signal to stop. Wulver’s voice rang out, no diplomacy left in his tone. “There was a zombie attack in the protected zone two nights ago. Do you know anything of that?”

“No.”

Wulver waited a beat, but when Reign said nothing else, Wulver continued. “This attack was done by a Master. The zombies were not created by someone new to the craft.”

Reign shrugged, the movement more eloquent then it deserved to be. “No Master under my control had anything to do with the attack. My people know the rules. I’m sure you have studied them for magical brands – use those.”

“The zombies disintegrated once they were no longer functional. As I said, they were not created by a novice.”

Reign made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “My magical kin are not exactly unionized. I control those under me. I do not ask what others do.”

Wulver’s back was a mass of knotted muscle, but his voice was even as he continued. “There was also an orc attack in the city. Would you know anything about that? Orcs would never be able to get in the city on their own, and they would have no reason to do this without someone bargaining with them.”

“I’m afraid I do not. Is there anything else before you go?”

Laire made a great display of looking over her nails, saying in an offhand manner, “No surprise you suckheads are so weak you can’t keep tabs on one another.”

“Would you like to see how weak I am, Battle Mage? Do you truly believe I fear your little fireballs?”

Reign began to rise and Wulver began to growl. This was going FUBAR fast.

Fallon sidestepped Wulver, only the inches of the table separating her from Reign. She kept her hands down, away from her sword. “The only one here you should fear is me. I told you long ago,
I’m
the one to separate your soul from your body.”

Reign’s full attention was on her, those blood eyes as light as she’d ever seen. He reached his hand toward her, the smooth skin of his fingertips grazing over her forehead while his thumb made sure, short strokes over her cheekbone, the strokes coming ever nearer her mouth.

She didn’t object. Her gaze stayed locked with his and her hands stayed at her side. With a slow, deliberate movement, he pushed his hand into the fall of her hair, wrapping a thick strand around his fingers and wrist. His voice dropped, deepening as he spoke words meant for her. “I love your hair. The color of blood at its most fragrant and powerful.”

The light tug on the strands didn’t hurt. Instead it sensitized her. The swirl of color in his eyes was myriad shades of red reflected and magnified. “You should let go now,” she said, low even tones that matched his own.

The corner of that edible mouth lifted, baring a fang. “Never.” He pulled her closer, keeping to that edge of discomfort that never crossed into pain. “Stay by my side.”

She ghosted her mouth across the air over his, one inch all the space that separated them, that he could feel the warm, moist puff of her breath a certainty. Her voice held a low, breathy undertone she had never heard come from her lips. “Never.”

He gazed down at her through heavy-lidded eyes, the pull on her hair now a welcome pain that did nothing to break her away from him.

Wulver’s voice came from behind her, tones that spoke of barely leashed violence. “Is there anything you wish to tell us about the zombie attack? If not, my people and I will take our leave.”

Reign’s lips thinned, the muscle in the corner of his jaw betraying itself with a small tic. His hand clenched in her hair, his greedy gaze roamed her face once more, lingering over each square inch of skin beneath him.

Then he pulled back into himself, cloaking himself with decorum. He unwound her hair from his hand, sitting down on the couch. In moments the two women were back at his side. “I know nothing about the zombies. Good luck in finding their maker.”

Fallon turned to step down from the platform, Reign’s voice following her. “You are welcome anytime Fallon, but please do not invite your friends again.” Without stopping she walked toward the exit, the shift in air currents preceding Wulver and Laire as they followed her.

Once they were in the car Laire spoke again. “That was productive.”

“To be expected,” Fallon said. “We knew talking with him was a longshot at best.”

Laire pursed her lips, studying Fallon with an intensity rare outside of a shoe sale. “Vampire boy is a little too touchy-feely with you, and you aren’t afraid of getting in his space. You sure you two never dated?”

Leave it to Laire to start awkward conversations at completely the wrong time. “Are you serious?”

Laire shrugged. “He may be the scourge of all the realms, but there is no denying undead boy is damn,
damn
fine.”

“So you think ultimate evil necromancer is my type?”

“I’d be really thrilled to find out you had a type. It’s not like I see you dating right now. Or ever.”

“Why is everyone suddenly worried about my dating habits?”

Thank the gods Wulver had the sense to interrupt this line of questioning. He directed a question to Fallon. “What information on the teacher?”

“Tec hasn’t found any info that would suggest why she’s targeted. The only interesting pieces of trivia we found are she was born the day of the Great Collision, and big brother isn’t as finished with the military as his family thinks he is.”

“What about fangwhipped?” Laire asked, bringing her hand in front of her mouth and using the first two fingers to mimic fangs.

“Who are you, vampire bunny? And no. There is no sign of it.”

“Laire,” interrupted Wulver, “What about her birth? If she was born around the collision, could that have affected her?”

“I would normally say yes. There were large amounts of wild magic and a new life would be very susceptible to any effects. But by twenty-six she would have manifested any magical abilities.”

“I want you to keep researching that angle. It’s a long shot, but that’s a hell of a coincidence.” Wulver turned back to Fallon. “And Terak? Why is he so interested in her, and are we any closer to discovering how he and all the other races have gotten into the city?”

“No and no. We have all of our own people going over each ward individually, so hopefully we’ll know about that soon. But as for Terak,” Fallon’s hand did a quick triple-beat against her leg, an outward sign of frustration. “I don’t know why he was there, and I don’t like it, especially since I don’t have much more faith in gargoyles than I do necromancers. Right now sucks, because all we’re doing is sitting on our hands waiting for something to break.”

Wulver smirked at her. As glad as Fallon was to see him relaxed again after getting out of the blood bank, it wasn’t pleasant to have all the relieved energy directed at her and peeving her off when she was already in a sour mood. “Then be glad you have Merc to take care of in the meantime until something pans out. Any word on the Dream Crafter?”

“None yet, but she can’t hide forever.”

“And Rhaum?”

“He’s being his usual inscrutable self and making a crazy request as payment. I agreed to it. We need her. Merc is too good and has too many defenses against any of our other means to get to him. I wouldn’t want to go against him unless I had no other choice.”

“But has he committed to guarding the spellbook? He’s never before done a job for anyone evil.”

“No, but he’s going to.” Fallon looked out the window, the occasional streetlight only deepening the gloom of the road in front of them. “And we both know why.”

Knocks on the door tended not to mean good news these days, but Larissa rose to answer anyway.

Olivia stood there, carrying take-out bags which had the name of a nearby Thai restaurant and emitted an amazing smell which started Larissa’s stomach growling. “I come bearing gifts to make up for not calling ahead.”

Larissa jerked her head. “You’re in. I’ll grab some plates.”

After food had been dished out and wine had been poured, the women retired to the couch to start their feast. “So,” Olivia began, “your car will be ready in two days. My friend was impressed by the damage you did.”

Larissa swallowed a spring roll. “Thanks. I was rather impressed to have caused it.”

“You know there was never any mention of an orc attack in the news, right?” Olivia waited until Larissa nodded to continue. “What is going on?”

Taking a swig of wine – fake courage at its finest – Larissa said, “Does this mean you are going to tell me how you know someone who’ll fix a car full of orc parts?”

Without answering, Olivia stood up and walked toward the kitchen. “Olivia?”

Opening the refrigerator door, Olivia held up a couple more bottles of wine. “With all the stories we are going to be telling tonight, I think we’re going to need these.”

Larissa lifted her glass. “Top me up.”

After wine was poured and they were once again settled, Larissa started. “I have no idea what’s going on. None. Zilch. I’m as in the dark as I was after I was attacked by zombies. The only difference is I know now that it wasn’t an accident. I am the target of all this.”

Olivia tilted her head, polite disbelief written all over her face. “How can you not have a clue? These people… this isn’t tiny, this isn’t a scrap of information you might have stumbled across in a book or the wrong person crossing your path.”

Only the same question that had been on endless loop since she accepted the attacks were meant for her. Frustration beat a strong rhythm through her head and had her digging her toes into the carpet. “Believe me, if I had ever done anything that might be causing this, I’d be confessing it the town square, in front of dad and whoever else might be watching. I don’t want any of this.”

“Speaking of dad,” Olivia ran her hand through her brunette curls, the aftereffect a tousled look most women paid salons big bucks for. “Could this have something to do with your dad or one of your brothers? Have you talked to them at all about this?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Larissa ran her hand through her own hair, and with long experience knew the look was nowhere near as flattering as Olivia achieved. “Because dad can’t help me, and if I bring him into this, I’m going to get him killed. You know how dad is, how my brothers are.”

Narrowed-eyed disbelief met that statement. “Maybe –
maybe
– you can justify not telling the family when you thought it was a mistake or a one-off. But now, it’s wrong to keep them out of this.”

Larissa quelled the urge to squirm like a seven-year old under the Olivia’s look. “If I go to dad, he’s going to lock me down. I won’t be allowed out of the house.”

“Yeah, that’s horrible, having a family love you that much. What was I thinking?”

The urge to squirm morphed into an urge to hang her head in shame under the harsh tone. It wasn’t something they talked about, but Olivia had been abandoned when she was little and on her own most of her life. Though she never voiced the thought aloud, Larissa was sure one of the reasons Olivia hung out with her was to be able to experience a tight-knit family.

“You’re right. I am a lucky woman to have these people back me up like I know they would. They would put their own lives on the line to protect me.” Larissa kneaded the back of her neck, her fingernails scraping the sensitive skin there. How to make Olivia understand? “Would you give up your freedom for prison? A wonderful prison, one with amazing people and great food and lots of love within its walls, but still a prison.”

Olivia wasn’t about to be placated. “You have no clue what a prison is like, or being on your own.”

“No, but I do know what it’s like to suffocate because no one around will let you breathe. No matter how loud you yell, or what you say, it’s always a pat on the head and they send you down the path they want you to take, no matter what your wishes are.” Larissa placed her hand on Olivia’s forearm, forcing the brunette to look at her. “I was a good daughter, and I did what was expected of me, and you know what? I’m happy I did. I don’t have any regrets, because I love my family and I love my life. But if I go to dad now, I will never have another moment in my life where I am not under his thumb, and he’ll justify every second by saying he’s protecting me. And I love him enough that I’ll let him do it, because the only other option is to lose him, and I can’t abide that thought.”

Olivia covered Larissa’s hand with her own. “So you’re saying family is a little overrated sometimes?”

Larissa smiled, though she couldn’t quite manage the laugh Olivia was angling for. “I’m saying my family has to stay in the dark, at least for a short while. I’m not yet at the point where I have no other choice except to inform them and take the consequences.”

Olivia squeezed Larissa’s hand before letting go, and Larissa removed her hand from Olivia’s forearm. “How are you going to protect yourself then? You are the only one of the Miller clan who doesn’t know at least three martial arts and can shoot a gnat from a mile away.”