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Authors: Suzanne McLeod

Tags: #Mystery, #Horror

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BOOK: Sweet Scent of Blood
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I frowned at him. Something was different - he seemed tougher, less sophisticated - then I realised he’d swapped the fancy suit for more of a street-goth look. In the Armani, he’d looked slim, almost slender, but now his black jeans with studded belt and black short-sleeved T-shirt moulded over a body that was hard with muscle. Whatever he’d been when he’d accepted the Gift, he hadn’t been a couch potato. A platinum ring set with a black gem similar to the one in his ear banded his thumb. I
looked
, but he had no spells about him. An errant part of my mind wondered what he would look like without the clothes and mentally I rolled my eyes. My mind could imagine all it wanted, but that so wasn’t going to happen. Vampires, even hot-fanged eye-candy like Malik, were too dangerous to even think about flirting with, never mind anything else.

So instead I tried to sort through all the nuggets of information I’d unearthed at the Blue Heart, work out which were golden and which were just dross. But in the quiet and dark of the cab, all I could think of was the tear running down Darius’s cheek, I crossed my arms and hugged myself and gazed blindly out of the window as we inched slowly through the traffic-clogged streets of London.

As if he knew what I was thinking, Malik said softly, ‘If you are concerned about the human, he had already witnessed Rio’s particular style of feeding before he chose to become part of her household.’

I sighed. Did that mean Darius had enjoyed being abused like that? It hadn’t looked like it - but who was I to know?

‘He can always petition for another Master, should he wish,’ Malik continued in the same soft tone.

I scowled out at the cars passing in the other direction. ‘Like Rio’s ever going to let that happen.’

‘It would not be up to her. The decision rests with the High Table.’ His voice hardened. ‘We are a tiny minority compared to humans. It is our capacity to uphold our own customs and traditions that allows us to continue to govern ourselves in these matters.’

‘Save the propaganda for someone who cares.’ I turned to face him. ‘Rio wasn’t the only one getting off in there.’

He stared at me, black eyes cool. ‘I am vampire. There was blood. What did you expect?’

I gave him a level look back. ‘Nothing, absolutely nothing.’

He reached out, traced a finger under my left eye. ‘You are no stranger to violence.’ He pressed his thumb into the tender spot on my cheekbone.

I tensed at the small hurt, trying not to flinch.

‘Or pain,’ he murmured.

Something twisted inside me. I knocked his hand away.

‘But you would condemn me for that which you yourself desire.’

‘This,’ I pointed at the bruise, ‘was caused by a client, not from some sort of sadistic game-playing.’

‘Blood, sex, violence.’ His elegant fingers pushed back a fall of black hair. ‘You view these with a somewhat human perspective, which is odd in one of your race. You are much like a newly gifted vampire having a crisis of conscience. They feel horror and disgust at their need to feed off their erstwhile companions, but then they discover their almost absolute command over humans, a god-like power of life and death.’ He looked at me. ‘The knowledge that they can do whatever they desire, and their victim will not stop them. That they can even decide on their victims’ emotions: fear, pain, hopeless-ness, comfort, delight, lust.’ He gave no inflection to the words as he spoke. ‘These are realisations that most new vampires travel through. It is interesting, do you not agree?’

I narrowed my eyes. ‘You’re being very chatty all of a sudden.’

‘This is true.’ He turned the ring on his thumb. ‘It has been a long time since I have been able to speak as I wish, to use words without having to weigh and judge each for its impact, if it might give those around me some advantage. It is’ - he shot me a glance from beneath his lashes - ‘pleasant.’

‘Lonely, more like,’ I said, my voice flat.

He looked down, considered his feet in silence.

I shifted in my seat, looked out of the window. No way was I going to feel sorry for him. In front of us, I could see the huge Catherine wheel of the London Eye towering above the Thames, lights bright against the night sky. We were nearly at our destination. Going by the amount of Saturday night traffic, walking the rest of the way would be quicker, but I didn’t have that choice.

‘You are correct, Genevieve.’ His voice slid over my skin like the cool touch of silk. ‘I am lonely.’ Elegant fingers circled my wrist. ‘I have been for longer than I care to contemplate, but it is not an emotion that I would deny, despite it displeasing me.’

The street lights washed his face from shadow to light and back to shadow. Something the cocktail girl had told me about Melissa wormed its way into my head. I narrowed my eyes. ‘Is that why you were having a fling with Melissa? Because you were lonely?’

He ignored my question. ‘Unlike you,’ he said, pulling me round to face him and catching hold of my other wrist, ‘I do not choose to lie, even to myself.’

Fear slicked up my spine. With all the chat, I
had
felt sorry for him. I’d half-forgotten what he was, what he might want.

I tried to jerk away and his grip tightened. ‘Or was it because Melissa was a faeling?’ I spat out. ‘Did that make her more of a challenge, more exciting, that you hurt her and didn’t have to hold back? Did it make the pain more real for you?’

Bright pinpricks of anger glimmered deep in his pupils.

My pulse pounded under his fingers. ‘She saw something, didn’t she?’ I yelled over the blood racing through my veins. ‘When she was with you.’ My skin flushed with heat, with need. I gasped, clenching my fists trying to ignore the feelings.

Damn vampire tricks.

‘Even now, you lie to yourself.’ He turned my wrists, holding my palms upwards. ‘You tell yourself that you do not want what I can give, but your body betrays you.’

My fingers relaxed and opened with no conscious thought from me.

‘See, Genevieve, this is what happens when you deny the truth. You make yourself weak. How else would I find it so easy to bypass your defences, to bend your body to my wishes, if not by using your own desires against you?’ He pulled me towards him, eyes flaring with rage. ‘Much as you did with Rio.’

I blinked. Why was he angry? Then I realised what his words meant and my own anger made me lean into him. ‘You were watching, weren’t you,’ I made it a statement, ‘in the Théâtre - but that’s what you do, isn’t it?’ I curled my lip. ‘You spy on others.’

‘It was not wise to tease Rio like that.’

‘What, you think yanking her chain was wrong? You heard her, she’s ambitious, she already had plans for me, and I’m betting they had nothing to do with my wellbeing. The fact that she’s changed them isn’t going to make any difference in that respect.’

His hands squeezed my wrists until I thought he would snap the bones. I pressed my lips together to stop myself whimpering. Then the glow in his eyes flickered and snuffed out.

‘No, it will not make a difference.’ Slowly he loosened his fingers and placed his lips to the throbbing pulse in my left wrist and my stomach plunged into free-fall.

He released me and I scooted back to my side of the cab, trying to ignore the feelings inside me ... and the pieces fell together in my mind.

I laughed, short and derisive. ‘You knew, didn’t you? All that sneaking around, that hiding-in-the-shadows trick you do: you already knew what Rio was planning - only now I’ve gone and kicked you out of the loop. That’s why you’re so angry.’

He smiled and my stomach fluttered, not with fear but with warmth. ‘The way your mind works is almost as interesting to me as your body, Genevieve.’

Yeah, right, like distracting me is ever going to work. I smirked at him. ‘Oh, and thanks for the compliment.’

He arched a brow. ‘I didn’t know I had given you one.’

Yeah, yeah.
‘I bet you know what they’re all up to; you probably even know who killed Melissa - and why.’

‘If I know so much, then why would I invite you along to help me?’

Ha! That one was easy. ‘There’s some sort of spell,’ I said, ‘you all want it, and you all think I can find it.’

He laughed, a deep rich laugh that sent lust fizzing in my veins and heated my blood right down to my toes.

I clutched at the door handle, glaring at him. ‘It’s not going to work, you know: getting me all hot and bothered isn’t going to make me forget.’

Almost in slow motion he reached for my hand, lifted it to his mouth and blew heat on my fingertips, his dark eyes never leaving mine. ‘Why would I need you to forget anything, Genevieve? What I want is for you to remember.’

As his words sank in, I frowned. ‘Remember what?’

‘Why, what I told you before.’ He placed a kiss against my fingers, but I felt the touch on my lips. ‘I wish to conclude this little episode to my own satisfaction. I do not require knowledge of
any
spell to succeed at my task, so I have no need for you to find it.’

I wet my lips and the taste of Turkish delight sweetened my tongue. Damn
mesma
. Why didn’t he want the spell when the rest of them did? And why had he sent me the invitation if he didn’t want the spell?

The taxi slowed to a stop. ‘That’ll be nineteen pounds twenty, please, mate.’

Malik produced a fifty, handed it to the driver. ‘Please. Wait here for us.’

The locks clicked open. ‘Cheers, mate. No worries.’

‘No way,’ I said, ‘you’re not coming with me.’

‘Genevieve, we agreed—’

‘Go home, Malik.’ I repeated his own words to me, and jumped out of the cab.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

 

 

I
stormed off along the pavement and tried to roll the tension from my shoulders. Damn. Now what? A hot breeze rushed over the River Thames and threw my hair in my face and I shoved it back. I took a deep breath, then wished I hadn’t as all I got was a lungful of the ever-present traffic fumes mixed with the fainter scent of water.

Sighing, I rotated one ankle then the next. My feet weren’t impressed at having to walk in my high-heels again. I looked around, hoping for some inspiration to help me get rid of the pretty vampire. Along the well-lit Victoria Embankment I could see the RAF monument, its golden eagle perched on top. On the other side of the river the bright pods of the London Eye hung suspended. It might be midnight, but this was London and there were still plenty of people around: walking across the Hungerford Bridge, partygoers out for a smoke on the deck of the Hispaniola boat, a couple smooching under the railway bridge, a man in shorts walking a yappy Pekinese.

Only inspiration and ideas seemed to be in short supply. I sighed and turned around. Malik was standing, feet apart, thumbs hooked into his belt, arrogance surrounding him like a shadowed aura. Even if he wasn’t recognised for what he was, he looked dangerous enough that most people would give him a wide berth - like the dog walker who’d obviously turned back to avoid him.

Malik wasn’t going to go away as easily as that - but what if I tried the direct approach?

‘Look,’ I said, walking over to him, ‘I don’t want you to tag along, okay? Alan Hinkley is my client and it doesn’t look very professional if I bring you with me.’

He lifted his chin and scented the air. ‘Why are we not at the police station?’

‘Old Scotland Yard is just round the corner. Alan Hinkley wanted to meet here first, in private.’ I checked my watch. ‘If he’s not already waiting he’ll be here any moment.’

‘A street corner is not a suitable place for a private talk.’

‘We’re meeting in the garden.’ I indicated the gate. Through it I could see the gravel path stretching maybe eighty feet to the exit at the other end. Ringed by black iron railings, the garden was mostly grass, with a few large trees, and three statues that faced out towards the river. The buildings behind overlooked it and only a few of the windows were dark, with just the bushes near the railings giving the semblance of privacy. The place was well lit and it was easy to see it was empty.

A line creased between Malik’s eyes. ‘Why would he choose to meet you here?’ he asked, then looked over towards the underground. ‘Why not at the station or the café?’

‘Okay, enough with the twenty questions.’ I let out a frustrated sigh. ‘I don’t think that Alan Hinkley’s too taken with vamps just now, and neither am I. And I don’t want you frightening him - so what’s it going to take to get you to leave?’

He stood looking at me, expression enigmatic. ‘It is not the best place for an ambush, but it could still work. This time of night, not many humans enter the park, and should anyone see or hear something untoward from a window above, they might conclude it to be a lover’s assignation and not interfere.’

Apprehension tensed my shoulders. ‘You’re a scary bastard, aren’t you?’

‘You should learn to think like your enemy, Genevieve.’

‘But to think like my enemy, I’d have to know who he is, wouldn’t I?’ I jumped, startled, as a jogger ran past, feet slapping hard against the pavement. He veered away from the entrance to the gardens and pounded across the road to sprint along next to the river.

‘Why are you nervous?’ Malik asked.

‘Why the hell do you think?’ I snapped. ‘Too many vampires taking an interest in me makes me feel like a mouse surround by hungry cats.’

‘I shall wait here with the taxi while you have your assignation. ’ He bowed. ‘Rest assured I will not be seen, and therefore I will not “scare off” your client, or anyone else he brings with him.’ He smiled, and my stomach flip-flopped again.
Damn.
I was going to have to stop it doing that. And he disappeared.

Mice taste sweet to cats.

I snorted and strode through the gate into the gardens. A cobweb drifted across my face and I swiped it away. ‘I hate vampires,’ I muttered. The gravel path crunched under my shoes, but otherwise the place was quiet. Not even a leaf rustled. I checked my watch again and gave an irritated thought for my lost phone. Alan should’ve been here by now. Maybe he’d called it off?

Malik’s words sat uneasily in my gut, and I was almost glad he was watching. Slowly I headed for the tree in the centre, the one with its limbs propped up on tall wooden crutches, where I was supposed to meet Alan. Why couldn’t I hear the music from the party boats any more? Or the traffic? I shivered. Maybe the sensible thing would be to go back outside. Wait until Alan did finally arrive. I turned—

BOOK: Sweet Scent of Blood
12.57Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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