Taken by the Others (18 page)

Chapter 19

I felt stupid calling Royce back so soon, but didn’t have much choice. I used his cell this time so I wouldn’t have to listen to that gratingly cheerful receptionist or sit on hold for another half hour.

“We’ll meet you at The Underground. I’ve got Chaz with me.”

“Chaz?”

“Yeah, my boyfriend. Turns furry at the full moon? The guy you warned the cops about so they’d keep silver bullets on hand when he showed up to look for me?”

“I had nothing to do with whatever happened to him.” I flinched at the harsh, calculated antagonism in his voice, knowing it was directed at me. Even over the phone, his anger was terrifying. “I would not abuse my ties to the police on something so trivial as to remove such a minor rival. I’d appreciate it if you’d at least make an attempt at being grateful for the help I am extending you rather than constantly treating me as an enemy or some terrible thing simply to be endured.”

For a long time, I couldn’t find my voice. He was completely right. I’d taken every offer he’d ever given me and thrown them back in his face, then grudgingly come back to him for help when I saw no other alternatives. He was nothing but a last resort to me. As much as I hated it and as little as I wanted to admit to it, I treated him like shit and felt guilty about it now that he’d pointed it out. Scary though he was, if it was true that he hadn’t had anything to do with the police being involved in Chaz’s injuries, he definitely didn’t deserve to be treated that way.

Devon’s sneaking glances and Chaz’s gaze locked on me just made me feel worse. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend they weren’t there so I could think of something to say that would salvage the situation.

“You’re right,” I said. “I’ve been callous and unthinking.”

He didn’t reply. I wondered what he thought about my confession. Hard to know or guess without the normal sounds of breathing to gauge, no expression to see, no words or tone of voice to go by. I plunged ahead.

“You have been trying to help me, and I brushed you off. I am sorry for that. However, try to see things from my perspective. I didn’t ask to be hunted down by Max or to be bonded or turned by you. I’ve had more people trying to hurt, bind, or turn me the last couple days than I’ve had in my entire life. Your offer the other night didn’t help my peace of mind any, it just made it worse. Someone’s dragging my friends into this because Chaz is badly hurt, and it’s somehow connected to whatever it is we have going on with Max. If I’m acting a little bitchy, it’s mostly because I’ve been scared out of my mind and didn’t know what else to do.”

When he spoke up this time, it was more weary than angry. Thank God for that. “I suppose I should apologize as well. My actions were uncalled for. It’s been a long time since I let my hungers cloud my judgment so badly. I won’t let it happen again.”

Well, maybe he could be civil after all.

“Does that mean you’ll keep your fangs to yourself now?”

“Yes,” he said, followed by a brief fit of laughter. Real laughter, not the polite sounds you hide other, more human emotions behind. “Really, you don’t have to worry about that. I won’t touch you unless you want me to.”

There was a world of heat and unspoken promise behind those words. I very carefully ignored them, and the implications behind them. “Good. Thank you.”

“What time can I expect you at the club? You should come through the employees’ entrance in the back. I’ll inform security to escort you inside.”

“Maybe around eight o’clock? Warn them ahead of time that we’ve got a shifted Were with us so they don’t freak out.”

“My. His injuries are that severe?”

“Yes, they are. I told you, someone from your office informed the cops to watch for Were when they came to scope my apartment. They came with silver shot preloaded in their guns. They were expecting him.”

He made a thoughtful sound, barely heard over the sounds of traffic and background noise. “Did they say who from my office?”

“No, I don’t think the officers knew. If you didn’t tell them to do it, why would one of your people make that call?”

“As I said earlier, I do believe that someone is following you. The loyalties of some of my coterie are in question.”

I opened my eyes and stared out the car window, rubbing at the deepening furrows between my brows as my frustration and puzzlement grew. “What does that mean exactly?”

“It means,” he stated flatly, in far too neutral a tone for such a statement, “there is a good possibility that some of the vampires and possibly even humans who work for me are also working for Max Carlyle. It means you should be very, very careful where you go and what you do, because one or more of my own are using my resources to keep track of you. Not that it is particularly difficult with that trail of media you are leaving in your wake, but more than that, I fear they may be using my own resources against the two of us. Perhaps against others as well. That Chaz was attacked, but not your other friends or family, lends more weight to my suspicions that Max is using someone inside my own organization to find ways to hurt the people present the night Anastasia died.”

I had to swallow back the bit of my heart that lodged in my throat at this news. How in the world could Max be using some of Royce’s people like that? If he had access to Royce’s resources, he might use the connection to find Sara, Arnold, and possibly my family. There were also dozens of werewolves involved in Anastasia and David’s deaths. Did this mean they were in trouble, too?

Maybe I needed to get in touch with Rohrik Donovan and call in that favor the Moonwalker tribe owed me. At the very least I should warn them a vampire might be out to get them. I sure knew I’d appreciate a heads-up if some psycho vampire was coming after me.

“That’s just peachy keen. Are you sure it’s such a good idea for us to come to one of your clubs?”

“Yes. I can’t give you the details about it just now, but I believe there is a way for me to get you and your friends out of the public eye and somewhere safe. I didn’t survive this long by being easy to find.”

My turn to laugh. “Could’ve fooled me. Why do you advertise your whereabouts on your Web site then?”

“Publicity has its benefits, as well as its drawbacks. These days, any move made against me publicly is more likely to raise an outcry and bad press against the ones who attack than against me. It doesn’t seem to matter if it’s the police, your White Hat friends, or some other equally brazen group of hunters. It also makes me a much harder target to approach due to the number of witnesses and potential casualties.”

“Yeesh, I never thought of it that way.” I’d never taken much interest in the politics or intrigue behind how the Others came to be accepted in society. Before I’d been involved in any of this supernatural hooplah, they were just… there. Not worth my time and attention, surely, other than to know that they were something to avoid at all costs. Not until my continued existence depended on thinking about it. “Do all vampires have the same world-view as you?”

“Few do,” he said. “Most of my brethren don’t view being in the public eye as beneficial. They see our new status in society as more of a nuisance than anything. Some of them find it dangerous. I’ve had to work almost as hard to convince them of the benefits as I have in speaking with government officials and committees to view us as something other than a menace.”

By “us” I knew he meant vampires, not all Others. Elves, fairies, Weres, magi, and all the other many varieties of supernatural beings were more readily accepted in society than the vamps. Oh, don’t get me wrong. There were still occasions where that wasn’t the case, where hatred or fear or some other uglier emotions led up to dead bodies on the ground, not all of them human. Regardless, few Others were hated quite so much as vampires, who were seen as the unholiest and most dangerous of all supernaturals. Even I was guilty of looking at them that way–but that was probably because it was true.

Come to think of it, there weren’t many vampires with celebrity status other than Royce. Aside from the ones involved in sensational headline-making crimes, there were only one or two who were so brazen as to publicly announce their scheduled appearances at charity functions or parties ahead of time. The one in Los Angeles, Clyde Seabreeze, was the only vampire other than Royce who made himself available for interviews or photo sessions by the general public.

“Okay, I would love to pick your brain about this sometime later, after all this is over. For now, I’m using up Chaz’s minutes, and I need to give directions. I’ll see you at the club.”

“Until then.”

Chaz and Devon were staring at me, giving me weird looks. Well, Chaz’s look was weirder than normal for a shifted Were. “What?”

“Nothing,” Devon answered, turning his attention back to the road.

Chaz made a huffing noise and looked away. He started twisting around onto his back, rubbing his shoulders on the rough carpeting in the back of the jeep. The car swerved as Devon cringed to avoid the clawed paw peeking out between the seats as Chaz stretched.

“Jesus!”

“Watch the road!” I screeched, clinging to the oh-shit handle.

I slapped at Chaz’s big, hairy arm as Devon got us back on a straight line to the accompaniment of honks and shouted curses. He’d gone rigid in his seat, carefully not looking at the thick black talons curled limply in the air a few meager inches away.

“Chaz! Stop scaring him.”

He made a grumbly sound and withdrew that hairy, clawed arm. I twisted in the seat again so I could get a look at his shoulder.

The skin around the bullet wound had closed into a pinkish, puckered blemish. Since the wound was made with silver, it would remain a scar for the rest of his life. If he’d been hit with a lead slug, it would have healed hours ago, the flesh reformed as though he’d never been injured. The only reason he’d healed at all was because I’d pulled out the bullet. Even so, it was incredibly fast. It never ceased to amaze me how quickly a lycanthrope recovered. They couldn’t heal back a severed limb, and damage caused by a silver weapon didn’t heal quite as quickly, but damn, it would be nice if everybody’s bodies fixed up so quickly and neatly.

If the bullet had stayed in much longer, he would’ve healed human-slow. Luckily no fragments must have lodged in the muscle since the wound was fully closed. Anyone who didn’t know any better would have said the scar was from weeks, not hours, ago.

I leaned over the seat to run my fingers along his shoulder and was rewarded with a pained whine. It must have still been tender, the muscle not yet whole.

“I can’t see out the rearview.”

Whoops. “Sorry, Dev.” Settling back, I gestured at the road before us. “You know how to get to The Underground from here?”

“Yeah,” he said, hunching lower in his seat. “Are you sure about this?”

“Sure about what? Meeting with Royce?”

“Yeah.”

There was a great deal of unhappiness lacing his voice, piquing my curiosity. “Why don’t you want to go?”

“What makes you think I don’t want to go?” he said, glancing askance at me.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you this jumpy and nervous.”

“Am I that easy to read?”

“Yup. Spill it.”

Devon looked up into the rearview at Chaz before focusing very hard on driving. A sheen of nervous sweat had broken out on his brow. “I’m afraid Royce will recognize me. The last time I saw him, not counting that night we came to save you, we didn’t part friends.”

“Shit, you tried to hunt him before, didn’t you?”

He nodded, not looking at me, the muscle in his jaw twitching. I turned to watch the road, too, unsure what to think about that. How would Royce react to me bringing a hunter who’d previously attempted to kill him into his den?

After a minute of tense silence, I couldn’t help it anymore. I started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Devon demanded, a mixture of worry and irritation on his features.

“It’s just"–I had to gasp for air between words, rubbing away the tears forming in my eyes–"Oh, God, it just can’t get any more complicated than this. My life. I’m dating a Were, I’ve got a crazy vampire trying to kill me, another one who wants to jump my bones, and I’m about to bring him a visitor who’s tried to kill him before. How can it get any worse than this?”

Devon’s lips cracked into a reluctant smile. “You’re the only person I know who’s got a crazier, more messed up life than I do. You make me seem positively normal in comparison.”

This from a White Hat. It only made me laugh harder.

Chapter 20

My laughter was under control by the time we reached The Underground. It was far too early in the evening for anyone but the staff to be around. They hadn’t yet opened the adjoining parking lot or set out the velvet ropes to control the inevitable crowd of revelers.

Devon pulled into an alley behind the building. Several news vans followed us, not helping my peace of mind. There was a loading dock and a handful of parking spaces for employees, every spot taken but one–soon occupied by Devon’s jeep. The press would have a bitch of a time getting out of here or following us once they realized there were NO PARKING signs plastered all over the alley.