Taken by the Others (19 page)

A heavily muscled guy jogged over when we pulled up into the last of the reserved spots for employees. His black T-shirt had SECURITY written in huge white letters; he was some new guy I hadn’t seen before. He called out as I opened the door, his voice faltering when he spotted the Were in the back.

“You’re Shiarra, right?”

“The one and only.” I yanked the duffel out of the front seat and grinned at him before hurrying to the back of the jeep. Some of the news vans were parking despite the signs. Great.

The security guy nodded, reaching out to help me with my bag while Devon and I waited for Chaz to slink out of the back. Once he got out of the way, Devon growled a curse as he spotted the claw marks left on the upholstery. I sympathized, I really did, but we didn’t have time for it and I slammed the door shut, urging everyone to hurry up and get inside. I was willing to bet we were being photographed as we stood there. Was Jim Pradiz, that lying sack of crap who wrote the article I spotted in the supermarket, somewhere in the mix?

The bouncer gaped at the wolf-man following in our wake. He wasn’t struck dumb with terror, which was a plus. Up on his hind legs, Chaz’s long, slow strides were smooth and predatory, fluid instead of a pained limp. It was good to see him back to himself. Aside from meaning the pain had lessened, it indicated he’d be able to shift back soon.

He still favored his injured shoulder, occasionally rubbing it with the pads on his hands–paws–whatever you want to call them. He was forced to crouch low to walk through the door. We all rushed inside as the first reporter came sprinting our way, having ignored the parking signs to get in a last couple questions before we were behind the safety of a locked door. I liked the security guard better for slamming the door in the reporter’s face. Pushy bastards.

“Well, something finally went smoothly,” I said, hefting the bag higher on my shoulder. Devon nodded, too nervous to smile or speak.

The security guard stared curiously at Chaz, who was returning the look in kind. “Mr. Royce said you could wait in his office upstairs. He’s on his way and should be here in the next fifteen minutes or so. If you’ll leave me your keys, I can move your car to the other lot so he has a place to park.”

Devon reluctantly handed them over. Considering giving away his keys meant our means of escape from this vamp-infested club was gone, I couldn’t totally blame the hunter for his hesitation.

After taking the keys, the security guard brought us deeper into the echoingly quiet club. It was stark with all the lights on, eerily empty without bodies packing the dance floor or music pounding so loud my bones vibrated with it. The only people aside from us were a janitor pushing around a mop and a handful of employees stocking the bars as we came through. Most of them stared open-mouthed. A couple shrank back when Chaz passed them. Funny that they had no problem working for a vamp but were scared of a shifted Were.

At the elevator, it became obvious that Chaz wasn’t going to fit in the confined space. The guard scratched his head, then shrugged and moved down the hall. He unlocked a door that blended so well into the black walls, I’d never noticed it before.

We took the secret stairwell up, and by the second floor, I was panting. Just a bit, but it was a painful reminder of how weak I felt after being bitten by Peter and Max. By the time we reached the top floor, Chaz was holding one of those gigantic hands out as if he needed to be ready to catch me. It wasn’t like I was about to pass out. Maybe I should’ve been worried, but there were too many other pressing matters on my mind to think about it for long.

The place was just like I remembered it. We came out closer to the fountain bubbling on the end table than we would have if we’d taken the elevator. It was quiet, peaceful, and looked nothing like you would expect to see on the inside of a Goth club. The guard showed us into Royce’s office, then hurried off to move Devon’s car.

The office had changed since the last time I was here. The dйcor was the same. English hunting scenes done in vivid oil hanging on stark white walls, framed by enough ivies and ferns to make the room smell fresh and earthy. There was a computer on the slick black desk now, and several posters of varying sizes and pictures advertising the club laid out on the end table, some marked up with notes. Similar posters and a number of invoices were on the desk, a few papers scattered on the floor. He must have left here in a hurry; Royce was usually more fastidious than this.

Despite this being a vampire’s territory, I felt safe. Max Carlyle was unlikely to look for me here. I took a seat on one of the black leather couches, tilting my head back and closing my eyes. I pulled the duffel into my lap, resting my hands on it. I felt rather than saw Devon taking a seat next to me, and Chaz lying down by my feet. Quite the cozy little scene.

Devon broke the comfortable silence. “Jack is going to be so pissed off.”

I cracked open one eye and arched a brow. “So?”

“You don’t care what he thinks, do you?”

That earned a deep, rumbling sound that could’ve passed for a laugh out of Chaz. I nudged him with my foot. “Hush, you. No, I don’t.”

He must have been more nervous than he let on that Royce was coming. His hand kept creeping down to touch his gun, then jerking away like he’d been caught doing something bad. Rinse, repeat. When he figured out I wasn’t about to say more, he kept talking.

“I still don’t understand how you got on the good side of the monsters. Why you keep working with them. Doesn’t it bother you? I mean, yesterday I would’ve shot him"–he gestured to Chaz absently–"on sight. Now we’re working together. I feel like my whole world just turned upside down.”

“Join the club,” I said, sounding more wry than sympathetic. “It does bother me, but I am not about to let a little squeamishness get in the way of my survival. That comes first.”

He leaned forward, his gaze narrowed to focus with intense scrutiny on Chaz. I wasn’t sure he heard me. “Look at this. He’s perfectly content to lie there like some gigantic puppy. I’ve never seen a shifted Were who wasn’t in the middle of trying to kill me or someone else. I didn’t know it was possible for them to be this still, this calm.”

I shrugged, pushing the duffel to the side and riffling through the clothes I’d packed. “Then you haven’t given them a chance to be themselves. They’re not unthinking beasts unless they’re really afraid or pissed off. Then, instinct kicks in and they can’t help themselves until the threat is gone.”

“That doesn’t make any sense to me. Knowing they can be rational goes against everything I’ve ever seen or been told.”

“Then, like I said, you haven’t given the ones you’ve met a real chance. Come on, you’ve just driven for an hour with him in your back seat. He didn’t do anything but tear up the carpet.”

Devon scowled, and Chaz lowered his ears, hiding his head under his paws.

“What about vampires, then?” he asked, reluctantly turning his gaze off the embarrassed Were. “Are you saying they’re like this, too?”

I glanced up from the bag, meeting his gaze. “No. Weres are a lot more easygoing about turning prospective pack members. Also, when a Were is going to hurt somebody, most of the time it’s because they’ve been badly provoked. Not to justify it, but vampires go about things a lot differently. They prey on people, so they do what they can to appear harmless and friendly, then use that to get close enough to get what they want out of the people they hunt.”

His look was very pointed. “Isn’t that what Royce is doing with you?”

I smiled. His frown deepened. “I’m sure it is.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Probably not as much as it should. He is what he is. I won’t hold his nature against him.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Royce said, amused with my admittedly condescending statement. He had been leaning against the door frame, hands pocketed in his slacks while he listened to us. When he moved into the room, the fine hairs on the back of my neck and arms rose as if the air was crackling with static electricity. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, noting that Devon was doing the same. Chaz didn’t move but his hackles were raised, fur standing on end. He’d never liked Royce much. Not that I could blame him.

Royce moved with more outright menace than I’d ever seen. Hunger glinted in his eyes and every step was placed with slow and deliberate care. He wasn’t even trying to play up a false front of humanity. He settled with an odd, liquid grace in an empty seat next to me. The creepy-crawly sensation grew with his proximity–some strange vampire power, then. What was he trying to accomplish?

Those midnight black eyes focused intently on the hunter, and I figured out fast enough that he was doing it to spook Devon. He was shaking, eyes wide, and sweat beading on his upper lip. His hand was plastered to his gun; still holstered, for now.

“Could you tone it down?” I asked Royce, annoyed. “We’re all on the same side here.”

I jerked back when the vampire shifted his gaze to mine. A sudden, unexplainable, gut-wrenching sense of terror swept through me when I met his eyes. Part of me needed to scream, to flee, to cower away. Another part knew if I moved, if I did any of those things, he’d pounce on me in the space of a breath and everything would be over. His hunger was waiting for me to slip, to twitch, to give it a reason–any reason–to swoop down and steal away every last drop of life my body contained. This was primal knowingness, not some vague conjecture or bad feeling. In that moment, I knew I was staring death right in the eye, and even the smallest movement would bring it right to my side to say hello.

I could literally feel myself vibrating with unspoken terror.

Royce blinked slowly, the hardened cast of his features fading and that screaming feeling of danger receding. It was like an invisible hand released its grip on my insides, leaving me gasping, coming close to folding double as I sucked in air around the steel bands of dread that closed my throat. Chaz was on his feet, growling low, deep in his throat. It wasn’t helping my frame of mind. He took a stiff step closer to Royce, who ignored him.

His voice, when it came, was soft, warm, and pleasant, giving absolutely no hint to the beast that had been peeking out of the depths of those black eyes. “My apologies.”

I took several deep breaths, closing my eyes and wrapping my arms around myself to get my shaking under control. For the umpteenth time, I had to remind myself what I was dealing with; this was a monster, an Other, inhuman. No person should be able to do that to another person. I bit back a shriek when he lightly touched my arm, jerking away from him. Chaz snapped at him and Devon shrank farther back into the couch cushions.

Royce looked utterly crestfallen at my reaction, and wasn’t in the least intimidated by Chaz’s display. “I am sorry, it wasn’t my intention to frighten you both. When I saw the hunter, I thought that … well. I doubted your loyalties for a moment.” With a faint sigh, he raised up a hand to hide his eyes, shaking his head. “Forgive me, I have tamped down on my abilities for so long, sometimes I forget how powerful the effects can be.”

I wondered why the hell the charm around my neck hadn’t protected me from that. He was using mind-mojo, so shouldn’t it have kept me safe? Devon was watching him like one might regard a poisonous snake. I had the feeling my expression matched his.

It took a couple of silently repeated reminders to myself that, despite this little temper tantrum, the vampire was on our side. Some more primitive part of me was still having the screaming meemies that I’d brushed with death and wasn’t running the fuck away from it as far and as fast as I could. When I finally found my voice, it was shaking.

“Don’t do it again. Chaz, sit down, he’s not about to jump us. Right?” I’d meant that last to come out more like a statement and less like a frightened question. Oh well.

He nodded, his expression tightening when he looked at Devon. “Would you mind explaining why you’ve brought a hunter into my office? Specifically, one who has repeatedly made attempts to kill me?”

“He and the other White Hats helped save me last night, remember? Devon took me back to my place to go get my stuff earlier today. He’s my ride while my car is in the impound.”

Royce arched a brow at my explanation. He turned an incredulous look at Devon, who was rapidly regaining his calm exterior. It took the vampire a moment to collect himself and speak in an approximation of civility, though he didn’t bother to hide his distaste.

“For the time being,” Royce said, “I will set aside any animosity toward you until the situation with Max is addressed. Can I expect the same courtesy?”

Yeah, that was Royce. Good ol’ Mr. Wheeler-'n'-Dealer.

Devon nodded curtly, remaining silent. He hadn’t quite stopped shaking, but had schooled his features to hide whatever he was thinking. I was glad he’d agreed, though. Having the vampire and White Hat at each other’s throats all night wasn’t conducive to solving the Max problem.

The vampire watched him closely, sounding put out. “You should never have seen so much of my holdings. Is it too much to ask that as part of this truce, you swear not to reveal anything you see here to the other hunters or use the information against me later?”

Devon rubbed the back of his neck, considering. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity for him. If Royce’s secret methods of getting around got back to the other hunters, the vamp could be in big trouble later. Not to mention that the layout of the building and some of his internal security measures had been revealed.