Vigil (2 page)

glass bottle reminded him he was dressed outlandishly and

wearing makeup. Perhaps these men simply thought he must be

Harwiche, who was known as widely for his bizarre affectations

as he was for his money and the way he spent it. But Harwiche

was a fucking troll, and Adin felt more than vaguely insulted by

the mistake.

The situation seemed to present the possibility of payback,

though, and Adin liked the sound of that very much.

“The item in question. Yes. I’d have to see it first.” He hoped

Vigil
5

to buy himself time before he had to make up his mind one way

or the other about telling them the truth. They didn’t look like

they’d take it well.

“I don’t expect you to be disappointed. We went to rather a

lot of trouble. This has required a level of logistics and planning

that taxed even our considerable resources. I hope to hell you

have no plan of backing out.”

“No,” Adin demurred.
Shit
. “Of course not.”

“Then follow me, please,” the odd man said and led the way

to the back of the counter where he drew aside a curtain and

then passed through. Once in the back room he opened a door

on an interior wall that led to a set of stairs.

The minute Adin set foot on the first stair the hair on the

back of his neck prickled, and Adin very clearly heard Donte’s

baritone voice say, “
Adin! No
,” inside his head. He ignored it as

usual. Which was all part and parcel of how he’d come to be here

in the most romantic city in the world without Donte in the first

place, damn the man’s stubborn vampire fustiness.

The stairs were narrow and the carved stone treads were

short, his own foot barely fit, and it was a smallish foot by

modern standards. These stairs had probably been built in the

sixteenth century, when the average man’s foot would have been

considerably smaller.

“Once you’ve seen the merchandise, I’m going to ask you to

wire the money into our account. I’ll give you the numbers. As

soon as the money is transferred, the merchandise is yours, and

I’m sure you’ll understand if we return you to your hotel with it.

I, for one, will be glad to be rid of it.”

“I see.” Adin kept a hand on the railing on the dark stairs,

afraid not only of slipping, but also of being shoved from behind.

Which probably wouldn’t happen.

Probably
.

“No, you don’t see, but you will. I assure you.” At this Adin

heard a
snick
sort of sound he identified a moment later as a

lighter.

6 Z.A. Maxfield

Aw,
fuck Ned Harwiche
. He wasn’t exactly the kind of man

Adin had pegged for a clandestine meeting in a cloak and dagger,

basement-of-a-hoodoo-shop in the middle-of-nowhere. Now

that the odd-looking man was lighting antique oil lanterns with

a stick lighter, Adin’s urge to go along with the charade was fast

dissipating.

When his eyes adjusted, Adin glanced around. The smell was

musty with decay and slightly foul, as if there was old food sitting

around. There was also the distinct odor of urine, possibly, a

kind of chamber-pot smell Adin associated with hospitals and

bedpans.

Adin jumped when iron clanked against stone right in front

of him. He took an apprehensive step back and that’s when

the circle of light from Thierry’s lantern fell onto the face of a

young boy. And
fuck
, he was chained to the wall, manacled and

leg-shackled in a space even Adin could barely stand up in, with

only a rusted iron cot and tattered sheets to sleep on, unable to

go more than a couple feet from the bed in any direction, kept

in the darkness and terrorized, given the way the boy cringed

from the light. What. The. Hell? Adin thought his heart must be

clattering so loudly Thierry could hear it.

“It’s all right. He can’t hurt you.” Thierry’s tone was reassuring.

Adin gaped at him. “The iron makes him weak. He has less

strength than a child half his age.”

Adin ground his teeth. He’d never encountered anything as

appalling as this.
How long has Harwiche been trafficking in underage

boys?
The boy looked up at him as though he’d heard.

“What is your name?” Adin asked stupidly.

“He doesn’t speak, Harwiche. He probably can’t. Not with

the iron around his throat. I thought you had some idea of what

you were getting into here?”

“I’ll set up the transfer; prepare him to be moved.” Adin

wondered how he’d bluff his way through this. He had no idea

who he needed to pay, and he didn’t know how much. But

whatever it was, he’d do it. This was intolerable on so many

Vigil
7

levels it was difficult for him to breathe. “Let’s go through the

particulars again, though. I find I drank rather too much last

night and I’m just a little—”

“Fine.” Thierry led the way back to the stairs. “I have the

computers we’ll need in the storeroom.”

“After you,” Adin indicated Thierry should go ahead. “Give

me a minute.”

Thierry frowned down at him from the stairs. “I don’t have to

tell you I’ve spent a tremendous amount in terms of manpower

and money to make this happen. If for some reason you’re

thinking of trying to cheat me or the men I work for, I’d advise

against it.”

“How could I cheat you? You’ll be at the top of the stairs the

entire time.” Adin looked from Thierry to the boy again. Thierry’s

face was impassive, but the boy’s spoke volumes. Adin wondered

if Thierry saw the hunger for revenge that seemed written there.

After shooting Adin a reluctant glance, Thierry left them alone.

Adin took a step toward the prisoner. Adin guessed his age

to be around thirteen. His hair was matted and his eyes were

clotted-looking shadows in his pale face. The chains reached

barely beyond the bed and they clanked as he moved. There was

food, Adin discovered; plates stacked on trays on the floor, as

though they’d been left there for a dog.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can and then I’ll get you out of

here,” Adin told him quietly. His heart started to pound again and

his gag reflex threatened. He knew even if it cost him everything

he had, he’d find a way to liberate this kid and help him make his

way home. That’s when Adin realized the boy was gazing at
him
,

giving him a look that could only be considered contemptuous.

Adin shook his head, and walked two more steps toward him,

squinting his eyes in the dim light to get a better look. Without

moving a muscle, the boy hissed at him.

“It’s going to be all right.” Adin spoke softly “I’m going to

find a way to help you.”

It was a shock when Adin very distinctly heard the boy say,

8 Z.A. Maxfield

“You can’t even help yourself, vampire pet. You should leave

before the blokes out there find out you’re not who you say you

are.”

Adin moved the curtain back a little to look down at the

street again. Once he’d made a number of impromptu financial

arrangements, the boy—the little monster—as Adin privately

thought of him, was his. That was only when he could think

around the constant stream of annoying patter—English with a

decidedly northern British accent—the boy hurled at him from

where he sat on the bed. He’d been like that ever since Adin had

closed the hotel-room door, which surprised Adin because the

boy seemed to accept him at first, following him meekly back

to his hotel. Together, they’d walked sedately across the elegant

lobby and stepped into the old-fashioned elevator.

Of course, the boy had still been
in chains
.

Even in France someone was bound to ask about that.

“Come on, Edward. Come on…
Come on
…” He held his cell

phone and waited for Edward’s voice in his Bluetooth earpiece.

After the third ring, the call went through to voicemail and Adin

cursed. He tried another number with the same result.

“What’s the matter?” the adolescent voice grated on him.

“Had a spat with your blood drinking boyfriend?”

The little monster had that right, because Adin had left Spain

and his vampire lover Donte under a cloud of disappointment

and mistrust. Donte didn’t like him traveling alone and treated

him as though he required constant supervision. Adin was

hoping Donte might lighten his grip when he realized he didn’t

need to hold so tightly, but it hadn’t happened. After five months

of kendo classes and hyper-vigilance and constant lecturing, he’d

left a note saying he was heading for France, and he’d be back,

but Donte was going to have to get used to letting him come and

go.

This new situation with Harwiche wasn’t going to endear him

to Donte at all.

10 Z.A. Maxfield

“Vampires can be all fickle like that. One minute it’s all nom-

nom-nom, and the next minute they’re up for something foreign.

Get a yen for something more exotic, did he?”

“Shut up.”

“Maybe your bloke doesn’t trust you. Maybe he thinks you’re

on holiday, filling out the menu on someone else’s buffet table.”

Adin turned on the boy. “Look
you
. Get out of my head. You

need to
shut up
and let me think. Did you natter on like this to

your captors all the time? They should have paid me to take you.

Talk about
The Ransom of Red Chief
.”

“Let me go. You have the key, just let me go.”

“I can’t.” Adin stepped toward him but still carefully kept out

of range of the boy’s hands and feet. “I paid a hundred thousand

dollars of my own money to someone I don’t know, merely to

take you out of that basement. I can’t let you go until I know

you’re safe.”

“Safe?”

“Yes. You don’t have to be afraid of me, you know.
I’m trying

to help you
.”

“I’m not scared of you.” The boy frowned, but Adin thought

it was mostly bravado.

“I—” Adin sputtered. “I take it that although you can—

apparently—rummage around in my head, you’re not entirely

privileged to its contents, because right now I’m picturing things

that
would
scare you, starting with giving you back so they can do

whatever it was they had planned before they picked
me
up by

mistake.”

The boy’s gaze was assessing, as if he were trying to judge

the truth of what Adin told him. “Mistake? You really don’t—”

“I have no fucking clue who or
what
you are. I don’t even care,

except that it seems wrong to keep a boy chained in a basement.”

“Why did you—”

“Stop
AT ONCE
.” Adin whirled back toward the window

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11

when he heard the familiar
wee-oo
sound of French sirens and

tires screeching in the street below. “And by that I mean stop

fumbling inside my head and blabbering outside of it. Sit on the

far side of the bed,” Adin commanded, knowing it couldn’t be

seen from the door. “And shut the fuck up.” He dialed Tuan’s

number from memory and waited as that also rang through to

voice mail. It was mid-morning in California.

Where are they
?

A sharp rap sounded on the door. “Whatever you are, I can

give you to the police. They’ll treat you like a boy who has been

abused. You could be safe with them.”

Fear drew the boy’s face taut. They gazed at each other for a

long time. Adin said nothing and the boy gave nothing away.

“I don’t know what I can do. I’d like to figure out how to get

my money back.” Adin sighed and turned to the door. “In the

meantime I’ll try to protect you, but you have to know I have

very little hope of succeeding. And I’ll probably be arrested for

trying to help you. My name is Adin, by the way.”

“Adin,” the boy repeated. “I’m Bran.”

“Bran.” Adin scrubbed a hand through his hair before

reaching for the doorknob. He left the chain in place. “
Perfect
.

You’re already a pain in the ass.”

Adin barely had time to twist the knob when the door frame

shattered and the chain gave way, sending the old wooden door

flying at his face with stunning velocity. He was knocked back

by the blow and staggered for a few feet until he felt cool hands

catch his arm.

“
Adin.”

Adin put a hand to his forehead and it came away bloody.

“
Ow
…” He blinked until his eyes could focus. When they did he

saw a familiar diminutive face gazing at him with worried brown

eyes.

“
Boaz
?” Adin asked stupidly. It hadn’t yet occurred to him

why his lover’s erstwhile right hand man might be standing in his

room.

12 Z.A. Maxfield

Boaz spoke sharply. “You didn’t have to do that, Santos.” He

helped Adin to a chair. “You’re such a shit sometimes. Come on

in.”

“Sorry.” Santos murmured politely as he stepped into the