Waterlocked: An Elemental World Novella (7 page)

The pain screamed from his chest. His sire was dead, killed by a traitor with the face of a friend. Even Terry had been taken in by his deception. And to discover that his own brother—Winthrop’s only other child—had been behind it…

Terry gripped the shivering earth vampire by the hair. “Do you have anything to say to this lot?”

“You’re a monster.”

“Aye, that I am.” He pulled the vampire close, whispering in his ear as he slowly slit Burke’s throat. “And none of them will forget it.”

The assassin was dead, killed within minutes of Winthrop’s death. But it hadn’t brought his sire back. Terry, along with his first, Roger, had ordered Winthrop’s men to scour the black streets of London, their fury matched only by their loyalty to their fallen leader. The vampires who hadn’t been able to flee were snatched from the streets, even taken by Terry’s human staff during the daytime, then woken in the old basement fortress to watch as Terry systematically killed every suspect in his sire’s death. Slowly. He extracted each bit of information for the benefit of his glittering, sophisticated audience. Even the oldest of them appeared horrified at his brutality.

Which was exactly as Terry had wanted it.

By the third night, none of them appeared squeamish anymore. None of them met his eye in challenge. None of them batted an eye when he called himself their lord.

The blood poured down the chest of the traitor, dripping onto Terry’s shoes. The ground was thick with blood, earth, and ash, turned to a fetid mud by the water drawn into the room with Terry’s cold fury. With a quick snap, his knife dug into the back of the vampire’s neck, severing the spine as Terry watched the amnis flicker out. A fleck of blood hit his cheek as his victim heaved a last rattling breath through his severed windpipe.

Terry tossed the body onto the pile. The first of his public executions, including his own brother, were disintegrating at the base of the pile, returning to whatever element had sustained them. A slow seep of water was the last trace of the man who had once been his closest friend.

“Next.”

Before another traitor could be brought before him, Roger slipped over and whispered in his ear. “Boss, you have a visitor.”

“Not the best time, Roger.”

“Pardon me presuming, but I think you’ll want to see this one.”

Their eyes met for a moment before Terry nodded. If Roger had interrupted him, it had to be important.

He strode from the room, grabbing his grey jacket which hung on the arm of another of his brutes. “Keep them here. If they get hungry, let them feed on the prisoners.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Terry walked up the stairs, into the grey law offices that had hidden the oldest of his sire’s hideaways. The Temple building had been Winthrop’s place for the nasty business. The place he hadn’t utilized near enough in the years Terry had been with him. If he had, maybe he wouldn’t be…

He took a moment to lean against the wall, momentarily overwhelmed by his grief. The tears leaked from the corners of his eyes unashamedly. He’d loved Francis Winthrop as a father. The man had taken him in as a human, trained him, educated him, trying to mold the rough human into a loyal guard. He’d seen potential in a way that no other had. Then, he’d turned him into the powerful creature Terry had become. And now his sire was no more.

He heard a soft shuffle of feet at the door. She was letting him know she was there. As if her amnis hadn’t already announced her. As if the reaction of his body hadn’t already given her away. The office door opened and he lifted bloody eyes to Gemma Melcombe. They stood for a moment, staring at each other. What was there to say?

“I am so terribly sorry about Francis.” She looked it, too. Good acting? Or something sincere? It wasn’t often the Ice Queen let her emotions out of the tight little box she’d perfected. He envied her that. Terry waved away the guard so they had some privacy.

“Where have you been?”

“Out of town, helping my father with a new member of our clan.”

“For a year?”

She stepped forward, and Terry caught a glimpse of her slight figure underneath the pale blue dress. The current fashions suited her refined beauty. Everything suited her. Always had. “Feel free to verify that, if you must, but I had nothing to do with Francis’s death. And even if I’d been here, I never suspected—”

“Aye, none of us did.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw and moved to the desk at the center of the room, trying to ignore his reaction to her. Over fifty years acquaintance had proven it was not something she shared. Still, unlike the others he dealt with lately, Gemma had been a true, if wary, friend of Winthrop’s. “Why are you here, Ms. Melcombe?”

“You have a boy in custody.”

“I have many in custody. They’re mine by conquest.”

“No one is disputing that. I came here to ask for mercy.”

The Ice Queen wanted a favor of him? His grieving heart wanted to reject it. His brain told him to hear her out.

“Who is it?”

“A kinsman’s youngest son. A member of my clan. He is… young. And not the most circumspect in his connections.”

“You could say that. The name?”

“Rene. Rene Dupont. He is my brother Guy’s youngest child.”

“How do you know I haven’t killed him already?”

She paused. “Have you?”

Terry held her blue eyes for a few long moments. “No.”

“Then I ask for mercy.”

“Why should I give him mercy? I’ve killed everyone even remotely connected with my sire’s death. Why should he be different?”

“He is only twenty years immortal. He fell in with foolish friends, but he has no ambition. I promise, he was not a part of the plot to murder your sire. He was drawn in by his crowd. That is all.”

Terry leaned back and closed his eyes. If he could feel exhausted, he would. As it was, it was summer and the nights were short. He had little time to deal with the problems in front of him before his human security would have to take over.

“Ms. Melcombe—”

“Terry.” She stepped forward, her eyes pleading. “Francis was my friend. I would never intervene if I thought the boy had anything to do with his death. Guy is frantic. He will make restitution for his son’s actions. His business in France is not insubstantial, nor is his influence. He can offer money—”

“I don’t want your bloody money.” His voice was low and furious. “Is that why you’re here? To offer me money?”

Her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

“From your brother? Nothing.” He didn’t need allies in France, but for the clan of Carwyn ap Bryn to owe the new leader of London a favor…

He could almost see Gemma’s mind working behind her clear gaze. “Who then? My father? You want his support? You’re the new leader of London. You’re young.” Her face came alive at the political manipulations. “If you agree to release Rene, my father could throw his support behind you. My brother in Ireland—”

“You’ve powerful family in Scotland, as well.” Terry should have known she’d figure it out quickly.
So smart
. His blood stirred at the sight of her.

“I do.” Her eyes lit in triumph. “So, do we have a deal? Rene’s freedom for the tacit approval of your succession?”

Such a clever girl. Was it wrong that he wanted to ruffle her just to get a reaction?

“No.”

She blinked in surprise. “No?”

“No.” He felt a tickling on his cheek. It was the blood of his most recent victim starting to dry. He wiped it away with the back of his fingers, knowing a smear of red would remain. Good. Let her see it. “I have the city. I don’t need your clan’s approval.”

“We’re not offering approval, Mr. Ramsay—”

“Good. I was Winthrop’s son and second for over sixty years. I avenged his death. I have killed the majority of my enemies in front of the city’s population. I do not need your approval to take over.”

Her lip began to curl in disdain. “So you mean to reject the support of my family and—”

“Your family would have supported me anyway, Ms. Melcombe.
They
have nothing I want or need.”

She didn’t miss his emphasis. He tried not to smile. In the chaos and grief of the past three nights, sparring with Gemma Melcombe was a bright spot of light.

“
They
don’t have anything you need?”

“Nothing that would tempt me to release Rene.” Let her think he’d been planning to kill the boy. He hadn’t decided one way or another until she’d showed up. Knowing the young vampire’s age and connections would have been enough to sway him, but then she’d started offering all sorts of bribes he hadn’t even planned on. He was curious what she’d offer next.

She took a cautious step forward, her eyes growing colder by the minute. “And what would tempt you?”

He smirked. “Lots of things, luv.”

“Is that so?”

She was so damn proper. But that fire behind her eyes… it drew him in. She may have been cold and impersonal on the outside, but Terry would bet she was a thing of beauty when riled. How much, exactly, would it take to rile her?

“Have anything on you, Gemma?” Bloody hell, her name tasted sweet in his mouth. He wanted to say it again. Wanted to shout it. Moan it. Tease his own name from her lips. “Anything that might tempt me?”

Faster than he could blink, she leaned forward, baring her fangs. “You foolish boy! I come here offering a fair bargain, and you throw it in my face? Who do you think you are?”

He stood, deliberately calm though the blood rushed in his veins. “I’m the vampire who holds your brother’s child. I’m the lord of this city now, and I’m the man who has a dozen vicious guards, human and vampire, within shouting distance.”

“That only works if you have a tongue to shout, impudent boy.”

Terry couldn’t hold back the shout of laughter. Oh, she was magnificent. He had to have her as a lover. But not just yet. He’d sneak up on her till she thought the whole plan had been her idea in the first place. Forget London, Gemma Melcombe would be his greatest conquest.

“Gemma?”

“What?” Her eyes were blazing. Her fangs were bared. Her hands curled into claws that were moments away from scratching his eyes out. And she could, he had no doubt.

“I’m not going to kill Rene.”

Oh, he loved throwing her off-balance. She actually took a small step back. “You’re not?”

“I only want one thing.” He slowly walked around the desk so that he was standing beside her. He was close enough to feel the warm hum of her skin. He even thought he saw her heart pulse once in the ivory skin of her neck.

“What do you want?” Her voice had dropped. Rough with anger and… desire? Just a hint, but it was there. He’d take it.

“A kiss.”

“You want a kiss?”

“One kiss from you, and the boy goes free.”

She slid a predatory gaze upward. “One kiss and Rene comes with me tonight? One kiss is all?”

“That’s all.” He was starting to regret this. One kiss wouldn’t be nearly enough.

“Fine.” Without warning, she rose and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Where’s Rene?”

He grinned as he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest as his mouth slowly descended. “That’s not a kiss, luv.”

As their lips met, a spark lit the air between them. Water and earth didn’t meet with a clash. His amnis slowly lapped up her skin, teasing and testing as his hands pulled her closer. Terry’s fangs descended, and he ran his tongue along her lower lip, begging for entry.

Gemma hesitated for only a moment before she gave in. Her lips softened. Her hands gripped the blood-stained collar of his jacket. He knew she could pull away at any moment. Knew her power eclipsed his. The fact that she didn’t was intoxicating.

She was so warm. He pulled away for only a second to fill his nose with the scent of her. Roses and jasmine. The earthy smell of fresh rain on grass. She smelled of all that and more. The rigid set of her shoulders relaxed as he held her. Her mouth was as greedy as his, and he groaned into it. She was clean and beautiful and light. She was—

“Enough!”

Gemma pushed him away with a sudden shove. Terry stepped back, as unbalanced as she appeared to be. That had been… far more than a kiss.

“Gemma.” His voice sounded like he’d been smoking all night.

“That’s enough. Where’s Rene?”

“That’s enough?” He gave a low chuckle. “That wasn’t nearly enough.”

“It was enough for our deal. I want my nephew.”

Terry eyed her for a moment, then nodded. “Roger?”

His lieutenant stepped through the door. “Yes, boss?”

“Take Ms. Melcombe to Mr. Dupont. He will be released into her custody before he leaves England.”

Roger nodded, then Terry spoke to Gemma. “He’s not welcome back. If I hear word of him in England while I rule here, I’ll kill him, Gemma. See to it he understands. He doesn’t get another chance.”

She nodded, all business. “Understood.”

“And give my respects to your father. His unreserved support is greatly appreciated by Francis Winthrop’s successor.”

Her eyes turned cold again, and she strode from the room. Terry let her go without another word. Let her take her brother’s boy back to him. Let her set up house again in his city. Let her slowly lower her guard. He’d be waiting. He’d be patient. After all, he had the time. And what he’d said to her was true. One kiss wasn’t nearly enough.

“Cassiopeia.”

“Where?”

“Just there, see?” She held out her finger, tracing the jagged line that crossed the northern sky. “The folds of her dress. Back and forth.”

“I liked your wedding dress. Did I tell you that?” They were laying on the deck of the Conquest, spotting constellations. She was far better than he’d thought she’d be, but then, she’d had more than enough time to study. He’d pulled off out every cushion from the boat’s cabin, thrown them into a pile, and pulled her down to lie next to him.

“Thank you, but I didn’t pick my dress out. The designer did.”

He reached over and chuffed her under the chin. “Unsentimental girl, Gem. It’s a good thing there was a photographer there. I’d like a proper picture of you in it.”

“Just make sure we have every negative, Terry. Every single one. Digital files, too.”