Carpe Demon (Carus #3) Page 4

  The Pharaoh stepped into our path, right in front of Lucien. Allan and I both moved to insert ourselves between them, but Lucien waved us off. We returned to our previous positions.

  If the Pharaoh gave a smug smile, would Lucien punch him in the nose? Did the Pharaoh plan to challenge Lucien to a fight after school by the monkey bars? I leaned forward to peer around Clint’s massive shoulders and watch the scene unfold. The Pharaoh wore no expression, the Vampire blank slate I so despised. Lucien faced away from me, but his must’ve been the same.

  The other Vampires milled around as these two remained frozen.

  I shifted my weight from foot to foot, trying to regain feeling in my toes. The pads of my feet had swelled even more and my arches ached.

  The Pharaoh and Lucien didn’t move.

  They stood three feet apart staring at each other.

  Awkward.

  Maybe they spoke telepathically to each other, slinging insults back and forth. I’d pay to listen to that conversation. Imagine the repertoire of slurs these two had collected over the years. Should I be worried about more mayhem and bloodshed? My muscles tensed, and I instinctively moved my weight to my numb toes. If shit went down, I’d be prepared.

  Then Lucien ruined my dreams of watching two ancient Vampires duke it out like high school girls. He chuckled.

  The Pharaoh inclined his head and stepped aside. No words uttered. Nothing. And as abruptly as we stopped, we marched to the exit and the limo parked outside.

  When we climbed in, Red leapt onto my lap, curled up and closed her eyes. Must be exhausted. I knew the feeling. I stroked her hair, and kicked off my heels. Both feet throbbed in response and started to swell.

  Wick took the seat beside me. His long thigh brushed against mine, and my wolf sent images of our naked bodies entwined together.

  Not fair, I told her and crossed my legs.

  She snorted.

  The door shut, and the silence in the limo drew my attention away from Red’s soft ears. Everyone watched me with furrowed brows and looks of disgust. They couldn’t see Red, so I got how weird it must look to them. I clenched my hand and dropped it to my side.

  Clint turned to Lucien. “Well, that fucked things up a bit.”

  It took me a moment to realize he meant the vote, not me petting my invisible fera.

  Lucien nodded, but chose not to comment. The limo rolled forward as a nameless minion drove us away from the gong-show of a summit.

  “The Pharaoh got his wish,” Allan said after we had been driving for a while.

  Lucien hissed, and punched the seat beside him with such force his hand punctured the leather and penetrated through the seat. Nobody moved, but everyone tensed. The air smelled wary. Lucien’s lips curled back, revealing fangs, as he wiggled his hand free from the upholstery. When he glanced up, I made sure I looked elsewhere.

  “Fucking idiots played right into his hand.” Clint reached into the limo’s bar and grabbed a glass and the scotch. “That Demon achieved his goal.”

  “The question is,” Allan said. “Why would a Demon sabotage a vote that would build an alliance? They want it just as much as we do.”

  “And why wouldn’t the other Vampires see the intent of the attack?” Clint asked.

  “That’s easy,” Allan said.

  We all turned to him.

  “They’re idiots,” he said. “We need to determine whether the Demon is working with or for the Pharaoh.”

  Red let out a deep sigh in her sleep and rolled onto her back, splayed out. A little rumble vibrated against my legs. She’s snoring! I bit back a smile, and kept my hand clenched by my side.

  “Why is the Pharaoh against the alliance?” I asked and flinched as everyone’s attention swivelled to me like bobble heads. I pushed my luck with questions.

  “We don’t know,” Allan answered.

  “You can’t pluck it out of his head?” I tapped my temple with my forefinger for added theatrical effect.

  Allan’s shoulders straightened. “Most of the older Vampires can shield me. And the Pharaoh is very old, the oldest I’ve met.”

  Huh. Mental note. Allan’s skills had limits. The limo hit a pothole, bumping us off our seats. I readjusted my skirt and turned to Lucien. I’d glean as much information as possible before he went all “master” on me. “Why do you think he’s against it?”

  Lucien’s face slowly lost the freshly fed flush as he studied me. “The most obvious answer is the Pharaoh doesn’t wish to risk his power base. The Demon alliance could do exactly that—enable other Vampires to grow enough in strength to challenge him.”

  “But?”

  The Master Vampire tilted his head. “What makes you think there’s a but?”

  “Doesn’t sound like you believe the most obvious answer.”

  “The Pharaoh usually operates at a more subtle level,” Lucien said.

  “Nothing subtle about him standing up in the middle of a Vampire summit.”

  “Precisely,” he said, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did. I sank back in my chair and ruminated on what Lucien said. I wanted to ask more, but I had already pressed my luck. Lucien was being uncharacteristically chatty with me, and I found it unnerving, to the point where I suspected he operated at his own subtle level, giving me select information as if manipulating me somehow. Dang these Vampires and their stupid Vampire politics.

  “What went on between you two? Back there. The staring contest between you and the Pharaoh, I mean,” I asked.

  Allan drummed his fingers on his armrest. “Vampire posturing. Nothing more.”

  I looked around the limo’s cab, but no one seemed inclined to enlighten me further, including Lucien. Fine. The limo drove over uneven pavement and jostled everyone in the car. Lucien remained immobile the entire time.

  “We need to know more about the Demon.” Clint took a deep drink of amber fluid, carefully avoiding Lucien’s vamped out gaze. Guess he didn’t want to be food tonight. Should’ve thought about that before signing up for the human servant deal.

  Do you know what’s going on? I asked Wick. The heat of his thigh radiated through his clothes and warmed my skin.

  No idea. Lucien keeps me out of the loop regarding all the Demon stuff, and anything to do with the Pharaoh. I’m always ordered out of the room. Wick kept his eyes forward, trained on Lucien.

  “Andrea,” Lucien’s voice whispered across the limo cabin.

  My muscles tightened, and I pursed my lips. My mountain lion paced, but I shushed her before she could hiss at me.

  “I’m not food,” I said.

  Lucien’s lip quirked up at the corner. “You will be if I say so.” He held a hand up as my mouth gaped open to make some sound. “But that is not what I planned to say.”

  “Oh.”

  “This Demon knew you.”

  “But I didn’t know him.” At least, I didn’t think I did. I’d only met two. Sid and Dylan’s Demon—Bola. He always possessed a Werewolf body, so I never saw his true form, nor scented it. Could this Demon be Bola? A shudder racked my body. Maybe. I hoped not. That was one messed up Demon, even by demonic standards. But all Demons liked to mess with people. Maybe Bola had talked about me to his brethren, so other sadists could learn of my past. Stomach acid bubbled up my throat. I swallowed.

  “You have a Demon contact you can ask,” Lucien said, interrupting my thoughts.

  I clenched my teeth, my lips flattening into a straight line.

  Wick snarled a warning, but it annoyed me. He didn’t own me, and he couldn’t act against his master. That had been made quite clear to me when he held me down for Lucien to drink my blood, Wick’s prickly warning as empty as Lucien’s heart. My own heart pained with the regret of a spoiled relationship. Things had been going well until that night. Now, things were weird, and Wick’s attempts to defend me didn’t always cause rainbows to dance through my mind.

  Besides, I could take care of myself.

  “You will contact your Demon, pay h
is price, and find out about this one,” Lucien stated.

  “You forgot something,” I said.

  “I am the Master Vampire of the Lower Mainland. I will not say please.”

  I shook my head. “You forgot to add the ‘or else’ part. You know, where you threaten me with something.”

  Lucien’s eyes crinkled, then his gaze slid to where Wick sat. “I’d think by now you’d know what’s on the line.”

  And I did. Ice flowed through my veins, and my back straightened. Last time I’d refused to pay Sid’s price, Lucien had threatened to gut Wick over and over again between healings, and force me to watch. Despite my complicated feelings for the Werewolf Alpha, I cared. Deeply. The thought of him hurt…well, I already went through that once tonight. Lucien didn’t fight fair. He got down and dirty.

  “What price?” Wick asked.

  No one answered, and an awkward heavy silence consumed the limo.

  “Lucien,” Wick started. “I don’t think Andy—”

  Lucien’s teeth elongated, and Wick stopped talking.

  “I don’t ask you to think,” Lucien hissed. “Be quiet and assist Andy.”

  Wick sat back in his seat. This time, along with silence, burnt cinnamon flowed off Wick in angry waves and swamped the limo.

  Going to be a long night.

  Chapter Five

  “They say marriages are made in Heaven. But so is thunder and lightning.”

  ~Clint Eastwood

  Wick treaded close behind me with my luggage as I walked the concrete path to my building’s front entrance. So close, his angry huffing brushed the hairs on the back of my neck. So close, he might clip my heels or trip over Red. Was it possible to stumble over an invisible fera? I said nothing as I unlocked first the building door and then once inside, my apartment’s. I pushed the door open and stepped aside to let Wick in. He passed me, the scent of anger mixed with the sour tang of anxiety trailed behind him like the wake of a large shipping vessel.

  My, my, my. Someone’s pissy.

  I’d met Wick a few months ago when I’d attempted to take Clint’s life on what I thought were orders from the SRD. After I botched the “Kill Clint” assignment, Lucien had Wick imprison me in his house for weeks, and we’d become close, our wolves closer. Under any other circumstances, I’d have jumped his bones by now, but he belonged to Lucien even more than I did. The Master Vampire commanded wolves—Were, Shifter or otherwise—as one of his special parlour tricks.

  Dropping my luggage in the middle of the living room on the wood flooring, Wick turned and crossed his arms. I kicked off my stupid extra-high heels and wiggled my numb toes, trying to force some feeling back into them. Ugh. I got my wish, and pain trickled up my big toes and the small ones ached. Forget this! Numb feet were better.

  I shifted my weight and clasped my hands behind my back to avoid wringing them. What was up with Wick? He looked like a berserk bull staring down a red flag. “Ah…thanks for bringing my luggage in,” I said.

  “Andy.” Wick’s husky voice vibrated the air as I sucked it in.

  “Wick.”

  “I’m not leaving until you tell me about the Demon.”

  “I already told you, and everyone else for that matter. I don’t know who the dog Demon is.” I eyed the bedroom door as a possible route of escape.

  Wick’s nose flared. “Maybe so, but why do I smell your fear?”

  “Um…maybe because he ripped powerful Vampires in half and popped their heads into his mouth like candy? Kinda scary.” My hands flopped uselessly to my sides. My thoughts flittered around in my head: Could the dog Demon have a connection to Bola? What would that mean? And where did Wick get off demanding answers from me?

  Take a deep breath. Control your environment.

  Then go to bed.

  Sleep, Red agreed.

  My luggage sat behind Wick. He probably wouldn’t let me unpack until he finished with his demands for answers. Fucking Alphas.

  Wick shook his head. “It’s more than that.” He held his hand up when I opened my mouth to argue. “But he’s not the one I asked about.”

  “Oh.” I glanced away, Wick’s yellow gaze too intense. I’d ask what he meant, but I couldn’t play dumb that well.

  “Andy.”

  “Yes?”

  “Who is your Demon contact?” he demanded, though he probably already knew given my interaction with Sid at the summit.

  My teeth clenched, and I pursed my lips. Would he believe a lie? No, he’d smell it. I could refuse to answer, but he’d never let it rest. I pushed my shoulders down from my ears.

  If Wick seriously wanted to be my mate, and if I could forgive him for the blood bonding thing and forget Tristan, he needed to know more of my past, the good and the bad. And I had a whole barrel of bad. Sucking a deep breath in like a pharmaceutical-grade pipette, I spoke on my exhale. “You’ve met him.”

  Wick frowned. “But I’ve only met one…” His back straightened, and every muscle in his body stiffened. “Sid? Sid the Seducer? That’s your Demon?”

  “That’s the guy.”

  A long pause. “What price did you pay, Andy?”

  I didn’t answer, didn’t want to. This was the question I feared, so I puttered around the room “tidying” as if I cared about a clean home. I had little in way of possessions. This place had basic furniture and dish requirements and that was about it. No agent kept items they couldn’t leave at the drop of a body.

  “What did you pay?” Wick kicked one of my hard luggage cases, sending it flying against the wall with a thud.

  I glanced over at the dented plaster. Crap. I just had that wall fixed. When a horde of humans had swarmed my apartment during a Kappa incident, my living room looked like a demo site. Maybe I could get a frequent customer discount?

  Waves of acrid anger emanated off Wick and pried my attention back to him. He continued to wait for his answer. Squeezing my eyes shut, I spoke. “I danced for him.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Naked.”

  After a drawn out pause, Wick threw his fist into the closest wall, crashing through the drywall. Flakes of paint and splinters of wood flew through the air. He stood facing the wall, his right arm embedded to the elbow, panting. If I went to the other side of the wall to my bedroom, I’d see his fist.

  What do I say? One wrong word or move would make him explode. Stay absolutely still. Like prey caught in a predator’s sights, I waited to see what he’d do.

  Wick’s body shook and heaved with each breath. His forehead rested against the wall as he slowly pried his arm out of the hole he’d made. More flakes of paint and plaster flittered to the floor. His breathing slowed to a more normal rate, and he turned to face me.

  His eyes! Yellow and piercing, their intensity made me stagger back. His face…Wick had partially shifted to a wolf. As I watched, his snout reduced to his normal slender nose, and his fur receded to smooth northern European skin. Claws retracted to fingernails, and dense fuzz shed away to reveal normal arm hair. To stop and reverse a shift already underway showed immense power and skill. He probably pulled energy from his pack to prevent a full shift.

  Warmth spread across my cheeks. His pack would know. They’d feel the pull and the anger, and they’d know I was the cause. Perfect. As if they needed more reasons to hate me.

  “Your answering machine is blinking,” Wick said.

  Oh, shit. “I’ll check it later.”

  “Check it now.”

  Well now, someone’s asserting their dominance. Bad timing. Normally, I’d placate him, do anything to calm his nerves, but only a few people had my home number, and half of them were out of town in Lucien’s entourage with me. That left three possibilities—Tristan, Booth or Donny.

  Given Booth recently revealed her Egyptian goddess status as Renenutet and took off with her long lost lover, Sobek, she most likely had more important things to do than ring up her former employee, or act in any capacity for the SRD. Agent Donny O’Donnell, my form
er handler, not current, had no foreseeable reason to contact me now that I represented the SRD as an ambassador, doing my liaison thing. Plus, I normally contacted Donny for information, not the other way around. Only one option remained.

  Tristan.

  The tiny muscles under my eyes twitched, and my mouth dried out. Maybe I should get some water. I glanced over at the kitchen, where temporary escape awaited. No way could I let Wick listen to a message left by Tristan, his competition. Not when he’d lost his cool already.

  “I’ll check later,” I said.

  Wick kept his yellow eyes trained on my face for three ticks of the second hand on my grandfather clock, and then stalked over to the machine. He turned to face me, his furious gaze meeting mine once more before he extended one finger down to press the button in slow motion.

  “Don’t,” I said. Tackle him? Pounce?

  I remained frozen in place.

  Wick shook his head, and hit the button. A loud beep sounded, followed with a voice I hadn’t expected.

  “Andy, it’s Stan. Huge massacre down at the Steveston docks. Need to borrow your nose. It’s Friday, twenty-one hundred. Call me when you get this.”

  The breath I’d held escaped my lungs with a big whoosh of air. Stan Stevens was the officer I’d hijacked from the local Vancouver Police Department to help out with hunting down the Kappa. In return, I’d offered my supe skills to help him get ahead and, hopefully, a promotion. Wick knew all about him, and knew he posed no threat.

  In the old days, Steveston would’ve been outside VPD jurisdiction, but after the Purge, most law enforcement agencies merged. The VPD took care of anything west of Coquitlam River, and north of the Fraser River. The Surrey Police Department oversaw the rest of the municipalities within the Lower Mainland. Their boundaries and zones might’ve changed, but their names hadn’t.

  The answering machine beeped again, signalling a second message. I sucked in stale apartment air and dug my toes into the rug.

  “Andy,” Tristan’s voice purred. “I found a nude subject for you to paint. Call me.”

  A bark of laughter ripped from my throat. Oh Feradea! Where’s the help?

  Wick’s head swiveled to me. “You paint?”