Chapter 8 #2
Wordlessly he continued to follow her up a dark staircase that wound through the building like the twisted spine of an old man.
He wished he could say that he was stunned that any vampire would be living in these conditions, but he and Lola had visited too many places just like this over the years.
Existing outside the notice of the Ministry as well as some of the more violent clans meant living where no one wanted to visit.
Extreme poverty made the top of that list.
Despite being born into this world a bastard, he’d lived a quite pampered life.
His biological father had paid quite handsomely for the company of his mother, and she’d been incredibly smart about how that money was invested.
His mother had seen to it that all her sons were educated, and Marcus had quickly taken over the family finances as soon as he came of age, making sure the lifestyle they were accustomed to was preserved.
And while roughly two hundred years had passed, that arrangement hadn’t exactly changed. Marcus was still seeing to the family finances.
Of course, living comfortably meant that the Ministry wanted its share, and it drew the attention of other clans.
Abject poverty usually meant a vampire wasn’t bothered.
While Rafe could see its advantages, he had no trouble admitting he preferred his luxurious wardrobe, high-thread-count sheets, fancy cars, and most of all the freedom to do as he wished…under most circumstances.
At the third floor, Lola led the way away from the stairs and down the narrow hallway.
The thin carpet underfoot was heavily soiled and stained so that Rafe could no longer be sure what color it had started its life as.
Fluorescent lights hummed and flickered overhead as if they housed a hive of angry bees fighting to get out.
Near the center of the hall, Lola finally stopped and pounded the side of her fist on the door three times.
Rafe stood back, one hand in the pocket of his leather jacket while the other remained open at his side.
Experience had taught him to expect just about anything.
Even if Lola had spoken to this Edgar in the past, it certainly didn’t mean he’d be willing to speak to her again.
Lola lifted her fist to pound a second time, but there was a telltale scrape on the other side of a door as if a lock was being slid into his housing.
There was a second. And then a third farther down the door.
Not that locks would keep out most predators that would have liked to prowl this part of town, but if it made Edgar feel safe, who could begrudge him these small protections?
The door cracked open just a few inches, and a pale face with large brown eyes peered out at them. He looked at Lola, then Rafe, and then Lola again.
“I told you not to come back,” the man said. The voice held a surprising amount of weariness to it. Not the threat Rafe had been anticipating.
“And I told you he’d want to talk to you,” Lola growled. Everything about her voice and stance made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t going anywhere until she got what she wanted.
Those dark eyes darted to Rafe, silently assessing.
“I can make it worth your while,” Rafe added.
There was a brief wheezing noise coming from the vampire behind the door and it took Rafe a moment to realize that he was laughing. “I’m sure you believe that.” But he stepped out of the doorway and opened the door just enough that they could squeeze through.
To Rafe’s surprise, the godawful smells largely dissipated when he stepped into the studio apartment.
The air was a little cleaner here, a little lighter.
He glanced around the area to find a small lamp resting on the floor, its thin yellow light pushing against the darkness.
The three windows appeared to be boarded up and covered with old bits of fabric.
A makeshift bed was in one corner. And all along the walls were stacks and stacks of books.
Mostly paperbacks, they all looked heavily worn and well-read. Marcus would have approved.
“Edgar, this is—”
“A Varik,” Edgar said, interrupting Lola’s introduction. When he finished locking the door, he shuffled over to the bed and sat on the blankets.
Rafe narrowed his eyes in the darkness, taking in Edgar’s appearance.
He looked as if he was maybe in his late twenties or early thirties.
His face was smooth, but his long brown hair hung down in front of his eyes, working to obscure his face and his expressions.
Not easy to read at all. But judging by his own personal power signature hanging in the air, Edgar didn’t feel as if he was much more than a century.
If he’d lived here for more than fifty years, Rafe was beginning to think that he might just have been born here as a human.
He possibly even had something from his old life tying him here.
It would certainly explain his reluctance to leave.
“Rafe Varik, to be specific,” Rafe said, flashing a somewhat wry smile. “We aren’t all interchangeable.”
“Nearly so,” Edgar muttered. “You’re a clan.”
“At least I’m not the Ministry.”
Edgar snorted. “That’s just a different sort of trouble. But still trouble.”
Rafe couldn’t really argue that point. “I was hoping we could help each other out. A little tit for tat. You scratch my back and…”
“And I learn to be grateful you’re not turning me in to the Ministry or simply killing me where I live.”
Rafe sighed and looked over his shoulder at Lola. She was leaning against the wall next to the door, her arms loosely crossed over her chest. “Where do so many vampires get this bloodthirsty, kill-or-be-killed attitude?”
Her lips twitched for just a second as if she couldn’t quite catch the smile before it broke free.
But it was enough. He got her. Her dark eyes narrowed into a warning glare, but Rafe wasn’t buying it.
Lola loved to play the heavy, to keep this persona of being an immoveable badass force.
And she was in every way, but she also had a brilliant smile and a lyrical laugh.
Rafe loved surprising that smile or laugh out of her.
Throwing a wink in her direction, Rafe turned his attention to Edgar, who was looking at him like he’d lost his fucking mind.
Rafe wiped his own amusement from his features.
“No, I’m not going to kill you. Nor am I going to turn you in to the Ministry.
This is about cooperating so that we both get ahead. Not a threat.”
“So if I tell you to fuck off?”
Rafe shrugged his shoulder. “I leave. We don’t speak again.”
Edgar took a deep breath and opened his mouth, but Rafe raised his hand, stopping the words he knew the vampire was about to say in his throat.
“But before you point me to the door, take an extra second to think this through. I’m only looking for information.
That’s pretty easy and painless for you.
” Rafe dropped his hand to his side and bent at the waist so that his face was just over Edgar’s.
The vampire shifted on his pallet, sliding a few inches to put a little more space between him and Rafe.
“If you tell me to fuck off now, you won’t be able to come to me for help later.
Just think about it. A vampire on the outside who owes you a favor.
Not exactly a horrible thing to have in your pocket,” Rafe finished, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
He straightened, his smirk in place again.
Relief had him unclenching his jaw when it seemed that Edgar was at least considering his proposal.
Of course, offering some unknown vampire a favor could so easily come back and bite him in the ass.
Wouldn’t that just thrill Marcus? His older brother would probably throttle him if he found out what Rafe was doing.
But information was always a good thing. Winter undoubtedly had some fabulous sources, but they weren’t the only sources. Rafe’s network of underground vampires had proved to be useful on more than one occasion.
“What kind of information are you looking for?” Edgar slowly asked.
Rafe fought the wide grin trying to bust free. He had him.
“Nothing too terrible. I’d love a little rundown on the major clans in the area and when they arrived. Any other troublemakers in the area I should be aware of,” Rafe said casually.
“And the favor?”
Rafe shrugged. “I’d say it’s fairly wide open so long as it doesn’t endanger the Variks.”
“Money. I want money.”
Rafe straightened at Edgar’s harsh tone as he barked out the words. That was the last thing he’d been expecting, considering the way he chose to live.
“Tired of living in…” Rafe’s question drifted off as he looked around the tiny apartment with worn carpet and stained walls. He couldn’t even find a semi-polite way of describing the place.
“The money isn’t for me. I’ve…” Edgar stopped and chewed on his bottom lip, looking down at the thin blanket he clutched in both hands.
He suddenly reminded Rafe too much of Ethan and how he nervously clutched the throw pillows on Marcus’s sofa.
He didn’t want to see those similarities, didn’t want to soften toward this creature.
“I’ve got a great-granddaughter. She’s going to college and working two jobs.
I want to give her some money to help her. ”
“How much?”
Edgar’s look of stunned surprise dissolved into a new frown as if he hadn’t considered that Rafe would take his demand seriously. “I-I don’t know. I want enough that she doesn’t have to worry about paying for college.”
“How many years of college does she have left?”
“She’s in her second year of undergraduate.”
Rafe nodded. “I’ll arrange it. I’ll pay for this year of college and her other two remaining years.”
Edgar lurched up to his feet, a mix of joy and panic on his face. “She can’t know about us. About me.”