2. Vasile
Chapter two
Vasile
At least while I’m feeding, I don’t have to look into Jamal’s accusing—and worried—eyes.
He perches on the edge of my desk, arm extended as I take a few mouthfuls from his wrist. I didn’t send for him. He arrived here of his own accord fifteen minutes ago.
When I asked him what he was doing here, he reminded me that I’m due a feeding.
It is really rather difficult to keep track, what with everything that’s been going on.
I don’t need much, but when I lift my head, I still find myself facing Jamal’s frown. “You can take more.”
Of course I can. I am old enough that feeding weekly is an indulgence, and I have not been injured; I do not require more than that.
“No.” I lick over the puncture marks I’ve left behind, watching through narrowed eyes as they begin to close. Jamal lets me. He must be feeling indulgent himself tonight.
When I let go of his wrist, he does not get to his feet. He remains sitting on the edge of my desk, his legs swinging slightly.
“You’re not all right.”
I appreciate that it is not a question. It rarely is with him. For a human, Jamal is astonishingly observant, which is why it surprises me that I so often find him trying to speak to Rook and Saide, my guards.
Well, I used to. As soon as I returned from my conversation with Deacon three weeks ago, I dismissed them. Moreau is no ally of mine.
“No,” I agree. There is little value in arguing. Jamal’s observational skills are a virtue; his stubbornness is not. “How are the other donors?”
The expression that crosses his face is… complicated. He sighs. “I didn’t agree to be your donor so I could grass everyone up, you know.”
He is right. The frequency of my feedings, and the amount of blood I require, means that I only have one donor at a time. Jamal has been with us for three years. One of the first things he insisted upon was that I would not interrogate him about the others.
He wants them to trust him, and they do.
“I worry they only tell me what I wish to hear.”
Jamal’s dark eyes study my face for a moment. He sighs again. “Well, everyone’s… concerned. Obviously. We’ve heard about the wolves.” His eyes flick to the door, to where Rook and Saide would usually be standing on the other side. “You sent them away.”
Again, not a question. “Yes.” I shake my head. “Are you worried?”
He smiles at that. “I know you’ll do everything you can to protect us.”
That is not an answer, but I don’t have time to interrogate him. A knock sounds at the door, and from the weight of it, I know Njáll is outside.
Jamal slips off my desk and tugs the sleeve of his silk shirt down. “Do you need anything else?”
“No.”
He nods and when he opens the door, Njáll takes a startled step back. He looks between me and Jamal. “Sorry, crai. I should—”
“I’m just going,” Jamal says, a hint of a laugh in his voice. He nods to Njáll and to Elle, who’s standing behind him. “Chieftains.”
He slips out between them and Elle smiles faintly as she follows Njáll into the room. “Everything all right?” she asks.
I wave the question off. How can it be? Tamesis is out there, somewhere, and I haven’t—
“Another vampire died last night,” Njáll says.
I lean back in my seat. “Who? How?”
I know the wolves are hurting too. They’ve lost three of their own.
We’re losing a vampire every other night. I have done my best to call the clan back, to protect them here in the clan house, but vampires are not wolves. The impetus for the treaty sprang from that essential fact. We are deeply territorial, usually solitary, and the fact that this clan has survived for as long as it has—
It is nothing short of a miracle.
“Alastair,” Njáll says. “From Lazarus’ district.”
Elle’s mouth twists. It’s her district now, more or less, even though we have not conclusively determined who caused Lazarus’ death. Sam and Adam insist it was Adelaide, but I simply cannot understand why .
What did he know that she would need to keep secret?
“What happened?” I ask.
Elle crosses one leg over the other. “He drank tainted blood.”
“From a wolf?”
“No,” she replies. “A corpse.”
I wrinkle my nose. Drinking from the immediately dead—that will do nothing to us. And it is rare, now, to be able to drink from one who has been gone for a few hours or more. The modern world deals with death far faster than we used to.
“How did he not realise?” I say, shaking my head. “He would have tasted it, surely—”
“We suspect some magic was involved,” Njáll replies. “There is no indication that he chose that path himself.”
“Suspect?”
“That’s all we can do,” Elle says, spreading her hands wide. “Unless we call in some mages we know…”
She trails off and Njáll lets out a heavy sigh that tells me they’ve had this conversation already, and they are not in agreement about how to proceed.
“What’s the problem?” I ask.
“I just don’t think we should get the wolves involved in this,” Njáll replies.
“They’re hardly wolves ,” Elle scoffs.
“Whatever they are,” Njáll replies. “Is it wise?”
“Wise? Perhaps not. But the packs are dealing with deaths, too.” I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Sam is the most powerful mage we know, and Tamesis clearly has access to some supply of magic if he is causing this much havoc without leaving behind a hint of his scent.”
Elle nods, frowning. Aside from wrangling Lazarus’ district and the one she shares with Lucien, she has still been dealing with Chaya, trying to liaise with the wolves.
“I can ask him,” she says. “Or Adam. He’ll—”
I shake my head. “I must speak with Kieran directly. He’s their alpha, now. Any other way would be rude.”
At least. With everything that’s been going on, I gave Kieran permission to set up his pack in vampire territory as soon as he asked, with the caveat that it might be temporary.
I think he knows it will not be. If we all survive this—survive Tamesis—then I’m likely to give him anything he wants.
Njáll’s eyes are narrow slits as I pick up my phone and dial Kieran’s number. He does not trust the wolves, and though it is irritating, I am grateful for his pragmatism. He does not argue, either, as I listen to the phone ring and ring and then push me through to voicemail.
I hang up. “He is not answering.”
Elle frowns. “I spoke to Adam earlier. They’re all fine.”
“Crai, maybe in an hour or so—”
I shake my head. I need to ask for Sam’s help, and I need—we need—to have some plan that is more proactive than this. Vampires are dropping left and right. Now wolves. I’ve heard of no hunters dying, but I assume it is only a matter of time.
“No. I need to speak with them now.” I stand and button my suit jacket. “I will go there and see what, if anything, is wrong, and ask if Sam might assist us in some counter to these scent-hiding spells.”
Elle gets to her feet. “I’ll come with you. It’s not safe to go alone.”
“You must remain here. The vampires in your district will need you close by.”
“Then I’ll come.” Njáll crosses his big arms over his barrel chest. “You dismissed your guards, crai. You cannot go alone.”
“I can and I will. What if we’re both captured travelling together?”
Njáll’s frown deepens, revealing faint lines around his eyes, lines he got long before he was turned.
“If anything should happen to me—”
Njáll shakes his head. “It won’t.”
“And if it did, you would take my place. Which is why you cannot come with me and must remain here.”
“I could go there in your stead,” Njáll says, but Elle snorts.
“They’re not going to let you in,” she replies when he fixes her with a look. “I mean, eventually, but they don’t know you.”
Njáll opens his mouth, but I shake my head sharply before he can argue. “End of discussion. You both have duties to attend to. I will call when I arrive and get an understanding of if—and how—Sam and his coven can assist us.”
“Yes, crai,” Elle says.
The set to Njáll’s jaw is stubborn, but when I stare at him, he nods. “Yes, crai.”
After they leave my office, I arrange for a car, and only when I slide into the back seat do I let out a heavy breath. We pull away from the kerb and I stare out the window, watching the lights of the city go by.
I truly expected to have encountered Tamesis by now. I expected him to play games, of course, as that has always been his way—at least for as long as I have known him—but part of that includes taunting. Attention.
We turn down a dark street, somewhere in Hammersmith now, and I frown at my reflection in the glass. I have no doubt he is behind all of this. I am also still angry at Moreau for keeping this from me, for betraying my trust.
I am angrier at myself, of course. For not returning to the river the next night. For not remaining awake, ensuring that Deacon never left.
One hundred years of anger. It is all that I deserve.
The car takes another corner, and I feel some pull deep in my chest. It is enough to make me sit up straighter, but though I eye the shadows around us, I can make out no danger.
Another corner. The pull is stronger, and a quiet sound of dismay passes my lips.
The driver’s eyes flick up to the rear-view mirror. He frowns. “Is everything all right, crai?”
Yes. No. I scowl. “Pull over.”
He stops the car without question, though I see the tension in his shoulders when I open the door and climb out. I do not expect to be out here for long. The bond between me and Tamesis vanished when I drained him, so I know it is not him I am sensing.
But that means—
Movement in the shadows of an alley captures my attention, and my heart races when I realise who is about to step out of the dark.
Sure enough, Deacon appears. His hair is wild, eyes dark, and gait prowling in a way that I know means he just shifted back. He pushes a hand through his damp hair in an attempt to tame it, and I tear my eyes away before I can follow the lines of his forearm.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he says.
The growl in his voice should make the words sound threatening. They don’t. The idea that he is concerned—that he might worry for me—makes my insides soft.
“A vampire was killed,” I reply, and his frown deepens. “I am on my way to speak with Kieran.”
“Kieran? Why?”
I sigh, pushing my hands into the pockets of my suit trousers. Deacon’s eyes skip over me, but I cannot read his expression, and I hate that. When did I become unable to read him?
“The vampire drank blood from a corpse, but there is no indication it was an intentional act. I wanted to ask Sam and the coven if there was a way to disguise the scent of rotted blood and how we might counter that.”
Deacon does pull a face at that, some flicker of horror in his eyes. He understands, then, how dangerous this is. Our entire blood supply could be tainted before we know it, and while we can rely on our donors for those in the clan house, it would not be long before we ran into further problems. Vampires in London are not allowed to hunt—it is one of the most essential rules when it comes to keeping our city peaceful.
It is one of the rules I insisted on when we prepared the treaty.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, frowning. “This is not wolf territory.”
The corner of Deacon’s mouth twitches, even as his eyes narrow. “Will you hold me to account for it, crai?”
“Deacon—”
“I intended to speak with Kieran myself,” he interrupts. “Another wolf is dead, and there is an alpha meet later this week I have not invited him to. He is not answering his phone…”
He trails off. Is he worried? I truly believe Kieran and his pack are safe, but now that neither of us has managed to make contact with them, I itch with the sudden urge to get back in the car.
I turn towards it, then glance back over my shoulder at Deacon. “Since we’re both heading that way…”
I watch him as he thinks. His shoulders stiffen. Is he that against being in an enclosed space with me? I can understand it, I suppose, but I am certain he is under as much pressure as I am to keep things running, to keep everyone safe.
The next breath he lets out is heavy, almost a sigh. “I suppose—”
Something cracks through the air, hitting the car and sending it rocking on its wheels. I barely have a chance to turn my head before Deacon grabs me around the waist and drags me away.
“The driver—”
“Dead,” he snarls in my ear. Yes, I can hear it. No heartbeat.
I twist in Deacon’s grip, searching the shadows across the street. I cannot see anyone. I cannot hear anyone.
“Can you—”
“No.” I hear Deacon swallow. He lets go of me, and when he lowers his stance slightly, so do I.
I open my mouth. Another spell arcs through the air, and I duck in time for it to crash into the brick next to my head.
Deacon’s fingers close around my wrist. “Vasile,” he murmurs. “We need to run.”