Chapter 3
Chapter three
Saiden
“You’ve got to be joking,” Saiden argued, glaring at Marquin.
Like himself, Marquin looked no older than late twenties, but his youthful appearance made it difficult to take him seriously at times.
Perhaps it was the long blond hair and pale blue eyes that made him such a successful vampire.
No one thought you might be a demon when you looked like an angel.
Marquin leaned back in his leather chair and laced his fingers behind his head.
The casual gesture was at odds with the old-world feel of his office.
Mahogany bookcases lined the walls, and a wet bar took up most of the right side, complete with some of the most expensive bottles of scotch that ever existed.
Even Marquin’s three-piece, navy Hugo Boss suit screamed sophistication.
Yet the look on his face was pure childlike amusement.
“Now, Saiden, you know I never joke. Unless it’s about your hair, but never about work.”
Saiden ran a hand through his chin-length black hair that was currently shaved on the right side. He tried to maintain a modern hairstyle but often found himself somehow missing the mark. Something Marquin and the rest of the cadre never let him forget.
Saiden glowered at his sire and crossed his arms indignantly. “We have a dangerous and potentially crazed vampire actively pumping rogues into our territory. I can’t leave now. Send Tressa if you think it’s that important.”
“Tressa has not yet returned from Seattle where she is busy handling the fallout from yesterday’s incident,” Marquin replied, unfazed by Saiden’s attitude.
Right. His incident. Not that he’d had any choice but to burn down the building. He couldn’t exactly take body parts to the city landfill, and he didn’t have time to wait for Tressa to arrive and ‘handle it.’
“Send Derrick then,” Saiden offered. “You mentioned the target is a female. He’ll be perfect.”
“Not an option,” Marquin dismissed with a wave of his hand.
“Derrick left this morning to spend a few days in the mountains. And before you continue to go through the roster, I should tell you…” He leaned forward, all semblance of relaxation fading as his features settled into a level of resolve that left no room for argument.
“...Eliana said you would be the best choice.”
Fuck.
Saiden collapsed into the chair in front of Marquin’s desk. If Eliana recommended him, there was no avoiding it. Marquin would never take sides against his mate.
“Did she say why?” he asked, resignation filling his voice.
Marquin cocked his head. “Does she ever?”
Good point, Saiden thought. Eliana was a seer, among other things.
She never caught more than glimpses, but what she saw was always important in the end.
Most of the time even she couldn’t see how it would play out, which was more than a little frustrating at times.
If she saw him on this mission, then it had to be necessary for some reason.
Maybe it was related to the surge of new rogues. Eliana knew how hard he’d been working to hunt down the one siring them. If this trip somehow gave him insight…
“Fine,” he conceded, standing up and placing his hands on Marquin’s desk. “I’ll do it. Tell me what I need to know.”
Marquin flashed his patented smile. The one that said he would allow Saiden to pretend like there was ever a choice in the matter.
“Thank you, Saiden.” Marquin pulled out a manilla folder and slid it across his desk.
Saiden briefly flipped through the papers, then looked back up at Marquin. “A filmmaker? You’re sending me to Los Angeles to look into a filmmaker? Sorry, but I’m going to have to revisit whether or not this is a huge joke.”
Marquin poured a glass of scotch from the decanter on his desk. “I’m afraid this is no joking matter. Check out the summary at the end.”
Saiden flipped to the last page and started reading. Before he was halfway done, he slumped back into the chair again. So that’s why it wasn’t a joke. If this filmmaker knew one of the best kept secrets of his kind, then it warranted investigating just how she came about that information.
He looked up at Marquin. “How did Baylin even find this?”
Marquin took a sip of his drink and turned his attention back to his laptop. “How he finds everything else, I imagine. With as many computers as he has, I’m sure one of his algorithms stumbled across it.”
Saiden frowned and attempted one last chance to extricate himself. “And this has been verified?” he asked.
Marquin didn’t even bother to look up as he crushed Saiden’s hope. “I would not send you on a ten-hour road trip without verifying the intel.”
“Ten hours? Why can’t I take the… Oh. Derrick is in the mountains.”
Fuck. His cousin’s timing couldn’t be worse. Sooner or later, Saiden would really need to learn how to fly a plane. Being reliant on Derrick, who tended to use his aviation skills to wine and dine ladies, had caused more than one hiccup in a mission.
Tucking the folder under his arm, he stood up and strode toward the door.
“Saiden?” Marquin called from behind him, and Saiden glanced over his shoulder.
“Do take some care with this one. You’ve spent too many years dealing with rogues. Try to remember what it’s like to actually speak with a human, won’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Saiden muttered, shutting the door behind him and heading straight toward his room to pack. The file told him exactly where his target would be that afternoon, and he would need to haul ass to get there in time. Not a huge challenge with the way he drove but annoying nonetheless.
Once he stuffed a spare change of clothing into his duffel bag, he made his way to the massive garage to pick out the fastest car available. The cadre’s compound covered more than fifteen acres, and there was never a shortage of vehicular options in the ten-car garage.
He tossed his bag into the passenger side of his favorite option, a black McLaren GTS, then clicked the button to open the garage and took off down the driveway.
After pausing only long enough for the main gate to swing open, he slammed his foot on the gas pedal and pushed the car to it’s limit as he flew down the dirt road that would lead to Fall River Mills and Highway 299.