Chapter 20
Dove drewher arms over her head, stretching muscles that had been strained in the most delectable ways. It had been like this the past week. She and Marcus spent their days training and their nights tangled up in his sheets. Goddess, but the vampire had some stamina.
She’d never been so content. The once-creepy mansion was now their playground. Marcus practiced hunting her along the darkened hallways. Together, they explored the grounds, chasing fireflies, making love in the greenhouse, cellar, and attic. In their bubble, there was no talk of the future. Both living in the moment.
Life was good in Dove Land.
Though they didn’t discuss the future, Dove couldn’t help but picture them here. Years from now, hand in hand, watching the sunset. Playing in shadows, dancing beneath the stars. Nothing before them but blissful days and endless nights.
She slid her arm across the bed and frowned. The sheets beside her were cool.
“Marcus?” She cracked an eye open, scanning the bedroom.
“This way,” whispered a familiar voice.
Dove stiffened. No. No. No. She drew her pillow over her head. “La la la, can’t hear you.”
“Snakes in the garden,” the voice persisted, speaking to her psyche. Despite the down-filled barrier, Dove’s spiritual antenna was picking up the signal loud and clear.
Ugh. Again with the snakes. Apparently, she’d get no sleep until this was resolved. “I’m coming. I’m coming.” She tossed back the bedding and lowered her feet to the floor.
“This way.”
“Keep your bloomers on. I said I’m coming.” Dove stomped to the discarded nightgown Marcus had flung to the floor in his haste to get her naked. Her lady bits tingled at the memory. She shucked it over her head, grabbed her robe off the chair, and slid it on. Already, this was a tidge awkward given she was sleeping with the spirit’s son. No way she was tromping around in the buff while chasing said ghostie.
Once in the hallway, she picked up the telltale glow of a spiritual entity.
“This way.”Josephine raced ahead of her.
“Hey, wait up.” Dove broke into a trot, just to keep her in sight. Around the next turn, the spirit vanished, gliding right through a wall.
Dove panted, planting her hands on her hips. “Dang it, Josephine. You know I can’t walk through walls.”
Low voices echoed from the end of the hall. From beneath a door shone a dull light, not the supernatural kind. Was Marcus in there? Was that why his mother led her here?
Dove tiptoed to the partially open door and peeked into the crack. Inside, Marcus and Bishop stood behind a long desk. In front of them was a wall covered in pictures with strings pinned this way and that. Dove’s eyes rounded. Helen’s picture was dead center.
She must have gasped without realizing because Bishop appeared at the door. He shoved it wide, eyes narrowing on her. “We’ve got company, Steele.”
Dove slipped into the room, head disconnected from her body. Brain floating somewhere near the ceiling, ready to pop. “What is this?”
Marcus scowled, his jaw set at a defensive angle, feet braced as though for a fight. “What does it look like?”
Her spine straightened. She too angled her jaw, setting her feet deep into the floor. “It looks like you’re a fanatical stalker who’s completely obsessed with Helen.”
“I’ll, uh, give you two a minute,” Bishop muttered, shuffling toward the hallway.
“Don’t,” Marcus barked. “We’re not done here.” At the sharp command, Bishop folded his arms and released a long-suffering sigh, leaning his bulk against the doorjamb.
Dove had little sympathy for the lycan. “I thought you were past this,” she said to Marcus. “I believed you and the demon were at peace with each other. That you’d accepted him as a necessary presence in your life. This”—she stabbed a finger at the wall—“is not the behavior of a someone who is well adjusted.”
“Did you also believe I would hide in this dusty old mausoleum forever? As lord of House Othonos, I have responsibilities beyond you and the blasted demon. Now that my control is better and my body strong, I need to take back my life.”
Dove’s heart winced, taking that verbal stab. This past week, she’d fooled herself into believing Marcus was happy in the mansion. Instead, he’d been plotting to resume his old life. A life that likely didn’t include her.
“Don’t act as though the truth isn’t right before me.” She thrust out her arm, pointing at Helen’s picture. “This isn’t some vision board for House Othonos, full of aspirations and inspirational quotes. This is a murder wall, one bordering on obsession.” That obsession would lead him down the same path that had taken her father from her.
Marcus hammered the table, snarling, “I am not obsessed with Helen.” Shadows swirled. Dark power brushed against her skin, and she ignored the warning. This wasn’t a time to let his strength cow her.
“Right,” Dove spat through clenched teeth. “Then look me in the eyes and tell me again how she has no hold on you.” She flicked a deliberate glance at Helen’s photo. “Face it. You’re giving your power away, Marcus. Giving it to someone who doesn’t have a single care for you.”
Marcus squeezed his fist, closing his eyes, centering himself. After a moment, the shadows stilled, and he opened his eyes. Jerk, she was the one who’d taught him that.
Calmer now, he said, “First, understand that I rarely feel the need to explain myself to anyone. However, for you, I will make this exception. That said, there are questions I need answered. While I see now the demon is the reason I still breathe, I’d like to know how I came to be the host of a creature that shouldn’t exist in this plane. Since I suspect Helen had a hand in my possession, she may be the only one with those answers.”
Dove flung out her arms. “But why go to these lengths knowing the outcome won’t change?” Unless revenge was truly his motive. It was a sobering thought. One that made far too much sense, given the evidence before her.
His anger returned, his left pupil glowing red. “While you may have forgotten that Helen implicated me as a Zion conspirator, I certainly have not. The Council plans to accuse me of treason. My uncle has already said he will not intercede on my behalf. That means I need Helen to clear my name before I lose everything.”
Damn him. It did make sense. She grew a bit smaller for having pushed such an important detail to the back of her mind. Who could blame her when Dove Land was so irresistible? Despite her moment of guilt, she persisted. “I hear you. Now I need you to hear me. I need to know this is about more than vengeance. I refuse to watch the same hate and rage that ruined my father consume you. I won’t walk beside you on a path to destruction.” Nor would she put him back together just to see him destroy himself.
Marcus’s countenance darkened. “I’ll admit, watching Helen suffer would give me great pleasure, but this isn’t about revenge. It’s about justice and ensuring she doesn’t succeed in ruining me.”
“Fair enough.” Dove nodded, though buzzards of apprehension still pecked at her insides. Like Marcus, her father had claimed justice was the reason he’d spent every penny they had chasing her mother’s killers. Regardless, Dove had said her piece. All she could do now was make sure Marcus didn’t follow in her father’s steps.
She skirted the table and leaned into his side. “I don’t want to see you ruined. Helen already took her pound of flesh. She’ll get no more on my watch.”
Marcus tucked his arm around her waist. “My champion.”
She sighed. “Catch me up. Maybe I can help.”
“Why not.” He shrugged. “We’ve tried everything else. Bishop.”
The bodyguard stepped into the room, standing before the board. “At the resort, we hit a dead end. In those security tapes, we identified Helen’s lover as Adam, a vampire who was one of Victor Custodis’s soldiers.” He pointed to a photo of a clean-cut guy with a buzz cut. “Though the information was buried, I was able to uncover the circumstances of his death. Turns out he was spying on Victor for Zion. When Adam’s cover was blown, Adam attacked one of Viktor’s men and was killed in the exchange.”
“Hence the dead end,” Dove muttered, her thoughts racing. “That means Helen’s boyfriend betrayed Victor. Same way Helen betrayed you.” She tapped her chin, studying the board. “Seems to me you’re missing a picture.”
“How so?”
She grabbed a piece of paper, scribbled on it, and pinned it in place. Next. She shifted two lengths of string before standing back to admire her handiwork.
“Victor?” Marcus read the name she wrote.
“Yes. The enemy of my enemy and all that.” She shrugged. “I figure he’s the only one who’s even more motivated to find Helen than you. For starters, her lover was a Zion mole who betrayed him. Second, she’s deeply acquainted with the Council’s most wanted criminal, Zion. You can bet Victor is highly interested in finding her.”
Marcus looked at Bishop. “My uncle pulled Victor off the Zion case because he believed he was mishandling it. Then he hired his own task force to take over the investigation.”
“I imagine that burned Viktor’s butt,” Dove chimed in. One thing she knew for certain was powerful men didn’t appreciate being undermined.
“If you were Victor, would you sit back and let the magister take over?” Bishop asked.
“No,” Marcus said. “I’d pretend to cooperate while investigating on the sly.”
Dove grinned, rather proud of the contribution she’d made to their plan. “Marcus and Victor should team up, compare notes.”
“Viktor isn’t known for being a team player,” Bishop said.
“Neither am I,” Marcus added.
Dove swallowed a snort of agreement. Pitting two stubborn vampire leaders against each other wouldn’t get them far. “Then take someone with you to the meeting. An ice breaker to keep the conversation rolling.” Surely, Marcus had somebody on his staff who would fit the bill.
Marcus rubbed his recently mended cheek. “Viktor is an ancient and powerful vampire with untold gifts. If I let my demon slip when I’m near him, he may sense its presence.”
“It’s better than any of the riskier options we’ve come up with,” Bishop said. “Things get out of hand, Dove could quiet your darker half. Chosen travel with their benefactors all the time. With you recovering from your injures, and her being a faerie, you’d want to keep her close. Shouldn’t raise suspicion.”
Dove’s head swiveled between the two men. Wait. What?
“She handled herself well with Xavier at the resort,” Marcus agreed.
“Hold up. I didn’t mean me.” She pointed at her chest.
Bishop went on, ignoring her. “Bringing your bodyguard along could come off as an insult, put him on his guard. Whereas Dove would make it seem you were there for a social visit.”
“Hello? Is this thing on?” She blew into the tip of her finger. “There’s a reason Vivian rarely took me to social functions, taking Armond with her instead. I am the queen of awkward conversations and inappropriate behavior. Definitely not the girl you want rubbing elbows with the Clan Leader of the Eastern Realm.
Finally, Marcus met her eyes. He captured her hand and kissed her fingertips. “Like me, Victor won’t know what hit him.” The look on his face melted her insides as well as her resistance. Was this the reason his mother had guided her here tonight?
She squeezed his hand, her lips twisting into a grimace. “Careful what you wish for, Steele.”
Marcus settled deeperinto the stiff-backed chair, though it was impossible to be truly at ease in Victor Custodis’s office. The clan leader’s diminutive servant, Alphonse, had shown them to the room, indicating without words that they should wait for his master. The few times Marcus had visited Claymore, the servant had never spoken. Marcus had yet to determine the creature’s species, but the strange little fellow certainly wasn’t human.
Dove, too nervous to sit, glided around the space, pausing before a set of shelves loaded with artifacts. “Good grief.” She gasped. “Would you get a load of all this stuff? I mean, who keeps a shrunken head on display?”
“Probably belongs to the last faerie who dared to touch his belongings.”
“What?” She jerked her hand back, gaping at him.
Despite his growing tension, he couldn’t contain his smirk.
“Ha, ha, ha. Very funny.” Dove walked to the chair beside his. She grunted, heaving her massive bag to the floor before sitting.
“You and your purse. What’s in there, an anvil?”
“The head of the last guy who dared to touch it.” She wiggled her eyebrows, then huffed at his lack of response. “Oh, because your joke was way funnier.”
“It was,” he said without inflection.
She fidgeted in her seat. “I’m tired of sitting after all the traveling we just did. First the helicopter, followed by the car.”
They’d left his ancestral home at dawn. Not his preferred time to travel, but necessary. “It was fortunate Victor accepted my request for an audience so quickly.”
“I suppose so,” Dove grumbled, stretching out her legs. She’d worn a loose-fitting dress for the meeting. The gauzy fabric was still fresh as when she’d donned it. His suit hadn’t fared as well, showing creases. Rumpled wasn’t the image he wished to convey to the clan leader, but it would have to do. Marcus had bigger concerns. His demon, for starters. Thankfully, it remained quiet for the moment. Dove had that effect on the spirit, making it as docile as a well-fed puppy.
“This place is crazy big. I feel like I’m in a museum.” She scrunched her nose.
It was so like Dove to be unimpressed with the opulence of Claymore, one of the largest and most historic estates in the realm. Every piece in the large mansion was priceless. Victor, being an avid collector of all things rare and unusual. The desk before them, with its rich wood carvings and ivory inlays, likely belonged to some long-deceased king.
“What do you suppose he’s reading?” Dove leaned forward, eyeing the open book on Victor’s desk. She gasped, stiffening. “Marcus, look. Isn’t that the same symbol you have branded on your chest?”
He leaned forward as well, breath catching when he got a glimpse of the page. It was identical.
Dove turned to him, eyes wide with alarm. “It can’t be a coincidence. Do you think he knows about your demon?”
“I don’t see how. I haven’t seen him in months.” There was no way Victor could have spotted the mark on his chest. Could he?
Before Marcus could investigate further, knuckles rapped on the door and Victor Custodis, Clan Leader of the Eastern Realm, entered. Marcus rose to great him, motioning for Dove to do the same.
Little had changed about the clan leader since they’d last met. He wore a collar-less suit jacket with rich embroidery on the lapels. Around his neck was a chain of golden discs, a symbol of his powerful station. Silver-white hair hung down his back. His ageless, yet aristocratic face revealed nothing of his mood. Though the power rolling off the male warned he was ancient and not one to be trifled with.
“My apologies for keeping you waiting, Lord Steele.” Victor stuck out his hand and Marcus returned his handshake.
“No apologies necessary. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” He touched the small of Dove’s back. “This is Dove, my Chosen.”
“Ah, yes. Vivian Laurent’s former ward if I’m not mistaken.” Victor’s keen gray eyes took Dove’s measure.
She dipped her head, more subdued than Marcus had ever seen her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Victor folded his arms while he perused her, tapping his lip. The vampire’s interest in Marcus’s Chosen stirred something deep inside of him. His shoulders tensed, shadows stirring in his soul.
“You’re a necromancer.”
Marcus cringed inwardly. This was why he’d been hesitant to approach Victor before getting a handle on his demon. The male was far too intuitive.
“That’s right,” Dove answered, her tone tight.
“Fascinating skill. One to be envied. I could envision a great many uses for such an ability. You’re fortunate to have this one at your side, Lord Steele.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Marcus said. No doubt, Victor would love to add Dove to his collection. It was rumored his menagerie wasn’t limited to inanimate objects.
“Sit. Please.” Victor indicated the chairs they’d abandoned, then walked behind his desk and seated himself in the large leather chair. He laid a ribbon between the pages of his thick book and closed it, then set it aside. That done, he propped his elbows on the wooden surface, steepling his hands. “Now, tell me. How may I be of service? Surely, you haven’t come to negotiate building rights for yet another investment.”
When last they’d met, it was to discuss the permit for the casino. Victor had been a pain in the ass, making him fight for every inch of land he’d approved.
“It’s nothing like that.”
“I hear your casino is doing quite well, despite the rough start.”
Marcus nodded. “It’s about that rough start that brings me here. I believe you and I share an interest in the woman responsible for the explosion at the casino opening.”
Victor’s polite fa?ade did not waver. “Do we?”
“In addition to almost killing me, before Helen fled, she set things into place that implicated me as a Zion conspirator. The Council is considering charges against me.”
“Unpleasant business.” Victor’s even features darkened, exposing his irritation. “You wouldn’t be the first to be accused. For those found guilty, the ramifications are far-reaching. If you’re here seeking help with the Council, I’m afraid I can’t be of much assistance. Your uncle removed me from the investigation.”
“I’m aware. I’d prefer not to involve my uncle.” Marcus leveled him a pointed look.
“Understood. However, I too would prefer not to earn his wrath. He’s become rather”—he paused—“zealous in his desire to eliminate Zion. Any action on my part would be seen as interference.”
His uncle would love nothing more than to humble the clan leader. While Tiberius held the official title of magister, one of the most powerful positions in the underworld, Victor had earned just as much clout over the years.
“Also understood.” Marcus needed to tread carefully. “During the course of my investigation, I discovered Helen was intimately involved with one of your men, Adam. I understand that prior to his death, she’d recruited him into Zion’s ranks, leading him to betray you.”
“She did,” Victor admitted with little emotion.
“Then I believe we share a common interest in tracking the person responsible for that betrayal.”
“An interest, yes. However, as I said, your uncle has tied my hands in this matter.”
Marcus pushed on. “Then it’s fortunate he hasn’t tied mine.”
In previous dealings with Victor, he’d learned, at times, it was best to say nothing once his chips were on the table. He prayed Dove took her cue and remained patient.
The clan leader took his time aligning his pen at the side of his leather desk pad. “It seems we find ourselves in similar situations. Both unable to move forward. Whereas I cannot actively help you track Helen, you may find it interesting to know your uncle’s task force has been negligent in retrieving Adam’s remains from my morgue. Since Adam was working for Zion, Tiberius insisted I allow his team to process the traitor’s corpse. He has yet to follow through with this demand.”
“Adam is still here?”
“He is.” Victor’s even stare shifted in Dove’s direction. “If only you knew someone who could speak to the dead.”
“Wait. What?” Dove scooted to the edge of her seat. She glanced at Marcus. “Sorry to interrupt, but this isn’t a possibility we’ve ever discussed.”
Victor continued as though Dove hadn’t spoken. “In exchange for granting you access to Adam, I will expect a detailed accounting of everything you discover. Know that there will be no record of your visit to the morgue. Seeing as how I am no longer in charge of Zion’s investigation.”
So Victor was investigating on the side despite being removed from the case. In using Dove, he’d get the information he desired without getting his hands dirty. It was a fair trade if it got them the information they sought.
Raised voices echoed from the hall. Marcus met Victor’s inquisitive stare. Apparently, whatever was going on outside wasn’t on the clan leader’s schedule. Heavy footfalls pounded the floors, and the office door crashed back on its hinges.
Marcus lurched from the chair, snagging Dove around the waist and dragging her behind his back.
Braced in the doorway was none other than his uncle, Tiberius Steele. Shit! What was he doing there?
Tiberius stormed into the room, followed by four uniformed members of his task force. Shouts rang out, and two heavily armed men burst in behind them. Both members of Victor’s elite guard.
“Apologies, Master Custodis,” one said through gritted teeth, his fury evident. “The magister claims he is here on official business. He forced himself inside and refused to wait for us to summon you.”
Victor rose to his feet, his manner controlled while icy menace filled the room. “What’s the meaning of this, Tiberius?”
The gleam in the magister’s eyes didn’t bode well for anyone. That narrow glare swiveled in Marcus’s direction, flickering with surprise as he scanned his uninjured face. “Nephew. You’re looking… well. Still, this is the last place I expected to find you. You should reconsider the company you keep given your own troubles with the Council.”
Marcus bluffed, using the easiest excuse available to him. “Would you deny your nephew the expertise of one of the best physicians in the underworld?” Victor’s medic was well-known. His medical facilities beneath Claymore were top of the line.
“I wouldn’t, which is exactly why I offered my own, but that’s beside the point. It isn’t you who brings me here.” His attention shifted to Victor. Glee illuminated the cold depths of his eyes. “Viktor Custodis, Clan Leader of the Eastern Realm, I hereby charge you with treason against the Council. You will place yourself in the custody of my task force until such a time your case may be heard by your peers.”
Marcus gnashed his teeth. Just as he was on the verge of gaining the information he desperately needed, his uncle planned to arrest Victor. Convenient timing. Too convenient? The very idea that Tiberius sabotaged his efforts deliberately was unsettling.
The demon at his center stirred. Lights flickered and his uncle tensed, eyeing the room with suspicion.
Dove’s slim body pressed against his back. “Easy,” she whispered.
Victor’s tone was sharp enough to cut glass. “This time you’ve gone too far, Tiberius.”
Marcus feared the clan leader was right. For weeks now, the magister had made wild accusations against key members of the community. Arresting several powerful entities. With this act, Tiberius may have earned the distrust of much of the underworld. Victor was well-known and highly respected. Clapping him in chains and subjecting him to the humiliation of a trial could make or break both of their careers.
“Master Custodis? What are your orders?” said Victor’s guard.
At last, Victor responded, “General, have your men stand down. I will go willingly to see this gross injustice rectified.” He gave Marcus his attention. “My servant will escort you to Doctor Randall. I’m certain he will be happy to assist you in my absence. Please keep me apprised of your progress.”
Marcus nodded, not trusting his voice to be his own instead of the demon’s.
Victor strolled around his desk, stopping directly in front of the magister. The two leaders stood toe to toe. Identical expressions of loathing on their faces. Icy menace crackled between them. The air grew frigid. Dove shivered against his back.
“Your move, Magister Steele,” Victor said in a voice so chilling it raised the hairs on Marcus’s arms.
“So it is.” Tiberius smirked. Metal clanked. His uncle clapped restraints on Victor’s wrists without breaking his stare. “After you, Master Custodis.” He stepped aside, gesturing for the powerful leader to exit.
Victor nodded, and they filed out the door.