All That Bleeds (18 page)

She’d sat in the car with him, sweet-skinned and warm and pulsing with life, and asked him,
“What do you need?”
His normal answer to that question would have been, “Not much.” Blood. Air. Water. Only things essential for survival. But a different answer had sprung to mind, as unexpected as Athena springing from the head of Zeus.

What do you need?

With inexplicable passion, he’d thought,
This
.
Just this
.
To be where you are.

Alissa let them in, of course. Then she made them wait. She needed time to compose herself, so she’d claimed she was shaky from low blood sugar and had escaped to the kitchen. She wished Merrick were there to make her that sublime cocktail he’d fixed her at his apartment and to talk to her in that deep, calming voice. She also wished he were there to spar with the trinity of frowns darkening the living room. She suspected he wouldn’t have answered any questions; he’d just stare them down until they took their bleak expressions and went away.

Returning with a platter of food, she found them shifting impatiently in their seats. They ignored the small plates and napkins, trying to begin the conversation.

Still picturing Merrick’s face, she went to the bar and poured herself a Tanqueray and tonic. She drank about half
before she returned to them. She knew she’d stalled as long as possible when Dimitri asked her to sit down for the second time.

She did so and watched them silently as she nibbled smoked salmon wraps and sipped her gin and tonic while they talked. Eventually, she fielded the expected questions.

“Of course, in retrospect, I should have taken a security detail, but there hasn’t been a single violent incident at a club in the Sliver in the past decade. Ventala aren’t exactly welcome in that section, and most of the ventala have their own clubs, so why should they have been there? Troy was there without ES as escort.”

“I’m not a muse,” Troy sputtered. “I’m not ventala catnip. I’m not vying to be the face and future of the entire Etherlin. If I get myself killed or involved in an incident in the Sliver, it might make papers around the state. You’re international news, and you know it.”

“Alissa, why would you go out of the Etherlin without a security detail? You never have before,” Grant said.

“In the first place, because ES can feel like a military presence, which tends to dampen a celebration and interferes with the creative spirit I try to inspire in my aspirants. Secondly, this was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I didn’t want to fill out forms and wait while an advance team went to scout and secure the location. As I’ve told you before, I think the pre-departure protocols are too time-consuming.”

“Do you think that? Do you really?” Troy demanded. “Considering what happened tonight?” He shook his head furiously. “A friend of mine is dead.”

Alissa paled. “I’m very sorry about that, Troy. Of course, I am. I know that no amount of money can compensate the families of the men who were injured or killed, but I’ll create a memorial fund for each of them.”

“Using discretionary funds?” Dimitri asked.

“Of course not. My discretionary funds aren’t enough for something like this. I’ll need to access my earnings.”

“Your earnings are in the Etherlin accounts. They belong to the community.”

“Right, but this is community business. Those men fought
to protect me, and it was my poor judgment that led to what happened. I asked them to confront the ventala and to force him to leave. If I had not been there, they’d still be alive.”

“Maybe,” Grant said. “Maybe not. Ventala are violent and unpredictable. The male ventala who did the killing has nineteen arrests. He could’ve ended up attacking those men whether you were there or not.”

“How do you know about his arrests?” she asked.

“The Sliver authorities are sharing information with us since we’ve agreed to help them with their investigation and with bringing that ventala into custody.”

“Which is the way that we’ll support the Sliver community. You’re not financially responsible for the actions of a vampire half-breed,” Dimitri said.

“Well, I feel partially responsible. If the EC won’t authorize a financial offering to the families, I’ll do it myself. I have jewelry and vintage clothing that can be auctioned. The emeralds my grandmother wore to the White House in 1962 and the diamond-encrusted mask she wore to Truman Capote’s Black and White Ball are worth at least half a million dollars, which is a good start. Christie’s can take care of the sale for me.”

Dimitri grimaced. “Do you really want the council to hear that you’re planning to auction off pieces of muse history? You know how the EC will react to something like that. The vote is three days away.”

“Then please help me compensate the families. Even if we’re not obligated to do this, it’s right. What if I take on some modeling work and specifically earmark the income for a memorial? Wouldn’t that be good publicity for the Etherlin? The Estée Lauder people have been really lovely to work with. They’ve offered very generous contracts in the past.”

“It
would
be good publicity to offset any backlash we get for ES not being there to handle the situation,” Troy said.

“I’ll propose it to the rest of the council and see what they think,” Dimitri said. “Now, there’s the other matter.”

“What other matter?” she asked.

“You drove to the gate with a ventala. Did he force his way into your car?” Dimitri asked.

“No.”

“Then what was he doing there?” Grant asked.

“He saved my life. I wasn’t certain whether other ventala would try to prevent me from returning to the Etherlin. I trusted him to get me back to the checkpoint.”

“Why?” Troy demanded. “He could’ve been trying to get you alone, to separate you from witnesses. Going with a strange ventala makes no sense.”

“It does if I know him.”

They all gaped at her.

“He killed the demon at the 2007 Arts & Innovation Benefit. He didn’t attack anyone else while he was in the Etherlin. Not humans and not me. I was a foot away from him when I thanked him. He never tried to hurt me.”

“That night an ES officer had a gun to the ventala’s head,” Grant exclaimed. “I’ve read the report. There is no reason to believe that given the same opportunity while
alone
with you, he’d behave the same way.”

“Except he did. He saved my life and helped me get back to the gate.”

“And it cost you nothing? Not a drop of blood?” Troy asked.

She shook her head.

“Let us see your neck and arms,” Troy said.

She glared at him, her heart thumping in her chest. The bruises and scabs from the kidnapping were still visible. Did Troy know about the abduction? Did he know about Cato Jacobi biting her? Had he been involved in the plot? It would make sense. She and Troy had a history—an unpleasant one.

Despite the flush rising in her cheeks, she kept her expression defiantly neutral.

“ES said your car was parked for twelve minutes before they approached it. What were you doing all that time?” Grant asked.

“I was talking to him. He’d just saved my life for the second time. In such cases, it’s appropriate to offer a few words of thanks, don’t you think?”

“He didn’t save your life at the ball. You were in a safe room,” Grant said.

“Well he saved the lives of my friends and aspirants, including Troy’s sister, who wasn’t in a safe room. That demon would eventually have smelled Ileana’s blood and found her hiding place.”

“Be that as it may, you were alone with him in the car for quite a long time,” Troy said.

“Did anything happen?” Dimitri asked.

“I thanked him and said good-bye.”

“That took twelve minutes?” Grant asked.

“I was rattled. It took a few minutes for me to pull my thoughts together. Then pleasantries and small talk were exchanged. Simple courtesy.”

“He’s part of a crime syndicate, you know,” Grant said.

“No, I didn’t,” she lied.

“Well, he is.”

“And they never do anything for anyone without compensation. He either wanted blood or he’ll want a favor from you in the future,” Grant said.

“If he wants a favor, as long as it doesn’t put me in danger and isn’t criminal, I’d be inclined to grant it. On two occasions he has saved lives and performed a service to me and the community.”

“He’s a blood-swilling thug,” Troy said. “Any connection to him—any at all—would be pure poison from a publicity standpoint and would be a terrible and dangerous example to set for the rest of the Etherlin community. There is no way you can wear the Wreath now.”

“Troy,” Dimitri said in a calming voice.

“No, Dimitri, you heard her. She’d do him a favor. She’d consort with a ventala. That’s grounds to remove her from the competition.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she demanded. “Cerise is your friend. Ileana is your sister. My removal is what you’ve been hoping for. I wonder what you’d be willing to do to make that happen.”

“Meaning what?” Troy snapped.

“Meaning, how did they know I was there? Did someone tip them off? I notice you’re unharmed. You’ve got muse blood
in you, yet you weren’t attacked. Where were you while your friend was fighting them?”

“Alissa,” Grant exclaimed. “Troy wasn’t armed.”

“If it had been Cerise, I would have helped her.”

“Cerise isn’t your friend,” Troy snapped. “She can’t stand you.”

Alissa winced. “It’s true that we’re not friends anymore, but I would still have tried to help her. What does that say about me? And you?”

“You’re an ice-cold bitch!” Troy shouted, jumping up.

“That’s enough,” Grant said, grabbing Troy and pulling him back. “Troy, enough!”

Dimitri rose, too. “It’s late. Everyone’s upset. We’re going.” He embraced her briefly, whispering in her ear, “If the ventala tainted you, you must withdraw from Wreath contention. We’ll find a way for you to save face and remain in the community, but no more talk of doing favors or consorting with ventala. Never to anyone. Or I won’t be able to protect you. Understand?”

She nodded, feeling sick and shaky. She waited until the door closed behind them and sank down onto the couch. She sat, awash in numb regret, for more than an hour. Finally, she wandered upstairs to her room.

In the bathroom, she washed her face and rubbed her eyes. She’d been struggling with the decision. If getting caught was inevitable, she should probably withdraw from the competition before it was too late. But if she did forfeit the Wreath, Cerise would get it and might never let Alissa have access to it. Her dad would never get the chance to recover. He’d probably get worse. The pain of that thought left her breathless.

The Etherlin had been founded in order to concentrate muse magic, which was never as strong when the muses were separated. If Alissa was thrown out of the community, what would happen to her dad?

She couldn’t withdraw; she absolutely had to remain in the competition for her dad’s sake. But then what about Merrick? Was she supposed to stay silent when people said all ventala were vicious creatures who should’ve been exterminated with
the vampires? Was she supposed to never address the fact that one of them had risked his own life to help her?

In bed, she lay awake with churning thoughts, exhausted but unable to sleep. Her cell phone rang at five forty in the morning. She contemplated the unidentified number. It might be Tobin. She didn’t feel like talking to him, but still needed to.

She answered wearily. “Hello?”

“Still want to know what I need?”

She froze at the sound of Merrick’s voice. It took a moment for her to answer. “It’s very late,” she managed.
And things are extremely complicated and dangerous for me.

“So the offer’s expired?”

She hesitated, but finally said, “No. Like you, I keep my promises. What appreciation gift would you like me to send?”

“Shut off the security system and come to the garden door.”

She sat bolt upright, heart slamming. “Are you—? You’re not here.”

“See for yourself.”

Oh my God.

When Merrick ended the call, Alissa’s mouth went dry, half in dread, half in anticipation. If he was downstairs, she shouldn’t open the door for him, but could she afford to leave him wandering around outside her house?

She glanced down at her silk nightgown. She grabbed a pair of black slacks and a blue knit shirt. She changed quickly and hurried down. She disabled the security system and opened the back door.

The quiet darkness was velvet smooth with no signs of movement, not even the wind. Had he been joking? She stepped back and began to close the door when he stepped into view.

She gaped at him. His dark hair dripped onto the shoulders of a black wet suit that looked painted on. There was mud on his hands and feet and blood trickling down his left arm.

“I need a shower, help bandaging my shoulder, and a place to sleep at dawn.”

“I—you can’t stay here. You can’t be here.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Of course you can take a shower, and I’m happy to bandage your shoulder, but you know you can’t be found here.”

“I won’t be found. Shower?”

“This way.” She closed the door, but he stilled her hand from bolting it.

“One more thing. There’s a box that was shipped to the gardener.”

“He doesn’t come until Tuesdays.”

“I know; that’s why I sent it to him. Your staff opens packages sent to you, and I couldn’t ship something to myself at this address, now could I?”

“What’s in the package?”

“A duffel bag of my stuff. Where would the staff put something for the gardener? In the tool shed?” Merrick grabbed a handful of paper towels and pressed them against his shoulder.

She stared at him. “You planned this? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would’ve asked too many questions and tried to say no. The conversation would’ve been really long.” He grimaced as he put more pressure on the shoulder wound. The paper towels were falling apart in his fingers. “Pointlessly long, since I would’ve come either way.”