Deceived By the Others (26 page)

I paused. Considered and discarded any idea of discussing my violent train of thought with Arnold. The mage was far too cold in his calculations; right now, I needed someone with a temper that matched mine. Someone who would agree with what I was saying, back me up, and, best of all, not tell me to stop once I started down the path of revenge.

“Okay. You’re right. I won’t do anything about it for right now.” No, not right now. Later was another story.

“All right. Anything else I can do?”

“Not for the moment. Just keep quiet about everything, and let me know if you find a cure.”

“You got it.”

I had another task to see to before I could do what I was thinking about. The rolodex beside my monitor held all the numbers that had been in my cell phone. Luckily I’d gotten past my inability to keep my life organized and implemented the system of copying all the numbers in my phone as a security measure after losing my second-to-last cell phone to Max Carlyle.

Part of me still worried the crazy vampire had collected the contact info from it and might seek to use it against me some day. It had been a couple months, but that was no time at all to a creature who’s seen the passing of several millennia. He could strike at any time, which I’d done my very best to think about as little as possible. That didn’t mean I didn’t have the occasional niggling feeling of panic when something reminded me of the psycho vampire or what his plans for me had been. Plans that might not have changed, only been delayed.

As they say, you’re not paranoid if they really are out to get you.

Royce’s card held every number, address, and e-mail he’d ever given me, written in my cramped chicken-scratch so it would all fit. My usual hesitation to contact him had been replaced by a hesitation to tell him what had happened to me. Thankfully, that would most likely be put off for a while. It was only midafternoon. Though I’d seen him up and about during the day, chances were the vampire was resting. I’d leave him a message, and no doubt he’d return my call as soon as night fell.

As expected, his phone went immediately to voice mail. I waited for the beep, and then left a curt, perfunctory message with little more than my name, home number, and a semi-politely worded request for him to call me back as soon as he got the message.

After I hung up, I rose and headed to my bedroom. Tucked away in the bottom drawer of my dresser lay my hunting gear, arranged just as I’d left it. I ran my fingers over the handles of the three silver stakes, the belt they were attached to lying quiescent. The spirit inside would wake after sunset, the same spirit that hated all things Other. Whoever it had been, it had once hunted creatures of the night. Years of practice added to information collected from all who had worn it resulted in a formidable and deadly weapon, as it passed all that anger and experience on to the current wearer.

Maybe it would have some advice for me.

Chapter 26

After showering and bandaging my hand, I took what I intended to be a short nap. Instead, I ended up sleeping the remainder of the afternoon and most of the night away, and woke up to my message machine blinking. I’d slept right through someone’s trying to call me. With a groan, instead of snuggling under the covers as the rain pattering against my window urged me to do, I rolled out of bed. I had no idea what time the sun would rise. Panic drove me to move fast, hurrying to the dresser in the desperate hope that I hadn’t missed my opportunity to speak to the belt before dawn.

With shaking fingers, I pressed my hand to the coil of leather, praying the buzz of life was still in it. I was rewarded with a mental blast of impatience; I hadn’t taken it out in weeks, and it was not happy that I’d been ignoring it.

With no little trepidation, I picked the belt up and settled the side imprinted with the swirling brand of magic runes against my skin. The tongue adhered to the rest of the black leather, sealing it to me until sunrise. The voice of the spirit inside instantly berated me, and I took the lashing in silence.

‘Why have you been ignoring me? Do you have any idea how boring it is to have no one to talk to for so long? Your panties aren’t great conversationalists, I’ll have you know!’

“Hey, I never stuck you in with my underwear,” I protested, settling down on the bed. The belt didn’t want me to sit; it wanted me to move, to
run,
to let it feel all the glorious sensations of having a body again. It radiated eager agreement at my absent thought of making some coffee. It loved my morning staple almost as much as I did. “I need your advice.”

‘As long as you drink some coffee, I’m all ears.’

I complied, heading to the kitchen and letting all my angry thoughts return. The sensation of the belt examining and absorbing the memories of my time with the Sunstrikers this past weekend was not unlike the dainty prickle of a spider creeping along my skin. Except that this spider was crawling around inside my skull. Talk about creepy.

“Do you see?” I asked, taking a sip of java heavily medicated with cream and sugar.

After a blissful wash of pleasure, the belt spoke.
‘I’ll talk. Keep drinking.’

I did what it asked, rolling the drink over my tongue, enjoying the artifact’s reaction almost as much as my much-needed caffeine fix.

‘You have a right to be angry. Perhaps you’re starting to understand why I’ve always been so eager to rid the earth of these monsters. Now you are seeing them as they truly are.’

“They’re not all evil,” I said, obligingly quieting when it broadcast a scolding wave at me.

‘I don’t have much time before the sun rises, so let me speak. You have every right to wish a plague upon these monsters, particularly if they have made you into one of their own. I do not have the power to tell you; I’d only sense it once the disease has progressed to the point of no return. If you are one of the moon-chasers, once you turn you won’t be able to use me again. I don’t work for anything other than humans or magi. If you are serious about your desire for revenge, you’ve only got a limited amount of time to use me for that purpose.’

“Okay. Let’s say I do want to do it. Let’s say I want to use you to do something to the people who did this to me. What’s your advice?”

The belt was quiet for a long time, collecting its thoughts. It was still there; I could feel the occasional burst of emotion from it as odd reflections of my own. It could make me move when it needed to, but only when I was frozen by indecision or not carrying out a necessary action to deal with a threat. For now, it was busily coming up with an answer, and taking far too long to do it.

‘Can’t make that decision for you,’
it said, the echoing voice trailing off. It was gathering its strength before saying more.
‘Werewolves make dangerous opponents. They have superior senses of smell and hearing, which means it is next to impossible to sneak up on them. However, they are all intensely allergic to silver, and with me to augment your skills you should be able to match their speed, if not their strength. Only an alpha like your ex might have the speed to outmatch you in hand-to-hand combat. If you are willing to take the risks inherent in fighting something with greater reach and strength, we may be able to take him down. I can formulate a plan to do as much during the day. Do you want to proceed?’

I thought about it. It listened in, seeing everything I saw, feeling everything I felt, knowing my answer before I spoke aloud. “I’m not sure yet. Let me know what you think up. I’ll come to you as soon as I get home from work tonight.”

‘Don’t try anything during the day,’
it warned, voice fading. The sun must have been rising behind the thick thunderclouds outside.
‘Stay clear of them all, even the Moonwalkers. They come offering peace, but you saw where trusting one of their kind got you.’

“I’ll be careful,” I promised, lightly touching the leather even as the tension holding it together faded. The belt loosened around my waist, signaling that the spirit was gone for the day. “Very careful.”

Bolstered by coffee and the promise of assistance, I wandered over to listen to my voice mail, sipping my coffee as the messages played.

Sara had left one around 8:30 last night that she was home and she’d pick me up on her way in to the office at around ten this morning. My brother Mike left one asking if I was back yet, why I wasn’t picking up my cell, and asking me to call him as soon as I got the message. He sounded agitated, but he’d just have to wait until I was in a better frame of mind before I called him back. Chaz had left one, too, but I savagely slammed the delete button as soon as I recognized his voice.

Then came Royce’s voice, late, past midnight, pleasant and smooth as it always was.

“Ms. Waynest, I’m sorry I missed your call. I trust you got my message before you left for your vacation, though I do hope nothing untoward occurred during your time out of town. If you still need to speak with me, I’ll have my cell phone on me the rest of the night. Call me anytime.”

I had to hunt for the phone buried under the covers somewhere on my bed. I’d been so dead to the world I hadn’t heard it ring, even though I’d somehow shoved it under my favorite pillow. Settling cross-legged on the bed, I picked at a loose thread on my nightshirt as I listened to Royce’s phone ring, not quite sure whether or not I was hoping he’d bedded down for the day.

Just as I was about to hang up, he picked up.

“Ms. Waynest. You called?”

“Yeah, I did,” I said, hating my sudden bashful stammering. Last night, thinking nothing but angry thoughts about Chaz and the Sunstrikers had done plenty to boost me with false courage. Now, though it was necessary that I speak with him right away, I was regretting ever calling the vampire.

“Well then. What can I do for you?”

“I—I’m sorry. I need a sec to get myself together,” I admitted, leaning forward to balance my forehead against my palm.

He made a sound of frustration, faint but unmistakable. “I do hope you don’t consider me responsible for whatever may have happened while you were out of town. I have little control over the Were population, and did not have enough time to sufficiently prepare—”

“Royce, shut
up,
” I demanded, though my heart leapt into my throat once the words left my lips. Telling him off wasn’t a great way to start off this conversation, but neither was letting him go on about how much he hoped he hadn’t been implicated in something he had no control over. “I’m sorry. Actually, no, I’m not sorry. But I need you to be quiet and listen to me for a minute. Can you do that?”

“Very well,” he said, wariness undisguised. He knew as well as I did that, while the belt would do well against werewolves, it had always been intended for vampires. I knew his daytime resting place, too. He had good reason to bear me a measure of respect, even if it was due to an unspoken threat I’d never carry out against him. “What did you want to tell me?”

“I’m going to say some things to you in confidence. I need your word that you’ll keep this to yourself.”

“You have it. Speak freely.”

If nothing else, I trusted the vampire to be truthful. He might bend and reshape the facts to suit his whims, but he was never completely dishonest with me. “Okay. First, I need to know something about our contract. I need to know what it might mean for us if I turn Were.”

There was an understandably long pause. I bit my lower lip to keep from saying anything until he answered me.

“That depends. Did you sign a contract with someone else?” His voice was deceptively mild; I was sure there was a great deal of emotion underlying the statement, no matter how calm he sounded right now.

“No.”

“Then it means nothing. You are still wholly mine.”

I had to fight back a sudden, violent shudder at that statement. It took a silent count to ten before I could continue.

“So that means if I become Were, everything that’s mine stays mine?”

“Yes. When you die, your belongings will be turned over to me to manage as your estate. Turning Were does not change that clause, though it would throw a great number of things into question and might involve a lengthier, more expensive probate process. However, that shouldn’t happen unless you sign another contract. If you are considering it, I would advise against doing so. The legal liability alone—”

“I haven’t, and I won’t,” I said, voice harsh, breaking with the strain. “Don’t assume anything here, Royce. It’s not what you think.”

He quieted, considering my words. I knew the moment he must have realized what I meant. His anger was immediate and intense. “Who is responsible for this? Have you reported them to the authorities yet?”

“I haven’t, and I’m not sure I will.”

“If it was Chaz, I can understand your reluctance. However, consider the implications of failing to uphold your obligation to report an incident like this. With the attention paid to you by the media, it won’t go unnoticed for long.”

“It wasn’t Chaz,” I said, voice cold. The mention of the media dragged out a deep, abiding sense of hatred for the direction my life was now hurtling, no matter how much I wished it otherwise. “I asked you to keep quiet about this because the reporter tailing me—hopefully—doesn’t know yet. Neither does my family.”