Falling from the Light (The Night Runner Series Book 3) (3 page)

“Was that the cloak with the buzzard feathers on it?”

“Those were raven feathers. Buzzard is so last year. And you know what I mean. Deceiving or assaulting the Master or the Master’s magistrate is equivalent to treason, which should make his existence forfeit. Bronson only released him with the understanding that he’d continue to be punished for every single transgression.”

“You can’t decide not to punish him? Like, maybe give a guy a second chance?” Everything was so extreme with vampires. In how they defined themselves in relation to each other, and in how far they would go to hurt each other…and those who got in their way.

“You don’t agree? Fine, then you’re fully in charge of him. Feeding, education, discipline.”

“No. Uh-uh. No. I want less to do with vampires. Less.” The skin on the back of my neck prickled at the thought of trying to command one.

“Then I’ll have to ask you not to challenge me when I inflict—”

“Son of a
bitch
,
Malcolm.” I thumped my fist against his chest. “Fine. I’ll…deal with him.” Surely a vampire would accept direction from a human if his life was on the line. “But you don’t get to touch him. And neither does Soraya.”

“Of course not.” He sounded way too happy about that.

“You wanted me to accept responsibility for him, didn’t you?”

“You’ll be an excellent guiding hand for him.” His hand brushed my cheek and he spoke softly. “Be harsh with him, Syd. Some vampires are prisoners of their routines, even if they aren’t good ones.”

“That’s not limited to vampires.” I’d fallen into that trap as a kid, believing I had to accept the hands I was dealt because I didn’t deserve better. I was over that. Mostly.

“You’re the definition of flexible. He can learn from watching you.”

I laughed, the sound turning into a spastic giggle as a shiver shook through me. Lord, it was cold. I reached back, hunting for my zipper. “Yeah, that’s what he needs. Me teaching him how to behave like a proper vampire.”

“If you make a monster out of him, you still have to keep him.” Malcolm turned me around and undid the hook at the top of my dress. The zipper snagged and he made a frustrated noise and tugged the material, jerking me around with it. I slapped my hands against the door to keep from falling over.

“Feel free to rip it off. I don’t intend to wear it again.”

His knuckles grazed my shoulder blades and then the material and all its devious restrictions tore away. Leaning my head back, I sighed in relief. “Thank you.” I bent down to retrieve my backpack, but the second I touched it, it moved away.

Malcolm’s hands closed on my hips. So that’s how it was? I straightened until my back brushed his chest. Even though I was inches from the wall, because it was so dark it felt like I was standing in the middle of nothing and he was the only solid thing in the world. I smiled. His hands brushed against my ribs, tickling light, and I pressed back into him, relishing the heat and hardness of his body.

He kissed the back of my neck, licked a hot path to my earlobe and bit it, not quite gently. A quick twist of his fingers and my bra tumbled away. I started to turn, but he herded me forward until I was pressed against the door. Sensitive skin met cold metal and I gasped, squirming until his hand slid down my front and pressed between my legs. The other arm wrapped around my chest, a band of heat where everywhere else I was covered in goose bumps.

“Mal?” I whispered.

“Do you know how difficult it was to send you in with Bronson, when you looked like this? So much. Beautiful. Skin.” He punctuated each word with a kiss to the side of my neck. I gasped again and my legs began to quiver as his hand moved, the firm, familiar touches exotic in the strange environment. “Did he try to seduce you?”

His voice had a hard edge but I laughed breathlessly and arched against him. It felt as if he was singeing my cold skin. “I don’t think I’m his type.”

He took two steps back, pulling my hips flush against him while leaning forward until I bent with him. I rested my arms against the door. His fingers quickened, sliding easily and wonderfully against my body. His other hand covered my breast and pinched my peaked nipple. I rested my forehead against my arms, rocking back when I could move.

“What did he ask you?” His breath was hot against my shoulder, his body growing hard behind me.

“He wanted…” I began to shake. “…to reminisce about the old d-days. Said it was impossible to find g-good help anymore.” He’d also requested a field trip to a business that, according to its cheerful Internet presence, was as bland as bland could be. I had to find something, though, because there was no way I was going to be the cause of more of Malcolm’s pain.

But this wasn’t the time to think about that. Using what little remained of my focus, I pushed myself upright and turned. Wrapping my arms around Mal’s neck, I pulled his mouth down to mine.

He smelled like a cold winter day and tasted like spiced brandy, and I wanted nothing more than to tear his clothes off and fill myself with him. He shrugged out of his jacket while I navigated the complicated business of his buttons.

“Do you have a bed in this cage?” I bit the side of his neck and he grabbed my ass, lifting me until I wrapped my arms and legs around him. He found my mouth again as he carried me through the darkness and I squeaked when we dropped abruptly.

My left knee was wedged between him and the side of a chair while my right leg stretched over the opposite arm.

“My, what a small bed. However do you sleep in it?”

“Up,” he murmured, light swirling in his half-lidded eyes.

I shook my head. “What up?”

Understanding dawned when he shifted and reached down to undo his pants. The brush of his hands against my bare center made me jerk. I gripped his shoulders and pulled myself up, rewarded when his lips closed around my nipple. Groaning, I slipped my hands into his hair as his clever tongue swirled and teased. My hands slid down his chest and he stilled momentarily. I kept moving, unable to stop, lightening my touch as I realized what I was feeling. My fingers traced and bumped over jagged, ridged lines.

Those hadn’t been there earlier.

“Mal?”

“It’s nothing.”

I shook my head, unable to speak as my throat closed up. Vampires repaired quickly and they could take a lot of damage. If these cuts had been nothing, they’d have already healed. And it hadn’t been my imagination earlier. He wasn’t warm—he was fever-hot.

He kissed me, hands cupping my face for a moment before they slid down the sides of my neck. “They’ll be gone in an hour but I don’t want to wait an hour.”

He refused to show weakness around other vampires, which was fine—healthy, even. But it was just us.

“You should rest. Won’t that help?”

“If I rest I’ll have to think about it, and I don’t want to think about it,” he said fiercely. “Distract me. Please, let me take care of you.”

It was the
please
, wrapped in need, in deep longing, that did it. I nodded, and his arms encircled me. He slid across the seat, releasing my trapped leg. It left me in a graceless position, straddling him with one leg dangling over the arm of the chair. But it was difficult to care. His power rippled as he slowly lowered me onto him.

He began to move, filling and stretching me, surging up as he slid me down. I leaned forward, bringing our bodies together in a way that made stars build behind my eyes. Touching his face, I traced his eyebrows and cheekbones, the soft curve of his lips and the hard ridges of his emerging fangs. I nipped at his lower lip, then kissed him carefully as my body coiled tighter and tighter. He moved us faster.

“Do something for me,” he whispered, voice tight. I moaned my assent. His hand covered mine and slid it down between our bodies. I leaned forward in his arms and tipped myself over the edge.

W
e found the bed eventually
, and at some point he lit a pair of fat, white candles. The plane finally reached smooth air and I dozed, sprawled over Malcolm, our legs entwined.

A change in the sound of the engines dragged me back to consciousness. I yawned, and Mal’s hand played across my back while I stretched and rolled off of him. His skin was smooth and pale, and muscles rippled beneath the surface when I skimmed a hand over his stomach. If I could have stayed there for the rest of my life, I would have been somewhere so far beyond happy there wasn’t even a name for it. But that wasn’t how things worked in reality.

“We need to get up,” he murmured. Neither of us moved right away.

“Where are we headed?”

“A casino.”

“Oh, hell yes. I’m so going to hit the blackjack table.” I sat up and, when I finished rubbing sleep off of my face, found Malcolm staring at me. “What?”

“You might wait until you feel the place before you decide to gamble.” He rose to dress and I watched him for a moment, admiring the casual strength of his body, the broad shoulders and dimples at the small of his back. Then I registered what he’d said.

“Until I
feel
it? What kind of a casino is this?”

“It’s at a vampire resort. In a sovereign nation.”

“I thought we were going to Arizona.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and wrapped the comforter around me.

“It’s on tribal land. Each nation chooses their own rules for interacting with vampires.”

“And this one’s friendly?”

“As friendly as can be. The entire tribe is vampire. Has been for a hundred and fifty years.” He opened a heavy-duty black trunk, one of six stacked along the wall, and handed me a set of clothes.

“I’ve got stuff in my backpack.”

“You won’t be able to camouflage yourself like you do when you work. Having a runner there would raise even more curiosity.”

“More than what?”

He paused, idly stretching his light sweater this way and that in his hands. Then he looked up and, with his head still inclined, he seemed uncertain.

“You’ll be with me.”

“Right.”

He shook his head and jerked his sweater on, then ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t have a human stable. I don’t have anyone who belongs to me. But you will. In their eyes you’ll belong to me, and I attract a certain amount of attention.”

“Mmm-hmm, on purpose.” Where was he going with this?

“Not necessarily on purpose. How many vampires have you encountered who don’t have a master?”

It took me a moment, and the realization cooled me. “You and Richard Abel.”

“That’s more than most vampires have encountered. I worked for Bronson because he’s powerful. I don’t have a hive to support and protect me, so I have to be selective in who I deal with and how.”

“What he did to you—”

“Isn’t the worst thing.”

“Mal.” I rubbed my eyes, angry and confused.

“I’m known to this crowd,” he went on, like it was no big thing, “and I engage a persona when I’m among them. It’s rooted in who I used to be, and I’ve embellished over the years. If they know me as a gambler, someone who doesn’t have a lot of control or ambition, they won’t suspect me capable of much else. It’s helpful when it’s just me.” He made a restless gesture. “But it will mean that you need to look like… It’s important that nobody takes an overt interest in you.”

“I can’t blend with vampires,” I said.

“No, you can’t.” He shook his head, then nodded solemnly. “But you’ll need to blend with feeders.”

My stomach turned to lead. “My mother was a feeder,” I said flatly.

“I know.” His eyes were soft, apologetic.

“So I have to space out regularly, and cover myself in scars?” I tilted my head. Did he not understand? “Do I need to lose twenty pounds and fret over how there’s only enough food for two more meals, three if I skip one?”

“Sydney.” He crossed the space between us in an instant, and I flinched when he cupped my face. “If I had the choice, I wouldn’t take you here at all. But Bronson’s asked something of you, something that requires you to be here.” He raised his eyebrows until I nodded confirmation. His eyes sparked. “Then this resort will be the safest place. And it’s only temporary. Very temporary.” His lips pressed against my forehead and I shook my head and pulled away from him. My eyes were hot, but I was years past crying about family.

“Fine, so I have to blend with feeders. What does that mean, to you?”

“You can do it however you choose, but it would be better if you avoid your regular clothes. They’ll be expecting something different.”

“And what kind of girl will they expect to see you with, Malcolm Kelly?” I smiled a brittle smile.

“Expensive. Sometimes gaudy. Definitely transitory.”

“Uh-huh.” I raised my eyebrows. I guess it was better than
bimbo
or
showgirl
. “Sounds like fun.”

“Petr will take you to the hotel.” He eyed me warily. “I sent a list before we departed, so he’ll make arrangements for you to acquire everything you’ll need.”

Petr was human, small and bland on the outside, but some kind of master concierge for vampires on the inside. He was good with details and, for all I knew, he’d seen Mal with girls before. He’d know his type. As would a bunch of strange vampires. I swallowed bitterness and nerves I thought I’d moved past. Everybody had exes. Mal had been around for a while and he was gorgeous. It was stupid to think he hadn’t dated…or maintained willing feeders. He’d probably been with tons of girls. Expensive girls.

My lip curled and I dropped my head to hide it. The clothes he’d handed me were all black and white. No candy colors or sequins or cutaway parts or anything. I’d done a lot of things I hadn’t particularly enjoyed while working around vampires. Dressing really nicely shouldn’t have felt like a sacrifice. In a way it was just another job. I respected their rules and wore my disguises, and in return they left me alone. That was a fair trade. So why did the arrangement he was proposing make me feel so rotten?

“I think I can manage.”

“Thank you.” He knelt, laying his arms tight against my thighs until I met his gaze squarely.

“If you’d been able to control this plan…” But he was shaking his head before I’d gotten the question out.

“You’d be a thousand miles away, wearing one of those disintegrating rock band T-shirts, and you’d be happy.”

He dipped his chin when I stroked his hair, and a smile forced its way through my tense frown when he made a soft sound of contentment.

“I am happy,” I said. When he looked up, squinting in disbelief, I rolled my eyes. “All things considered. I wish there were fewer things to consider, but it’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad,” he repeated, resting his forehead against my shoulder and nudging my hand until I began stroking again. “It shouldn’t be comparative, happiness. You deserve more.”

“So do you. We do things. Things happen to us. That’s life. Who’s happy all the time?”

The sound of the engines lowered further and the plane tilted as it circled, and those things that happened—or one, anyway—moved to the forefront of my mind.

Richard Abel had built himself up as a hatchet man for the Vasilievs, an old Russian family that had attempted to take Alaska from the Master. They’d attacked, publicly and violently. Bronson had responded with an iron fist. I imagined it like a movie, a bunch guys showing up with Tommy guns and shooting thousands of rounds into a house only for a bigger guy to kick the door down and stomp out with a couple of rocket launchers on his shoulders.

Coups and assassination attempts weren’t rare in the vampire scheme of things, but there were few humans alive who’d been around for the last public attempt. After that, instead of migrating to his southern holding in Argentina when the seasons changed, Bronson had sent Malcolm. A master vampire in his prime didn’t send people to manage his territories—too much chance of them gaining power or loyalty or whatever.

My hand slowed as I thought that through. But Malcolm didn’t owe loyalty to anyone else—his maker being dead—and wasn’t strong enough to challenge Bronson even if he’d wanted to take over his territory. When Bronson finally did land in the Southern Hemisphere, his peeps had fallen all over themselves to show loyalty. That appointment suddenly made more sense, except…

“What did Santiago think when Bronson sent a gambler down as his stand-in?” I asked. Malcolm bit my collarbone gently.

“That they’d been misinformed, to an extent. I haven’t mingled much with Bronson’s people. It’s easy since they wouldn’t gain anything by associating with me, and I made a few capricious enough decisions that they were able to reconcile what they saw with my reputation.”

“Why did Bronson stay in Alaska?” If masters had the option of migrating, staying in a territory through the summer was crazy rare. Alaska was the richer of his territories, as far as natural resources went, but it was obvious from our conversation that Bronson wasn’t over the attack.

“While the coup was dismantled fairly quickly, the leaders weren’t all killed. It’s a vast state, with too many miles to search. But Bronson wanted every last one of them hunted down. He wanted to personally see them dispatched.”

“Except Abel.”

“He bolted after the head of the Vasilievs died. He had to flee south because no other master would shelter him.”

Then Abel had sent mercenaries to take me out, which seemed more like a point of personal pride because the last time we’d met, I’d slashed his face and—with the aid of a timely explosion—escaped him.

“And Bronson didn’t want Abel dead? After what he did?”

Mal raised his head. “They have a history. Abel once offered his services, but Bronson wasn’t interested at the time. Abel needed security so he went to work for the Vasilievs, but he wasn’t part of the original feud. Just a tool.”

“A psychotic tool.”

“That’s not as much of a drawback for a vampire of Bronson’s stature. The Master wants Abel to confirm that all the Vasilievs are dead.”

Everything about this sounded awful. I’d been concerned when Mal was supposed to kill Abel. Capturing a snake alive was much worse. “And what does Abel want?”

“A new deal. Bronson is still, maybe more than ever, the strongest vampire in the Americas.”

“Are you going to be safe, dealing with him?” I combed my fingers through his hair again.

“We have superior resources and more freedom of movement.” He watched me through half-lidded amber eyes. “Plus, I have a better incentive to survive than he does.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re charming?”

“They have, yes.” He grinned, and damn if my heart didn’t skip a beat. “But I don’t care what anybody else says.”

“Aww.”

“So what did he demand of you? How bad is it?”

“On a scale of picnic to clusterfuck, it’s like a ‘c’mon, man.’” I shrugged. “He asked me to check out Goya, the company that makes Radia. And I was not keeping it from you. I simply hadn’t gotten around to telling you yet.”

“Uh-huh.” Mal’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m sure he’s got all kinds of people who could do it better than me.”

“You told him that?” His voice was light, at odds with his expression.

Even though it was true, Bronson probably thought that questioning his request implied disrespect. I cringed. “I was thinking I could take a tour or apply to intern or something.”

“That’s it? That’s all he asked for? What did he offer in exchange?”

“A dozen hot virgins and all the
Top Gear
I can watch—British edition.”

“What would you do with twelve virgins?”

I considered. “Probably make them cook for me, or do my taxes. They could be like minions. Sexually ignorant minions.”

He shook his head as though trying to expel the notion.

“I’m not doing it because Bronson told me to. The things that we saw in Santiago—that can’t happen anywhere else. And there’s nothing on the news, nothing to warn people that this thing is out there.”

The memories of blood splattered on walls and vampires so mutated you couldn’t tell they’d ever been human made me shudder.

“Maybe we covered it up too well.” His eyes narrowed and he chewed on the inside of his lip for a second before shaking his head. “It has to be dealt with but, as you said, Bronson has resources. So what do you have that he wants?”

I raised my hands, and Mal caught the covers when they started to fall, then sank around me with them.

“Whatever he’s doing, mind your reactions to him,” he said. “He’ll put his arm around your shoulder so he can wrap a chain around your neck. Hopefully this is a passing thing and he’ll grow bored and move on to someone with less self-control.”

“Maybe he just sees us as having a common goal with this drug.”

“It would be a mistake to think you have anything in common with him.” Mal’s hands tightened around my thighs and his eyes, full of concern and something more desperate, searched mine. Worry. He was the one rounding up a killer, and he was worried about me. I forced a smile and ran my finger along his lower lip.

“I get it. I’ll pay attention. God, I cannot wait to be done with all this conspiring and cross-conspiring.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “You’re leaving as soon as we land?”

“Yes. We’re going to survey locations that Bronson’s advance team believes Abel has used.” At my fallen expression, Mal shook his head. “They’re old. He may still be in the area but he’s moved on. I don’t expect to encounter anything urgent today.”

“And after today?” I asked. I couldn’t go with him. I’d be a liability. But I still needed to know what he was doing. I didn’t want him sneaking off to be heroic again. The last time had nearly killed us both.

“When I have some real information, something new, I’ll share it. I want you to look at the information we dig up anyway.”

“Oh, yeah?” That was new.

“You have four routes in and out of every situation. I want your eyes on him, looking for habits, patterns. I couldn’t ask for a better strategist at my side.”

“And after that?”

“After that, we’ll get away. For as long as I can arrange.” He kissed my fingertips and rose to prepare for deplaning. The plane shuddered as the landing gear deployed. The brief flare of pride his comment had sparked disappeared as my stomach spiraled, and that sensation had to do with more than the plane banking sharply. We were minutes from being back in the States, but things didn’t feel settled. Not in the least.