Fury's Kiss (41 page)

But she had been too far gone, and the Change hadn’t worked. She’d become a revenant, a mad killing machine who had processed her early religious training into a seething hatred of all vampire-kind. She was completely mad and should have been killed on the spot. In any other family, she would have been.

Just like me.

A lot of vamps viewed dhampirs as basically half-human revenants, and believed the remedy for us both should be the same: a quick stake and a hasty bake in the nearest bonfire, just to be certain we never came back. But Mircea had let me live, just as Louis-Cesare had continued trying to save the unsavable. Just like he was doing now.

Well, at least now I understood his interest in me better. It had never really made sense before. Cinderella finding her prince made a good story, but it rarely happened like that in real life. In real life, we were attracted to people who were like us.

And no two people could be more different than me and Louis-Cesare.

“He’s stupid about you,” Ray said, glaring at me. “And you’re stupid about him. You’re both stupid about each other, which would be great if you weren’t also really fucking
stupid
—”

“Ray.”

“—and can’t see it. That’s all. That’s all I’m saying.”

And for once he actually did shut up. Maybe because we were turning into the long, curved driveway and were about to arrive.
And there’s one good thing to come out of this whole lousy day
, I thought as I gazed out the window at the consul’s marble wedding cake of a house. After last night, the sight of it should have been tying my stomach into knots.

And I didn’t feel a thing.

Just like I didn’t feel anything about Louis-Cesare. Nothing that I hadn’t already dealt with twice over, anyway. Nothing that I hadn’t known from the moment I met him, looking like a freaking Armani model who lived in mansions and had a personal tailor and didn’t need a low-rent problem showing up and causing him shit on a regular basis. Shit that he dealt with because of some misplaced sense of noblesse oblige that I didn’t need and sure as hell didn’t want. He was going to get himself killed still trying to make it up to Christine, when it would never be okay because she was dead and gone and it was
over
.

Like any crazy ideas I’d ever had.

Ray said something under his breath that sounded like “stupid,” which I ignored since the car had just glided to a halt. Leaving me with nothing left to do but get out, so I did. And walked inside without waiting for him because there was someone I needed to see.

A couple extra atmospheres hit me as soon as I passed through the front doors, but nobody else did, so I guessed I really was invited. It surprised me that there was no welcoming committee, probably armed to the teeth, but maybe they’d expected me to act like a lady and sit in the car until they arrived to open the door. Since they knew me, I couldn’t imagine why they had made this assumption, but since I was out, I decided not to waste the free time.

A servant pointed me toward a ballroom that put Slava’s to shame, a huge marble and mirror monstrosity that took up at least a third of the bottom floor of the main house. It looked like it could hold a few thousand
people without anybody having to rub elbows. Only most of them were missing since it was midday and they wanted to be fresh for the fights tonight.

But not all.

There were a couple dozen vamps doing a Cirque du Soleil impression in and around the four great chandeliers that glittered a couple stories overhead. I was surprised they hadn’t removed those, despite the lack of windows, since they looked like they’d probably cost a fortune. And since they seemed to be getting in the way.

Or maybe not. Vamps bounced off walls, somersaulted, hit the floor and sprang back into the air. And shed sparks off each other’s swords as they clashed eight, ten, sometimes twelve feet off the floor. And yet somehow they managed not to so much as shiver the crystals on the consul’s precious antiques.

It was very impressive.

It was also bullshit. Which was possibly why the guy standing by the far wall had a sardonic expression on his face as he watched his boys go at it. Zheng knew as well as anyone that real fights don’t look like they were choreographed by Hollywood. Real fights are ugly, brutal and short.

But he didn’t seem too interested in demonstrating that at the moment.

He was leaning against one of the mirrors that was pretending to be a window and didn’t bother to straighten up as I approached. But since he also didn’t reach for a weapon, I decided not to mind. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have plenty at hand. A table at his elbow held one of just about every type of blade weapon imaginable, all lined up and shining mirror-bright under the lights.

“Looking good,” he told me, checking out the finery. “Although I gotta say, I liked last night’s outfit better.”

“You saw that?”

“Hard to miss.” He nodded toward the far end of the room, where a huge mirrored wall reflected the antics of the acrobats.

“That’s where the portal comes out?” I asked, my stomach sinking.

“What were you expecting?”

“I…hadn’t really thought about it.” But if I had, I’d have been hoping for a nice, dark basement or a secluded alcove—anything that wasn’t front row center. Literally, since graduated rows of seating lined the room on that end. I supposed so the important types could watch the disembowelments in comfort.

Or watch me make a fool of myself up close and personal.

“Not surprised you don’t remember,” Zheng said, grinning. “You were kinda busy.”

“Hope I didn’t interrupt anyone’s performance.”

“Naw, we were on a break,” he said, as one of his guys, the albino with the spiky hair, dropped out of nowhere to grab another weapon from the pile. And to give me a hissing scowl before rejoining the fray.

Zheng laughed. “Ignore him. He’s still butt hurt about the other night.”

“Your boys are looking good,” I said, since we were being so polite.

“They better be. They’re doing an exhibition tonight, before the big finale.”

“That’s tonight?”

He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Guess they thought it would be fitting, having my boys entertain. Seeing as how I’m about to join their precious Senate.”

“I’m sure they’re thrilled.”

White teeth flashed in a tanned face. “I’m sure.”

I glimpsed Ray standing by the ballroom doors, peering in, and figured time was up. “I came to say one thing,” I told Zheng. “I am not under Louis-Cesare’s protection. I fight my own battles.”

“That you do.”

“You have a problem with me, you come and see me.”

“Our problem wasn’t with you,” he said, glancing at Ray. Who had sidled in the door and was now slinking closer, back to the walls, wide eyes on the lethal performers.

“Or with Ray,” I said, sighing. Because somebody had to look out for him.

Zheng noticed the lack of enthusiasm, and grinned wider. “Lord Cheung said to tell you that he finds Raymond to no longer be of interest.”

“Why the sudden change?”

“Ask him. See what you get.”

“I already know what I’ll get.”

Ray put on a sudden burst of speed and grabbed my hand. “They’re waiting. I was sent to get you.”

“In a minute.”

“No,
now
.” He shot a look at Zheng. “And they know where she is, don’t think they don’t. They know who she’s talking to. So if you’re thinking about payback—”

But Zheng just rolled his eyes. “I think everybody’s agreed. Putting up with you is punishment enough.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking sometimes,” Ray hissed, as we followed a couple of helmeted warriors down a highly polished hallway. “After what happened last night, you just run off? Like they’re not gonna care?”

“I needed to talk to Zheng-zi.”

“I needed to talk to Zheng-zi,” he mimicked. “No, you did not! You need to stay away from that guy. He’s bad news, okay? The whole family is.”

“It’s your family.”

“Not anymore. And I’m not crying over the loss, all right?”

I didn’t answer because it hadn’t been a question. And because I was busy trying not to fall on my ass. The smart gray pumps I’d been given to wear had a one-button strap, fashionable pointed toes, and the red soles of a famous design house. Unfortunately, they also had four-inch heels and no traction, although that might not have been a problem if the consul hadn’t been aiming to impress.

Not me, obviously, but the senior masters in town for the challenges obviously rated better. Including floors so glossy they would have been blinding had any sun been allowed to penetrate this far. As it was, they were slippery as hell, and falling wasn’t an option.

After my unauthorized detour, four guards had been delegated to see to it that I reached my destination. And they weren’t wasting time. I had the impression that if I slowed down, the two behind us would just flat out run me down.

And they could probably do it, too. Every one of them was a high-level master, second and third, at a guess. Which was why it was kind of impressive that the consul had persuaded them to wear the Halloween costumes they currently had on.

Of course, I’d heard that persuasion was her specialty.

Or maybe they just enjoyed dressing up like Roman centurions, complete with shiny gold breastplates, matching greaves, and helmets topped by huge red ostrich plumes. And they weren’t the only spit-and-polish types in evidence. Pretty much everybody I saw had on some type of special attire, to the point that I decided I owed Louis-Cesare’s people an apology.

This was not the kind of place where you wanted to be caught wearing sweats.

“They really went all out, didn’t they?” Ray said, looking about in awe at the mirror-like surface of the marble.

Or maybe it was the silk banners framing every door that got his attention, emblazoned with the Senate logo in vibrant red and gold. Or the pairs of guards, rippling with power, who framed the banners. Or the high-arched ceilings, or the floors inlaid with the consul’s personal emblem in lapis and coral, or the ancient statues and priceless vases stuck carelessly in niches, like bric-a-brac.

So, yeah. All out.

I couldn’t recall being that impressed the last time I was here. But then, I’d been trying not to collapse under the burden of the power that practically permeated the walls. Which wasn’t exactly fun at the moment, either, so it was a relief when we finally stopped in front of a door.

Which promptly opened in my face.

“When you said Jonathan, did you mean Waldron?”

I blinked at Marlowe, who had been looking worse every time I saw him and now appeared to have been
dragged through a combine backward. He was still in the purloined clothes from last night, despite having had plenty of time to change. In addition to being ill-fitting, they were now dirty and torn and bloody. I stared at a hairy knob of a knee, which was poking through a rip on one trouser leg. He looked like a hobo.

“What?” I asked stupidly.

“The necromancer,” he said, and then popped back inside before I could answer. I guess the idea was for me to follow him, which I would have—if there hadn’t been two grim-faced soldier types still in front of me.

One of whom was flat out staring me down.

And fingering the pommel of the sword at his side. You know, the sword he looked like he’d like to show me personally just as soon as I gave him the slightest excuse. Like trying to push him out of the way, for instance.

It occurred to me that this level of animosity was a little unusual. Not if we had met somewhere at random—plenty of vamps have taken against me through the years for the terrible crime of existing. And that was without my occasional diplomatic failure. But here. Now. In the consul’s home, within a short distance of a bunch of people who would not be happy to see me in pieces.

Not until they’d questioned me, anyway.

Of course, if he’d been among those whose feelings got hurt last night…

But no. He’d still have to have his lady’s permission to provoke me, since anything else would end with him as target practice for the night. And, of course, she wouldn’t give it. She was classier than that.

Sure she was.

He was still staring at me, and I hadn’t really noticed before that the helmets had protrusions—nose guards and huge chin guards that obscured most of the face. But his stance was enough to make it clear that he was getting a little intense. Like he might not wait for that provocation. Which would be a shame, since if I was about to take a hit, I’d at least like to deserve it.

“I like your skirt,” I told him, smiling gently. And felt the other two guards crowding up behind.

Yeah. This was going to be fun.

Or maybe not.

“Hey! Hell
ooo
?” Ray said loudly, squeezing between two masters, either one of whom could have squashed him like a bug. “We’re here already. Where the hell’s your manners? Let the lady through.”

And weirdly enough, they did. Maybe because Ray had just alerted the whole hallway to the fact that there might be a problem. Or maybe because no one wanted the ignominy of attacking a guy three or four ranks below them. That didn’t exactly add to a person’s rep, not to mention that I would then have been within my rights to demand reparations for any harm done to my servant.

And I wouldn’t be asking for cash.

Upper-level vampire customs were pretty intricate, but Ray seemed to have them down cold. Either that, or he’d gotten lucky. But, hey, I’d take it.

“That was pretty slick,” I told him, as we passed down the hall, unimpeded.

“Don’t talk to me,” he whispered savagely.

“Sorry. I just wanted to say—”

“Nothing. Don’t say anything.”

I brushed his shoulder, and got the stare of death. “You had a fuzzy.”

“God, just—I can’t take you anywhere.”

And then we were through.

As interrogation rooms went, it wasn’t bad. It looked a lot like the house I’d just left, but instead of French country, it was English library. Or maybe French library, since the carpets were Aubusson and the paintings were lacking hunting parties or dogs.