In the Blood (8 page)

Anthony said nothing, but regarded her skeptically.

“Besides, I don’t know what you mean about his condition. He’s a vampire. How does that get worse? He said he could lose his humanity, that he might be one of those…things, one day. But I don’t understand what would make that happen, or where I come in.” That sounded like something a spy would ask. A very inept spy, which was apparently what Anthony thought she was. “Look, I’m nobody. Honestly, I had no idea that vampires existed until I met Viktor. But if there’s something wrong with him, like he’s going to die or something, I have a right to know.”

“No, actually, you don’t have a right to know.” Anthony sighed in frustration. “Look, I’m going to be watching you. If you don’t have a reason to hide this, you should tell Viktor about the accident. That way, I know you’re not up to anything and Viktor can make up his own mind on whether or not he wants to feed from you.”

“What, because I had a car accident my blood is damaged somehow?” She frowned. “Viktor would have been able to tell, right? He would have tasted it.”

Anthony shook his head and took the envelope back, tucking it into his jacket. “Not because of your accident. Look, I can’t tell if you’re playing dumb or not, but you killed somebody. That stays in your blood. Viktor has been losing his humanity at an even faster rate than usual lately, and drinking the blood of a killer is only going to speed up the process.”

The blood of a killer. The cold way he’d stated it left her no room for argument. She
had
killed someone. Maybe not as directly as pulling a trigger, but her actions had led to someone losing their life. “You said he’s losing his humanity. What happens then? When it’s all gone, what happens to him?”

It was clear that Anthony still didn’t believe her, from the way he paused before answering. “You know what happens. You met it in the alley last night.”

Cassie shivered at the memory of the creatures that had surrounded her. She couldn’t imagine Viktor being one of them. They’d been faceless, void of personality or compassion or fear. They’d been…inhuman. “I don’t want to hurt Viktor. I just met him, and he’s been nothing but kind to me.”

“Neither do I. But I’ll have to, if he becomes one of them. You need to make your choice.” He poured himself a splash of whiskey in a highball glass. “Or I’ll make it for you.”

After he downed his drink, the entire conversation seemed to have never taken place, as though the whiskey had washed it away. “What do you like to read? I’ll swing by the bookstore before I bring your dinner.”

“Um, anything, really. Just magazines would be fine, I guess.” Anthony might have been able to flip his switch from threatening to solicitous in a heartbeat, but Cassandra was less able to switch from threatened to not-threatened while he stood there, cold expectation still glinting in his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” he said with a friendly wink before setting his glass aside and moving toward the stairs.

Cassandra sat at the bar for a long time after he’d gone. So, Anthony wasn’t just a personal assistant, then, that much was clear. And if he thought she had been sent to harm Viktor, that would be the story he told him. Not the story of how she’d paid her debt to society through hours of community service and probation check-ups. Not how despite all that, she still felt like a murderer. Still
was
a murderer. She had to tell Viktor before Anthony did.

Then she thought of the way people had looked at her after the accident. Mixtures of hatred and pity and relief that it hadn’t been them. She’d become a walking cautionary tale. She couldn’t stand it if Viktor looked at her that way.

And what if he decided he didn’t want her around, if she had killed someone? What if he thought, as Anthony did, that she was working for someone, trying to ruin Viktor’s humanity? If he sent her away, who would protect her from those awful creatures? On the other hand, she’d been living with them stalking her dreams for a long time now. Maybe she would be fine on her own. She couldn’t rely on Viktor to save her from everything. She’d never relied on anyone before.

Then there was Viktor himself. His loneliness must be unbearable, living in his mausoleum of an apartment with only Anthony and some regular tricks for company. If her presence somehow tainted him, though, and made him more like those rubbery monsters who’d attacked her in the alley, she definitely didn’t need to stick around.

Not that she should want to, anyway. She’d met lots of lonely guys. It was an occupational hazard. She’d never really cared about that before. Maybe this was a sign that it was time to get out of the life altogether. But something about Viktor called to her, the way no other person had before. She wanted his protection, but she wanted his attention too. She wanted him to feel the same, unexplainable draw that she felt, the unsettling lift she got just from being in the same room with him.

Her head throbbed, and she looked around helplessly. That was as close to admitting having real feelings about anything, let alone a guy, in a very long time. Now, more than ever, she wished she had something to distract herself.

“Your afternoon snack, Viktor.”

He looked up and took the warm mug of blood from Anthony’s hand. “Thank you. I will need some for supper, as well.”

“Not feeding off your guest?” Anthony set a saucer down where Viktor would place the mug and laid a napkin beside it.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Viktor scolded. “I have suspended our arrangement while she stays here. And I will not be feeding from anyone else, so I will need more blood for dinner.”

Anthony raised an eyebrow. “Taking my advice?”

“Not entirely.” He sipped from the mug, hating the feel of the glazed ceramic surface under his lips. The soft, warm skin of a willing human was much preferred. Perhaps Anthony was correct, though; perhaps distancing himself from the act of feeding was good for his soul, as well as for his dealings with Cassandra. “What do you think of her?”

The silence that met his question served as a sharp enough impression of what Anthony thought of her. He spoke slowly and carefully. “I think she’s a very attractive, very intelligent girl.”

“You say intelligent as though it were an accusation,” Viktor mused. It mattered little to him what the Conclave’s lackey thought of Cassandra.

“I don’t trust her,” the human stated simply.

Viktor nodded as though he understood the man’s concern. “Has she given you any reason for suspicion?”

Anthony spread his hands. “Her timing. Forgive me, Viktor, I’m sure you’ve already thought of this, but it seems strange that she comes into contact with you when the city is overrun with Minions.”

“Anything else?” Viktor kept his tone even, as though he were considering the information he’d been given. In reality, it was absurd. If Anthony had the power to taste Cassandra’s blood, he would have known immediately nothing that dark lurked in her soul. The darkness inside of her had nothing to do with the Minions she’d seen in her dreams. She suffered because a part of her was missing, an important part she would not be able to deny forever.

“I want you to be very careful,” Anthony warned. “I’m warning you, as a member of the Conclave, but also as someone who knows you well. I don’t think you’ve got your head on right where this woman is concerned.”

“Perhaps not.” Tonight was not the night to ask for Anthony’s help in the matter. He had already soured himself against Cassandra. “Thank you, I will think about what you have told me.”

He waited until Anthony excused himself, then turned back to his computer screen. The spreadsheet that had been open when the human had entered had merely been a cover. When he minimized the window, the screen filled with website after website, all detailing some manner of reincarnation belief. Just seeing the words on the screen was enough to draw a cold sweat onto his brow. Could he truly be considering it?

Though he made a good effort at reading the words, their meanings evaporated the instant he read them, replaced by the memory of Melina’s smile, her kind eyes, her soft body beneath his hands. Did he want Cassandra, or did he want Cassandra to be Melina? If the two of them stood before him to choose, he did not know which choice he would make, and that troubled him.

If Melina had been there, she would know the answer. She had always been able to say the right thing, to reassure him of his choices. She’d had total confidence in him, even when he’d had none. That had been her downfall.

Perhaps it will be Cassandra’s, as well
.

No, he would not let that happen. This time, he knew what he faced. He knew how to protect her. Not against himself, but when the time came, Anthony would do his duty. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to want Cassandra when his time was so short. If she fell in love with him only to have to release him, what would that do to her?

That was too presumptuous. Cassandra was with him because she was in danger, not because of some romantic entanglement.

Impulsively, he picked up his phone and hit number one on his speed dial. “Anthony, I wish to have dinner with Cassandra. A proper dinner. Set it up.” He disconnected the call before the man could argue with him. He didn’t need anyone else trying to convince him that further exploring the feelings he’d already grown for Cassandra was a terrible idea.

He was already trying hard enough to convince himself.

Chapter Six

Cassandra had received her invitation to dinner rather informally. Anthony had mumbled something about it when he’d come by her room with an overnight bag. Her overnight bag. Packed full of her clothes.

“How did you get these?” she had asked, holding up a pair of jeans.

Anthony had straightened his tie and told her, “I took the liberty of entering your home and taking a look through your wardrobe.”

Hours later, Cassandra was still bristling over the invasion to her privacy. She was used to rich, powerful men doing whatever they wanted, but she hadn’t pegged Viktor for one of those types. She went to the dining room at seven with every intention to tell him exactly where he could stick his home-invading little messenger boy.

When she entered the room, Viktor wasn’t there. The table had been set with immaculate white china and gleaming silver. Cassandra wondered what a vampire needed dishes for, and if he’d had them before he’d decided to have dinner with her. His place was set only with a glass and a black linen napkin, and the stark reminder of what Viktor was disturbed her. She had to tell him the truth tonight, no matter what occurred. If he rejected her, then what had she lost? A vampire who had messed up her life.

On the other hand, she would also lose a vampire who had saved her life, who had vowed to protect her no matter what the cost. A man who was attracted to her, not to some façade she’d created to impress him. Somehow, he’d seen that she was damaged and, unbelievably, that seemed to make him like her more. At best, losing Viktor’s trust would mean losing the only person who seemed to know what was happening to her, and the only person who could save her. At worst, it would mean turning her back on the only person who’d made her believe she had a chance at happiness.

“You look sad.” Viktor had entered the room so quietly she hadn’t known he was there. He pulled out her chair and motioned for her to sit. “I apologize for my lateness. I lost track of the time.”

“That’s a pretty lame excuse in your own house.”

“Anthony tried to hire someone to cook for you, but no one was available at this late notice. I hope take-out will suffice.” Viktor took his seat and unfolded his napkin, while Anthony appeared, as if summoned by the mention of his name, with a plastic grocery bag filled with Styrofoam containers.

“Maybe Anthony could have just picked up some pots and pans from my kitchen. You know, while he was rummaging through my stuff.” She scooted her own chair in. “Unless he can’t cook. He could have at least brought the paper plates and saved himself the dishwashing. They were on top of the microwave, didn’t you see them?”

“Mr. Novotny doesn’t entertain dinner guests that often. He wanted a chance to use his wedding china.” Anthony dropped this bombshell smoothly while he unpacked the cartons. “I hope you like Indian food.”

“I love it. Did you get the menu off my fucking refrigerator?” she snapped in reply at the same time that Viktor said, “Thank you, Anthony, we can manage from here.”

Waiting in silence for the assistant to leave, Cassie fumed. Viktor was married? Of course he was. 4-1-2 had plenty of married clients who didn’t want to risk an indiscreet mistress. And who was she to get her nose out of joint? She’d come here on assignment, not as a date, and his marital status hadn’t exactly mattered when she’d been cowering from monsters in an alley. Still, she couldn’t keep the hurt out of her tone when she asked, “So, let me guess. You stay here while she gets the mansion in Connecticut, right? Only get together for important functions? Is she a vampire too?”

“No, not at all.” He looked down as he smoothed his napkin over his lap. “She’s dead. For quite a long time now.”

If Cassie had needed any more convincing that she was a horrible person, this would have done the trick. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe I said that, I’m so stupid. Of course, she might have been…deceased or divorced or…”

Viktor shook his head and didn’t look at her. “It is fine. Anyone would have inferred the same from Anthony’s statement. I think, perhaps, that is why he made it.”

“Still, I’m sorry.” The chair beneath her seemed suddenly uncomfortable, and the scents from the cooling take-out containers seemed much less appetizing.

“It was a long time ago.” He glanced up at her, a hard, indecipherable set to his eyes. “Please, eat. You must be hungry. I know that my home is not set up for a human’s comfort. I will try to have that corrected.”

The subject of his wife was closed, apparently. Cassandra couldn’t think of the last time she’d put her foot in her mouth so badly. She did as he asked and scooped portions of saffron rice and something delicious with lamb and curry onto her plate. “I wonder why Anthony brought this, if the smell of food bothers you so much. Maybe he should have brought a baloney sandwich.”