Vigil (3 page)

room, welcomed by Boaz. Adin had trouble reconciling the fact

that Donte’s right hand man seemed to work for Donte’s mortal

enemy, Cristobel Santos. He wasn’t adept at the vagaries of

vampire politics, but it seemed to him that the entire world was

one big episode of
Survivor, the Undead Edition
.

For good or ill Boaz was here, and even though he’d brought

Santos with him, it was a safe bet Donte had instructed him to

clean up whatever messes Adin got into. Again.

Adin sighed.

Santos approached the boy on the bed. Adin noticed that he

kept his distance. “Well, well.”

“Vampire.” The boy’s voice—while it seemed to hold

contempt—was laced with fear.

“Yes. You, on the other hand—”

Bran hissed something and Adin didn’t hear the rest of what

Santos said. Boaz entered the ensuite bathroom then returned

with a damp towel, which he pressed against Adin’s forehead.

“Hello, Santos.” Adin took hold of the compress. “To what

do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Ask Boaz. I’m here because he insisted we come.” Santos

went to the door and closed it. He pulled the wood bits off, threw

them away, and let the chain dangle. “I suspect he was ordered

here.”

“Boaz?” Adin addressed his friend. Boaz had entered Adin’s

life in the guise of a hotel limo driver, but Adin later found out he

worked for Donte Fedeltà. Boaz was only the first of the many

safety measures Donte put in place when he’d become interested

in Adin, whom he’d considered his oh-so-fragile human lover.

“Donte telephoned.” Before Adin could vent his frustration,

Boaz held up his hand. “He’s right. If you didn’t get yourself into

Vigil
13

these things in the first place…”

Adin ground his teeth again. He worried this new habit would

wreak havoc on his bite.

“That’s not important right now.” Santos turned and barked

at Bran to freeze, and Bran backed into the corner of the room

behind the bed. “Boaz, lie down on the bed and be…
impish
. I’ll

deal with this.”

Adin felt the need to speak. “Santos, I hardly think—”

“I’m beginning to believe that, Adin. At first I thought Donte

was exaggerating the problem.” A knock sounded on the door.

“Now, do you believe you can be quiet, or shall I have to tear your

head off and put you in the bathtub to bleed uselessly down the

drain.”

Adin pressed his lips together.

“Very good.” Santos opened the door to the hotel manager

and four uniformed police officers. The look he gave them

was one of surprise as he spoke to them in heavily American-

accented English.

“What can I do for you gentlemen this evening?”

“Dr. Tredeger?” The manager looked beyond Santos to where

Adin stood.

“That would be me,” Adin acknowledged with a nod. He

continued to press the towel to the wound on his forehead and

wondered what
les flics
would make of that.

“My name is Villiers, I’m the hotel manager. May we come

in?” he asked politely. Adin’s heart slammed against his ribcage as

he turned to find Bran’s terrified eyes on him.

Santos spoke. “Certainly you may, M. Villiers. I confess Dr.

Tredeger and I were expecting you, under the circumstances.”

“
Santos
,” Adin hissed.

“Now, Adin, you’ve been a very, very naughty boy. Admit it. I

had to break the door down to our own room. And you got hurt

in the process.”

14 Z.A. Maxfield

Adin gazed at Santos, uncomprehending, as the vampire

came to him and pulled the compress from his face. “Poor baby.

Our Boaz has been naughty too. What did I tell you about taking

play too far? Someone always ends up needing stitches. Say you’re

sorry, Adin.”

Adin’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sorry.”

“No you’re not, you stubborn man.” Santos chided, even as

he tapped the tip of Adin’s nose affectionately with his index

finger. “Well, M.Villiers my partner and I normally have rules,

but I admit that he broke some of them this evening. And a few

commandments. And the door, I’m afraid, for which Adin and I

will gladly pay. But no actual French laws, I think.”

As M. Villiers and the police officers advanced into the room,

Adin held his breath. He didn’t dare look anywhere but at Santos.

He was trying to figure what Santos’s game was, when one of

the police officers, a woman, uttered a startled exclamation and

backed from the room.

Adin’s gaze went to the bed and even he was shocked by what

he saw there. Boaz lay on the bed, nude, stroking a monstrous

erection with manacled hands. He was the very picture of erotic

abandon, all dark eyes and wavy hair, like one of the boys in a

Caravaggio painting. His lips glistened and his cheeks and chest

bore the flush of his arousal. He was chained at his neck, wrists

and ankles just like Bran, who still cowered in his chains against

the wall of the small room. Adin’s gaze flew to Santos, who simply

stared straight ahead. He didn’t have time to wonder whether it

was an illusion, and if so, who was creating it, because M. Villiers

cleared his throat by coughing and politely placing his closed fist

tightly over his mouth as though to hold in a shout of alarm.

Adin glanced at the police officers. They had furious color

high on their cheeks, but none of them spoke.

“Boaz, my dear, please tell the nice M. Villiers that you are a

guest and not a hostage.”

Boaz pouted, and Adin could see he was having fun in his

new role. “What’s in it for me?”

Vigil
15

“What is always in it for you, my dear? Whatever you choose.

So, M. Villiers,” Santos asked. “What may I do for you?”

“I’m very sorry. Dr. Tredeger, I received a report of an

underage boy…”

The police officers rolled their eyes when Santos said, “Did

you hear that, Boaz? A pretty compliment. Thank the man.”

Boaz licked his lips deliciously and stroked himself again. The

head of his cock was darkly engorged, glistening from within a

hood of foreskin, and Adin found it difficult to take his eyes off

it. Through half-closed eyelids, Boaz gazed at M. Villiers whose

own eyes nearly bugged out.

Boaz uttered a breathy “Thank you.” And his lips curled into

a satisfied smile.

“Adin, is there anything you’d like to add?” Santos gave the

back of Adin’s neck a gentle pinch.

Adin tore his gaze away from the figure on the bed—not an

easy thing by any means, as Boaz appeared to be an erotic fantasy

come to life—and finally found his wits. “I stay in this hotel

whenever I’m in Paris, M. Villiers. Has the management suddenly

become interested in my personal life and my…hobbies?”

Bran still stood frozen in the corner of the room behind the

bed, but for whatever reason, M. Villiers and the police officers

said nothing about him.

“I apologize for the intrusion. It is, as always, your business

how you spend your time.”

“Well, I thought so. Provided that I’m careful with the

furnishings, and kind to the staff.”

“And you’ve always been that, Dr. Tredeger. Please forgive

the intrusion.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” Villiers motioned for the police officers to go

ahead of him and saw himself out.

When they’d all left, Adin let out the breath he’d been holding.

16 Z.A. Maxfield

“How the fuck did you do that?” He turned to find Boaz sitting

demurely on the edge of the bed, fully clothed, while Bran looked

on from where he remained with his back to the wall.

“Does Donte never tell you anything?” Santos murmured.

“I daresay he’ll be fit to be tied over this.” Santos used a finger

to pull the compress away from Adin’s face and then, to Adin’s

horror, he licked the skin there, teasing at the wound with his

tongue to close it.

As if someone had reached out and snapped Adin’s spine

at the place where his head met his shoulders, Adin felt the

tremendous zing of an electric shock all over his body, and his

knees buckled.

“
Ow
.” Adin lost his footing.

“That will be your master—” Santos chuckled, helping

Adin sit next to Boaz on the side of the bed, “—expressing his

displeasure.”

“I have no master, Santos,” Adin ground out, holding a hand

out to Bran to indicate that it was safe for him to sit. “I have a

lover. And he can see how much it pleases you to mess with him.”

Bran sat down warily. Adin wondered if he was subdued

by a visit from the local police or by the presence of what was

obviously a very powerful vampire.

“You have a master, Adin. To him, you are no more than an

exotic pet. I suggest you keep in mind that vampires are easily

bored. I’m already bored, but I thought we might take a walk.

Have a late supper. Boaz will watch the child.”

“Are you kidding?” Adin asked. “The last time we were

together for a meal, I was very nearly the main course.”

“But you can’t accuse
me
of ever trying to eat you,” Santos

said playfully. “Except once, at the airport in San Francisco, and

then only a little to soften you up. You are perfectly safe with me,

for now. Tell him Boaz.”

Boaz nodded and Adin shrugged. “All right. What the hell?”

Boaz reached for Bran’s hands where the manacles had chafed

Vigil
17

his wrists. “Poor baby. I’ll see what we can do about these while

you’re gone, Adin.”

“You’ll see if you can get them off?” Adin asked.

“
No
.” Santos said abruptly. A look passed between Boaz and

Santos that Adin didn’t understand. “We can’t take the iron off.

But Boaz can make him more comfortable.”

“What do you think, Bran?” Adin reasoned that if the boy

could see inside of him, perhaps he could see inside Boaz as well.

“He means me no harm,” Bran answered, indicating Boaz.

“What about this one?” Adin gestured toward Santos.

“He is un-living. His mind is closed to me.”

At this, Santos laughed. “Un-living. That’s certainly the glass

half-full, boy. Adin is an optimist as well.” Santos took Adin by

the hand and began to lead him from the room. “Do you know

what an optimist is to a vampire, Bran?” Santos opened the door

and motioned for Adin to pass through before him.

Bran showed no outward trace of what he was feeling, but

Adin could sense he was frightened. “No, what?”

Santos grinned. “A happy meal.”

Adin looked back past Santos as he started to leave, giving

Bran a last opportunity to speak. “Say the word and I won’t leave

you here by yourself, Bran.”

“Well,
thanks a lot
,” Boaz grumbled.

“It’s all right,” Bran answered. “But…you should never trust

a vampire.”

Santos shot Bran a glare but Bran stood his ground, his face

impassive.

Adin winked at Bran, and he colored furiously. “Got it.”

“
Zut
,” Santos exclaimed, extending his arms in an

encompassing, embracing gesture. “I love Paris. I never get tired

of it. Walk with me?”

Adin hoped for the best as he walked beside the vampire for

a while, enjoying the way the chilly night air clung to his skin and

clothing. He imagined what it might feel like to walk on the quays

by the Seine with Donte, and it caused such a wave of longing to

come over him that he clasped his hands behind his back to keep

from reaching out.

“Doesn’t it just fill you with an indescribable contentment

to walk the streets of Paris at night? It’s such a mixture of the

old and new, of history and hope and passion and humanity, all

brazen and tarted up.”

Adin grinned. “I feel the same way, but you put a far more

poetic spin on it. I wish Donte were here.”

Santos growled, “Why ruin a lovely night?”

Adin followed Santos in almost complete silence as he led the

way to the Pont Neuf, and across the river to the Île de la Cité,

stopping—finally—when they were standing in the park-like

square in front of Notre Dame’s cathedral doors. The cathedral

was lit, like all the monuments, and glowed beautifully in the

velvety blue darkness.

“This is arguably my favorite place on earth.”

Adin gazed up. The cathedral was at once monstrous and

brilliant, beautiful and grotesque. He’d certainly never tire of

looking at it, and he didn’t think if he had the advantage of

Santos’s years it would diminish his love for the place. “Mine too,

maybe.”

Santos sighed. “You may have guessed I don’t like to have my

plans disrupted.”

“The thought occurred to me, yes,” Adin said drily. He’d

20 Z.A. Maxfield

more than upset a few of Santos’s plans, and he knew Santos had

definitely been unhappy with him at the time.

“You derailed any hope I had of destroying Fedeltà’s diary.

Even though he’s your lover, you preserved a journal chronicling