2 Sean Hayden (3 page)

"How about those Dodgers?" I tried to break the ice. I probably should have picked a different topic of discussion than baseball, but frankly I couldn't think of anything else to divert his interest in me.

"Baseball season doesn't start for another few weeks, Ashlyn," he said deadpan. "Would you care to discuss something else?"

"Um, how did you prove to the Supreme Court that you don't have a master?" I shocked myself with my own cleverness.
Go me
.

"The Vampire Council congregated before them and proved it without a shadow of a doubt. Who is your master?" I expected at least a brief pause before we got back onto the subject of me. Apparently, we were playing tit for tat.

"Marcel Sylvain," popped out of my mouth before I could stop myself. Thompson never put the glass divider up between the front and back and I saw his head snap backward and he gave me a wide-eyed look.

"That son of a bitch finally broke down and made an offspring. It's about time!" Greer laughed and seemed genuinely happy. I needed to make a phone call. I just hoped Marc would forgive me. "Does it bother him that you're working for the FBI?"

"No, from the start he encouraged me to be my own vampire."

"I wish you'd told me last night. I need to call him to congratulate him," he said as I tried not to slink down between the seat cushions.

"We're here," Thompson called through the divider.
Thank the gods
.

I glanced out the window at The Citizen Hotel. The governor planned on giving a dinner to thank all of his supporters. We tried to talk him out of it, but to say a vampire could be stubborn seemed to be a bit of an understatement. The state police swept the building as well as the FBI, but for some reason I didn't think the people who wanted to see him dead would try a bomb again. The last one hadn't worked so well and the outrage people felt at somebody trying to blow up the governor flocked even more supporters to his side.

Thompson pulled the limo over to the curb in front of the entrance to the hotel. Again we tried to convince Greer to use a back entrance, but we got the standard "I will not give in to these terrorists" speech. As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, Greer opened the door and stepped out. A red carpet complete with matching felted ropes to keep the members of the press from rushing the limo had been set up, as well as the customary allotment of police officers to make sure the little fuzzy ropes did their jobs. I expected Greer to wait for me, not reach his hand into the limo and help me exit like I had the honor of being his arm candy for the evening. The press would be sorely disappointment at my wardrobe choice for the evening. My grey pantsuit and jacket looked more severe than the governor's and weren't flashy at all.

I couldn't have been more wrong. As soon as I stepped out of the vehicle, the camera flashes started. I figured once they saw my outfit they would let out a groan and go, "Who's she?" They didn't. In fact, they recognized me from the start. They hurled questions at the governor one after another, and I hoped he would set the record straight, but he just smiled, held my hand elegantly, and walked down the carpet smiling. A wise man once said, "Any publicity is good publicity." I think the governor held the same opinion.

By the time we reached the front of the building and a uniformed officer opened the door, I thought if I heard one more person yell the word "Verminator" it would be a bloodbath. Images of shredded reporters filled my head and I won't lie, I started to get a little hungry.

"Verminator?" Greer apparently hadn't heard the press' nickname for me.

"Later," I replied. I really didn't want the man I'd been assigned to protect pissed off at me. It would make my job that much harder.

We wound our way through the hotel lobby and I pulled my hand from Greer's grasp. He seemed to know where we were going, so I let him lead the way, keeping my eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. The hotel staff was busy wheeling in carts of what smelled like appetizers and beverages. The tempting scents only added to my hunger.
Why did human food have to smell so damn good?
I looked at the vampire at my side and felt a little jealous. He, at some point in his life, had actually tasted food. At least he knew what he was missing. On the other hand, maybe I did have it easier. I tried to remember the old axiom about loving and losing, but I couldn't quite recall it. I let it go and focused on my surroundings instead.

We entered the ballroom and Greer immediately made his way to where we would be sitting. We'd arrived over an hour early, so no guests were seated at the multitude of round tables set up throughout the gigantic room. I didn't have any idea how many people supported the governor, but I'd be surprised if he filled the massive room.

I stood by his side, constantly watching while a sea of coordinators bombarded him with a never-ending stream of last minute questions. He took it all in stride and I found myself amazed with the ease he handled the situation. I paused a moment to consider how many occupations Greer might have had before he became governor. I made a mental note to ask him about it later, along with the other question that had been nagging me. Why would a vampire want to be governor?

Time passed quickly and the guests started entering the room, introducing themselves before finding their seats. The man had charisma, I'd give him that. Most of the time he knew the guests before they introduced themselves and he greeted them by name. I watched their faces flush with pride when he did it. No wonder the man found himself elected. What a schmoozer.

The last guests trickled in and Greer took his seat. I made my way to the top of the stage and stood against the wall behind him. I found a tickling sensation at the base of my skull urging me forward and planting the desire to sit next to the governor. I shook my head from side to side and that helped a little. Greer turned and gave me a wide-eyed look, like something surprised him. He stood up and walked over to me.

"What are you doing?" He looked confused.

"I'm sorry, what do you mean?" I tried not to look even more confused than he did.

"I wanted you to sit by my side so my guests wouldn't worry about their safety. A few of them picked up on who you are and it made them nervous. I could feel their fear. I wanted them to think you came here as my guest and not an agent of the FBI."

I had a nagging feeling I knew exactly where the tingling sensation in my head had come from and I wasn't happy. "Governor Greer, I am an on duty agent of the FBI, I am
not
your date," I said through my teeth.

"You misunderstand me, Ashlyn. I'm just trying to make you less conspicuous," he told me with a smile. I looked across the room at Thomson and he stood watching us. I didn't know if he could hear our conversation, but he nodded and scanned the room with his supernatural eyes. Fine, I could do it too, from a chair.

I nodded and Greer smiled, motioning me to take the empty seat by his side. If I ended up in the newspapers tomorrow as "The governor's new girl" I'd eat him for breakfast, literally. I sighed and sat. I almost laughed when I saw the fine china setting in front of us. I expected him to sit, but he made his way to the podium set up on the middle of the head table. I didn't recognize anyone at the table with us, but my knowledge of politics involved being able to pick the President of the United States out of a group of people. I knew even less about politics than I did about baseball.

As soon as Greer took his position behind the wooden pulpit, a man standing by the entrance shouted, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the governor of the great state of California." He impressed me. His voice carried over the noise of the crowd without a microphone and echoed off the walls of the room.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Greer began. "Thank you for joining me. This evening is my way of saying thank you to all of my greatest supporters. I plan on taking our great state and healing it, but more so, I plan on ushering in an era of mutual understanding and friendship between the supernatural communities of our state and the communities of my new friends and supporters. I plan on making stricter laws protecting all peoples and meting out harsher punishments for those who think crime is an easier way to make a better life instead of good old-fashioned hard work. So please, my friends, enjoy the bounty before you, and then let us mingle and make merry." He smiled and raised his arms to the people gathered before him. The wait staff must have been waiting for his cue to start bringing out the delicious appetizers we'd smelled on the way in.

The people seated at the tables rose one by one and applauded the governor's short speech before turning to the company of their own tables. Utensils scraping on dishes, glasses being clinked together, and the cacophony of conversation filled the room, almost hurting my sensitive ears. Greer returned to his seat next to me and sat down effortlessly. Various members seated at the head table walked up to us and congratulated him on his victory once again before resuming their seats and beginning their dinner.

"So how is Marcel these days? Is he still in Chicago amassing a fortune with his chic clubs?"

"Yes, sir. I saw him about two weeks ago. Next time I'm in the area I'll give him your best," I told him. I glanced over at Thompson at his post by the entrance and saw him give me a little scowl. I guess he hadn't heard our conversation earlier. "I'll be right back, Governor; I need to talk to Thompson for a moment."

I made my way through the sea of tables and ignored the curious people casting inquisitive glances my way and walked up to my mountain of a partner.

"Enjoying yourself, kid?"

"No, I'm not. Greer insisted I sit with him as his guest. I guess a lot of people are worried about why the "Verminator" was here, so he wanted them to think everything was okay. You see anything suspicious?"

"No," he said and crossed his arms. "Just watch yourself around the governor; I don't trust him all that much."

"Shit, that reminds me. Could you step outside and call Marcel? I have a feeling Greer might actually call him to congratulate him on his offspring."

Thompson laughed at me. "I almost choked on my tongue when you told him that. Good thinking," he said and pulled out his cell. "I'll be back in a minute, go watch the governor."

I nodded and returned to my seat at Greer's side. He gave me an inquisitive look I ignored and glanced down at the table in front of me. A crystal goblet with an ample amount of blood sat where my plate used to be. Greer followed my gaze.

"A little snack, I thought you might be hungry." He raised his glass. "It could be a little warmer, but it's not bad."

I raised the glass to my lips and smelled it tentatively. Shit, pure human. "Thank you, sir, but I never drink while I'm at work." I looked at his face and he gave me a curious look.

"How old are you, Ashlyn?"

"How long have I been a vampire, sir?" I wanted clarification before I answered.

"Either, I'm pretty good at math and judging peoples ages," he said with his customary smile.

"How old do you think I am, Governor?" This should be interesting.

He touched the skin on the back of my hand in an intimate gesture. I thought he might be hitting on me until he closed his eyes and I felt his power pour through his fingertips. He gasped, drew his hand back from mine, and stared at it like I gave him a shock. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, when I tried to get a feel for your age something burned me, and I don't mean my hand. Something burned me," he said and looked a little afraid.

"Well that's weird, nothing like that's happened before," I gave a half-truth. If I could count how many times weird things happened around me I'd spend a lot of my time counting.

The rest of the governor's dinner passed quite uneventfully. The guests ate, danced, and schmoozed with the governor for four hours. Thankfully after the little "hand" incident Greer dropped his questions about my age and everything else Ashlyn related. I don't truly believe he feared me, but he seemed more than a little wary of me. More like he regarded me as a puzzle to be solved later. I imagine when one reaches the ripe old age of very, very old you learn to be patient.

As the last guests left, Thompson breathed a sigh of relief. I looked at him quizzically and he just shook his head. I knew a headshake from Thompson meant "later." Greer left the final details of the dinner party to his aides and made his way back over to me.

"Are you ready, sir?"

"Yes, Ashlyn. I'm more than ready."

Thompson left to procure the limo. Before we'd even left for the gala, Thompson planned to have the limo waiting out front for the governor to minimize his public exposure time. I knew he also wanted to check for incendiary devices. In the scope of bomb detection, it usually went police dogs, electronic sniffing devices, and then wereanimals. For some reason their sense of smell rivaled even their full-blooded cousins. Sometimes my nose even rivaled Thompson's, but since I had never smelled a bomb, I wouldn't know what to smell for.

The governor and I waited in the ballroom for a cell call from my partner to let us know it was safe. Thankfully, we didn't have long to wait. I nodded to Greer and led him back through the hotel. I didn't pause as the doors slid open, merely slipped between them and looked around. Not seeing anything, I waved the governor through as the flashes from the reporters illuminated the walkway. Those flashes saved Greer's life.

Very few things can kill a vampire. Fire is one, but it's often messy and causes too much collateral damage, just like the car bomb that failed to dispatch the governor the first time. You can also cut off the vampire's head and remove their heart, but to do so you have to get close enough to do it. Security surrounding the target usually made that option pretty difficult. The only other way is silver through the heart. Every subspecies of vampire is the same, but master vampires are a little more resilient. Often a bullet won't work. They travel too fast, and even though the bullet pierces the heart the silver exposure isn't long enough to cauterize the wound. The FBI and even local SWAT teams adopted guns that fired silver "stakes" using compressed air. They were incredibly accurate and the chances of the stake going completely through the vampire and striking someone else were slim to none. The very first time I encountered an FBI agent, I'd been in the clutches of Cicero, the master of Chicago. The FBI had burst in, shot first, and asked questions later. I saw those weapons used up close and personal and even though silver didn't bother me in the least, I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of the shot.