Deadlocked (9 page)

“Mustapha?” I said.

The daytime man swung around. His very posture was tense. He jerked his chin at me by way of greeting. Despite the hour, Mustapha was wearing his dark glasses.

I looked around for his shadow, but there was no Warren in sight.

For the first time, I wished I knew what Mustapha was thinking—but his thoughts were as opaque as those of any Were I’d ever encountered.

My skin crawled, but I didn’t know why.

“How’s it going out there?” I asked, keeping my voice quiet.

After a pause he answered me, his own voice just as hushed. “Maybe I shoulda gotten a job with some freakin’ goblins. Or joined the pack and let Alcide boss me around. That would have been better than this. If I was you, I’d get my ass back in the car and go home. If Eric wasn’t paying me so good, that’s what I’d do.”

This was beginning to sound more and more like the beginning of a fairy tale:

FIRST MAN:
Don’t cross the bridge; it’s perilous.

HEROINE:
But I must cross the bridge.

SECOND MAN:
Upon your life, don’t cross the bridge!

HEROINE:
But I have to cross the bridge.

In a fairy tale, there’d be a third encounter; there are always three. And maybe I would have another one, yet. But I’d gotten the idea.

Anxiety trickled down my spine like sweat. I sure didn’t want to cross that bridge. Maybe I should just ease on down the road?

But Pam entered the kitchen, and my opportunity was gone. “Thank God you’re here,” she said, her faint British accent more apparent than usual. “I was afraid you weren’t going to come. Felipe has noticed you haven’t put in an appearance.”

“But you changed the time,” I replied, puzzled. “Mustapha told me to be here …” I glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Just now.”

Pam shook her head, then gave Mustapha a look that seemed more puzzled than irritated. “We’ll talk later,” she told him. She made an impatient beckoning gesture to me.

I took a second to stow my purse in one of the kitchen cabinets, simply because a kitchen is the safest storage place in a vampire house. Before I followed Pam into the large open living room/dining room area, I fixed a smile on my face. I couldn’t help casting a glance over my shoulder at Mustapha, but all I saw was the blankness of the lenses of his dark glasses.

I looked ahead of me, after that. When you’re around vampires, it’s always better to have your eye on what’s coming.

Though Eric’s bold decorating had been featured in
Louisiana Interiors
, the photographer would hardly have recognized the room tonight. The striped drapes across the front windows were firmly drawn. There were no fresh flowers. A mixed group of humans and vampires were strewn around the large space.

A hugely muscular man with dyed blond hair was dancing with a young woman to my far left, close to the dining table, which Eric used for business conferences. As I approached, they stopped dancing and started kissing, noisily and with much tongue. A square-jawed male vampire was taking blood from a well-endowed human female on the loveseat, and he was making a messy job of it. There were blood drips on the upholstery.

Right then, I was pissed off. It added fuel to the flame when I absorbed the fact that a red-haired vamp I didn’t know was standing on Eric’s coffee table (in high heels!) dancing to an old Rolling Stones CD. Another vampire with thick black hair was watching her with casual appreciation, as if he’d seen her do the same thing many times but still enjoyed the sight. Her stiletto heels were digging, digging into the wood of the table, one of Eric’s favorite acquisitions.

I could feel my lips draw in like purse strings. A sideways glance at Pam showed me she was keeping her face as smooth and empty as a pretty bowl. With a huge effort, I wiped my own expression clean. Dammit, we’d
just
replaced all the carpeting and had the walls repainted after the Alexei Romanov debacle! Now the upholstery would need to be cleaned again, and I’d have to find someone to refinish the table.

I reminded myself I had bigger problems than a few stains and gouges.

Bill had been right. Mustapha had been right. This was not a place I should be. Despite what Pam had said, I couldn’t believe any of the vampires would have missed me. They were all too busy.

But then the man watching the dancer turned his head to look at me. I realized that he was a fully clothed (thank you, God) Felipe de Castro. He smiled at me, his sharp white fangs glistening in the overhead light. Yes, he’d been enjoying the dancing.

“Miss Stackhouse!” he said lazily. “I’d been afraid you wouldn’t come tonight. It’s been too long since I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you.” Since Felipe had a thick accent, my name sounded more like “Meees Stekhuss!” The first time I’d met him, the king had been wearing an honest-to-God cape. Tonight he’d dressed conservatively in a gray shirt, silver vest, and black pants.

“It’s been a while, Your Majesty,” I said, which was simply all I could think of to say. “I’m so sorry I’m a bit late to greet you. Where is Eric?”

“He’s in one of the bedrooms,” Felipe said, still smiling. His mustache and chin strip were perfectly black and perfectly groomed. The King of Nevada, Arkansas, and Louisiana was not a tall man. He was strikingly handsome. He possessed a vitality that was hugely attractive—though not to me, and not tonight. Felipe was also quite the politician, I’d heard, and he was certainly a businessman. No telling how much money he’d amassed in his long life.

I smiled back at the king in a frozen way. I was mighty put out. The Nevada visitors weren’t acting any better than, say, small-town firemen attending a convention in New Orleans. That these visitors were from Las Vegas and yet felt it necessary to misbehave in Shreveport … well, it didn’t speak well for them.

“In one of the bedrooms” didn’t sound good, but of course that was what Felipe had intended. “I’d better tell him I’m here,” I said, and turned to Pam. “Let’s go, girlfriend.”

Pam took my hand, and it was a measure of the evening that I actually found that comforting. Her face was still as wax.

As we navigated through the room (the muscular man wasn’t actually having sex with his companion, but it wasn’t far in the future), Pam hissed, “Did you see that? The blood will
never
come out of the upholstery.”

“It won’t be as hard to clean up as the night Alexei went nuts here,” I said, trying to get perspective. “Or the club, after we did—that thing.” I didn’t want to say “killed Victor” out loud.

“But that was
fun
.” Pam was practically pouting.

“This isn’t, for you?”

“No, I like my pleasures more personal and private.”

“Oh, me,
too
,” I said. “Why is Eric back here instead of out there?”

“I don’t know. I just came back from a liquor run,” she said briefly. “Mustapha insisted we needed some more rum.”

She was doing Mustapha’s bidding now? But I pressed my lips shut. It was no business of mine.

By that time we’d reached the door of the bedroom I used at Eric’s, since I didn’t want to be shut downstairs with him all day in his light-tight sleeping room. Pam, a step ahead of me, pushed open the door and stiffened. Eric was there, and he was sitting on the bed, but he was feeding off someone—a dark-haired woman. She was sprawled across his lap, her bright summer dress twisted around her body, one hand gripping his shoulder and kneading it while he sucked from her neck. Her other hand was … she was pleasuring herself.

“You
asshole
,” I said, and I reversed on the spot. Getting the hell out of there was my all-consuming desire. Eric raised his head, his mouth bloody, and his eyes met mine. He was … drunk.

“You can’t go,” Pam said. She gripped my arm now, and I could tell it would break before she’d release me. “If you run out now, we’ll look weak, and Felipe will react. We’ll all suffer. Something’s wrong with Eric.”

“I really don’t give a damn,” I told her. My head felt oddly light and distant from the shock. I wondered if I would faint or throw up or leap on Eric and choke him.

“You need to leave,” Eric told the woman. His words were slurred. What the
hell
?

“But we were just getting around to the good part,” she said, in what she thought was a seductive voice. “Don’t make me go, baby, before the big payoff. If you want her to join in, that’s all right with me, sugar.” It took all her effort to get the words out. She was white as a sheet. She’d lost a lot of blood.

“You must go,” Eric said, a bit more clearly. His voice had the shove in it vampires use to get humans moving.

Though I refused to look at the brunette, I knew when she got off the bed, and Eric. I knew when she staggered and almost fell.
Now I can keep my car,
she thought.

I was so startled to hear this that I turned to look at her. She was younger than me, and she was skinny. Somehow that made Eric’s offense worse. After a second I could glimpse, past my agitation, that she had a lot of sickness in her head. The stuff churning around in her mind was both awful and confusing. Self-loathing made her thoughts all tinged with gray, as if she were rotting from her core out. The surface still looked pretty, but it wouldn’t be for long.

The girl also had twoey blood, though I couldn’t tell what kind … maybe werewolf. One of her parents was the real deal. That made sense, given Eric’s condition. Twoey blood packed a punch for vampires, and she’d amped it up somehow to make herself more intoxicating.

Pam said, “I don’t know who you are or how you got in here, girl, but you must leave now.”

The girl laughed, which neither Pam nor I had expected. Pam jerked, and I felt a solar flare go off in my head. I’d added rage to disgust. Laughing! My eyes met the girl’s. The smirk vanished from her lips, and she blanched.

I was no vampire, but I guess I looked pretty threatening.

“All right, all right, I’m going. I’ll be out of Shreveport by dawn.” She was
lying
. She decided to make one last attempt to … what? She sneered at me and said deliberately, “It ain’t my fault that your man was hungry …” Before I could move, Pam backhanded her. The girl lurched against the wall, then slid to the ground.

“Get up,” Pam said, her voice deadly.

With visible effort, the girl rose to her feet. There were no more smiles or provocative statements. She passed close to me as she left the room, and I smelled her; not only a trace of twoey, but another scent, blood with a sweet undertone. She made her way down the hall and out to the living room, supporting herself with one hand against the wall.

After she’d cleared the door, Pam shut it. The room was oddly quiet.

My brain was running in a hundred different directions. From my late arrival, to the new guard at the gate, to the strange thoughts I’d read from the girl, the odd scent I’d caught when she was near … and then my whole focus fell on a different subject.

My “husband.”

Eric still remained sitting on the side of the bed.

The bed I thought of as mine. The bed where we had sex. The bed where I slept.

He spoke directly to me. “You know I take blood …” he began, but I held up a hand.

“Don’t speak,” I said. He looked indignant, and his mouth opened, and I said again,
“Don’t. Speak.”

Seriously, if I could have gotten away by myself for thirty minutes (or thirty hours or thirty days), I could have dealt with the situation. As it was, I had to do a speed speech in my head.

I knew I wasn’t Eric’s only drinking fountain. (One person could not be the sole food source for a vampire; or rather, not for a vampire who doesn’t supplement with synthetic.)

Not his fault he needed food, blah blah.

When it’s freely offered, why not take it, blah blah.

But.

He knew I was due to arrive.

He knew I would let him drink.

He knew the fact that he chose to drink from another woman would hurt me deeply. And he did it, anyway. Unless there was something I didn’t know about this woman, or something she’d done to Eric that had triggered this reaction, this signaled that he didn’t care about me as deeply as I’d always thought.

I could only think,
Thank God I broke the blood bond. If I’d felt his enjoyment while he was sucking on her, I’d have wanted to kill him.

Eric said, “If you hadn’t broken our blood bond, this would never have happened.”

I had another solar flare in my head. “This is why I don’t carry a stake,” I muttered, and swore long and fluently to myself.

I hadn’t told
Pam
not to speak. After eyeing me intently to assess my mood, she said, “You know that in a while, you’ll adjust. This was a question of timing, not of unfaithfulness.”

After I took a long moment to resent the hell out of her conviction that I was going to accommodate Eric’s behavior, I had to nod. I wasn’t necessarily agreeing with the premise behind her words—that when I’d calmed down I wouldn’t mind what Eric had done. I was simply acknowledging the fact that she had a point. Though it made me scream inside, I pushed aside all the things I wanted to say to Eric, because something more urgent was happening here. Even I could see that.

“Listen, here’s the important stuff,” I said, and Pam nodded. Eric looked surprised, and his back stiffened. He looked more like himself, more alert and intelligent.

“That girl didn’t just wander in here out of the blue; she was sent,” I said.

The vampires looked at each other. They shrugged simultaneously. “I’d never seen her before,” Eric said.

“I thought she came in with Felipe’s pickups,” Pam said.

“There’s a new guy at the gate.” I looked from one to the other. “Where’d Dan Shelley go, tonight of all nights? And after Pam called me and told me to be here at nine, Mustapha called me right back and told me to be here an hour later. Eric, I’m sure that girl tasted different to you?”