Death's Servant (The V V Inn, First Prequel Book) (7 page)

Knows who you are?

“Yup. You, my dear sweet wolfman, sniffed out yourself an ex-enforcer.” At my lack of comment she continues. “I used to dole out justice for the Tribunal of Ancients, the vampire race’s governing body. Usually they’d send someone like me after a rogue vamp—a vampire who kills indiscriminately or puts our species in danger with his or her actions.”

And your husband is worried you might not come back?

“No, not really. He gets like that whenever he’s not by my side during a fight. Can’t blame him, I’d probably react the same way.” She glances at me sideways and then returns hers eyes to the road to take the next turn. “You do realize I’m going to have to kill Cecil tonight, right? There’s no way to cure someone this far gone.”

As long as we can save the wolves I don’t care how many vampires have to die.

“Present company excluded, of course, right?” She doesn’t even look at me on that one. “We’re not all as bad as he is, you know. Humans would hunt vampires down and kill us, like they almost did during the Spanish Inquisition. Poor witches got all the blame, but a lot of supernatural species were under fire during that crazy time.”

We turn down back roads, slowing our pace to follow the speed limit. “Now, what I’ll do with the visiting vampires who have called on Cecil while we’re there... that I haven’t decided yet.” The look on her face becomes distant. “Kill them all or alter their minds? I’ll have to see when I get there.”

The casual tone she uses to announce the imminent demise of her own kind chills me to the bone. Wolves kill to eat or defend their pack and den, not simply because it needs to be done. How do I feel about aligning myself with a cold blooded killer?

“Did I seem so cold blooded when you spied on me making love to my husband?” Quiet fills the space between us. “Or when I saved that child from falling into the wading pool? You know, when you thought I was going to eat the toddler?” I duck my head and glance out the window.

“I may not be a mindless beast, but I never walk away from what needs to be done—no matter how heartless I must become to finish the job.”

We travel in silence a few more minutes, apprehension filling my gut. What have I done by agreeing to serve this woman? Have I stepped into more than I can handle?

“I’ll need you to follow my lead when we get there. Act meek and subservient, don’t make eye contact with Cecil or the other vampires. Can you do that?”

Yes.

We pull into the gravel drive, the apprehension from before swirling into a larger mass of fear. If we can’t save these wolves tonight I don’t know what else to do.

The large house comes into view, every window lit up like a huge party is taking place. Six other cars line the circular drive in front of the house.

Dria parks the car and leans toward me, lowering her voice. “We’ll walk away from this fine, don’t you worry.” Surprisingly, she has no problem smiling while I sit here worried I’m going to puke. “You wondered who you agreed to serve?” The cold look I saw returns. “I am death. And no one escapes death.”

Dria exits the vehicle, holding open the door for me to jump out. She wraps one delicate hand around the studded collar and whispers, “Don’t leave my side tonight. It’s the only way I can ensure your safety.”

I nod once, conveying I understand. Will I be able to hold back if I see Raine in danger?

“If you don’t, you run the risk of ruining the whole plan.” She gives my collar a jerk and then releases. “Think on that long and hard, numb nuts. Those alpha tendencies can get in the way and destroy the whole pack if you’re not careful. Don’t make me regret agreeing to help.”

We walk to the front door and Dria rings the bell. A young blond woman, skinny to the point of looking anorexic, answers the door, a bright, forced smile on her face.

“Welcome to the V V Inn. Please, come in.”

Dria’s back stiffens at the woman’s words. The hand resting on my back fists in the fur. “Interesting name. May I ask where it came from?”

The skinny blonde shrugs, the smile on her face faltering. “I’m not sure. Cecil, the owner, said it means something to the vampire community.” The young werewolf locks eyes with me, trying to convey something—what I’m not sure. Maybe it’s simply a warning from one Were to another to get out while I can.

“Yes,” Dria says with a strained smile. “I’ve heard of it before. Hadn’t realized there was a...branch here in Virginia.”

“I take it this is your first time here?”

Dria nods her head regally. “Yes, it is.”

“My name is Tara, I can show you around.”

Tara leads us into the large foyer with two formal rooms branching off both sides. Midway into the house an elaborate staircase winds upward, and further back, a hall leads to more rooms.

Tara waves to the right with her toothpick arm. “Inside you’ll find the parlor, where guests mingle with the available Weres, selecting a partner if one has not been prearranged.” Dria nods and steps forward to glance about the room. Sticking close to her side as instructed, I follow, and see more than I’d bargained for.

Several slim werewolves lounge on heavy leather furniture, their gazes empty and unfocused. How much of their minds have been ruined by the constant control Cecil exerts on them? Can they heal from such damage and live a normal life?

Rage boils under my skin and I start to shake, minimally at first with the shudders gradually increasing as I try and hold still. The alpha in me calls for revenge, and a red haze of violence colors my vision, urging me to leap and tear out the throats of the nearby vampires ogling the emaciated wolves.

The studded collar around my neck is painfully jerked by Dria, the hard edge of the stitched leather digging into my airway. I glance up at her to see she’s eyeing the vampires in the room, ignoring me completely, but obviously aware of my distress.

One vampire selects a slender man in his early twenties. He picks up the delicate leash dangling from the Were’s navy blue collar and leads the unresisting Were out of the room toward the stairs. He ignores us in passing, but Dria studies him carefully as they exit.

When he’s gone, her bright green gaze lingers on every bloodsucker in the room, like she’s trying to place their identity or memorizing their appearance for a later purpose. There’s a calmness emanating from her that feels down right spooky. I wish we had talked about more of an actual plan than “follow my lead” before we got here.

Who am I kidding? I’m basically at her mercy however you cut it.

Wow. Talk about humbling.

A chill races up my spine and this time it has nothing to do with my impotent feelings of rage at my fellow Were’s treatment. Who should be able to wield such power over others? Isn’t there an old saying that absolute power corrupts absolutely?

Dria kneels by my side, a deadly smile on her face, and whispers in my ear. “There’s always someone more powerful who can knock you off your perch—even if you’re me. Never forget it and you don’t have to worry about corruption. You’ll be too afraid watching your own back.”

Turning her private
tete ala tete
with me into a show of something else, she says in a louder voice, “Which one do you think I should pick, my dear? They all look a little… tired.”

Before I decide what she expects me to do at her question, she stands, dismissing me as if we never spoke.

Tara senses the difference in Dria’s appraising stare around the room and says, “We have one or two that might appeal to you better. You could talk to Cecil and arrange something.”

A huge smile spreads across the redhead’s features. “Meet Cecil? Why thank you, Tara. What a wonderful idea.”

Tension slips from the blond Were, pleased she did something right in the growing tension. She leads us out of the room toward the back of the building. The disturbing sounds of a nearby feeding vampire and forced pleasure from a donor chase us down the hall, tightening my gut and fueling me with the urge to rip and maim.

Dria’s hand fists in my fur again, and then softens, smoothing the raised hackles I can’t control in my distress. Tara meanders down a long hall and stops in front of a shut door. She raps once and waits.

“Yes?” a male voice calls from within.

“I’ve got a new visitor who would like to speak with you about selecting donors not in the lounge tonight.”

“Come in.”

Tara opens the door and steps back, her body language projecting she’s eager to avoid being in the room with either party, if she can.

Dria steps through the doorway with her head held high, her mane of lush copper waves spilling down her back. A large desk occupies one end of the room, with a small sitting area in front of it. The vampire who chased me into the night a week ago stands behind the desk, a fake smile plastered on his face. He steps around the desk and motions with one arm for us to sit in one of the chairs.

“Welcome. Please, take a seat.”

My shoulder brushes up against her thigh as Dria walks to a high-backed chair and sits.

“My name is Cecil and I’m the owner of the V V Inn.” He settles across from Dria, crossing his legs. “Tara mentioned our current selection tonight didn’t spark your interest.” He glances at me with a flick of dismissal. “Surely, if your servant isn’t enough to satisfy your need, you’d be content with whomever was willing, no?”

A coldness enters Dria tone. “That would assume your donors were willing, wouldn’t it?”

Cecil sits straighter in his seat. “I resent your implication. Our donors are willing. Ask them.”

Her calculating gaze narrows on the larger man, not a trace of fear or doubt evident in her. “We all know how easily agreement can be coerced, don’t we?” Dria scoots to the edge of her seat and extends her hand to the flustered vampire. “Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Alexandria McAndrews.”

Her hand hangs in the air as Cecil’s mouth gapes and his pale skin whitens. “No… You can’t be…” He shuts his mouth and shrinks into his chair. “What are you doing here?”

A vicious look of satisfaction crosses Dria’s face before she speaks. “Ah, I see you recognize the name, do you not?”

“Are you the one they called ‘Alexandria the Great’?”

Dria rises from her chair to stand over Cecil. “That depends on who you ask. By ‘they’, I take it you mean the Tribunal?” Cecil nods, his eyes tracking Dria’s every minuscule movement. She looks around his office, then brings her eyes back to his flinching features. “Interesting set up you’ve got here. I wonder what
they
would think of it.” She begins to pace in her agitation, back and forth in front of the tense vampire.

“I’m not breaking any laws,” Cecil says, forced bravado coloring his tone. I can smell the stink of fear coming off him in waves. This is getting interesting. Why would her name and reputation scare him so much?

Dria whips around and points an accusing finger his way. “
You
are doing something far worse. You have imprisoned these wolves and manipulated their minds to do your bidding. You pimp them out in an old-style blood brothel and think no one will notice?” Her hand drops to her side as her chest heaves in anger. “You think hiding behind a technicality that the laws weren’t written to include werewolves would save you?”

“Blood brothel? This is no such thing. The V V Inn has been around for over a century, perhaps you never heard of it? We’re operating like we always have.”

“Bullshit!” The tiny vampire cries and leaps across the space between them, toppling the chair backward and pinning the terrified vampire to the floor. “I run the
only
V V Inn, you disgrace of a vampire.” Cecil’s face collapses in horror. “Perhaps
you
should have done your research better, asshole.”

Without warning Dria plunges her hand straight into his chest and tears out the vampire’s bloody heart. A scream starts from Cecil but abruptly cuts off when his heart leaves his body. Dria tosses the organ over her shoulder and pulls up her skirt. She extracts a hunting knife strapped to her inner thigh.

My stomach revolts at the horror before me and I swallow bile, hoping I don’t hurl. In a smooth practiced move, Dria severs Cecil’s head from his body and lays it a few feet from his body. Removing the heart first prevented any arterial spray, but her right hand is coated with red all the way up her forearm.

I may be a werewolf, but I’ve never killed a vampire, or anyone else for that matter— animals I’ve hunted while a wolf don’t count as murder in my eyes.

Holy shit. Just exactly what have I gotten myself into with this woman?

She calmly wipes her blade and sullied hand on the dead vampire’s suit jacket before glancing my way. “Well, crap. I hadn’t intended to kill the bastard so quickly tonight. That was until I heard what he called this place—then all my best intentions went out the window.” She sighs once, the sound tired and bone weary, striding toward the desk.

Dria picks up the phone, while I stare at the wet, sloppy heart at my feet, and dials a number. In a moment whomever she’s calling picks up. “Rafe honey, I’m going to need you here after all. We’ve got quite a mess to clean up.”