Flameout (4 page)

The vampire looked up and snarled, revealing somewhat stained yellow teeth. Given he didn't look any more than twenty in human terms, he'd obviously never taken any notice of hygiene lessons before he'd become a vampire. While turning made humans as close to immortal as they were ever likely to get, it didn't alter whatever problems they'd had as humans. Bad teeth would always be bad teeth, and the wheelchair bound would forever be so.

“You're fucking dead meat.” Weirdly, the vampire's gaze was on me rather than Sam. “This won't be the end of it.”

“You want to wrap those flames a bit tighter around this bit of scum?” Sam's voice was remote. Disinterested.

But then, he faced death—or worse, madness—every day of his life. The threats of vampires were hardly likely to concern him.

I took a somewhat shuddery breath and did so. But the mother's demands had seriously compromised my strength, and keeping the vampire contained was taking more juice than I really had. My flames reached higher, briefly searing his rather pointed chin before I allowed them to die down again.

The vampire swore; it was a low, vicious sound.

“Next time,” Sam said, “we'll burn your fucking face off. You may be able to heal such a wound, vampire, but you'll suffer in the process.”

The vampire glanced from Sam to me then back again. “Fine,” he growled. “What do you want to know?”

“Who sent you here, and why?”

“No one sent us. We came of our own accord.”

“Vampire, you don't look old enough to make such heady decisions by yourself.” Though Sam's expression remained neutral, that dark edge had crept back into his voice. The wise
wouldn't
be playing games right now. “Tell the truth, or this could get very ugly.”

“It
is
the truth. And it's not like we have any other fucking choice right now, do we?”

“And why would that be?”

“Because
she
fucking killed our maker, didn't she?” He glared at me. “And it left us not only rudderless, but without the protection of an elder.”

I raised my eyebrows. Newly turned vampires ran under the protection of their “creator”—the vamp who turned them—for the first twenty or so years of their “after” life, although it wasn't unusual for most to continue in their creator's den until they were ready to start their own. And
that
didn't happen until they were at least two hundred years old. Even then, the vampire elders—vamps who hit the “magic” one thousand years—kept very close control over who could and couldn't form their own dens. Vampires who ignored their ruling, or those who figured they could simply run outside it, very quickly learned otherwise. And their deaths were never pleasant, if what I'd been told—that they were torn apart by said elders—was right.

The strictness didn't come so much from a fear of humans—who for many older vampires were nothing more than a food source—but rather, the rest of us: the dark fae, the shifters, and the spirits. The elders knew from past experience that it really wasn't wise to annoy the supernatural community by allowing their numbers to get too out of control—that by doing so, they were endangering the existence of everyone. Humans might be weaker physically, but that didn't matter so much when they had both numbers
and
technology behind them.

Of course, this also meant elders had no time for vamps who'd lost their maker, and that generally meant they became little more than fodder for the rest of the dens. No master ever invited the spawn of another into his or her lair.

So
this
vampire's anger and need for revenge was understandable. I just didn't understand why he was blaming
me
.

Sam glanced at me. I half shrugged at his unspoken question and said, “As far as I'm aware, I haven't killed any masters of late.”

“So you're denying you were at the recent Highpoint bust-up?” the vamp snapped. “That it was another fire witch, not you, who destroyed so many of my den mates?”

It was interesting that he'd called me a fire witch rather than a phoenix. Luke knew I was the latter, as did Parella, so that surely meant this vamp belonged to a different den entirely. But whose? Aside from the two sindicati factions, the only other vamp who appeared to be on our tail was the mysterious Professor Heaton. We
had no idea who he was or what he actually wanted, and he hadn't been at Highpoint as far as I was aware.

I certainly
had
been, and I sure as hell had killed some vamps. But they'd been trying to either capture or kill me—I still wasn't sure which—so it was quid pro quo as far as I was concerned. None of them, as far as I knew, had been masters—and it wasn't like masters put themselves on the front lines too often anyway.

“If you're aware of that fight, then you're also aware that I was there at the invitation of Frank Parella.” Which was something of a white lie, as I'd been the one who'd demanded that meeting, not Parella. “And you'll know that Parella walked away unharmed.”

“I wasn't talking about Parella.”

The way he said his name was a revelation in itself. “De Luca,” I said. “You're from his den?”

“And, thanks to you, we're now without hearth and home.” His fury was so fierce his whole body vibrated.

“Like I really care,” I replied evenly. “But you're wrong about one thing—I didn't kill De Luca.”

He snorted. “Liar. We know the truth.”

“And were you there?” I said. “You saw De Luca die?”

I knew for a fact he
hadn't
. Beside me, the only people who had been there were Parella, whoever Parella had watching from a distance, and De Luca's men—both of whom had been either dead or unconscious.

“The red cloaks' master told us it was so,” he spat back. “He has no reason to lie.”

I snorted. Lying was part of Luke's nature, but it was interesting that he was lying in
this
particular case. And why wouldn't he tell his allies the truth
about what I was? Or was it simply a matter of De Luca not passing the information on to everyone in his den?

“Given
he
wasn't there,” I said, “you can hardly take his word as gospel.”

“He didn't have to be there. His hive was, and they are one.”

“Actually, no,” I said. “There were no red cloaks there, either. And it was Parella who killed De Luca, not me.”

The vampire's gaze narrowed. “Parella would not be so foolish.”

“Why not? It's not like he and De Luca were on friendly terms, was it?”

“One master cannot kill another without a sanctified challenge,” he spat back. “If he'd sought such a sanction, we would have heard.”

“Maybe the rules changed when the sindacati split into factions.”

“They did not—”

Sam made a low, almost animalistic sound then grabbed the vampire by the throat and lifted him off the ground. It was both a show of strength and an indication of just how inhuman he now was.

“Enough,” he growled. My flames cast an orange glow across his pale features and made his blue eyes gleam with ruddy fire. “If you value your life, you will not come after either of us again. If you do, I will ensure every last one of you is hunted down and destroyed.”

The vampire bared his teeth. It was a contemptuous action more than fear filled. “As if PIT has the people for such a task given the current situation.”

Sam shook him. Hard. “If you or your den mates believe the current situation will benefit you in the long run, then you have no understanding of my brother.”

The vamp's gaze narrowed slightly. “Your brother?”

“Luke Turner, erstwhile leader of the cloak hive. My brother.”

“
That
is information we were not told.”

“Oh, I'm betting there's a whole lot more that you're not being told, vampire. I suggest you go back to your den mates and seriously consider your options.”

The vampire glanced at me. Though his expression gave little away, I very much believed the only option he'd be considering was how he and his den mates were going to kill me. He might fear PIT and Luke, but he feared being left without the protection of a den a whole lot more. Maybe he figured that killing me would somehow gain them respect and the possibility that the sindicati would, at the very least, consider them of use.

It was a very long shot, but I guess in his situation, I might have done the same.

The vamp's gaze returned to Sam. “I shall share the information with my den mates.”

Which certainly wasn't a promise to back away. I half expected Sam to simply take him out, but he surprised me.

“Release him,” he said, without glancing at me.

I hastily did so. Weakness washed through me, and I had to seriously concentrate on locking my knees just to remain upright. I really hoped the night wasn't going to throw any more surprises at me, because there wasn't all that much left in the tank.

Sam threw rather than released the vampire, but he landed catlike, his fingertips briefly brushing the ground as he found his balance.

Once upright, the vampire gave a somewhat mocking bow and said, “Thank you for your understanding.”

Sam snorted. “Go, vampire, before I change my mind.”

The vamp hesitated, then said, “And my companions?”

“Will live as long as they're also sensible and leave.”

The vampire glanced at me then spun on his heels and walked away. I looked briefly at the other vamps. None of them appeared to be approaching any level of consciousness. I really
had
knocked them out cold.

My gaze returned to Sam's. “Why did you do that?”

He frowned as he walked over. “Do what?”

“Ask me to release him. You know as well as I do that this won't end here.”

He grimaced and waved a hand in acknowledgment. “Yes, but as much as I sometimes might want to, I can't go around killing vampires willy-nilly.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I thought PIT had carte blanche to bend the rules and apprehend crims in any way deemed fit?”

“Bend, yes. Break—well, that depends on the situation and what might be at stake.”

“So the mere fact they attempted to kill us both isn't enough?” I shook my head and wondered what in the hell those vamps would have to have done before Sam disposed of them. I wasn't normally an advocate for skipping the whole law, order, and fair trial business, but in this particular case I was willing to make an
exception. “PIT has some very strange ways, let me tell you.”

“You don't know the half of it.” His gaze swept me as he stopped. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Just tired. I need to go home and get some rest.”

“Is your car nearby?”

I shook my head. “Rory's picking me up over near the main gates in . . .” I hesitated and glanced at my watch. “Fifteen minutes.”

Other than the bitter smile that briefly twisted his lips, there was little in the way of reaction to Rory's name. He might still blame Rory's presence in my life for our breakup, but perhaps he was at least beginning to accept that he was a
necessary
presence.

I hoped so. It might be too late for the two of us, but it would be nice if at least in
one
lifetime I could remain friends with the man fate had decreed I would love and lose.

“Then I'll escort you.” He half raised a hand, as if to touch my elbow, then dropped it again and simply motioned me forward. “So tell me, why the hell were you meeting with Parella?”

I hesitated then shrugged. There was little point in lying given PIT was undoubtedly aware of what had gone down at Highpoint, even if they didn't know the finer details.

“We exchanged some information for a pledge not to come after us until we found the missing research notes.”

His expression darkened dangerously. “What sort of information?”

“Not the sort you're thinking,” I replied evenly. “We told him that that De Luca was working with Luke and the cloaks, and that Rosen had been murdered.”

Rosen was the man behind Rosen Pharmaceuticals—the company who'd hired Jackson—the dark fae I'd met during my investigation into Baltimore's murder, and the man who'd recently offered me a partnership in Hellfire Investigations, his PI agency—to find both Professor Wilson's murderer and the backup of the professor's research notes. We had thought Parella might have been behind his death, but his surprise at the news had squashed that.

“I'm surprised he didn't at least know the former.”

“Apparently not, because he refused to believe me until De Luca himself confirmed it.”

“And did you shoot De Luca?”

“No. Parella did.” I hesitated again then added, “But not before De Luca had boasted that while Luke controlled the two scientists,
he
controlled all the research notes. And that he was the only one who knew where they were or had access to them.”

Sam stopped me. His grip was fierce, but he almost instantly released me. “So Luke
hasn't
got either Baltimore or Wilson's notes?”

“No one has. They're still out there in whatever hidey spot De Luca put them in.”

“
That
is good news.”

Indeed it was; it meant the notes PIT held—the ones that had come from the books Mark Baltimore had given me to transcribe just before he'd been murdered—were currently the only ones available.
And hopefully, that gave whatever labs were now working on a vaccine a head start against Luke and his scientists.

“The only problem being Parella is well aware the notes are out there, and believes he will find them before the rest of us.”

“Parella can believe what he wants.” He motioned me forward again, and then fell in step beside me. “De Luca's offspring are not likely to ease off their quest for revenge. It might be better if you and Rory left the state until all this is over.”