Kiss of Steel (12 page)

“You ain’t in the city now, me lords.”

“And you’re alone.” Debney’s cold, gray gaze slithered to his. “Not even you could think to take on three of the Echelon.”

Blade cocked his head. “’Cross the arena. See me man up there with the rifle? I told ’im to aim for the ’ead. You three can guess who ’e’s aimin’ for. I don’t care, told ’im to pick.”

O’Shay gave a little wave and a leer.

The bodyguards shifted.

“What do you want?” Barrons asked.

Ah. At least one of them had some sense.

“Wouldn’t a bothered you fine gents,” he said, “’cept I got a little problem in the rookery.”

“Clean it up yourself,” Debney sneered. “It’s got nothing to do with us. Your messes are your messes.”

“Aye. Only it ain’t just
my
mess,” he said, leaning closer to whisper. “I got a vampire problem. And mebbe I could take it by meself. Mebbe I can’t.”

That got their attention.

“That’s impossible,” Colchester said, his eyes narrowed. “There’s been no word of anything in the city. Nobody’s close to the Fade.”

“That you know of,” Blade replied, watching Barrons closely. The others were relaxing again, but Barrons held himself stiffly.

“I got two dead in the street. Me people think its war, ’tween you an’ me. I’m keepin’ it quiet before the whole city goes up in a panic.”

“Perhaps a dog?” Debney suggested.

“Stinks o’ rot,” he replied. “I knows what a vampire smells like. I knows what it looks like when they goes for the throat.”

Colchester examined his fingernails. “There’s been no reports of any unregistered blue bloods or rogues.”

Like Blade. Turned young and left in the gutters for someone’s amusement. They were lucky if the blue bloods didn’t simply kill them when they found them. Or maybe not so lucky at that. Blade could remember the heavy iron cage and the constant drip of water in the darkness. The hunger gnawing at him until he screamed with the pain of it. It had amused Vickers to keep him locked up, starving. The blood kept the hunger at bay, kept a man from turning into…something worse. Without it the Fade came quickly and a man could be a vampire within a month.

Blade had been Vickers’s triumph. Three months with no blood, without turning. Somehow Blade had fought the hunger down, kept it caged. It was the only thing that saved his neck from the guillotine. Vickers wanted to know how he did it but wouldn’t believe the answer.
I
tore
me
own
sister
apart
, Blade had said.
I
won’t ever let it out again. I won’t ever lose control again
.

Emily
. The memory of her kept him strong.

He blinked the memories away. They were so vivid, as though they’d happened yesterday. Emily’s smile, the sweet one she reserved just for him…

But it was Colchester’s smile he watched now, tight and thin.

“Then someone’s keepin’ ’is cards close to ’is chest,” Blade said. “Someone ain’t reported a blue blood gone missin’. If it’s a rogue unable to control ’imself, then who infected ’im?”

“There are rules against that,” Debney bleated.

Blade never took his eyes off Colchester. “Are there?” he asked, silky soft. “And yet ’ere I stand. A living testament to the lie. No matter ’ow many times you lot tried to ’ave me killed.”

Colchester shifted.

Barrons watched the interplay with a curious eye. “Vickers was reprimanded severely.”

“It weren’t enough,” Blade said. “But ’e’ll pay. One day.”

Colchester jerked. Blade had the knife to his throat before he could move. “I wouldn’t if I were you, ducky. Or I’ll slit you ear to ear. A little present for me good friend Vickers. ’E’s fond of you, ain’t ’e? ’Is favorite little cousin.”

“That’s enough,” Barrons said. “You’ve delivered your message. Now be gone. Before we take this as a trespass.”

Blade looked up. Smiled. “Aye. But you’re on my turf. I ain’t the one trespassin’.”

A roar went up from the crowd. The sounds of a dying gurgle came from the ring. Colchester was trying not to breathe. A thin line of blood sprang up against his collar.

Blade held Barrons’s gaze for a moment longer, then stepped back.

Colchester sucked in a breath. “You son of a bitch,” he spat, trying to rise.

Barrons caught his arm. Forced him back into his seat. “Sit down! People are watching.”

“Then they can watch me kill this bloody cur!” Colchester retorted.

Debney looked around. “Not here,” he said.

Colchester’s eyes narrowed with hatred. “You’ll pay for this.”

Blade shrugged. “Mebbe. But it ain’t goin’ to be you.”

Barrons’s gaze suddenly caught on something in the crowd. His eyes widened, and then he looked away, far too swiftly.

Blade swung a leg out over the rail and glanced out to see what had caught his attention. There was nothing but a sea of people. And then he froze. Honoria was making her way through the crowd, her face barely visible behind a charcoal wool shawl she’d draped over her head. She hurried along in Will’s wake as he shouldered his way up toward Blade’s box.

Barrons gave the crowd another seemingly disinterested sweep with his eyes, but his gaze lingered on her a second too long. He knew her, knew her well enough to identify her from the brief glimpse of her pale face. And he didn’t want anyone to know.

How?
Something vicious screamed through Blade for a moment, and his fingers dug into the rail. Something brutal and primal that wanted to go for Barrons’s throat. Was she an old friend, a lover? Why would Barrons try to hide the connection between them? If he was any friend of Colchester’s, he’d have pointed her out. Colchester could drag her before Vickers to collect the handsome reward.

Over
my
dead
body
.

Blade gave them a chilling smile. “Have a fine evenin’ gents. Enjoy me ’ospitality for the night. I wouldn’t recommend tryin’ it again if I were you. I’ll keep in touch.” He touched his fingers to his hair in a mocking salute, then leapt off the rail.

Surging through the crowd, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He was going to wring her neck! And Will’s, for daring to bring her here. What the bloody hell were they thinking?

Blade caught Honoria by the arm as they reached the stairs to his box. She gave a small shriek, covering her mouth with her hand when she saw who had grabbed her.

“Blade,” she said in a breathy little voice.

Will turned quickly. Then eased back, reading the fury in Blade’s tightly held frame. Blade pushed her toward him. “Get ’er out of ’ere. Now.”

She staggered into Will’s side. Blade continued on past them as though she were of no importance. He hissed under his breath, “Take ’er ’ome. And make sure you ain’t followed.”

“What’s going on?” Honoria asked.

He shot her a dark sidelong look. “I got three of the Ech’lon ’ere, watchin’ me every move. Go with Will and don’t give ’im any trouble. I’ll be ’ome shortly once I’ve slipped ’em.”

Honoria’s face drained of color. “What are they doing here?”

“They likes the blood sport. Now go.”

At least if anyone was watching, they’d be hesitant to take Will on. Every blue blood alive knew what those yellow eyes meant and just what the burly youth could do. A single
verwulfen
could bring down a half dozen blue bloods when he was in a fit of berserker rage. That was why they’d been hunted to death in England, or caged as a curiosity for the Echelon to display.

Barrons was watching with his arms crossed over his chest. Just as he’d suspected. Blade gave him another chilling smile. “
Mine
,” he mouthed silently, knowing Barrons could read his lips.

***

Honoria sat in the parlor, her hands pressed together. Will stirred the fire, and the one they called Tin Man rolled a ball of yarn across the floor beside Lark, trying to amuse the enormous thirty-pound tom that batted at it lazily. Despite Tin Man’s grim appearance, the smile on his face was almost childlike. Lark leaned against his shoulder, her eyes blinking tiredly.

The door opened. Honoria stiffened as Blade stalked in.

The fury on his face had died, replaced by that cool look of nonchalance he often wore. He snapped his fingers and Lark and Tin Man looked up.

“Out,” he said, including Will in the general sweep of his gaze. “Lark, you’re fit for bed, and I want you two on the rooftops. The fog’s thick enough to walk on tonight. I don’t think I were followed, but you never know. Can’t smell ’em comin’, those bastards.”

Will turned from his fire tending. “I tried to tell her not to go.”

“Aye. I don’t ’old you accountable. Can’t argue with the devil.”

They left the room without another word, or so much as a glance in her direction. Just her and him. Alone now.

Blade prowled toward the fireplace, resting a hand against the mantel. The light gleamed in a burnished sheen over his face and front, casting subtle shadows over his body. Tight, black leather pants molded faithfully over his thighs, and the flamboyant red waistcoat was made of touchable velvet. A pocket watch dangled from his well-cut black coat, the cuffs made of the same red velvet. Gray military-style frogging held his lapels open, and inches of black silk adorned his throat in an intricate cravat. Though his ensemble bore some similarity to the subdued wardrobe of the masses, he couldn’t resist the exotic touches. Composed now, the only sign of his mood was in his disheveled dirty-blond hair.

“I didn’t realize you were meeting with the Echelon tonight,” Honoria said. She couldn’t believe Leo had been there. With Colchester. He knew what a slimy cretin Colchester was, forever trying to emulate Vickers.

Blade crossed his arms over his chest. “Didn’t think you’d want to see me tonight. Ain’t your night for it.”

“I…I…” The words died on her tongue as she stared at him. A flush of heat crept up her cheeks and she dropped her gaze.

“Honor?” His tongue curled around the word, sending a shiver over her skin. He took a step toward her. “Why did you come ’ere tonight?”

“Do you have anything to drink?”

“Whiskey? Rum? Gin?”

“Do you have any brandy?”

Blade crossed silently to the liquor cabinet. Honoria’s knees trembled, so she sat down again, clasping her hands. The splash of liquid gurgled, and then he screwed the thin metal lid back onto the flask. “’Ere. Drink it slow like. She’ll curl your toes.”

She accepted the glass. For a moment their fingers touched and he refused to let it go. Their eyes met. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His skin was cool, absorbing the feverish heat of her own body. What would it be like to have his hands on her? Those cool, callused hands that moved with such nimble grace. She’d rarely been touched by a man. Only Vickers, and his touch had always left her nauseous.

Blade’s skin was cool too, yet when he touched her she burned.

“Thank you,” she whispered and dropped her gaze.

He let go. Stepped back. “’Ere,” he said, tugging a small package out of a drawer. “I bought you this.”

Honoria’s gaze narrowed on the small, paper-wrapped package. “What is it?”

“A gift.”

She took it, though she shouldn’t have. “You’re not supposed to buy me things.”

An ember of something hot flared in his eyes. “Are you goin’ to open it?”

She tore the packaging apart. A pair of dark brown kid gloves tumbled into her lap, the leather so fine and luscious that they had to have cost him a small fortune. A little sinking feeling curled through her stomach. “Oh.” She shook her head. “I can’t. You cannot buy personal items for a lady.”

“Who’s to know?” His green eyes challenged her.

“I would know.” And that made all the difference. He must have seen how worn her last pair was. The act was extremely considerate. She almost felt like crying. “I can’t accept these.” Especially not with the proposal she had come to put to him. She set them aside reluctantly.

A flat look came over his expression. “Why are you ’ere?”

The brandy burned all the way down. But it warmed her from within too. She was suddenly shivering, but not from the cold. “How much?”

The words were barely audible. But Blade froze as though she’d shouted at him. “How much what?”

“How much will you give me? For my blood?”

He could have been a statue. Honoria looked away and swiftly drank down the last of the brandy. Damn him. Bitterness burned in her throat. The words were hard to force out. “I no longer have employment. I need to pay the doctor’s bills, to buy food for…for my brother and sister. I’m desperate.”

And still he said nothing. A flare of heat burned in his eyes. He took a step away from her. Another. Turned and glared into the fireplace. “Bloody ’ell.”