Laws of the Blood 4: Deceptions: Deceptions (17 page)

“But—”

“I have the headache of the century. Don’t ask how.”

“How?”

Olympias glared, but she answered. “I tried to have a quiet little talk with him from inside his head. Unfortunately, he has very, very strong shields.
I
was too relaxed. I didn’t want to hurt him. I barely got out of his bedroom without letting him know how strongly I reacted to his defenses. Damn near vamped out on him.”

“Bedroom?” Sara asked. “What were you doing in his bedroom?”

Olympias moved past Sara and the hellhound, toward the kitchen, her steps dragging. Sara followed. Olympias took a seat at the kitchen table and dropped her head into her hands. “I need a cup of coffee.”

Sara hurried to get a pot going. She cast furtive glances at Olympias as she did so. Her mistress looked very shaken up. Sara knew it wasn’t kind, but she nursed the hope that Olympias was too upset to ask her how her evening had gone.

“Coffee’s on,” she announced, turning to give her full attention to her mistress. “What else can I do?”

Bitch was leaning against Olympias’s thigh, while the Enforcer absentmindedly stroked her sleek black fur. She stared at the white tile surface of the kitchen table, but didn’t looked up at Sara’s question. “A posset of opium mixed in warm wine would be nice.”

“How about aspirin?”

Olympias shook her head. “The pain will pass when I go to sleep.” She checked the clock on the microwave. “Damn! At least half an hour before I pass out. I vaguely remember driving back from Georgetown. Not even sure where I parked the car.”

“I’ll check on it,” Sara assured her. Sara took the pot from under the still brewing coffee machine and poured a cup of coffee, while hot liquid sizzled down on the hot plate. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Olympias drank down the strong, hot coffee in a couple of gulps.

“Anything else?”

“No—wait.” She glanced up. “Any calls?”

“Two.”

“You didn’t—”

“Call you with messages? No need. The report from Memphis is that they’re making it look like what the cops noticed is a group of white supremacists rather than a nest with too many companions and slaves. The nest is slipping quietly away. Crisis over. Law enforcement gets to bask in the glow of having disbanded a group of neo-Nazis, while the media has a field day being outraged about how could it happen in their fine city. Nobody gets caught, nobody gets killed. No mention of vampires, even in the tabloids.” Sara was glad the voice mail
messages she’d listened to and deleted as soon as she got home had been concise and detailed.

“Good. One crisis down. How about Las Vegas?”

“No word from Vegas, yet. Second call was a heads-up from Marguerite out in Portland. She’s heard a rumor that someone out there has taken a prison warden as a companion. She said, and I quote, ‘the implications could be interesting.’ ”

“Using a prison as a Hunting ground could indeed be interesting.” Olympias yawned. “I’m sure Marguerite can handle it. Anything else?”

“Not tonight.” Sara desperately hoped Olympias didn’t remember Andrew.

Olympias rose from the table. “You heard any rumors about ghosts in Georgetown?”

Sara jumped. “Ghosts? Have you seen a ghost?” She barely caught herself from saying ‘too.’

Olympias’s expression almost worked its way up to curious. “Have you?”

“No.” At least she didn’t have to lie to her mistress. Could she lie to her mistress? She didn’t offer the information that Andrew had seen a ghost. She supposed it was wrong not to tell Olympias, but Sara wanted her mistress to forget about the suicidal vampire.

“Never mind,” Olympias said as she rubbed her forehead. “You look for the car. I’m taking my headache to bed. To think the girl thought she was up to taking him as a bunny,” Sara heard her mistress mutter as Olympias left the room.

“Glad to have you back, Gerry.”

He took a seat beside her in the pew near the center of the nave. “Good to be back,” her fellow slave answered. “I stopped by the house. You weren’t there.”

“Obviously.”

“What are you doing here at three in the afternoon?”

“Wanted some open space.”

Gerry looked up at the vast space of carved stone and
bright stained glass of the cathedral to the high ceiling overhead. “Pretty roomy, I guess.” He looked at Sara again. “I’ve wondered if you ever consciously realize why you spend so much time in a church?”

“I am not trying to atone for any sins.” Not usually. And define sin. She hadn’t slept, she was very cranky, and even worse, very confused. Did thinking about Andrew constantly constitute disloyalty, or maybe even a sin? Was Olympias a goddess or—what?

“You’re hiding from a vampire,” he explained. “Hoping God will protect you from evil.”

Stupid idea. She gave him an impatient look. “I thought I was avoiding walking the dog.”

“That’s a pretty good reason too. But why a church?”

“Why a duck?”

“What?”

It seemed Gerry had never heard of the Marx Brothers, and Sara didn’t feel like enlightening him now. “Never mind. How was Denver?”

“Still surrounded by mountains.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Do you know that Denver has one of the highest vampire populations in the country?”

“Of course.”

“I wonder why. You think it’s the weather? Proximity to the slopes?”

“I wonder why you care.”

“You are so testy this afternoon.”

“And you are so bright and perky I want to slap you silly.”

“Did you ever meet someone who just being around them put you in a good mood?”

Yes. And he wants to die.
“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I mean I ran into Roger Bentencourt out in the garden. We sat and talked for a while. He’s very stimulating to be around.”

Sara sat up sharply and looked around. “What’s Bentencourt doing here?”

“He’s waiting to talk to you. He’s waiting now, I mean. When we ran into each other I asked him to wait to talk to you in private first. He was cool with that.”

Gerry was quite pleased with himself. “You mean you tested a companion to see if he’d let a creature he has every right to order around get ahead of him in line?”

Gerry crossed his arms. “Yeah. Got away with it, too. He’s a very civilized man. He’s going to make a very nice addition to the vampire population. We need more fresh blood like him.”

“I wish you wouldn’t use that term. And I wish you’d leave him alone.”

“You’re still being cranky. I didn’t go to him, Sara. And it’s
you
he wants to speak with.”

“Why does Bentencourt want to talk to me?” She vaguely wondered if she should rush out to the garden and beg the companion’s forgiveness for not attending to him immediately. This was accompanied by the stronger impulse to say screw it, which was the one she went with. “Let him wait. I need you to tell me how it went in Denver.”

“I didn’t find the nest. I didn’t find the coin.”

“Oh, great. Is this another crisis she’s going to have to deal with? Doesn’t Olympias have enough on her hands?” Then again, anything that kept her mind off Andrew . . .

“Does she have crises? Has something happened while I’ve been gone?”

Sara was thoroughly annoyed at Gerry’s eager curiosity, and instantly suspicious. What had he and Bentencourt been talking about? Not that Gerry wasn’t a devoted slave to Olympias, or Bentencourt anything but a devoted companion to Rose who was concerned that his mistress’s household was being displaced from their home. She told herself she was being paranoid for no
reason, but snapped at Gerry anyway when she demanded, “Did you find out anything?”

Gerry slumped back in his seat. “You are no fun today, Sara Czerny. And before you snap at me again, here’s my report. Seems a couple of slackers from the Brotherhood of Reivers decided to take over a Denver nest. A body ended up being found by the Denver police. The nest fled to Chicago—where Ariel believes at least one of the old dudes became snack food for this guy named Istvan.”

“Believes?”

“Istvan told him he was taking over the case; everything else Ariel found out via rumor. The Denver Enforcer heard these rumors from Ariel. I assume Ariel assumed Istvan would tell Olympias. I heard it from a slave of the Denver Enforcer.”

“So Istvan has the coin Olympias asked about?”

“Apparently. Maybe he collects them.”

“Then maybe Olympias’s intuition about the missing coin is wrong.” She couldn’t be right all the time. Sara tried, and failed, to be guilty over the disloyal thought. “Istvan solves problems.”

“Permanently.” Gerry looked at his watch. He glanced toward the side door nearest the herb garden. “I don’t think you should keep Bentencourt waiting any longer. He
is
a companion.”

“And you’re a—”

“Don’t swear in church.”

“I wish you would go away.”

“Happy to,” he said, and got up and walked out.

Sara almost followed him to apologize for being so short with him, but instead she sighed with utter exhaustion, tilted her head toward the ceiling, and closed her eyes.
The sun poured down on her, dappled through the thick trees. The stream rushed by only a few inches from where she sat, glinting silver in the light. The hand holding hers was large and warm, but very pale. She said, “You’ll burn if you aren’t careful.”

Andrew laughed and kissed her temple. “We’re safe in here.”

“We?” She felt safe, but knew she wasn’t. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“You shouldn’t be anywhere else. You’ve been a prisoner too long.”

“I’m not a prisoner. I’m—”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Ms. Czerny,” Bentencourt whispered, his mouth very near her ear, “but we don’t have much time to talk.”

Sara sat up with a start. Bentencourt’s hand on her shoulder was the only thing that kept her from jumping to her feet. Panic gripped her for a moment, until she remembered where she was. She looked around wildly, seeing only carved stone and wood and acres of jewel-toned glass.

“Please don’t have a heart attack,” Bentencourt said. “I don’t know how I would explain my frightening you to death to your mistress.”

She looked at the bland-featured companion. “You didn’t frighten me.”

He smiled. “I’m glad to hear it, Sara.” He stood and put his hand under her elbow. “The gardens are beautiful today. Let’s talk outside.”

People were watching them. She noticed one of the docents coming their way. She smiled wanly and waved for the cathedral volunteer to return to the tour group he’d left. He nodded and turned back. She let Bentencourt guide her outside into brilliant sunlight. She couldn’t help but think of Andrew when the warmth of the afternoon light touched her face. What an awful time to have it bad for someone, she thought. Then she turned her attention to Bentencourt.

“Down here,” he said, and led her to a bench set in a shaded alcove. The scent of lavender perfumed the warm air, the stone of the bench cool to the touch. “Refreshing here, isn’t it?” Bentencourt asked after they were seated. “It should help revive you.”

His solicitousness did have a soothing effect, even though she resented pity from anyone. She said, “Thanks,” though it took a huge effort.

He gave her a few moments, then asked, “Feeling better?”

Of course she wasn’t feeling better! She was in love with the wrong vampire for goodness’s sake—and goodness certainly had nothing to do with it! “Fine,” she answered. “I haven’t had much sleep recently. Guess it caught up with me.”

“You’re very conscientious in Olympias’s service. It’s bound to catch up with you. Someone should tell your mistress to take better care of you.”

“Are you going to bell that cat?” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I mean—”

“No need to explain to me. You’re human,” he said. “All us humans feel frustration with our bosses upon occasion. Our peculiar circumstances don’t make us less human.”

“No,” Sara agreed. “I suppose not.” She thought he put way too much energy into being supportive, but she focused her whole attention on Bentencourt and was very polite. She even dredged up a smile. “I’m sorry for taking up your time. I’ll be happy to help you in any way I can. No, wait,” she said, remembering something before he could reply. “There is something you can help me with. Maybe. At least—”

“Yes?”

“Rose.” She wasn’t sure how to put it, or even where the idea came from, other than a sense of desperation and time running short on being able to save Andrew from himself. “There’s a young man—vampire—one of your mistress’s bloodchildren. He wants to commit suicide. Maybe she could talk to him.”

Bentencourt lost his perpetually imperturbable look for a moment, but when his usual concerned calm returned, he asked, “Suicidal? I don’t understand.”

Sara hastened to explain the rules under which
vampires were allowed to end their lives, and concluded, “I’m sure he isn’t really sure he wants to do this. I need—I need to tell Olympias what he really wants.”