Laws of the Blood 4: Deceptions: Deceptions (20 page)

He leaned against the wall, his palms resting on the flower-patterned wallpaper. “In a moment, my dear. In a moment.”

“You want something from me first!” she snapped back.

“Yes,” he admitted, giving her a warm, encouraging smile. “You can help me. Your helping me against Olympias helps us both.”

“I hate her!”

“With good reason. You’re a vampire, I am a mere mortal. You know a great deal I do not. I need your expertise.”

She responded to the flattery. “Are you asking nicely?”

“I always ask you nicely. You know I care for you, Lora.”

She nodded. “You’re the only one who does—until I have my own companion.”

He kept his tone soothing, as smooth as honey, and his emotions were full of affection, unshielded, letting her drink them in. “I want to help you get him. I know how much you need him.”

“What do you need to know?”

“You told me a few days ago, and I quote,
‘Nighthawks don’t all turn out Hunters. I think there’s some kind of change they have to go through. Like getting made into a queen bee or something.’
You said that Rose and the bitch are of the same bloodline. How do you know?”

Lora ran a hand nervously through her short brown hair. “I used to live in Portland. I was a companion to vampire in Marguerite’s nest. A vampire was brought to her who was going through the change into a Nighthawk. I remember Marguerite saying that Jimmy Bluecorn had done it again. That he never turned into a monster’s monster himself, but a lot of his kids did. I guess this Bluecorn is the original hippie. He’s one of the really old ones, into peace and love and justice and crap like that. Marguerite thought he made it to America even before Columbus.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Just telling you the Portland Enforcer’s theory. She obviously didn’t care for the guy.”

“Why?”

“He can’t keep his fangs in his mouth. Has a companion almost all the time. Marguerite mentioned that Rose was one of Jimmy Bluecorn’s bloodchildren when she was looking for a nest for me to live in after I made the change. She said that the ones that don’t turn Enforcer are generally pretty tame. She was certainly right about that.”

“Indeed. We lead a quiet life.”

“I hate it here.”

Bentencourt had let his curiosity draw him off track. That was not like him, but he stored the information away. Everything he learned about strigoi culture was valuable. “And how is this Jimmy Bluecorn connected to our Rose?”

“His portrait’s hanging in her bedroom.” She laughed harshly. “That’s who’s looking over your shoulder when you’re making love.”

Bentencourt noticed that his hands were suddenly fisted at his sides, but he clamped down on the jealous rage. Jealousy was a natural part of being a companion and had nothing to do with his real emotions. His love for Rose was nothing more than a chronic disease he’d learned to live with, a by-product of ambition, really. Someday soon he would be cured of it and totally free. In the meantime, he coped as best he could, acknowledged the false feelings, then put them aside and went on.

“And how is this Jimmy connected to the Greek bitch?”

“Same dude made her and Rose into vampires, centuries apart, I’d guess. Don’t think he was involved in turning Olympias Nighthawk, but his blood gave her the mutation or whatever. Rose and Olympias are related. They’re bloodsisters. Rose knows it. Don’t know if Olympias knows or cares, but Rose knows, and she hates Olympias because of it.”

“How does Rose know?” If anyone among the strigoi kept genealogy records, he hadn’t found evidence of it. Pity his sources were so far rather limited. This kind of important information would be the sort of thing Sara might know. She was going to be so useful to have under his control.

“I don’t know!” Lora answered. “I just overheard her muttering to the portrait about it once when I was passing by her bedroom and the door was open.”

“So Rose
could
become an Enforcer?”

“If the mood ever hits her, sure.”

“And how does one become an Enforcer?”

“I think you have to
join
the Enforcers. I think strig Nighthawks are hunted down by packs of Enforcers; at least that’s the rumor I heard. I can’t imagine a Nighthawk who isn’t an Enforcer. The only thing scarier than a vampire, at least when they let us act like vampires, is a Nighthawk. Can you imagine a Nighthawk that doesn’t live by any rules?”

Yes, he could. In fact, it took a great deal of effort not to grin fiendishly at the idea. “If Rose can become a Nighthawk—”

“She is a Nighthawk, but she isn’t a
changed
one.”

“Does that mean I become a Nighthawk when I’m a vampire?”

Lora shrugged. “Yeah. Sure. This conversation is boring. What about
me?
I want my bunny!”

“Just a few more questions. Please, Lora, this is important. The answers you give me might even help things become more interesting around here. I got off track, and I’m sorry. What I need to know is
how
one becomes a
changed
Nighthawk? What triggers the recessive gene?” Could it be triggered in Rose?

“I don’t know the details.” She made a disgusted face. “I know that to change, the Nighthawk has to kill and consume another vampire.”

This was the answer he’d been hoping for. It looked like there might be more than one use for this suicidal vampire Sara had told him about. “Thank you,” he said, genuinely sincere for once. He came to sit beside Lora on the bed. Such proximity could prove dangerous, but he felt the need to appear at his most sympathetic and fatherly—to be
there
for her. “Now I have to give you some bad news,” he told her. “Temporary bad news, at least. I’m sure we can find a way to change Olympias’s mind. I’m sure Rose will intercede on your behalf—”

“Intercede?” Lora shot to her feet, faster than his eyes
could register. She looked down at him, quivering with rage, eyes full of pain. “What are you talking about? Olympias said ‘no’ didn’t she? The bitch said I couldn’t have the man I love!” Bentencourt didn’t answer, and Lora whirled away to pound on a wall. “Damn her! Damn her!”

“My sentiments exactly,” he murmured.

Lora turned back to him. “She can’t do this to me!”

“She is the Enforcer of the City, my dear. Of course she can—”

“She can’t. I won’t let her. I won’t let her have him!”

With this last shout, Lora was gone. Out of her room. He caught only a blur of motion as she sped away. He saw the bedroom door open, heard the front door slam a moment later, and knew that Lora was out of the house, on her way to Georgetown. On her way to make trouble for Olympias. He smiled. All that really mattered was trouble for Olympias.

His frustrations of the day melted away, as it looked to be shaping up into a very productive evening.

“You know what I’m in the mood for?” Olympias asked Sara as she wandered into the office a little after sunset.

Sara had heard her mistress running the shower upstairs a few minutes before and turned around from her computer screen now to see Olympias dressed in a T-shirt from the National Zoo and a faded pair of jeans that were wearing out at the knees. Sara made a mental note to throw out the jeans when Olympias wasn’t looking.

“What?” she asked.

Olympias leaned against the doorjamb, and the huge black dog leaned against her. “Cheesecake. No, I don’t expect you to run out and get me some,” she added when Sara started to get up. “I’ll stop somewhere when I go out tonight.”

“You’re going out?” There were times when Olympias didn’t leave the house for weeks except for late night runs with Bitch. That Olympias had attended two social
functions within a few days was one of the many odd aspects of this week. Sara looked her mistress over critically. “Dressed like that? Do I need to tell you to change clothes?”

Olympias ignored her sarcasm while she rubbed the dog’s head. “I plan to drop in on a friend. Sorry, Bitch, you have to stay home.”

“You don’t have friends.”

“He won’t care what I’m wearing.” Sara’s words registered after Olympias spoke. “I do have friends,” she responded. She looked thoughtful. “Somewhere.” She touched a finger to her square chin. “I think.”

Olympias’s words registered on Sara. “What he? I mean, which
he
? You have a he?” For a moment the wild notion that Olympias was interested in Andrew flitted through Sara’s mind, then she remembered that last night Olympias had made contact with the mortal Lora wanted. How could she have forgotten, when Bentencourt had asked her about the situation only a few hours before? Because she was thinking too much about Andrew, she supposed.

“I don’t have a
he
. I have yet another complication,” Olympias told her.

“Lora’s prospective companion?”

Olympias nodded.

“What could be complicated about him?” Then Sara sighed and answered her own question. “Don’t tell me, he works for some super secret government intelligence agency. Otherwise, it’s not likely you would have met him at last night’s party.”

Olympias smiled proudly at her, and a warm glow permeated Sara’s being at the attention. It didn’t make her feel as warm as a look from Andrew did, and she found that less disturbing than she should have. Olympias’s affection had always been a distant thing, the kind regard of a goddess. Right now she smiled back at the goddess, more interested in the conversation than mooning over another vampire.

“You said last night that he gave you a headache,” Sara recalled. “So the spook is psychic—of course, Lora wouldn’t want him if he wasn’t psychic.” Olympias nodded at that. “Is he a psychic spook?” Olympias nodded again. Sara made a face. “I thought we managed to discredit that sort of thing with the distance viewing scandal.”

“Bureaucracies,” Olympias complained. “I don’t think it’s possible to keep a stupid idea from proliferating once a government department latches onto it. I managed to get into Mike’s head today—finally. I learned a few things from the way he subconsciously blocked me last night and managed to sneak past his defenses, dreamwalking into his assignment while he was working.”

“And his work is . . . ?” Sara prodded.

“Providing very accurate intelligence data.” She rubbed the back of her neck before going back to petting the dog. “I’m going to have another talk with him, but I need you to find out all you can about Air Force Colonel Michael Falconer and something called Walking.”

Sara came to her feet when she heard the name. “Falconer?”

“You recognize the name.”

Sara very carefully kept calm and focused, not letting her emotions spill over into her work mode. She’d never tried to hide anything from her mistress before, but found it surprisingly easy. “The suicidal vampire is named Andrew Falconer.”

Olympias nodded. “My suspicion is that Mike was born after his father became a companion. Fortunately, not after he became a vampire. That would make things way too complicated.”

“You can have kids after you become a vampire?”

“I certainly couldn’t, thank the gods. The son I had as a mortal caused enough problems. Fortunately, ninety-nine percent of vampires can’t reproduce in the mortal way. The ones that can . . .” Olympias smiled, and there
was something fond and reminiscent about it. She held a hand up to forestall more questions. “I doubt Andrew passed any vampire gifts on to his mortal offspring. What I think is that the Falconers must simply be a very psychic family. I should have found out more about this Walking thing while I was in Mike’s head today, but he tired me out last night.” She laughed. “In more ways than one. What I did discover is that the type of astral projection they perform leaves a psychic residue, a kind of ghost image. That’s what I picked up when I thought I saw ghosts in the park.”

“You saw ghosts in a park?”

“Didn’t I tell you about that?”

“I’ve heard you use the word
ghost
in the last couple of days, but you didn’t explain.”

“Why didn’t I?”

“Possibly because the Las Vegas and Memphis situations came up?” Sara suggested. She was thinking about Andrew and how she had to get to him to tell him about his son, but she forced herself to stick to business. The sooner the evening briefing was over with, the sooner Olympias would be out of the house. “Memphis is taken care of,” she reminded her mistress. She prayed that Olympias didn’t bring up Andrew. Sara certainly wasn’t going to bring up any other subject on her own.

“Anything on Las Vegas?”

“Possibly peripherally. There was a report on CNN about a new hotel having to be evacuated. There weren’t a lot of details.”

Olympias considered this for a moment, then chuckled. “For now I’m going to consider that the situation is in hand. If you hear anything, let me know.”

She started to turn away, and Sara almost let her go, but the habit of duty got the better of her earnest longing to be rid of her mistress for the evening. “Where will you be?”

“First I’m stopping somewhere in Adams Morgan for gyros and cheesecake. Then I’m heading over to Mike’s.”

“Fine,” Sara said. She didn’t remind Olympias to take her phone. She pointed at Bitch and ordered, “You mind the fort,” as soon as Olympias was gone. The hellhound ignored her, lay down across the doorway, and started licking one of her paws. Sara started to step over her, but the phone rang. She almost didn’t answer it, but on the second ring, Sara gritted her teeth and grabbed the cordless phone out of its cradle. “Yes?”