Night's Honor (4 page)

Was he needling her to see how she would respond, or was he trying to find out how far she would go to get the position? She felt like she stood at the edge of a cliff, and her next step would send her hurtling into air.

Would she trade sex for safety, if he asked her to?

“That depends on what you ask me to do.” Her voice turned taut. “Some things are off-limits. I won't be complicit in hurting innocents, and I won't stand by and watch it happen. Among other things.”

If anything, his voice grew gentler. “I should have been more specific in my question. Your skills in accounting and computer programming are intriguing, but I maintain a small household by most standards. My attendants serve in different capacities and do a variety of different things.”

“What kind of things do you have them do?” Everything inside of her stilled as she waited to hear his answer.

“Think of it, if you will, as an intentional community,” he told her. “Each person is required to give blood, of course, but there are other duties that must be done for the good of the community. While I have no need for food, everyone else must eat; therefore Jordan, one of my attendants, is the cook. Another one, Angelica, looks after the house. When I have guests, I require that their needs be looked after. Raoul is in charge of security, and so forth. Most of these are not professional duties, but still they must be done.”

Was that all?

Dragging air into her constricted lungs, she said, “I see. Yes, of course, I would be willing to take on duties like that.”

His eyes narrowed. His expression turned severe, and suddenly she could see the age hidden underneath his apparent youthfulness. “No doubt, you will have heard some Vampyres require sex from their attendants. While that is true, I am not one of them. I might require difficult things from my attendants from time to time, but I do not put people who are under my care in such a position.”

It took her a moment to absorb what he said. Then the rigidity left her body as her muscles slowly unlocked. “Thank you for telling me.”

Moving two fingers, he brushed the subject aside in one beautifully economical gesture. “Do you have experience with firearms or other weapons?”

This time she didn't hesitate. “No, but I'm strong, I have good hand-eye coordination and I'm willing to learn.”

He nodded. “Have you ever taken or wanted to take drugs?”

“Yes,” she said. “And no. Once I tried pot in college, but I didn't like it. All it did was make me paranoid and hungry, and I don't like to eat when I'm scared.” Again, she tried to read his expression and failed utterly. “Is that a problem?”

The severity vanished from his expression, and one corner of his mouth quirked. “No. If you were a habitual drug user, that would be a different story. Drinking from a source that has been polluted with heroin, meth, or other hard drugs can have a debilitating effect on a Vampyre.”

She shook her head. “I have no desire to repeat the experience with marijuana or to try any other drugs.”

“Very good. Do you have any dependents?”

She shook her head again. “No.”

“Magical ability?”

“Sadly, no,” she said. “I can telepathize, but that's it.”

She had no idea if her answers were gaining her any ground, or if they counted as marks against her, but a Vampyre of his Power and age would definitely have truthsense, and she didn't dare do anything but tell the truth.

Finally he fell silent for a few moments as he studied her. “There's only so much information one can gain from these interviews. The truth is, becoming an attendant can be a surprisingly complex and delicate process, while it calls for a tremendous commitment on both sides. Some people cannot make the transition to that kind of lifestyle even when they want to, or for one reason or another, they are a poor fit for a Vampyre's household. There is no shame in any of this. It's merely a process of discovery.”

“I'm sure you're right,” she managed to reply, while her chest grew tight again. Was he getting ready to turn her down? As horrible as this whole experience had been, she couldn't blame him if he did. While the opportunity to become an attendant might be rare, she hadn't exactly shown any enthusiasm for it.

Oh God, she thought. If I don't get this job, what will I do?

Then he said, “I can see some ways in which you might be of some use to me. I'm willing to offer you a trial period of one year. If, within that time period, we have not worked out a tolerable arrangement that suits us both, we will each be free to sever the relationship.”

Her mouth dropped open, and she almost blurted out, “Why?” But she managed to catch herself before it escaped her lips.

He raised his eyebrows. “Do you find this acceptable?”

TWO

X
avier watched with patient interest as Tess's mouth opened and closed several times.

She said, her voice strangled, “You're offering me a chance, just like that? You don't want a second interview, or—or references?”

Some kind of interesting, complicated emotion lay behind her question. Maybe she had a checkered employment history, or she had gotten fired from her previous job. Briefly, he considered asking for her resume and references, just to see how she handled the request, but the fact was, he didn't care if she had been fired. People got fired for a wide variety of reasons, and something that a previous employer might have seen as a weakness could be the very trait he was looking for.

Besides, nobody gave a prospective employer bad references. They only gave references for people who would say flattering things about them. Through the years, he had seen people game the interviewing system in every way imaginable, while the truest test of a person's mettle could only come over time.

Also, this young woman could have no references for the kind of things he wanted from her. He would need to find out for himself what she would be capable of doing, or what she would even want to do. For now, it would have to be enough to avoid frightening her any further.

He told her, “As I said, there's only so much that can be learned from the interview process. By the end of a year, we will both know whether or not we're able to create a successful liaison.”

Her expression turned thoughtful. “I suppose a year for someone like you is not very long.”

“Quite true. A trial year is a standard offer. Most Vampyres offer it to prospective attendants.”

His truthsense was well developed. He knew she had been telling the truth about her skills and attributes. She was smart, good with finances and clever with a keyboard, although she had hesitated just long enough to intrigue him. What had she refrained from saying? He filed that away to pursue another time.

And she did have some kind of moral code. It had been a long, long time since he had considered anything sexual as an issue of morality, unless the sex involved coercion, outright force or some other kind of imbalance of power.

She, however, had clearly been uncomfortable with the thought of engaging in sex as part of the position, and she had been quite serious when she'd said she would not be a party to harming innocents.

She had also been telling the truth when she'd been onstage. She believed her looks were entirely forgettable, and in some ways they were. She had none of the glossy good looks that so many Vampyre attendants had, or that most Vampyres themselves had, for that matter.

But she did have her own quiet kind of beauty. Her brown hair shone with healthy chestnut highlights, and there was real intelligence in those large, dark eyes. Her narrow face had a precise, strong bone structure with a wonderfully aquiline nose, and her mouth was delicately shaped and sensitive.

Many modern eyes would pass over her in search of more flamboyance and color. Hair dyes had grown complex, and eye color could be intensified or changed altogether. Even Vampyres could sport golden, sprayed-on tans if they so chose, and muscles and breasts could be surgically augmented. People had grown used to the fact that virtually everything could be enhanced or altered.

An intelligent person with quiet looks could be very useful to him.

He considered the negative side of the scale. Her poise was abysmal. Intense emotions played across her face, and her rapid heartbeat sounded like thunder in his ears. That would have to change, of course. She would need a lot of work to realize any of the raw potential he saw in her, but the only way to shape a fine tool was with patience, attention and care.

He waited while she thought things over. “Thank you,” she said. “Yes, I would like to try.”

“Excellent.” He straightened the cuff of one sleeve. “I will expect you at my estate tomorrow evening at sundown. You will be very busy for the next few months, so arrange your affairs accordingly and bring what you will need for an extended stay.”

“I—yes, of course,” she said. “Where's your estate?”

“On Pirate's Cove, across the Golden Gate in Marin Headlands. The number you gave on your candidacy application—is that a cell phone?”

“Yes.” Her dark eyes watched him with equal parts wariness and fascination.

“My secretary Foster will text you directions. When you turn off the main highway, the road is narrow and winding, so the drive takes longer than you might think. Be sure to allow plenty of time in daylight.”

“That won't be a problem—”

Julian strode into the room. Xavier watched the blood drain from Tess's face before he turned to face his old friend.

The Nightkind King was the kind of man that took over a room the moment he entered it. He had rough, weather-beaten features, with lines at the eyes and the corners of a stern mouth, and a dark, penetrating gaze that could cut like a laser. Flecks of silver sprinkled his short, dark hair.

When Julian had been human, he had been a general during the Emperor Hadrian's rule, at the height of the Roman Empire. He was broad across the chest and shoulders, flat through the abdomen, and he carried the heavy, powerful muscles of a man who had spent his life as a soldier. Life had been brutal in the Roman army, and when he had been mortal, he had not aged particularly well. He had been in his late thirties when his sire, Carling, had turned him, but he looked ten years older.

The formality of his black evening suit highlighted his rugged looks, and despite the sophisticated, hand sewn suit and the five-hundred-dollar razor haircut, he gave the impression of a wild, shaggy wolf, watchful of everything around him.

With one keen, lightning-quick glance at Tess, he assessed and dismissed her, then turned to Xavier.

I see you're still playing with your new pet.
Julian's telepathic voice was like his physical voice, deep and rough, like a shot of raw whiskey.
When are you going to be done?

Xavier regarded him, perfectly relaxed.
In just a few moments. We're almost finished now
.

Good. We need to head back to Evenfall. The Light Fae delegation is already waiting, and gods help me, Tatiana sent Melisande. Plus, all twelve council members have confirmed they'll be in attendance for the meetings over the next couple of days.
Julian glowered at him
. I'd rather be trapped in a pit of snakes.

Xavier closed his eyes briefly. Having all the Nightkind council members under one roof was going to be bad enough, but Melisande and Julian had had an explosive affair in the late 1990s that had ended famously. Badly. If the Light Fae Queen had sent her eldest daughter to conduct treaty negotiations, she was either punishing Melisande for something or she was seriously annoyed with Julian. Or both.

Understood
, he said.

Unexpectedly, Julian turned his attention back to Tess. He rested his broad, scarred hands on his hips, which pulled his black jacket away from his torso.
That reaction of hers isn't all for me. You do realize she's scared to death of you.

Yes, I know.
Xavier would not add to Tess's distress by looking at her.

I don't get what you see in this one. Are you really going to take her on?

He gave an infinitesimal shrug that only Julian would catch.
It says something interesting about a person when they don't let their fear dictate their actions. That's what she's doing. We'll see what else she has to her. Over time.

Julian spoke aloud. “Better you than me. I got ninety-nine problems, but finally, a bitch ain't one. I'll wait for you outside.”

As the Nightkind King strode out of the room, Xavier looked at Tess. Her gaze had gone wide and shocked.

He was unsurprised. Julian tended to have that effect on most people. He had always been rough and a bit antisocial, and over the last two hundred years, as his sire turned more and more unstable, he had grown even more so.

She said, “Did he just reference that song by Jay Z—?”

Xavier gave her a level look. “That will be all for now, Ms. Graham. Thank you for your time. Good night.”

•   •   •

H
aving been politely and yet thoroughly dismissed, Tess left the building and walked down the street to the parking lot where she had left her blue Ford Focus.

Her hands and feet felt numb, and a disbelieving part of her was convinced none of it had actually happened, until her phone beeped five minutes later. She pulled it out of her pocket and checked the display. As promised, it was a text message from Xavier's secretary, with directions to the estate.

That was fast.

Pocketing the phone, she tucked her hands under her armpits and picked up her pace. She had left her jacket in the car, and while it had been sunny and warm all day, the temperature had turned considerably chillier. The Bay Area enjoyed mild weather throughout the year, but it could get very cold at night, especially in the winter.

While she had been inside, thick clouds had rolled over the city and now lowered overhead, promising rain. Shivering, she unlocked her car, climbed in and shrugged her jacket on.

The night was already half over. She didn't know when sunset was this time of year, but she couldn't have more than eighteen hours to get through before sundown tomorrow.

Everything in San Francisco had been more expensive than she had bargained for, including parking for the Vampyre's Ball. While she had over a hundred thousand dollars in her checking and savings accounts, she didn't dare access those funds. All she had in cash was twenty-six dollars and eighty-five cents, and she was low on fuel.

She needed gas to get across the Golden Gate Bridge to her destination in Marin County. Thank God there weren't any tolls driving away from San Francisco.

After she put fuel into her tank, she should have enough left over to buy a cheap sandwich. It wasn't enough food, especially after a sleepless night, but dealing with hunger for one day was the least of her worries. Presumably, she should be able to eat well soon enough.

Now she needed to find somewhere safe and well lit, where she could wait out the rest of the night.

Even as she tried to think of somewhere to go, a couple walking toward her caught her eye. One was a ghoul, with gray skin, gaunt features and overlong fingers. The other was a female Vampyre, who angled her head and looked at Tess with intent interest as they walked toward another car.

Tess's skin prickled, and she glanced around. There was no one else within sight.

While it was illegal to feed on humans without their consent, who would know if the Vampyre chose to satisfy her hunger? The Vampyre was fast enough to attack and be sated before anyone could catch her. If she was old enough, she could even obscure her victim's memory, and keep her description out of the hands of the police.

And even if this Vampyre chose to be law-abiding, San Francisco was the heart of the Nightkind demesne, and home to many different creatures. There were other predators here that roamed the night, and some would not choose to be so law-abiding. This was an elegant, expensive and dangerous city.

Chewing her lip, Tess started the car and pulled out of the lot. She couldn't afford a hotel, so she needed to leave the city. Once she reached Marin County, she could find an all-night restaurant and drink coffee instead of buying food. When daylight came, she could find somewhere unobtrusive to park and take a nap.

She made her way by trial and error through the city to the Golden Gate Highway. The traffic was as intense as rush hour in daylight. Lights shone everywhere and in some places it looked as bright as day, a deadly illusion that could lull the unwary into thinking that the lights indicated safety.

Reaction set in as she pulled into the line of traffic to cross the bridge. This whole thing was as insane a gamble as anything she had ever taken, and she wasn't a gambler by nature. Only time would tell if it would pay off.