Night's Honor (5 page)

She didn't have to show up at Xavier's estate. She had a day to think of other alternatives, other places she could hide. Right now, she was exhausted from stress, her mind frozen, but she still might find a way out of this.

Xavier surprised her. He hadn't seemed so bad for a monster. Then she remembered everything she had ever heard about him and shuddered. Still, he seemed like her best bet for protection.

In terms of raw Power, nothing and no one, not even Xavier, could stop the creature she was running from. Malphas was a first-generation Djinn and quite literally one of the world's most Powerful creatures.

He was also a pariah, an outcast who lived outside the laws of his own kind. As far as she knew, the Djinn didn't police or monitor his behavior. A being of pure spirit, he could travel almost anywhere and breach any containment she'd ever heard of, and given enough incentive, he would have no qualms in doing so.

The only thing that might possibly stop him would be potential fallout from his actions, which meant political power, not magical Power. It had to become more uncomfortable for Malphas to pursue her than it would be to let her go, and that was what a position with Xavier might offer.

She was under no illusion about herself. As a lowly attendant, she wouldn't have much value to anyone, but if Malphas attacked her while she was under Xavier's roof, it would become a transgression of territory.

And that would matter. That might matter so much it could become an act of war.

Xavier was so highly placed in the Nightkind demesne that even a first-generation, outlaw Djinn would have to think twice about making him an enemy. The Djinn might turn a blind eye to Malphas now, but an official complaint from the Nightkind demesne could change their attitude.

Beyond the safety railings of the Golden Gate Bridge, the black waters of the bay glittered with reflected illumination. When she finished crossing the bridge, she looked for a late-night restaurant and a gas station.

Very soon, she found a 1950s-style diner located across from a gas station. After pumping twenty dollars of fuel into her tank, she crossed the street and entered the restaurant.

The place gleamed with chrome and bright colors. She took a seat, ordered coffee and watched out the window until pale streaks of color broke through the black cloudy night.

She felt hollow and light, her nerves jumping from too much caffeine and not enough choices.

Even after spending hours trying to think of another alternative, she knew she couldn't afford to turn down this opportunity. Just the fact that she had landed the position—or at least the possibility of a permanent position—was like winning some kind of infernal lottery.

What would it be like to give blood to a Vampyre?

A Vampyre's bite was supposed to induce euphoria for the human, but the very thought repelled her. That sense of euphoria was nature's way of lulling the victim into compliance, even to the point of death.

Vampyres were predators that fed on humans and viewed humankind as prey. Only the sheer numbers of humankind, along with all the other Elder Races, served to keep Vampyres in check and forced them to create laws that governed their own kind. There was nothing sexy or enticing at the thought of being considered food. She shuddered at the thought.

Finally she paid for her cup of coffee, thanked her patient waitress and left all of her change on the table for an inadequate tip. Her eyes were dry and scratchy, and her body ached. Stretching, she climbed into her car and headed for Rodeo Beach, just a few miles away.

Along with the money she couldn't access in her bank accounts, she had left behind comfortable, good quality furniture and what few mementos she owned in a spacious, stylish apartment. Now, for any practical purposes, everything she owned was in her car, a jumble of hastily packed clothes, and odds and ends.

One thing she had grabbed as she left home was a thick, soft throw blanket, since she knew she would be sleeping in her car. After pulling into the parking lot near the beach, she retrieved the throw and headed down the path to look for a likely spot to relax.

By the water, the world was wild and windswept. She could just see the tip of Evenfall, the palace of the Nightkind King, which was one of California's great architectural oddities. The massive Normandy-style castle sprawled prominently along the southwestern coast of the peninsula. The blues of the ocean stretched into infinity, while the green shoreline curved up to gently rolling hills that had been molded over time.

The threat of imminent rain had fled along with the night, leaving behind an uncertain, moody morning. A fresh, piercing wind blew away the cobwebs that had gathered in her head. After living in the desert for two years, the view seemed impossibly lush. If it weren't for the persistent fear that dogged her footsteps, she could have been very happy in that moment.

Wrapping the blanket around her torso tightly, she walked until she found a spot where the beach had eroded a niche into a higher point of land, and she settled with her back against the bluff, looking out over the water. The spot afforded some protection from the wind along with some privacy, and gradually, she relaxed.

Maybe being an attendant wouldn't be so bad. Normally, humans could only donate blood every eight weeks. Because a Vampyre's bite stimulated more than just the immune system, their attendants could donate more often, every four to five weeks, or even more frequently.

Still, it wouldn't happen every day, or even every week. If Xavier was as principled about not having sex with those under his authority, he must be adept at controlling himself, despite the euphoria his attendants must experience.

Unless he had lied.

She sagged, feeling stupid that the possibility hadn't occurred to her sooner.

Either he had lied, or he had told the truth. She would find out soon enough. All she knew was, despite everything, if she had to do the last two weeks over again, she would still do the same thing.

I guess that says something, she thought. Even if it costs me my life.

Tired of dealing with the constant fear, she wrapped the blanket tighter around her torso and pulled a corner over her head to block out the sun and wind. Her heavy eyelids drifted closed, and a veil of darkness descended as she fell into an uneasy doze.

In her apartment, the spring night was so warm, she had propped open all her windows and her front door. As she turned away from setting her dining table for supper, a creature slit open the screen at the front door and crawled inside. Neither a cat nor a dog but a demonic combination of both, its slanted eyes glowed with evil intent.

Terror pulsed. She grabbed her carving knife even as the creature slinked toward her, its sleek body menacing and boneless. It leaped, daggerlike claws spread—she grabbed it by the throat and fought to stab it. . . .

And it melted away into nothing.

Dread tasted acrid and repulsive, like somebody's ashes. She backed in a circle, knife out, her frightened gaze darted everywhere. Invisible hands settled at her waist. She screamed and whirled, and Malphas stood in front of her.

The Djinn's presence was so Powerful a corona of energy surrounded him. She had no magic other than a spark of telepathy, but even she could sense his Power burning in her mind's eye.

Djinn were creatures of pure spirit, so Malphas had no fixed form, but the physical shape he chose to take was angelic. He looked like a slimly built man wearing an elegant suit, with golden hair, seraphic blue eyes and a beautiful, deadly face.

He gave her a light smile that showed too many teeth. “Of course I'm looking for you, Tess. It's only a matter of time before I find you.”

“Get out!” she hissed. Horror tightened an invisible hold around her neck, restricting her breathing. She brandished the useless knife. “Get out of my head!”

“You shouldn't have done it, Tess.” Malphas's voice held a caressing tone. He strode toward her, moving at a leisurely pace. “Eathan was mine, and you stole him from me. And I never forgive someone who steals from me.”

“He wasn't yours to take,” she said between her teeth. “He didn't know any better. He was just a stupid kid.”

“You know, most people don't really understand the definition of agony,” said Malphas as he circled her. “Nor can they grasp the concept of eternity, yet both of those things together are a powerful combination.”

At his words, wind blew over her and grew hot, until every inch of her skin burned. The pain was truly unendurable. She screamed again and, desperate to stop it any way she could, she turned the knife on herself.

The noise she made, half grunt, half whimper, woke her up. As she bolted into an upright position, her breath sawed in her throat and her gaze darted everywhere.

Her tired back muscles protested the sudden movement, sharp pain shooting down her spine. The day had progressed significantly, the sun was high overhead, and the temperature had warmed so much that she was burning up, wrapped as she was in the blanket. She pulled it off then tore out of her jacket to let the balmy air cool her overheated skin.

She could sense no presence other than the ocean, no other sound but the wind and the waves.

“It's just a dream,” she whispered, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. “It's not real.”

She had been telling herself that for a week, ever since she had run away from Las Vegas and Malphas's employment. No matter how many nightmares she had, they were all just dreams. Not even the most ancient and Powerful of the Djinn could enter a person's dreams.

She didn't think.

But her words were a cold comfort. While her dreams might not be real, they were still, in the end, quite true. She used to believe she had a bright future, and now, suddenly, her life was reduced to choosing the lesser of two evils in an effort just to survive.

Compared to endless torture by a vengeful pariah Djinn, life with a Vampyre might not be so bad after all.

THREE

M
ost of Marin Headlands on the Northern Peninsula was federally protected land, given over to the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, but for two major exceptions.

The first was Evenfall, the Nightkind Palace that lay just north of Rodeo Beach, along with a small city of shops and services that clustered around the castle's stone walls.

The second exception was Xavier del Torro's estate. According to the directions, the property lay roughly twenty minutes' drive north of the Nightkind Palace.

After such a sullen start to the day, the sunset turned the sky and ocean into a fiery blaze of color, a canopy of gold, orange and rose arching over water that was almost purple. The last strong strands of sunlight pierced through tall redwood trees that bordered the narrow, winding road, causing blinding patches of dark and light that strobed through her windshield and made driving a challenge.

Light-headed from hunger and the lack of proper rest, she drove carefully, tense from wrists to shoulders. Xavier had not been exaggerating. Once she left the highway, the road had no safety railings and almost no shoulder.

After an intensely uncomfortable trip through the dense forest, the road broke out of the tree line and followed the curving, rocky edge of the coast. The last part of the drive was startlingly beautiful, with the ocean to her left and the forest on her right.

Due to the position of the road as it followed the coastline she saw the estate a few minutes before she came to it. A large, Spanish-style mansion graced the shoreline, with a pigmented stucco facade that was a warm yellow-gold color that seemed to glow in the blaze of the sunset.

The house lay behind a matching wall that barricaded the property from the road for several acres, but even from a distance, she could see glimpses of gracious arches, tile roofing, and large, black-metal framed windows, along with the rooftops of other buildings.

Finally she pulled off the road and onto the short drive, and almost immediately came to a halt by an intercom box in front of huge arched metal gates. As she rolled down her window, a pleasant male voice came over the intercom.

“Good evening. How may I help you?”

“My name is Tess Graham,” she told the unseen man. “Mr. del Torro asked me to come this evening.”

“Of course. We are expecting you. Please follow the drive around the main house and park in the small lot at the side. I will come out to meet you.” With a well-oiled hum, the gates opened.

“Here goes nuthin', kid,” she muttered. She drove in, and the gates swung smoothly shut behind her, blocking out the world.

That could almost be a comfort, except, well, it wasn't.

Inside the walls, she got her first real sense of the size of the estate. Several acres of well-tended, emerald green lawn stretched around the main house, which despite its size was gracious rather than ostentatious. Well-placed trees dotted the expanse, along with a variety of bushes and flowers.

She didn't know the names of the various kinds of foliage, but she could see how everything had been designed to keep the eye flowing from one area to another, like the composition in a painting. Other, smaller buildings were tucked discreetly off to the sides. In her tired mind, details melted into a whirl of jumbled impressions as she followed instructions and drove carefully along the immaculate asphalt drive to the parking lot at the side.

Even as her car rolled to a stop, a man walked out of the house toward her. He was dressed casually in a polo shirt, jeans and dark shoes. While a sprinkle of gray lightened the temples of his short blond hair and his lean, tanned face bore lines at the corners of eyes and mouth, he moved with athletic grace, power and assurance.

She climbed out of the car and turned to face him as he drew closer. As he offered a large, broad hand, she took it, and strong, careful fingers closed briefly over hers.

“Good evening, Ms. Graham. I'm Raoul.”

Xavier had said that Raoul was head of his security. While he wore no visible sign of weaponry, she realized that she looked into the smiling gaze of another dangerous man. “Call me Tess.”

“Sounds good, Tess.” He gestured to her car. “Now, please put your hands on the roof of your car and spread your legs.”

“What?” Her tired mind ground to a halt, and she gaped at him.

He looked polite and entirely relentless. “I'll need to pat you down. It's nothing personal, of course. It's just routine.”

“No problem,” she muttered. “I think.”

Was this okay? What kind of person needed to conduct body searches and car searches, just because you drove onto their property? It wasn't like Xavier was the president, or even the Nightkind King. But then, what kind of person needed to have a head of security in the first place?

Reluctantly, she turned, put her hands on the roof of the car and widened her stance. While she scowled at him, Raoul patted her down. Despite her discomfort, she couldn't find fault with anything he did. While the search was thorough, his touch was quite impersonal, and he never crossed the boundary into anything inappropriate.

When he was finished, he stepped back. “Thank you.”

Relieved that it was over, she straightened away from the car. “Sure.”

“May I have your car keys?”

Caught off guard again, she stared, and her hands clenched into fists. Why on earth would he want her keys? She said between her teeth, “This doesn't feel good. I don't know any of you, and that car is my freedom.”

“I understand this might cause you some initial discomfort,” he said calmly. “But I don't know you either. Chances are, you're exactly who you say you are, and you don't have bombs, drugs or weapons hidden anywhere inside your vehicle. But I'm not in the business of taking chances, Tess. Think of it like airport security. You have to go through the process to get on the plane. Here, you have two choices. We can search your car and verify that you're safe to have in close proximity to Xavier and ten other people who live here, or you can leave.”

While he said it with an easygoing smile, she had no doubt he meant it. Her jaw clenched, but she couldn't find fault with anything he had said, and she didn't have the money to go anywhere else. Slowly she pulled out her keys and held them out to him, watching his expression closely. “And this is all still routine, is it?”

He didn't appear discomfited by her scrutiny, as he tilted his head in acknowledgment, took the keys and placed them on the hood of her car. “After Diego has had a look, your keys will be returned to you, and we can get you unpacked. For now, please follow me. How was your drive?”

If he wanted small talk, she would oblige. Looking at her car one last time, she fell into step beside him and tried to get her muscles to unclench. “It was good, thanks. The last part, especially along the coast, was gorgeous.”

“That stretch of road is one of my favorites in all of the world,” Raoul said.

She gave him a quick glance. His accent was indefinable, but something in the way he spoke lent weight to his words, as if he had seen many beautiful sites from all over, which, if he had been working for Xavier del Torro for any length of time, he probably had.

As they entered the main house through the side door, he asked, “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

Hunger had turned into a sharp, unrelenting spike that drove through her abdomen, but her stomach was also tied into knots. She said cautiously, “No, I haven't.”

Raoul gave her a smile. While their initial encounter had turned her into a mass of nerves, he appeared entirely at ease. “I am to give you a quick tour, and we'll take your things to your room. Then you will be speaking with Xavier again. When he's done with you, you can take the rest of the evening to get settled. Jordan will make up a supper tray that can be brought to your room later. We had roast chicken for supper, and there were plenty of leftovers, unless you're a vegetarian?”

So the tour was their chance to search her car. At least they would get it over with quickly enough and feed her supper. She told him, “Roast chicken sounds great, thanks.”

“Good. I'll let Jordan know.” He led the way through the house with a purposeful stride. “The main house here has almost twelve thousand square feet. There are also four other buildings—including a garage, a guesthouse, a gym with a pool, a steam room and a dry sauna, and the house where most of Xavier's attendants live.”

Now that she had truly committed to this course of action, she focused on what he was saying as she looked around. The kind of wealth needed to support such a property, especially a beachfront estate in California, was mind-boggling.

She tried not to gawk too much, but the house had a restrained elegance that was utterly beautiful, with an understated use of simple, high quality furniture in lots of space. “How many attendants does he have?”

“Counting you, right now he has twenty,” he said. “Eight stay in his house in the city, including Russell, who manages both properties. Eventually you'll get the chance to meet them. Here, several attendants keep the grounds and pool, or they work with me. Jordan is the cook. Angelica is in charge of maintaining the main house, along with the guesthouse. Both Jordan and Angelica have assistants. In the attendants' house, we divvy up the chores to keep the house clean. You'll be expected to pitch in.”

She rubbed the back of her neck and nodded. “Makes sense.”

Xavier had said that he kept a small household by most standards—if that was so, she could only imagine what an extravagant Vampyre household might look like.

The setup was almost like a modern American version of Downton Abbey. Except with Vampyres.

There was so much to take in, many of the details blurred on her again. Even then, Raoul didn't take her through the entire house, although he did tell her facts just as though she were a guest—the main house had six bedrooms, seven bathrooms, formal reception rooms, a study with an extensive library filled with original editions, a gourmet kitchen that was mostly used when they had guests, a terrace off the master suite, and an extensive wine cellar. It even had a small ballroom.

They paused at the arched doorway of the ballroom, which was an extension off the main floor. Forgetting the last of her discomfort, she gave up trying not to gawk, for it was simply exquisite, with a vaulted ceiling and three walls comprised of floor-to-ceiling Palladian-style windows that were framed with the same elegant black iron as the rest of the house.

Immaculate parquet floors glowed a warm golden brown in the dying light, and the ballroom offered an unobstructed view of the lawn that fell away to a rocky beach and the ocean. Aside from a black baby grand piano strategically positioned in one corner, the gleaming room was empty.

Raoul waited while she took in the scene. When she turned to look at him with wide eyes, he gave her a small smile. “Others might say differently, but I think this is the jewel of the place.”

“It's breathtaking.”

“Yes.” He turned and led the way back to her car. “The house has metal shutters with an automatic electronic sensor system. As soon as the sensors detect direct sunlight, the shutters close. The system is very well built and almost soundless, but I did want to let you know in case you're around when it happens.”

“It doesn't close up the entire house when the sun rises?”

“No, some Vampyres prefer complete enclosure and have systems that instigate a total house shutdown, but Xavier likes the views and the fresh air, and it's safe enough as long as the direct sunlight is blocked. As the sun moves from east to west, the appropriate shutters close while others open. It's quite efficient, and as elegant as the rest of the house.”

And as elegant as its master.

Whatever else might be said about del Torro, she thought reluctantly, he had superb taste and a certain self-assurance.

As they stepped outside again, the last of the daylight was fading from the sky and well-positioned lights had turned on, dotting the outside grounds with bright illumination.