Blood Sin (20 page)

Near a kind of road flyover above them, Josh’s car swung around into a dark tunnel that led into an underground car park. Josh slowed as two men in 1920s-style suits and trilbies approached from the shadows. Winding down the window Josh said something in a low tone to the man who stood there.

Elizabeth glanced at her own side window and only just smothered a squeal of shock at the closeness of the curious-looking face that peered in. Pale skin, red lips, gleaming white teeth, dark shadows under eyes that were blue and expressionless.

Then the car was moving again, running forward and through an open gate that she hadn’t noticed, to park in one of the many empty spaces.

“That’s Dante’s car,” Josh said with grim satisfaction, jerking his head to the right. Elizabeth barely glanced. She got out of the car warily when Josh did, probing with every screaming sense she possessed. She could almost swear the two who’d spoken to them were vampires. Which didn’t bode well for this club. Would it turn out to be something like the Angel in Budapest? Could she rely on the vampires to behave according to the same rules that applied at the Angel?

Trotting after Josh, her mind spinning, she rummaged in her shoulder bag until she felt the comfort of the stake she always carried with her. She hadn’t needed it on the outing with Rudy and Cyn, but now she wished she’d brought more. She wished there were a way of talking Josh out of this.

“Josh,” she said urgently. “I’m not sure this is safe. Stick close to me. . . .”

“Sure,” he said comfortingly, putting one arm around her, presumably to make her feel secure. He’d misunderstood. But of course, there was no way he could know that if this place turned out to be what she feared, it was
his
security that would depend on her.

Grayson Dante was not a man who frightened easily. In a long and varied career that included distinguished service in the US Marines, he’d dealt with more than his share of trouble. Nor did the paranormal frighten him. Rather it drew him, like a moth to a flame. And yet he couldn’t prevent the shiver that passed down his spine when he first saw the vampire Travis.

On this, his second visit to the gambling den, he’d come by appointment especially to meet Travis. On the first occasion, he hadn’t gotten past the hoods who sprawled around the nearby table playing cards and watching him as if they’d rather eat him for lunch. Which they probably would.

He called them hoods in his mind because they were dressed that way, like 1920s gangsters, in sharp suits and trilby hats—some even toted machine guns, whether or not they were real. In reality, he was aware that they were vampires. It just helped his nerves not to acknowledge it.

Travis, however, had presence that must chill the spine of the most seasoned vampire hunter. A shock of angelic fair hair poking out from under the hat he wore pushed back on his handsome head did not fool Dante for a moment. He awaited the approach of evil.

Dante almost jumped when Travis kicked the chair beside him.

“Sit down, Senator,” Travis drawled, slouching into a chair close by and grinning to reveal perfect white teeth. “It’s not every day we get such distinguished visitors. What can I do for you?”

There were several ways to approach this. Despite all the information he’d received, Dante had left the decision until meeting Travis in person, and now, gazing into the sharp, intelligent face, and eyes that somehow seemed to see everything while looking as dead as a corpse’s . . . Damn, someone else had eyes like that—who the hell was it?

Dragging his wayward thoughts back to the point, Dante smiled, sat down, and made his decision. Cards-on-the-table honesty.

“Mr. Travis, I’m honored to meet you.” He held out his hand, as he always did, but Travis only smirked, making no attempt to shake it. Dante let it fall to his side. “I should tell you at the outset that I am aware of your operation here and your, er, condition.”

Travis laughed and stuck one foot up on the table. “Hey, do you hear that, boys? We have a condition!”

“Would you prefer ‘status’?” Dante inquired. “You’ll have to excuse me; I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the correct terminology.”

“Oh, you can just call us vampires.” Travis smiled, and in spite of himself, Dante felt panic rise up from his stomach, threatening to choke him. He fought it down, reminding himself that he had something Travis needed. At the moment he was safe through Travis’s curiosity as to why so distinguished a senator would have anything to do with him. But such precarious safety wouldn’t last, and the sooner he came to the point, the better.

“I understand you might need to defend your position here,” he said in a rush.

Travis spread his hands wide. “From whom?” he said incredulously.

“Saloman.”

The smile died on Travis’s insolent lips as if someone had wiped it with a cloth. He sat so still he might have been a wax model. At last, when Dante had almost forgotten to breathe, he said, “You come from Severin? Or from Saloman?”

“Lord, no,” Dante said with an effort at heartiness. “But I do come with an offer of Saloman’s sword.”

Travis’s lips curled. He put his other foot on the table and crossed his ankles. “Do you, now? Interesting. Care to tell me where you got such a valuable item?”

“From Josh Alexander, descendant of Tsigana.”

“He gave it to you?” Travis asked incredulously.

Cards-on-the-table honesty
. “Hardly. I stole it.”

“Okay,” Travis allowed. “Let’s assume you have it, and are prepared to give it to me. Why? You want money?”

It was Dante’s turn to smile. “Money, I have. On the other hand, it is in your power to give me something I desire. If you’ll give it to me, I’ll lend you the sword, which will, I understand, enable you to defeat Saloman. When he comes for you. As I’m told he will.”

“Who told you that?” Travis asked at once.

Dante shrugged, leaving it open, and it seemed Travis didn’t much care anyway, for he said immediately, “What do you want for the, ah,
loan
of Saloman’s sword?”

Dante drew in his breath and held Travis’s dreadful gaze. It got easier with practice. “I want immortality.”

Travis laughed and pushed back his chair, letting his feet drop from the table to the ground. “Just immortality? You want to be a vampire? I don’t think you do, Senator. I don’t think you know what that means—blood and killing by night, never seeing the daylight except through filters.”

“I am prepared for those things,” Dante said calmly.

“Are you, by God? And you the Christian senator too.”

“I’m open to all beliefs.”

“Yeah? But I doubt you’ll like going from top of the human heap to the bottom of the vampire hierarchy.” Travis stood up and grasped the tabletop before leaning over it to bring his face close to Dante’s. “If I make you a vampire—leaving aside the pain of whatever death I choose to inflict on you first—you’ll rise again a stupid, brainless monster, going after blood and human death by sheer instinct. There’ll be years of that, living like an animal at the mercy of every vampire who’s stronger and more intelligent than you. And for a long, long time, that’s going to be just about every other vampire in the world. Apart from the odd stupid fledgling like yourself, who’ll fight with you over every scrap of blood. And I haven’t even started on the vampire hunters, to whom you’ll be easy meat. Sound appealing, Senator? Two weeks of ugly undead existence instead of the, what, twenty years plus of the good life?”

“Not when put like that,” Dante allowed, trying not to let his stomach shrivel at the prospect.

Travis curled his lip and sat back down. “Immortality only lasts as long as you can keep it. You can still be dead after you’re undead.”

“With the sword,” Dante said, just a little desperately, “with Saloman’s sword, I believe I can avoid such a vile beginning to my new existence. And gain power to equal that of the Ancients. Which I would share with you in return for the gift of immortality.”

Travis leaned his head to one side, watching him without blinking. “Go on.”

Dante drew another breath. He felt as if he were counting them, as if each might be his last. “How much do you know about the sword?”

Travis shrugged. “Not much. A bit of rumor, a bit of legend.”

“It is said that a human who’s killed by the sword and subsequently turned into a vampire will have power equal to that of the sword’s original owner.”

“Saloman,” Travis said, almost in a whisper.

“Exactly.” For the first time since he’d entered this place, Dante felt he was in control, and his confidence soared in response. Leaning forward across the table, he said, “You have quite an operation here. You answer to no one, go your own way, and you’re respected far beyond the vampire world. I know these things. And I don’t want you to lose them.”

“Why should you give a damn?” Travis threw in.

“Because I think we can work together, in cooperation, without interfering with each other or stepping on each other’s toes. Here’s my deal, Mr. Travis. You kill me with Saloman’s sword, and make me a vampire. Whatever power I gain through the strength of that, I’ll share with you. And, more immediately, you’ll have the use of the sword to defeat Saloman.”

Travis gazed at him. In the sudden silence, Dante realized the other vampires at the next table had heard everything. Did it matter? Probably not. The door through which he’d entered an hour ago creaked open and someone he couldn’t see walked in. Travis’s gaze flickered toward the newcomers, and two of the other hoods rose and walked across the room to them.

Dante asked, “What do you say?”

Travis considered. “I say your proposal requires a lot of trust on both sides. Now that I know you have it, I could take the sword anytime and still kill Saloman.”

“But you wouldn’t then have such a powerful ally as I would be in the human world.”

“How can I trust you to honor that part of the bargain once you have what you want?”

Dante shrugged elegantly. “I guess I wouldn’t have such a distinguished vampire as you to be my ally. As you say, trust—and good sense—is required on both sides.”

Travis’s gaze continued to travel back and forth, from one of Dante’s eyes to the other. Dante could almost hear him mulling over pros and cons. Then the vampire smiled and parted his lips to speak.

“Senator!” The shockingly familiar voice cut across the room, filling Dante with an annoyance that amounted almost to rage at the interruption. “What an unlikely place to find you.”

Dante jerked around, and there, strolling toward him between two hoods, were the figures of Josh Alexander and Elizabeth Silk. Beside him, Travis sniffed the air and then leapt to his feet. His gaze was fixed on the girl with such rampaging hunger that even Dante felt the pain.

“Shit,” Travis said softly. “What the hell do we have here?”

As soon as she entered the large gaming room, Elizabeth knew. She didn’t need the hunters’ detectors to tell her. Every tiny hair on the back of her neck stood up like a stalk. Every sense recognized their stillness, their appearance, their sheer threat. The men who came toward them, those who continued to sprawl at the table they’d just left, and no doubt the man who sat with Dante, were all vampires.

Elizabeth’s confidence in her own abilities had grown in the last six months, but she knew when she was overwhelmed. Her instincts had screamed against coming in and they’d been right. They needed to get out as fast as possible.

Only Josh wouldn’t come, and now there was Dante to look out for as well. . . .

“There he is,” Josh breathed, nodding toward Dante’s back.

“We’ve got to get him out of here,” Elizabeth said grimly. “And, Josh? Don’t even think of fighting them. Any of them. They’re all vampires.”

“Oh, for the love of . . .” Josh cast his eyes at the ceiling, muttered something under his breath, then spoke between his teeth. “Elizabeth, I do not need this right now.” And, just as the two vampires in their suits and trilbies reached them, he raised his voice and called to Dante.

Elizabeth kept her hand on her shoulder bag, her fingers inside it grasping the stake. Her heart hammered; every sense was alert as they walked with their vampire escort toward Dante, who looked anything but pleased to see them. For an instant, there was no sign at all of the benevolent, amiable host of last weekend. His eyes were bleak, his mouth a thin, forbidding line. And then the smile came back, but by then Elizabeth had lost interest, because his companion had stood up and she realized that this being was the biggest threat they faced.

Worse, his gaze devoured her, hot and hungry.
Oh, shite, oh, Saloman . . . Saloman, are you there?

It was too hard to concentrate with vampires surrounding her. She wasn’t surprised she couldn’t reach him. So she’d have to manage on her own, get herself, Josh, and Dante out of there alive. . . .
Some bloody hope!

As for the senator, was Saloman right? Had he come here looking for immortality?

Josh was speaking with false bonhomie. “What brings you to this neck of the woods, Senator?”

“Business, my dear Josh, business.”

“Won’t you introduce us to your friends?”

Dante rose to his feet, as courtesy presumably won out over annoyance. “Of course. Mr. Travis, I’d like you to meet Josh Alexander and Elizabeth Silk.”

Travis? Oh bloody,
bloody
hell . . .

“My,” Travis said, moving around the table toward them. “My, oh, my. What
do
we have here?” He sniffed the air around them, and Elizabeth was suddenly reminded of her first encounter with the Hungarian vampire Zoltán, who had behaved in much the same manner and then laughed, as if he’d recognized her by the very smell of her blood. Although Travis didn’t laugh, there was no doubt of his recognition.

“Powerful human blood,” he observed, his mouth so close to Elizabeth’s ear that she wanted to scream. She held herself rigid, unmoving. “Elizabeth Silk, the Awakener . . .”

Josh yanked her away from him, staring down his nose at the vampire, who paid him no attention whatsoever.