Deadlocked (The Harry Russo Diaries Book 3) (15 page)

Holy crap! I stood in awe of the suite’s walk-in closet. I
couldn’t bring myself to think of the suite as
mine
, although the closet
might just change that. It was the size of my bedroom back at the firehall and
was split into two sides, his and hers. On the one side, my side, dozens of
designer gowns, all my size of course, hung from padded hangers. There were
just as many pairs of shoes to match, all neatly displayed in little cubbies.
On the ‘his’ side, a half dozen suits, again all the right size, hung from
their own padded hangers. Several crisp, neatly pressed, formal shirts hung
there as well.

Nash whistled, shaking his head. “The man knows how to get
what he wants.” He ran a finger down the lapel of the grey wool suit
jacket that had been hung out on a hook, separate from the other suits. It
would complement the colours of the silk organza gown that had obviously been
picked for me to wear.

I eyed the gown. It was gorgeous. A halter style, full
length gown, the feather-light material gave it an ethereal look. The
multi-tonal print, in hues of pink and grey, was striking. It was also very
modest, covering both my front and back completely, leaving only my shoulders
and arms bare. I shucked my clothes, pulling the gown on.

Nash whistled, his eyes giving me an appreciative once over.
“Wow! That dress looks fantastic on you.” He came to stand behind me while I
admired it in the full length mirror. He leaned over, giving my bare shoulder
a kiss.

I tilted my head from side to side, admiring the dress. It
really was gorgeous. “Thanks.” I ran a hand through my short, scruffy hair.
“If only the rest of me wasn’t such a disaster.”

Nash laughed and kissed the back of my head. “You look
great. Just the way you are.”

I huffed out a little laugh. “Liar.” I shook my head.
“You better get changed yourself while I try and tame my hair.” I left him in
the dressing room – you really couldn’t call a space that big with a full length
chaise lounge, a closet – and went into the adjoining bathroom to see what sort
of make-up products were there.

I let out another little exclamation at the sight of the
bathroom. Of course, it was just as opulent as the dressing room. White marble
tiles, a huge soaker tub and equally huge walk-in shower. There was even a
separate cosmetics area with a little stool and extra lighting. The counter
top was lined with more make-up than I knew what to do with, but I managed to
doll myself up enough, taming my hair into a stylish up-do using copious
quantities of gel and hairspray.

Nash joined me partway through my preparations, running an
electric razor over his several days old stubble. He was dressed only in
trousers, the crisp, stitched crease accentuating his well-defined legs. The
hard planes of his abdomen and the light dusting of curly hair on his chest had
me practically salivating. I felt myself flush as I looked across the room at
him. He smiled a cheeky grin at me in the mirror.

“Hold that thought,” he growled, winking at me.

I rolled my eyes and went to find some shoes. Just in time,
it seemed, as there was a knock on the suite’s door.

“The Magister bids you join him down in the audience
chamber,” the muffled voice called through the door.

I slipped on the towering, four-inch stiletto sandals,
obviously meant to go with my dress. They were crystal embellished satin, in a
hue of pink that exactly matched one of the colours in the gown.

“Shall we?” Nash said, as he came to stand beside me,
straightening the knot on his tie.

“If we must,” I replied, taking one last look at us in the
mirror. I have to admit, we made a striking couple. Damn that Salvador. Now
he was playing dress-up with both of us.

***

The audience chamber was packed when we arrived. Salvador’s
customary ‘throne’ had been removed from the dais and several chairs had been
added to accommodate his guests. Salvador, Eleanor and Max, all sat together,
their chairs arranged centre front on the stage. Salvador sat in the middle,
the other two flanking him, their seats turned slightly in, making conversation
easier. Off to the side on Salvador’s right sat Tomas in his usual position as
the Magister’s lieutenant. To the left, a row of chairs held the remaining
members of the Triad and the Conclave.

We were led to the dais and the empty chairs beside Tomas.
Isaac was with us, acting as my bodyguard. Since my little display the other
night when I bound Hilde to me, there was no point downplaying Isaac’s bond
to me anymore.

Tomas greeted me with his usual insolent attitude. “Russo,”
he purred. “I see you brought your pets.”

“Can it, Tomas.” I scowled at him. “Let’s just try and
be civil and get this show over with.”

Tomas inclined his head with a smirk and waved to the empty
chairs beside him. “Do have a seat, Russo.”

I sat, relieved to be off my feet. Damn stilettos. Why
did the sexiest shoes have to be complete devices of torture? I grabbed a
glass of wine off a nearby tray. Luckily, I was spared the necessity of making
any idle chit-chat with Tomas by a voice that rang out through the hall.

“Presenting,
la Mariposa de la Muerte
and company.”

The crowd’s murmuring grew hushed and they parted, allowing
a group of about a dozen or so to pass by. A few, mostly at the back of the
group, were clearly guards, their wary gazes and matching uniforms giving them
away. At the front leading the group, you couldn’t mistake the Mariposa for
anyone else. She was dressed in an embroidered gown the colour of dried blood, complete
with a hoop skirt that must have come straight from the sixteenth century. The
bodice was cut in a low square neckline with long sleeves that poofed out
at the shoulder then tapered in towards the wrist. On her head, she wore the
traditional Spanish
mantilla
, a lace scarf mounted on a
peineta
or large decorative comb.

She was flanked by two male vampires, also dressed
traditionally, although less conspicuously, in dark, high-waisted, slim-fitting
pants and short-waisted jackets. They sort of looked like something a matador
would wear only without all the embellishment. The rest of her group was
similarly dressed, traditionally but understated, although no other female wore
the mantilla or hooped skirt. One tall, slim vampire stood out from the rest
however, not because of what he was wearing but because of what accompanied
him. He was flanked by a large, grey wolf that, although not as large as the
other wolves I have seen, I knew to be a werewolf. A gold collar circled the
wolf’s neck attached to a short leash held in the vampire’s hand. Beside me,
Nash growled quietly, his eyes narrowed.

“
Nash
,” I cautioned, sending my thoughts to him. I
glanced across the dais to see that both Charlie and James seemed to be having
a similar reaction.

“
It’s an abomination
,” Nash replied, his thoughts
heavy with disgust. “
He has been forced to remain in his wolf shape, unable
to return to his human form.
”

I looked back in horror at the wolf, as Salvador began to
speak.

“
Bienvenido
,” Salvador purred with malignant charm, rising from his seat as
the Mariposa’s party came to a halt in front of the dais. “Welcome. Catalina,
what a pleasure it is to see you after all these years.” He bowed slightly,
barely bending at the waist, his eyes never leaving the Mariposa’s face. “We
were not expecting you for several days, but I’m sure we can provide you with a
small token of our hospitality.” He smiled, his eyes remaining cold. He waved
his hand and several servers approached the group carrying trays of champagne.

The Mariposa tilted her chin up, acknowledging Salvador’s
greeting. “
Gracias
Salvador. You are a gracious host as ever.” She
turned slightly to the man on her right. “May I present to you my son, a child
of the kiss, Bartolo.” The man, a greasy-looking vampire with short cropped,
black hair and beady eyes, tilted his head at Salvador. He paused as if
contemplating the snub, then finally bowed slightly more than Salvador had.

“And my other son,” the Mariposa continued, gesturing to the
man on her left, “also a child of the kiss, Diego.” Diego was tall and
athletic. He had rugged, Mediterranean good looks and longer, wavy dark hair,
reminding me of a young Antonio Banderas. He gave Salvador a politically
correct half bow with no hesitation.

My eyes passed over the group again as the Mariposa continued
her introductions, only half listening. The creep with the werewolf was called
Benicio. He gave a curt bow, his lip turning up in a sneer as his eyes fell
upon Eleanor. When the Mariposa introduced the next vampire, I started in
surprise, my eyes sliding back to rest on the short, cocky-looking man. He was
staring back at me, a grin on his face. He winked, firing me a little salute
with a finger from his temple. It was that mind-bending bastard from the other
night! I scowled at him.

“Nash!” I whispered, forgetting to use our mind-link in my
surprise. Tomas glared at me and I switched to my thoughts. “
Look behind
the creep with the wolf, it’s him. His name is Juan Carlo. He’s the vampire
from the shop the other night.
”

Nash sat up in his seat, his eyes finding the vampire I
indicated. “
Are you sure?
”

“
Oh yeah, the cheeky little bastard even winked at me
.”

Nash’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t reply. He pulled out
his phone and discretely began to type, sending a text. I imagine it was to
give the SRU a heads up to keep on the lookout for Juan Carlo.

“Welcome,” Salvador said again, interrupting my thoughts. “Allow
me to introduce the esteemed members of our Cimmerian…” He continued on,
introducing the members of the Triad and the Conclave that were present on the
dais with him. “And I believe you will remember Tomas.” He gestured to Tomas
who rose from his seat and turned giving the Mariposa a deep bow.

The Mariposa’s gaze narrowed as she looked at Tomas. There
was obviously some history there, but she flicked her gaze away, her chin
tilting up slightly as if Tomas was beneath her attention. Huh, that was
interesting. I eyed Tomas curiously, but his expression gave nothing away.

“And of course, the newest member of our Cimmerian, allow me
to introduce Angharad Grainne Russo.” Salvador was holding out his hand to
me. I rose from my seat in surprise and placed my hand is his. I hadn’t
expected to be introduced. A little warning would have been nice.

I turned to the Mariposa not sure what was an appropriate
greeting.

“
Do not bow or curtsy
,” Isaac’s voice slid over my
panicked thoughts. “
Simply nod your head
.” I did as he advised, the
Mariposa’s eyes narrowing as she eyed me from head to toe.

“The infamous necromancer,” she said finally. “The first in
generations or so they say.” She looked away, dismissing me with a little tilt
of her head.

Salvador smiled down on her, his fingers squeezing tightly
on mine. Surprised, I looked at him just as he replied. “And my daughter.”

There were gasps all around as that bit of shit hit the
fan. I tried to pull my hand from his, glaring at him, but his grip remained
firm. How could he? Why would he? I glanced worriedly over my shoulder at
Nash. His face was completely blank.

“
Nash
?” I sent a worried thought at him. “
I can
explain.
” There was no response, his thoughts and emotions seemed to be completely
cut off from me. I pulled my hand from Salvador’s grasp, this time succeeding.

The Mariposa smiled, a calculated smile. “Yes, I had heard
that as well.”

“I’m curious Catalina,” Salvador replied. “My relationship
to Angharad was not common knowledge, in fact very few knew of it. How is it
that you did?” He looked at her coldly.

There was rustling from the back of the Mariposa’s entourage
as several members stood aside to let a caped and hooded figure I hadn’t
noticed before move to the head of the group to stand beside the Mariposa. She
pushed back her hood, her golden blonde hair gleaming in the light and my knees
buckled. Isaac came to stand beside me, his hand at my elbow.

“Why Sal, don’t you think I would know my own daughter,” she
said with a laugh. She turned to look at me and I gazed down on my mother for
the first time in my life.

My whole body was shaking and I felt sick to my stomach.

“
Hold on Harry, be strong
.” Isaac’s voice inside my
head was comforting. I took a deep breath and looked closely at the woman who
called herself my mother. She was definitely Deirdre Russo, or else a dead
ringer for the woman in the few pictures I had of her. In
fact, except for her blonde hair - in the pictures it had been black, although I
knew from Gran that blonde was her natural colouring - she looked like she
hadn’t aged a day. Not a surprise, since she was also now a vampire.

My stomach heaved again, threatening to rebel. “
I’ve got
to get out here, Isaac
,” I sent to him.

“
Just a few more minutes, Harry. Hold it together.
”

I grimaced, taking another deep breath. I looked back at
Nash, his face was as shocked as I felt. His eyes flicked to mine, full of
concern.

“Dear Harry,” the woman who called herself my mother said,
“Look at you, all grown up.” She smiled at me with my mouth, looked at me with
my eyes. Even without having seen her picture, I would have known her to be my
mother. We could have been sisters we looked so similar.

“Twenty-three years will do that to a person,” I replied
coldly. I didn’t care if she was my mother; I wasn’t planning on flinging
myself into her arms.

“What? No hugs for mama?” She cackled out a laugh. “Please, I brought
you into this world, what more did you need?”

“I hate to break up this charming family reunion, but we
have business we must attend.” Salvador’s voice was controlled, but you could
feel the anger seething just beneath the calm façade. He stared down at the
Mariposa who tilted her head to meet his gaze. “Do you accept my hospitality
and agree to recognize my authority for the duration of your visit?”

“I do.”

“Do you pledge the obedience of your people and stand in
assurance for them?”

“I do.”

“So witnessed?” Salvador looked about the room.

“Witnessed,” the assembled vampires answered as one.

“
Bueno
.” He returned his gaze to the Mariposa.
“Please accept the hospitality of Dante’s for all your needs. There are
sufficient willing donors on site; you will find there is no need to seek
sustenance elsewhere. I ask that you and your entire party refrain from hunting
while within my territory. I’m asking no more of you than I do my own people.
The punishment for anyone caught in defiance of this request is the spike.”

There were a few hostile looks and some murmurings from the
Mariposa’s group, but she returned Salvador’s gaze and replied, “You have my
assurances that my people will abide by your decree.”

“Thank you,” Salvador said with a slight bow. “Now if you
would like -”

“We are without need at this time. We will retire to our
temporary quarters.” The Mariposa’s voice held an air of dismissal.

“Of course, as you wish. I’m sure you will find the
accommodations at the Riverview more than satisfactory.” He quirked an eyebrow
at the Mariposa’s little scowl. I guess that was supposed to be a secret, just
like her arrival. Salvador had enjoyed tweaking her nose with that
information. Although, since the Riverview was the only five star hotel in
town, it wasn’t exactly a stretch to think that was where they would be
staying. “Please join us tomorrow evening for a banquet we have prepared in
your honour.”

The Mariposa inclined her head in acknowledgement then
turned to leave. Her group parted like the Red Sea, allowing her to move
forward and lead the way once again out the double doors.

As soon as the doors whooshed shut behind the group, I
turned in a swirl of skirts. “I’ve got to get out of here,” I said, trying to
keep my voice level. Not waiting to see if anyone was going to protest or join
me, I all but ran to the private elevator at the back of the room.

The door slid open and I hurried in, frantically pushing the
button for what I hoped was the penthouse. The door closed, but the elevator
failed to move. Damn it! I needed a passcode. The door slid open again and I
pushed the close button. I didn’t want to go back out there. As the door slid
shut again, a hand grasped onto the edge and I yelped in surprise. Stopped
from successfully closing, the door slid open again and Nash stepped in.

“Harry,” he said, his face devoid of expression.

“I have to get out of here. Please, just get me out of
here.” Tears welled in my eyes. I was going to lose it at any second.

With a nod, Nash punched in a code and the elevator finally
began to rise. I wrapped my arms around myself, leaning into the corner of the
wall. Nash stood beside me, his hands clenched into fists at his side. He was
still closing himself off to me. I felt it like a void in my very being. I
had already gotten so used to his constant presence. With a little sob, I let
my knees buckle, my entire body folding in on itself to slide down the side of
the elevator to the floor. I wrapped my arms around my knees and buried my
face in them.

“Harry!” Nash knelt down beside me, gathering me into his
arms. When the elevator opened with a ding, he stood and carried me out
into the penthouse, setting me on the end of the couch.

I curled up in a ball, my thoughts racing over everything
that had happened. I heard the scrape of a glass across the counter and then
the sound of a drink being poured. Nash came back into view beside me, holding
out a glass of amber liquid. “Here, drink,” he said.

I took the glass and sipped tentatively. It was tequila. I
took another, larger sip, feeling the alcohol begin to warm me from the inside
out. I sat up, looking at Nash. “Nash, I -”

“How long have you known?” Nash’s voice was monotone like
he was having trouble staying in control.

“Known? I just found out.”

“About Salvador?”

“Salvador? No, I’ve known about him for a while.”

Nash growled. “And you didn’t think to tell me? Were you
ever going to tell me?” He paced across the room, his hand raking through his
hair. “I’m your mate! You don’t keep secrets like that from me.”

I blinked at him in shock. That’s what he was flipping out
about? Because I hadn’t found a way to tell him about Salvador yet? With
everything that just happened to me, he was mad because…because his feelings
were hurt or something? Because I didn’t act like a good little mate and spill
all my secrets to him? Was he for real? I continued to gape at him, pushing
all my confused emotions at him.

“Listen Nash, I wasn’t keeping anything from you. I just
hadn’t had a chance to tell you.” I scowled at him. “I’ve kind of got a lot
going on here right now. In case you hadn’t noticed, that was my supposedly dead
mother down there. I can’t really deal with your shit right now.”

“My…” Nash’s words ended in a growl. “I can’t deal with
this right now either. I have to go.” He started to stalk across the room.

“What? You’re leaving? Now?” I looked at him in
disbelief. I rose from my seat. “You know what? Just leave.” I shook my
head totally at a loss, my emotions in turmoil.

Nash frowned and took a step back towards me. I turned my
back on him. “Fine,” he said. “I will.”

I kept my back turned, staring at nothing out the window
until I heard the elevator ding. When the door slid shut, I threw my glass
against the wall. It burst into tiny pieces, kind of like how I felt inside.

***

I immediately felt bad at my outburst and I stared at the
wall where the tequila had splashed, leaving a stain. What a waste of that
expensive tequila. I started to laugh, then realized I sounded borderline
hysterical. I had to pull myself together and think things through.

I cleaned up the mess I made the best I could with some
napkins I found behind the bar. By the time I was done, all thoughts of thinking
things through were gone. Instead, I decided that getting smashingly drunk was a
better idea.

Grabbing the bottle of Gran Patron and a new glass, I
plunked myself down on the leather sectional. I brought the bottle up to my
lips and then realized I was holding an empty glass. With a shrug, I set the
glass on the table and took a swig directly from the bottle. Why bother with
the middleman? I knew I was planning on knocking the whole bottle back.

My mind replayed the evening’s earlier events over and
over. My mother was alive. Well, sort of. She wasn’t dead and gone like I
thought all these years at any rate. Where had she been? Why hadn’t she come
to see me sooner? How long had she been a vampire? Did Gran know about her?
The thoughts were swirling around a mile a minute. I took another long swig of
the Patron, emptying the bottle. It wasn’t working fast enough.

I needed something more, something to really take the edge
off. I needed to get drunk and the only way I knew how to do that was to
overload on emotions, other people’s I mean, not my own. I needed to go
downstairs to Dante’s and feed on the life essence that permeated the entire
place. I staggered to my feet - okay, so maybe the tequila was working better
than I thought - and headed towards the elevator.

The bell dinged and the doors slid open and I moved to step
in, almost colliding with Salvador. Isaac was on his heels.

“Harry,” Salvador purred. “There you are.” He looked at me
closely. “How are you doing after tonight’s revelation?” He clasped me by the
arms as I staggered back from him in surprise.

“Revelation?” I blinked. “Revelation? More like fucking nuclear
bomb.” I scowled at him, shrugging off his hands. “And you!” I continued,
wagging a finger at him. “You’re not much better, lobbing your own volley without
even warning me.”

“Angharad, I do believe you are drunk.” Salvador said, his
mouth quirking up in a grin.

“Not drunk enough, but I plan on fixing that.” I stepped up
to the elevator call button and started pushing it rapidly.

“I don’t believe that would be advisable.” Salvador said
carefully, looking around as if searching for something. “Where is your wolf?
Should he not be attending to you?”

“He’s gone,” I spat out the words. “Seems he has a problem
with my parentage.” I pushed the down button again. Where was the damn
elevator? “He had to go to work.”

“I see,” Salvador replied. He flicked a glance at Isaac.
“Well, why don’t I see if I can find you something more to drink,” he gestured
at the empty bottle of Gran Patron that I didn’t realize I was still holding,
“and you can stay right here and get, what do the kids call it these days?
Wasted?”

“Come on, Harry,” Isaac said, his face full of concern. “Why
don’t you take a nice long, hot bath? That always makes you feel better.” He
started to lead me back down the hall.

“Fine, fine,” I said, stumbling along. It was a good thing
Isaac was holding me up by that point. I hadn’t realized I was as drunk as I
was. “But I’m going to need more tequila too.”