First Drop of Crimson (13 page)

“It’s not proper procedure,” Chad muttered.

Francine smiled at Denise. “Artists are always a bit temperamental, and Chad was an artist before he became a demonologist or a vampire.”

Denise smiled back at the woman, a little tentatively. Francine had such a warm, welcoming vibe about her. It made her occupation—and her being a vampire—seem so at odds with her personality.

Or was it? Francine was the first demonologist Denise met, and in truth, she hadn’t known
that
many vampires. There was the one who tried to eat her when she met Cat, of course, and Cat herself was half vampire. Then Bones, Spade, Ian, Ian’s sire Mencheres, Tate, a bunch of guards she never exchanged a real hello with…and now Emma, Alten, Francine, and Chad.

Less than a dozen, she realized. Not many to form an opinion about the entire species from, if she was being fair. But still, that New Year’s Eve, she’d seen how ugly the undead world could get.

“Denise.”

Spade said her name like it hadn’t been the first time. “Sorry,” she said, giving her head a small shake. “What do you need me to do again?”

“Sit on the floor and put your arm on the table, sleeves up,” Chad said.

Denise sat, trying to roll up the sleeve of her right arm while being careful that the towels didn’t fall off. Trying to get a grip on anything with her clawed hands bundled up was difficult, to say the least. After a second, Spade just tugged her sleeve up for her. Chad and Francine exchanged a glance, but didn’t say anything.

Chad looked over the exposed brand, whistling low. “It’s deep,” he said at last, tracing the star-shaped markings on her skin. “We’ll need to shave you and sterilize the area,” Chad went on, soaping and then shaving her inner forearm with a few quick, thorough swipes. After a spritz from the bottle next to him, he picked up one of those metal chopsticks with sharpened ends. Next Chad dipped the end of it in the panel that looked like a child’s watercolor set, but was actually the place to hold ink, it appeared. Then Chad poked her in the middle of her branded forearm hard enough to break her skin.

It pinched, but not bad. More like one of those finger-prick blood tests. Francine and Chad were staring very intently at her, though, as a drop of her blood mixed with the dark ink…and then the blackness faded to crimson.

“We have a problem,” Chad muttered.

“What problem?” Denise and Spade asked at the same time.

Chad swiped at the drop of her blood, bringing it toward his mouth—and then his arm was gripped in Spade’s hand.

“If you taste her blood,” Spade said, very quietly, “I’ll kill you.”

Francine stood up at that. “You have a very good reputation, but I won’t tolerate threats—”

“There will be no threats, as long as he doesn’t try to taste her blood again,” Spade cut her off, his tone pleasant and lethal at the same time.

“Just like the other vampire,” Chad said, shaking his head.

Denise leaned forward. “What other vampire?”

Spade wiped her blood off Chad’s finger, then with an arched brow, squirted it with the solution from the bottle and wiped it again.

“The vampire that was with that human, the one who had the brands like yours,” Chad replied, sounding a little annoyed. “He freaked over us not tasting the human’s blood. I’d forgotten about it until just now.”

Spade met her gaze, but Denise already knew not to say anything. Still, inside, she hummed with excitement. It verified that the vampire who brought Nathanial to Chad and Francine all those years ago obviously knew Nathanial’s blood had been turned into a drug from the brands. Just like hers. Tracking Nathanial through the Red Dragon trade would work. It had to.

“Remember the bloke’s name?” Spade asked.

Both Chad and Francine shook their heads. “He was a young vampire at the time. That’s all I remember,” Chad said.

“Must have been his property,” Spade said, dismissing it as if it were nothing. “Not polite to try and feed from someone’s property, even a drop.”

He didn’t trust them knowing. Denise felt a shiver of fear. She’d been so focused on the brands turning her into a monster, she hadn’t dwelled on how their
other
side effect might be dangerous. Spade might not want anything to do with the drugging effects of her blood, but others would.
Red Dragon
was the substance vampires bought to get high, and here Denise had it running all through her veins.

“As I said, we have a problem,” Chad continued. “Her blood overpowered the mixture in the ink, which means anything we’d tattoo over her brands would be worthless. We need to increase the dosage in the ink. A lot.”

“Okay, so do it,” Denise said. “Do whatever you did with my…with that other human who had brands like this.”

“It will burn,” Francine said in a sympathetic tone.

If it would keep Raum from tracking her and possibly stop her from warping into a monster, it could burn like hell and she’d still do it.

“That’s okay. Let’s just get it over with,” Denise replied steadily.

Francine patted her. “Chad, use the Jerusalem salt,” she said, her tone becoming brisk and businesslike.

Chad picked a small bottle out of his suitcase and gave Spade a meaningful look. “This changes the price.”

Denise cringed in guilt even as Spade snapped, “Let that be the last mention you make of price in front of her.”

“Chad,” Francine said in a lightly chastising way. Then she smiled at Spade. “My apologies. We’ll settle such matters once everything is complete. The important thing is to get our lovely girl here taken care of.”

“Quite,” Spade said, still with an edge in his voice.

Denise wanted the ground to swallow her, but she refused to let her embarrassment show.
I don’t care what Spade says, I’m going to find a way to repay him
, she promised herself.

“What’s Jerusalem salt?” she asked, to change the subject.

“Salt is a natural weapon against demons. Jerusalem salt is even more powerful, because it’s drawn from the place where all the major religions of the world converge. Then it’s specially milled there and mixed with, well, with things I can’t tell you,” Francine finished with a smile. “But it should work to cover the power in your brands.”

“Ready,” Chad said a minute later. He dipped another metal stick into his new ink creation, then jabbed the tip into Denise’s forearm.

Fire sizzled up her arm, so unexpected and intense, Denise couldn’t stop from crying out and jerking her arm back. They’d said it would hurt, but she hadn’t been prepared for this kind of agony. It was just as bad as when Raum had branded her.

“Turning black,” Chad said in satisfaction, staring at the drop of blood that pearled on her arm. Then his gaze flicked to Spade. “You’ll need to hold her down while we do the tattooing.”

Denise tried to push her attention past the flaming pain in her arm. It didn’t even seem possible that it had come from a wound so small, it was little more than a needle prick.

“How much tattooing? A few outlines?” she asked.

Her hope was dashed by Chad’s reply. “I’ll be filling in a pattern over both your arms. It will take a few hours.”

She shuddered as Chad got out that odd-looking power drill that she now knew was the tattoo machine. Hours, being held down while she experienced the same sort of pain that had almost driven her mad when Raum inflicted it on her for a mere few minutes. Denise thought she’d throw up, but there was no other choice.

“I’m going to need a drink first,” she said, inhaling deeply. Maybe a whole bottle. Or a concussion. Anything to numb the pain.

“Denise.” Spade knelt beside her, intensity lurking in his gaze. “You made me swear a blood oath, but you can release me from it. Let me ease this for you. You don’t need to feel a thing.”

She was confused for a second, but then his meaning clicked. “No. I don’t want you controlling my mind.”

“And I don’t want to hold you down while you’re in agony for hours,” Spade replied flatly. “If you hadn’t made me swear by my blood not to mesmerize you, I wouldn’t even ask.”

She turned to Francine. “The other guy with the brands like mine, did he handle it on his own? Or did he have the vampire with him mind-trick him?”

Francine’s expression was guarded. “He couldn’t be mesmerized. The vampire tried, but it didn’t work.”

Because of the effect of the brands, Denise realized with a sinking feeling. The inhumanity in Nathanial had grown to a point where even a vampire’s power couldn’t breach it.

“The vampire with him was young, you said, and I am a Master,” Spade replied. “I can do it.”

He had total confidence in his voice. Denise wavered. It wasn’t just the pain she feared, although the burn in her arm still throbbed enough for that fear to be very real. Even if the logical part of her realized it was for a necessary cause, being held down while she was, in essence, tortured for hours by a vampire would bring on a PTSD attack as surely she breathed. Even now, that familiar-feeling panic was rising in her. It seemed inevitable that she would lose control of her mind one way or the other, either in a flashback of that horrible night, or from the pull of Spade’s eyes.

“Trust me, Denise,” he said, very softly.

She took a deep breath. The idea of giving up control of her mind was something she fiercely hated. Already her PTSD had cost her enough of that. But…she did trust him. As odd as it was, she trusted Spade more than anyone else in her life right now. Besides, she’d wanted to show Spade her gratitude. Well, keeping him from needing to restrain her for hours while she had a severe panic attack seemed like the least she could do.

“All right.”

Spade smiled, and the sight of it distracted her from everything else for a second. He was handsome even with his normal guarded expression, but when he smiled, he was breathtaking. Pity he didn’t smile more often.

His eyes changed, becoming green in the next instant. Denise’s first instinct was to look away, because she knew this would be different from every other time she’d seen them this way, but she didn’t. She stared right into his gaze as their color flared even brighter.

“I can feel you resisting me.” His voice sounded deeper. Almost vibrating. “Let me in, Denise. It’s all right. You’ll be safe…”

Her eyelids suddenly felt heavier. Spade was still talking, but his words became indistinct, blurring together. Her vision narrowed until it seemed like all she could see was the beautiful emerald blaze from his eyes. Their powerful glow wasn’t frightening anymore. They were so lovely…

She blinked. Spade’s face was still right in front of hers, his expression intense. Resignation rose in her.

“It’s not working,” she said, steeling herself for what was to come.

A smile eased across Spade’s face. “You’re finished.”

Denise looked at her arms. Intricate patterns covered the brands from her wrists to her elbows, like black lace stitched into her skin. There was no pain, not even a twinge. Francine and Chad were gone, but she was in front of the fireplace with her arms stretched across the table, something like Vaseline spread on them.

“Wow, you’re
good
,” Denise breathed.

Spade’s laugh held an undercurrent of wickedness. “You have no idea.”

That was when she also noticed the towels were off and her hands were back to normal. Tears sprang into her eyes.
Had this cured her?

“Do you think it’s gone? All of it?” With her whole heart, she hoped the demon’s essence inside her had been driven out.

Spade sobered. “I tasted a drop of your blood before I took you out of the trance. It’s still altered.”

Disappointment coursed through her, but she pushed it back. “Maybe it won’t get worse now. Then when I deliver Nathanial, it’ll all be gone.”

And you can walk away
, she silently added to Spade. They’d both be able to go back to what their lives were before this mess. Somehow, the thought wasn’t as comforting as it used to be.

Spade opened the door to the Cherry Suite, pleased to see Denise’s reaction. Her eyes widened as she walked inside, looking around at the floor-to-ceiling windows, the plush red living room with its circle of couches, the dining room with its extravagant orange bar, and the two large bedrooms. The suite was easy to see at a glance, even with its size. The four rooms were cordoned off by curtains instead of doors, and the curtains were all open.

The butler deposited their bags, leaving after Spade assured him that they didn’t need their clothes put away for them.

“This is
amazing
,” Denise said after a few minutes. Then that familiar guilty look flashed in her eyes. “It must be so expensive.”

“If it wouldn’t have been a betrayal of your trust, when I had you under my gaze, I would’ve compelled you to never again fret over my finances,” Spade replied in amusement. “I’m supposed to be here looking for illicit entertainment at any price, remember? It wouldn’t do for me to skimp on my accommodations.”

“No one will accuse you of skimping when they see this place,” Denise murmured, walking into the guest room with its oversized Jacuzzi bathtub and enormous round leather canopy bed.

In truth, Spade didn’t intend to bring anyone else back to their suite, but he wouldn’t tell Denise that. She’d be aghast if she knew he’d chosen this suite because he wanted her surrounded with over-the-top opulence during her first trip to Vegas, even if it was under trying circumstances.

And Denise would really be aghast if she knew the only thing he
had
been tempted to implant in her mind was the desire not to return to her human life after they found Nathanial. He hadn’t done it, though. What he wanted from her couldn’t be achieved by cheating, or he’d never know if it was real.

“What would you like from room service?” he asked, not bothering to ask if she was hungry. Of course she was.

“A hamburger, extra fries, chicken soup, crackers, and chocolate cake,” Denise called out at once, heading into the master bedroom.

And I intend to have a nice long drink from whoever brings it
, Spade mentally added. After the flight overseas, then the deliberate zigzagging flights across the country designed to throw off any demon trying to follow them, it had been two days since they left his house in England. They’d either been on flights, in taxis, or in airports the entire time, so he hadn’t had a proper meal. He hadn’t wanted to leave Denise alone long enough to find one—and airports were so heavily recorded today.

Denise poked her head out of the bedroom, a shy look on her face.

“I was going to take a shower, but it’s, um, there’s not a separate bathroom area. The shower’s out in the open and it’s all glass, so…just don’t come in until I’m done, okay?”

Spade hid his grin. He’d known about the open, clear-glass shower in the center of the bedroom when he reserved this suite. In fact, he had chosen it specifically for that reason. Some things he wasn’t above cheating on.

“Of course. You may also want to catch a nap after you eat. We won’t be going to the Belaggio until closer to midnight.”

She sighed but nodded, and pulled the curtains to the bedroom all the way shut. Spade was tired and jet-lagged as well, which meant Denise had to be exhausted since she didn’t have the advantage of being a Master vampire.

Though she wasn’t just a human anymore. Spade wondered how much of that she noticed and chose not to talk about, and how much she was unaware of. He’d quickly realized Denise’s voracious appetite combined with her inability to gain weight was related to her marks. Her temperature, always a few degrees hotter than a normal human, spiked when she was angry. Then her speed that night when she ran from the club. The bite marks on her neck that healed completely within a day. The tattoos. Denise’s skin should have been scabbed for days after such extensive work, but after an hour or two of redness, it returned to being smooth as silk, healing even faster than her neck had.

He also noticed she’d manifested the changes in her hands only when she was very angry. Then after she calmed down, her hands returned to normal. Denise hadn’t had an incident since England. That could be from the tattoos keeping Raum’s essence from growing in her…or it could be because she’d hadn’t gotten extremely angry since then.

Spade didn’t plan for her to lose her temper any time soon, either. He intended to show Denise there was more to being with a vampire than what she’d seen that awful New Year’s Eve. Then she could finally conquer her fears of the undead world—and join it.

He’d lost the woman he loved before, but he wouldn’t let himself lose Denise. Once he found her wretched relative and forced Raum to take the brands off Denise, he’d make her a vampire. Then death couldn’t steal her from him as it had stolen Giselda.

And one way to ease her reservations over the undead world was to show her the pleasures of it. Denise already wanted him, conflicted though she might be. Spade intended to show her that their attraction couldn’t be ignored anymore. It would be the gentlemanly thing to give her more time to come to terms with her feelings for him, but he didn’t have time. They were closing in on Nathanial, and once they found him, his time was up.

So, if the quickest way to defeat her reservations about the undead world was through her attraction to him, he’d exploit that weakness with relish. Soon she’d be finished with her monthlies—not that it would bother him under normal circumstances, but her blood was too dangerous now—and he’d be able to complete his seduction.

Soon, darling
, he promised her, hearing the shower turn on and imagining the water dripping down her bare skin.
Very soon
.

Denise felt like her senses were on overload. First, the unimaginable hotel suite. Then the drive to the Strip, seeing those lights growing ever closer, until it felt like they were driving into the mouth of a glittering behemoth. Spade had the limo drop them off a couple of blocks from the Belaggio to walk the rest of the way. Denise didn’t know if that was for some sort of security precaution, so the driver didn’t know where they were bound, or because he wanted to enjoy the sights.

They were certainly amazing. All the neon lights, crowds, noise, and the vibe along the Strip sent an almost palpable message that inhibitions didn’t apply here.
A play ground for grown-ups
, she’d heard Vegas called, and the dazzling display of entertainment options, even at midnight, seemed to agree.

“What do you think?” Spade asked as they entered the Belaggio.

Denise shook her head. “Ask me later, when I’m less overwhelmed.”

He gave her one of those sly smiles she’d come to enjoy far more than she should. If not for the seriousness of their objective tonight, she’d feel like she was on a date. A very, very extravagant date. Aside from their accommodations, Spade insisted on buying her a new dress, shoes, purse, and jewelry—all without letting her see any of the prices. It was her costume for tonight, he’d said with another of those grins. Granted, her new outfit was far more in line with Spade’s Armani shirt and tailored pants. Hell, his watch probably cost more than her entire ensemble.

Yet Spade wore his clothes and accessories with elegant diffidence, without the superior attitude that usually accompanied someone with his bank account. Denise had dated a few rich guys before Randy, but most of them had seemed so impressed with themselves, they weren’t interested in her except for sex or arm decoration. Spade, even under these pretend circumstances, was attentive and charming. Add that to his odd combination of gallantry, ruthlessness, and loyalty, and Denise’s feelings were running well beyond physical attraction.

If only he wasn’t a vampire
, she thought. Then she gave herself a mental slap. If Spade wasn’t a vampire, she wouldn’t be here with him, because she’d needed a vampire’s help to find Nathanial. She had to stop getting caught up in the illusion and focus on reality.

Spade led her past the entrance with the medley of slot machines, craps tables, and blackjack dealers to the back of the casino labeled Club Privé. Denise was amazed how the atmosphere seemed to change from gleeful hedonism to stylish avarice within the space of a few dozen feet.

After a polite exchange with the hostess, they went inside the gold-and-mulberry decorated room. It had several booths, servers hovering in attendance, and at least two games already in progress.

Spade gestured to the bar. “Order me a scotch, please. Won’t be a moment.”

Denise glanced at the window discreetly located in the corner. “You just don’t want me to see how much money you’re exchanging for chips, or I’ll have a heart attack, right?”

He laughed. “Clever girl. But it’s not all on your account. I find I’m feeling lucky tonight.”

She could have read so much into that last sentence, accompanied as it was by a sinful curl to his mouth, but that was a road best left untraveled.

“I’ll get your drink,” Denise managed. And one for herself. A stiff one.

A few minutes later, Spade came back carrying a tray of different-colored chips. Denise had already finished her scotch, but decided against another one. As was customary for the date of anyone gambling, she’d be on her feet for a while tonight, standing behind Spade as he played. No need to invite swaying with too much alcohol.

Spade took her arm and then handed his drink to a waitress who seemed to appear by magic.

“Bring that to the table for me, would you? And keep them coming.”

Spade pretended to study his hand in front of him, though he’d had his cards memorized at first glance. He was really concentrating on Madox, the player opposite him. The oil executive was good at hiding his tells, but he was still human. His pulse might remain admirably steady and he managed not to sweat, but his scent betrayed him. When he went all in on this hand, Madox’s scent turned into a mixture of musk and rotten orange. Just like every other time he’d bluffed.

Madox’s eyelids drifted lower, like he was bored enough to fall asleep while he waited to see if Spade folded or not.

Spade let out an extended sigh, as if wrestling with the decision. “What to do?” he mused out loud.

Behind him, he could feel Denise’s tension increase until her aura almost crackled with anxiety. Her jasmine and honey scent had soured as well in the past two hours, watching him lose hand after hand. She didn’t know he was losing deliberately to bait the other players. He hadn’t told her because he needed her reaction to be genuine or it would have roused suspicion in the observant gamblers.

But to her credit, Denise remained silent, even though she must be inwardly screaming at him to fold his hand. Poor girl. With her conscience needled over every pound he spent, she must be ill at the quid he’d turned over to his opponents thus far.

Madox’s overripe citrus scent increased, but he didn’t so much as twitch as he waited for Spade to fold or call.

“Sod it, I’ll go out with a bang,” Spade declared, sliding his remaining chips into the center of the table. “I’m in.”

Denise took in an audible breath. Madox smiled and flipped his cards up.

“Two pair, hearts. And you, Mr. Mortimer?”

Spade laid his cards on the table with a wolfish grin. “Straight flush, spades.”

Acrid disappointment wafted off Madox. The onlookers around the table clapped as Spade claimed the large pile of chips. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Denise sag a little, her grip on the back of his chair lessening.

Spade turned, taking Denise’s hand and kissing it. “There, darling. Told you I felt lucky tonight.”

She let out a little snort, giving his hand a quick squeeze. Then Spade felt the energy in the room shift, filling with the unmistakable vibe of an undead. Spade let go of Denise’s hand and turned casually toward the source.

A vampire met his gaze; either his power was cloaked as Spade’s was, or he was a lower-level Master. Judging by appearance, he’d been in his thirties when he was changed. His hair was dark brown, slicked back in a style best left in the seventies, and his outfit was an expensive mistake.

From the way the waitresses greeted him, he was also a familiar sight. Spade inclined his head in acknowledgment, and then returned his attention to lining his chips back up in his tray. He would come over. The vampire had to be curious to meet the man who just fleeced one of the regulars.

“Evenin’” the vampire said, taking the seat Madox had just vacated. “Looks like you’re short a player.”

Spade made mental notes about the other vampire.
Faint Southern accent. Probably younger than me in undead years, but not by too much.
“We certainly are. I do hope you join us. I find I’ve got a second wind despite the late hour.”

Behind him, Denise’s scent changed. She must have recognized the newcomer as not being human, too. Spade didn’t look away from the man’s ice-blue eyes, waiting. If the vampire didn’t want him in what he might consider his territory, now would be the time to make that known.

But the vampire just smiled. “I’d swear it was still early with how I feel. Deal me in, Jackie, and Sam, bring me a tray. My usual amount.”

The dealer shuffled the cards while the manager produced a tray of chips.
Two hundred thousand
, Spade noted. Very respectable for a “usual” amount.

“I’m Henry,” Spade said, using the name his room was registered under.

“BJ,” the vampire replied, reaching out to take the cards expertly flung in front of him.

Spade took his as well, not letting any reaction show as he observed the pale fingers that wrapped around those cards. BJ’s left pinky finger was missing, but on his right, he had a thick gold ring with “21” emblazoned in diamonds.

This had to be Black Jack.
Ian, mate, I owe you one.

Spade leaned back, sliding his arm around Denise’s waist. “You don’t mind waiting for a while longer, do you, darling?”

Her body was more tense than normal and her feet had to be sore, standing there for two hours in high heels, but Denise didn’t hesitate in her reply.