Heroes (25 page)

He didn’t want to let her go. He wanted to hold her in his arms, maybe forever, but at least for a good, long now. But for the moment he stepped back, and kept his mouth shut. Haven’s fate was a matter between Char and Valentine.

Valentine still cradled Haven in her lap, but he was no longer suckling. His eyes were closed, and her fingers stroked over the mottled red new skin of his cheeks, and forehead and lips.

Char stepped up to them and looked down at Jebel for a long time. He was unconscious, she could not touch his thoughts, but life was strong in him. He was injured still, weak as a kitten, but he was not the dying man she’d run across the city to find. He was healing. Another vampire’s blood was doing that for him. Char hadn’t thought the companion ritual could be used to save a life. But she knew that the ritual had taken Jebel from her life.

After a while she looked at Valentine. The old vampire gazed up at her with a dazed expression. There was no guilt in Valentine. No shame over what she’d stolen.

“He’s mine,” Char told her. “He’s always been mine.” Valentine made the faintest gesture of negation. “He had no blood of yours in him. For which I thank you.”

“Thank me?” Char heard her voice rise in bitter indignation. Her claws bit into her balled fists. She hated when Sterling’s hands landed on her shoulders. He projected calm she didn’t want, but she ended up relying on it anyway. “Thank me for waiting for him to make a choice?” she questioned again. “So it would be easier for you to steal him away?”

Valentine gave a faint shake of her head again. She seemed very tired. “Thank you, because if he had not been pure mortal, he could not have done what he had to do. He accepted the sacrifice,” she went on. “Went willingly to certain death. He saved the city. That deserved a healing.”

“Is that what you call it?” Char shouted at the woman. “You gave him your blood. He’s mine!”

Behind her, Sterling whispered, “Not now.”

Before her, Valentine said, “He is alive.”

“Am I supposed to be comforted by that?” Was she supposed to be grateful? All Char felt was emptiness. Cheated. Betrayed. “You stole him.” She’d never had a companion before. She hadn’t wanted anyone but Jebel. They were partners, lovers, friends. “How could you—”

Valentine gently moved Jebel off her lap. She stood, very slowly. Her gaze was somewhere over Char’s head. Char realized that the old Nighthawk’s attention wasn’t on her. It wasn’t really on Jebel.

It was Sterling she spoke to when she said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Val, you don’t look so good. Do you need to go inside?” Sterling’s solicitousness toward this companion thief galled Char.

“I am going inside,” Valentine replied. She gestured, and Char couldn’t help but look around, and up. The Silk Road was constructed of many towers and domes. Only one tower had been damaged by the dragon. Lights were on in other parts of the building. There was a circle of lighted windows at the very tip of the tallest tower. Valentine had forgotten Jebel. Her attention was now on the tower windows.

“Where are you going?” Sterling demanded as Valentine walked away.

“Someone wants to see me.”

“Val—” Sterling began, sounding skeptical.

“Take him somewhere safe,” Valentine cut him off. “I’ll find you in a few minutes.”

“Wait—!” Char called, but Valentine simply drew shadows around herself, and was gone.

Char loathed that she’d been dismissed. That she wasn’t important. Valentine had taken the man she loved from her.

“Goddess damn it,” she snarled. She shook off Sterling’s hands and started toward Jebel. She snarled again when Sterling got to her injured lover first, and scooped Jebel up off the ground. “Leave him alone,” Char demanded.

Sterling gave her a steady, stern look. “She told me to look after him.”

“Do you always do what she tells you?”

Sterling didn’t answer this. “Come on,” he said. Cradling Jebel, he walked away.

Of course, she followed him. Geoff almost expected Char to attack him from behind. It took an effort to keep his muscles from tensing. He made himself calm, relaxed, neutral. He was not going to gloat over his good fortune, not while the hurt was so fresh for Char. She was still crying, bitter salt perfumed her skin. The tang of it burned in his nostrils and throat. Meanwhile, Haven slept in his arms, feverish, his body gaunt beneath Geoff’s hands. The man had been through literal hell, and was lucky to be alive. Geoff hoped he could make Char see it that way.

They covered themselves in shadows until they reached the front entrance of the hotel. Yellow tape roped off the lobby doors, but there was no one around. The whole building had been emptied of mortals, though the excitement had all been elsewhere. Geoff sensed the hidden presence of vampires inside. They were all neatly hidden away in secret places the firefighters would never find. They could stay hidden forever, for all he cared, as long as no one tried to interfere with his and Char’s presence here.

Geoff carried Haven into the lobby and settled him on a couch covered in red and gold silk, beneath a canopy of equally brightly colored cloth. There was a low gilded table and three deep chairs grouped with the couch.

Geoff settled into one of the chairs, realized he was weary, and wondered at the time. The approach of dawn was something his kind naturally sensed, but the events of this night had driven his time sense completely askew. He tensed as he checked his watch, and sighed in relief. It was not as late as he’d feared. He sat back against the thickly cushioned chair back.

“Hell of a night,” he said. Excitement still buzzed in him, and the thrill of the hunt.

“Hell of a night,” Char answered.

The sadness in her voice brought Geoff out of the brief sense of pleasure at jobs well done.

He sat up, and found that she’d taken a seat on the couch. Haven’s head was in her lap, her fingers stroking the salt and pepper stubble of hair left on his head. Geoff’s first impulse was to point out that Valentine would not like this intimacy. But he managed to keep his mouth shut on the matter, even though Char gave him a look that dared him to make the comment.

He did say, “You have to accept the situation.”

“Why?” she shot back, spoiling for a fight.

“All right.” He tried again. “You don’t have to like it, but you have to live with it. Haven belongs to Valentine. She didn’t do it to hurt you. She did it to save his life.”

Char quivered with rage, but she gave a sharp nod. “I know that. It should have been me. She should have waited.”

“I doubt there was time to wait. She could have let him die,” he added. “But you wouldn’t want her to have done that.”

“I—” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t want him with anyone but me. But I don’t want him to die.”

“Then Valentine did the only thing that would save him. He’ll be one of us now, Char. But he won’t be your bloodchild,” he went on, as persuasive as he could be. “Think about that. If you don’t make him into a vampire, you won’t have to worry about incest. The pair of you can be together. Forever. As Nighthawks.”
And you can be with me until then,
he thought.
It could be decades, even centuries. Depends on how long before Haven feels the need to change to Nighthawk.

She glared at him, still shocked by his believing that Nighthawks were different, were beyond the rules of regular vampire life. She didn’t want to believe, but now she had a reason to start thinking about the situation. It was an excuse to hold out hope that she and her beloved Jebel could still be together.

She continued to stare at him, her hands on the other man. “Think about new possibilities,” Geoff urged.

“Leave us alone,” was Char’s response.

Geoff shook his head. Now was not the time to push her. “Fine.”

He got up and walked away. Might as well give her time to get used to the idea. Time to say goodbye.

Curiosity led him toward the scent of magic mixed with smoke. He glanced into the theater, and tasted the air. Dark magic permeated the place, centered on the empty stage. A human had died there, and a vampire had done the killing. Geoff wondered what that was about. The resident vampires must have taken care of the mess, because there was no physical sign of violent death in the auditorium.

Geoff backed out of the room, and continued following scent. It led him into the damaged tower, where he splashed through occasional puddles and dodged emergency lighting. There were still firefighters around, and rescue workers making a cautious, slow search of the premises. Geoff cautiously made sure that none of them saw him. He eventually found his way to a room where the dregs of magic hit his senses like the stench of a rotting corpse.

Again, any traces of death, or supernatural dealings, had been wiped away, but Geoff could tell that this was where horrible things had occurred. He wondered if the hotel vampires had spread their cleanup assignment to the mess running amok on Fremont Street. The mortals working that emergency could certainly use help in hiding evidence.

Instead of backing away from the ugly vibes that still lingered in the place, Geoff was drawn to explore. It was a large room. Geoff guessed that it had served as a dressing room and storage area for the late stage magician. He moved aimlessly from object to object for a while. Everything was wet. Everything smelled burned. The place reeked of evil. It occurred to him that if the dragon had been born here, the place should be more damaged. It also occurred to him that there was a reason the place was mostly untouched. Something magical was still in the room. It had protected itself from the fire. And it was calling to him.

Geoff stopped in the middle of the room, and considered options. Magic was something to use. You couldn’t let magic use you. Valentine would say that that was just spoiling it. Still, one shouldn’t look gift horses in the mouth, either.

So, Geoff let the magic call him across the room to where fire-damaged furniture leaned at odd angles around a fire-blackened coffee table. Resting on one of the damaged chairs was a blue plastic notebook. It was cool to the touch when he picked it up. There was no sign of any damage to the notebook, or the paper inside it. It was far heavier in his hand than it should be. And there was a subvocal hum emanating from it. The hum held an invitation to look inside, and discover the secrets of the universe.

Geoff didn’t take the spell book up on its invitation. “Not yet,” he said. This was not the time or the place to study a spell book. Everyone, and
everything,
that had been part of tonight’s disasters needed a cooling-off period. Once he was calm, ready, and well away from this epicenter of magic, Geoff thought he might peruse the object that had given itself to him.

He tucked the notebook under his arm, and walked back to the lobby. Once back at the spot where he’d left Char and Haven, he stopped for a moment to take a frustrated look at the couch. He shook his head thoughtfully, but said and did nothing.

He sat down in the deep, comfortable chair, and waited for Valentine to return.

Chapter 22

“GOOD EVENING, MADAM.”

Valentine looked at the obsequious minion waiting for her by the elevator, and sneered.
Good evening, madam? What was that about?

“If madam will come with me, please.”

She stepped out of the carpeted private elevator car and into a hallway. The walls were of shining black marble, the floor was bright white. When she felt the coolness of the polished stone against the soles of her feet, she looked down and noticed that she wasn’t wearing shoes. It took Valentine a moment to remember that she’d found it easier to run across the hot ashes to Jebel barefoot than in slippery, grit-filled sandals. Chalk up a pair of shoes Ibis owed her, along with all the other aggravations of this night.

“Madam?” He was dressed, and sounded, like a butler. Except that he was dressed all in black. He even had a very upper-crust British accent.

She wasn’t in the mood for niceties. She waved a hand at the butler. “Shoo.”

He bowed, and backed up a few steps, almost disappearing against the shining black marble of the walls, except for a pale face that stood out like a thumb. “As madam wishes.”

This left Valentine to her own devices in finding Ibis, but that was hardly difficult. Ibis had requested her presence; she had but to follow his mental trail down the hall, through a large meeting room, and through a door into a private office. She spotted other black-clad retainers outlined against the wall and the tall windows along the way. They all exuded an air of obsequious helpfulness that set her fangs on edge. But all this alert, respectful
niceness
was a hallmark of Ibis’s style.

“You’re laying it on thick,” Valentine said when she opened the door and stepped into the inner sanctum of one of the few vampires older, and shorter, than herself. He also wore more makeup, but he’d never lost his Prince of Egypt manner.

“I was never a prince,” he corrected her thought. “Merely a humble vizier, high priest, physician, and royal architect. These days I dabble in being an archivist and businessman.”

“And troublemaker.”

He inclined his head slightly. “Declare me one, if you must.”

“Your credentials remain impressive.”

“Thank you, Lady of Snakes.”

Valentine frowned at the title, but she crossed her hands over her breasts and inclined her head piously. “I am but a retired servant of that Lady.”

“And of the Other Lady? Our Lady?”

“I’ve been known to come out of retirement to do her bidding.”

“As you did tonight.”

He was sitting with his back to the high, wide windows. The view was disconcerting, but Valentine wasn’t going to let it get to her at this point. She plopped into a comfortable leather chair opposite Ibis, and stared across the wide glass-topped desk at him. The desk reflected the city lights. The room was dark, but for the glow of the neon, the moon, the stabbing beacon rising from the tip of the Luxor pyramid, and their reflections.