Kiss Me Deadly (16 page)

Sinking to the floor, Ravin spread her legs before her and slammed her head against the wood counter. “What’s the damn obligation?”

Himself preened the sleeves of Nikolaus’s shirt. “I want your firstborn.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Firstborn. It’s mine, no matter the sex, though I prefer a boy.”

Yes, she had heard him. What sort of ridiculous obligation was that?

“Are you nuts? This is not medieval times. People don’t promise their firstborn to the devil anymore.”

“How do you know?”

“They do?”

“Happens all the time. Please, take my baby in exchange for more of that lovely drug that will destroy my life. What do they call it? Meth! There are times I simply must refuse, because who needs another rug rat to corrupt? Oh, not that I physically take the child. I leave the social services to that. But it’s all the same.

“There are only so many souls to be darkened, battered and abused. And there is the whole equilibrium thing. I can’t have them all. The world would be a bore without a healthy balance of good and evil, corrupt and pious, et cetera, et cetera.”

“But my firstborn? That’s not even an obligation, it’s a…Sorry, can’t do it. I don’t want kids. And even if I did want them, I’d have to find…”

“The right one? If that’s how you want to play it. Doesn’t matter to me how you go about getting things done. Nor is time of concern.”

“But it is to me. I want to get you off my chest!”

“Such a lovely one it is. Have I mentioned that?”

Ravin growled and stomped across the room. “I want my soul back!”

“You know the rules.”

“Give me something different to do.”

“’Fraid not. I want your firstborn. And, since you’re not the motherly sort, you’ll have no problem handing over a child. It’ll be such a joy to see what results from a witch and a vampire. I wait with anticipation!”

Have a baby with Nikolaus? The thought intrigued more than it should. Ravin quickly looked away from the image of her lover as he bent and caught her silent stare.

“You’re thinking about it already,” Himself stated with a gleeful glint to his sapphire eyes. “Perfect!”

Her firstborn. But when she really thought on it…There had been the miscarriage. So technically…Hmm…

“I do that for you, and my debt is paid?”

“Third slash mark is yours. Now, don’t overthink it. And like I said, I’ve all the time in the world. But I don’t think I’ll need so much as you believe. Ta!”

The air held a mist of brimstone. The devil had left.

She had allowed the devil to bring her to…Raven raced to the kitchen sink, and her stomach gave up the bile.

N
ikolaus walked to the Cue restaurant just down the street from his building. No one could miss the sensuously curved lapis lazuli Guthrie Theater that curved along the Mississippi’s shore.

When Nikolaus had first met Truvin, the ancient vampire—created in the eighteenth century—was tired of doing things on his own. He had seen the world many times over, had grown weary of all it offered, and felt a compulsion to create family. To put down roots and invite others into his world.

Nikolaus had immediately taken to the suave man-about-the-world. They both enjoyed fine wine, expensive toys such as cars and suits, and discussing the evolution of science and, yes, gorgeous women. Though he’d had to overlook the man’s apparent disregard for mortal life, Nikolaus had firmly laid down Kila’s rules—that no one in the tribe killed or needed to kill.

Truvin had reluctantly left behind his bloodthirsty ways, but Nikolaus had seen an immediate change in the man.

He’d made him his right-hand man after a surprise attack by wolves had found Truvin and Nikolaus cornered. The elder vampire was strong and fearless. He’d had his throat ripped open by a wolf, and yet had stood back to back with Nikolaus, fighting until the remaining wolf had scampered away, its tail between its legs. Werewolves did not frequent the metro areas, but when they did, it was as a pack and on a quest for blood.

The fight had gleamed in Truvin’s eyes, invigorating him, and Nikolaus knew then he’d always have to keep an eye on the vampire, lest he slip into his old ways.

And yet, Nikolaus would preach to no man. If Kila was not the right place for Truvin, if he found it too restrictive, then he could leave any time. But he had not.

The restaurant was crowded, and Truvin was already seated at a table near a floor-to-ceiling curved window that looked out over the sidewalk. With a welcome slap of handshake the two vampires then sat quietly, reading the menus, then ordering immediately. They were each summing the other up. It was an expected ritual.

Nikolaus suggested a bottle of pinot gris, which was served at the perfect temperature, not too chilled, not lukewarm.

“You’re looking good,” Truvin said after the waiter had left them alone. “I expected to see a scarred shell of the man you once were.”

“Doesn’t Gabriel keep you updated?”

Resting with a casual shrug against the chair back, Truvin drank his wine. “He’s most faithful to you. I watch him carefully. Doesn’t like to follow the tribe, and usually stays away when we’re out stalking butterflies.”

Butterflies are what Truvin termed his gorgeous victims. Nikolaus had never warmed to the euphemism.

“Gabriel avoids confrontation. Nothing wrong with that.”

“He’s become quite bold recently.”

Nikolaus recalled watching Gabriel suffer the
danse macabre
. Bold, indeed.

The waiter returned to take their menus after they politely declined a meal.

Distracted by two particular women at the blue glass–tiled bar, Nikolaus studied them. Both slid interested glances over to his table. Lipstick-kissed wineglasses tilted back more than he felt they should be drinking. But they were gorgeous and had legs that wouldn’t stop. Spiky black high heels were one of his weaknesses. Interesting to find them at the subdued theater. Couldn’t be here for a play.

“Gabriel tells me of your intention to return to the tribe this weekend,” Truvin said. “We welcome you, of course. It has been a long time.”

“You’ll welcome me?” Not unexpected, but to judge Truvin’s tone, not completely honest, either. “But not as the leader.”

A sigh lifted Truvin’s broad shoulders. The suit must have set him back several thousand, though Nikolaus had stopped concerning himself with brand names after his medical career had tanked.

Nikolaus noted the women whispering to each other. One broke into an open-mouthed sigh at the sight of Truvin splaying his fingers back through his short thick hair.

“Is it fair,” Truvin began, “that you deem to merely step back into a role you abandoned?”

“Abandoned? I had no choice!” Checking his voice, Nikolaus swallowed the remainder of his wine, then poured another full glass. Why he was allowing Truvin to strum him like this was beyond him. “I touched death. My heart had stopped beating, I didn’t abandon a thing; I was given no choice.”

And there—he’d just played hypocrite to his own convictions, after trying to convince Ravin that everyone had a choice.

“Yes, a phoenix,” Truvin presented wondrously.

And what did Truvin know of the phoenix legend? He had been on this earth two centuries; surely he had met one? He could hold knowledge that Nikolaus craved.

It didn’t feel right to ask. Weak.

“Certainly, you had no choice. And without a leader to watch over the flock, I stepped in.”

“It was a moment you dreamed of, Stone. You were the first to abandon rank during the attack; don’t think I didn’t notice that.”

Truvin leaned over the table and, measuring the tone of his voice, hissed, “It is every man for himself when a witch attacks. That is an unwritten rule.”

“Yes, and…” Nikolaus sighed.

Anger was completely counter-productive at a time like this. Nothing would come of aggression. And Truvin would delight too much in watching him blow his top.

“I don’t blame you, Truvin. I’m glad you had the sense to protect yourself. One less notch for the witch’s belt. And truly, you were the obvious choice to step up in my absence. You’ve a certain commanding presence. The tribe members respect you.”

It was true, Truvin did command respect. But there were many kinds of respect, twisted and misaligned being just a few of the sort that fit Stone to a T.

“I will happily hand over the reins to you,” Truvin announced, “if you can prove yourself fit and able, my friend.”

“If?”

“Do you expect anything less? If you were in my position, I should demand the same caution. I can’t, as a leader, step back and hand over control to one unworthy, or physically incapable—”

“What means of proof do you require? An Olympic trial of sorts to test my strength?”

Tracing the stem of the wine goblet, Truvin said, “There won’t be tests. I must know you are mentally capable of leading my men—”

To have his intellect challenged stung far more than a physical boast of prowess and strength.

“I am capable, and I will lead
my
men. But trust me when I say they will not continue to follow the path you have taken them on. Why have you done it, Truvin? You know I prided myself on Kila’s peacefulness. We do not need to kill,” he stressed, then checked his voice.

The women at the bar had left. The table next to the two of them was content on laughing over the play they’d just seen. All about them, the world lived, loved and laughed, oblivious to the dangers lurking in their presence.

“I understand,” Nikolaus added. “You have been on this earth a long time.”

“And don’t forget that, youngling,” Truvin sneered. “Born in the eighteenth century, and changed on my twenty-fifth birthday. I have seen it all. War, plague, injustice. Greed, desire and the fall of humanity to material wealth. What right have you to command me to do anything?”

“Don’t forget, you joined Kila voluntarily. No one forced you. You knew what we were like then, and agreed to the terms we offered in exchange for family.”

“Yes, and you knew what I was like. But I’ve come to learn family is vastly overrated. I have endured for years, living your ridiculous rules—”

“It is not ridiculous to value human life!”

Both men sat back in their chairs as the waiter appeared. Truvin ordered another bottle of the two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar wine.

Nikolaus glanced to the potential butterflies, lingering at the front of the restaurant. Flutter away, he thought. He could influence them from here, subtly persuade their compliance—

“I do adore you when you have the tribe staring up at you as if you were a god.”

Nikolaus pressed back in his chair.

“
I
feel you are a god,” the elder vampire offered. “But I’ve never had religion, as you well know.”

Yes, and the glint of the gold cross at Truvin’s neck was a defiant warning to all the baptized vampires who would challenge his lack of belief.

“I don’t know how to conform,” Truvin continued. “It’s so tight. It itches.”

Many times Nikolaus had considered that Truvin might have already touched madness. He certainly killed often enough, and those kills were tainted by the
danse macabre.
How many nightmares could a vampire live through before madness altered him?

Outside, the moon was visible between two buildings, and just above the river, which flowed behind the theater. Was she at home looking at the same moon right now? His lover.

I love her so much.

But you hate her.

“We are of a particular nature,” Truvin said around a swallow of wine, “that requires the sort of extracurricular activities the tribe engages in.”

Nikolaus could but shake his head at the inane explanation to stalking a victim and then killing him for no reason other than partaking of a long deadly drink. Truvin had once explained such a deadly kiss eliminated the need to worry over creating another vampire. Ridiculous. Self-control was all that was required.

“It’s not that I desire control,” Truvin added.

“I believe that.” And for some reason, he did.

The waiter reappeared with the wine, and a business card, which he dutifully explained was from the two ladies by the door.

Truvin spun about to spy the women, who stood at the doorway, waving. “They’re leaving?” he asked the waiter.

“Headed to the gift shop, I’ve been informed,” the waiter offered with a knowing grin. “Said they’d be around for another half an hour.”

“Thanks.” Truvin took the card and tucked it into his coat pocket. He nodded to the girls.

“So, let’s wrap this up, shall we?” Truvin poured another full goblet of wine. “We’ve dessert waiting for us after all.”

“You can have them,” Nikolaus said. “I’m not into blondes.”

“Since when?”

“Since…just take them.”

“You look the same, Nikolaus, but you’re not.” Truvin tilted his head, studying him over the wine goblet. “Gabriel tells me you killed the witch who did this to you?”

“Yes.” The answer came easily. And Nikolaus maintained eye contact with Truvin.

“Then we should celebrate your kill upon your return. One less witch walking the earth is a day to rejoice. Difficult to take out?”

“Nothing a little fire couldn’t handle.” The one method to kill a witch. If he’d said anything else, Truvin might suspect.

“I would have loved to hear her death screams.”

“That’s the difference between you and me, Stone. You live for the dread in your victim’s eyes, and the kill spilled all over your pristine thousand dollar suits.”

“Armani,” he added. “This one set me back a couple thousand.”

Nikolaus shook his head at the waste. Not the material waste, but the manner in which Truvin brushed off the lost life of the innocent. “I prefer to walk away, keeping my soul as clean as possible.”

“You’re so high and mighty. We’re all headed to hell in our final days. Don’t pretend you’re going anywhere higher.”

“I agree. But I’m tainted enough by this condition, why make it any worse?”

“Condition? Ha! You’ve much to learn, Drake. And so many centuries in which to learn it. If you survive that long.” He touched the cross at his neck.

Nikolaus did not fear the holy, though there were times he wondered what his parents had stolen from his soul by not allowing him to learn the ways of the church. To at least offer the option. He’d once believed science ruled, until he’d been given the God-like power to save lives—and had learned he was unworthy. There was only one creator with the power to give and take life.

“There’s something utterly wrong about you.” Truvin leaned forward, studying Nikolaus. The man’s eyes were an indeterminate smear of gray and amber and blue. Eerie. But capable of disguising the blood lust when on the hunt. “I will figure it.”

“I have survived death,” Nikolaus offered. “That right there is utterly wrong.” He swallowed the last of his wine and gestured toward the door, in hopes of distracting Truvin’s inspection. “You shouldn’t delay.”

“Yes. I suppose.” He signed the bill and grabbed the wine bottle, still half full. Standing, he offered his hand to Nikolaus. “I’ll be seeing you soon, before the entire tribe, then?”

Nikolaus stood and shook the vampire’s hand. The shimmer scurried up his arm and burst through his system, a subtle but tingling sensation that always alerted to another of his kind. The only real way to know another vampire was by touching them. No Sight granted by Himself would ever make it easy to recognize another.

“Will you step down gracefully?” Nikolaus asked.

“Will you prove your worth to the tribe?”