Read Tears of Blood (The Blood Chronicles) Online
Authors: Tamela Quijas
Tears of Blood (The Blood Chronicles) (26 page)
“Oh, darling, I didn’t mean I taught him those annoying little steps that amuse the public.” Wry amusement filled his deep-throated laugh. She couldn’t help scowling, her unease growing. “I’ve always lacked the grace, skill, and patience Amado exudes when he’s on the ballroom floor.”
Meghan realized there was a lethal edge evident beneath the off-handed praise. All of a sudden, she suspected the man wasn’t a close comrade of Amado, judging from the underlying note she detected in his words. Carefully, she walked across the highly polished floor, her steps exacting. Reaching the center of the room, she stopped, and turned in the man's direction.
“Why are you here?”
She could almost envision his shrug.
“I’ve matters to discuss with our joint associate.”
Meghan wouldn’t exactly describe her relationship with Amado as an association, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Whoever he was, he made her nervous. She assumed there was an ulterior motive behind his visit, and worried what his true intentions were.
“Can you tell me how this place looks?” She had to keep him talking, assuring herself of his whereabouts, while she counted the minutes until Amado returned.
He remained silent and, for a moment, she wondered if he’d left. Abruptly, he spun about on his heel, his action causing a slight squeak on the polished wooden floorboards. Quizzically, she blinked and her arms fell to her sides.
“Are you still there?” She asked hesitantly.
“Yes, I am.” The visitor’s voice carried across the vastness of the chamber. He didn't move, remaining where he’d stood. “Why would you want me to describe the place to you?”
Her cheeks coloring slightly, but her reaction wasn’t the cause of embarrassment. Unease continued to trickle down her spine, and the fine hairs on her arms stood upright. Perhaps, a distant part of her mind whispered, she should have taken Sebastien up on his offer to stay in his apartment at
The Mage.
However, despite his persistence, she’d adamantly preferred Amado’s company, her heart winning to her better judgment.
“If you haven’t realized it yet, I can’t see what is around me.” Meghan supplied straightforwardly.
“You’re blind?” He asked in a tone that readily told her he already ascertained that fact.
She nodded.
“I apologize for my oversight.” He murmured gently and Meghan felt her stomach churn ever so slightly.
“There isn’t any reason to,” She shrugged as she brushed off his explanation, attempting to appear more confident than what she truly was. “I would just like to know, Mr.…..”
“Declan,” he responded abruptly.
“I’m sorry?”
“My name is Declan,” he supplied but his declaration quivered with an odd note.
Despite the chill tingling across her skin, she managed a tight smile.
“I’m Meghan Stanley.”
“Meghan,” the two syllables escaped him in a soft breath and the preconceived image she’d developed of an elderly man vanishing as quickly as it appeared. Somehow, she imagined Declan wasn’t much older than thirty. “That’s a beautiful name for an equally beautiful lady.”
Her chin shot up and she glared in his direction.
“Mr. Declan….”
“Simply Declan,” he interrupted smoothly. “There hasn’t been a title in many years.”
“Look,” Meghan’s fingertips touched her chest for emphasis, and she wondered if she should leave the studio.
“Stay and amuse me,” he whispered and those simple words swirl around in her brain, their tone slightly pleading.
“You can wait for him…”
“I’ll wait, my dear,” he soothed. “Though, I would prefer to have company.”
“I don’t know who you are, or what you want…”
“At the risk of sounding repetitive, my name is Declan, and Gianni and I are …acquaintances.” He interjected with relative ease. “Despite whatever messages your overactive little brain might be sending to you, I assure you I don’t harbor any ill will toward you.”
She must have glared at him skeptically, because he stifled an ironic laugh.
“I’m merely awaiting his return. Can you fault me for wanting to while away his time with an entrancing woman?”
Meghan dropped her hand, mentally fighting with herself as she struggled to come to terms with the world around her, and the day’s events. She remained where she stood, wondering if she were being unfair and judging every individual by Kevin’s standards.
“You asked me about the studio,” Declan’s question was nothing more than a husky whisper as it drifted to her. “Are you still interested?”
Meghan slowly nodded and took a few steps across the floor. Pausing, she lifted her face to the lofty ceiling and listened. Quiet greeted her, an absolute void unbroken by the sound of voices on the street outside or passing traffic.
She hated the silence.
She turned around, her expression filled with undeniable annoyance.
“I’ve a picture of what this place is supposed to look like, in my head.” Lifting a hand, she tapped at her temple. “Unfortunately, the image is from movies, and I don't know if I’m right.”
“Let me assure you, this is as close to any you could imagine.” He answered with an oddly warm laugh. “There’s one exception, though.”
“What would that be?”
“Amado doesn't have one of those irritating wall-to-wall mirrors against the cinderblock.”
“He doesn’t?” She questioned, amazed by the tidbit of information. “Why not?”
“Call it a quirk.” He responded casually. “Some….people are self-conscious about how others see them, especially when they dance. The lack of mirrors alleviates the unease, which makes everyone more comfortable.”
“I can understand,” Meghan mulled over his words, nodding before thinking of their earlier conversation. “Honestly, how long have been friends with Amado?”
“I’ve been acquainted with Amado for…ages.” Declan replied with a laugh, but there was a definite evasiveness in his voice.
“Exactly how long is that?”
“Darling, you’d never comprehend the amount of years.” He supplied mockingly. “Let’s just say, we met when the world still held certain innocence.”
His puzzling remark left her dumbfounded and she scowled. The man spoke in s riddles, and none made sense. Still, her curiosity taunted her.
“I gather you’ve known him since childhood?” Meghan questioned innocently.
He snorted. “You could call it his youth, if you wanted.”
“You’ve remained friends after all this time?”
He laughed, but the sound rang with irony.
“Is that so unbelievable?” Declan inquired. “Can we not have friends and associates who remain with us throughout our time on earth?”
Immediately, she thought of Chesca, and smiled warmly.
“I suppose we can,” she admitted. “I’ve a dear friend of my own.”
“Would she be the vivacious redhead running
The Mage
?”
At his odd question, cold chills ran over her flesh.
“How do you know about Chesca?”
“Everyone in Bentham is familiar with Chesca and her associate.” He countered easily.
Meghan couldn’t do much more than nod at his statement.
“As I said, Amado and I are associates. There isn’t much he does I’m not aware of, nor are there people he knows I haven’t personally met.” He sounded so abrasively self-assured to her tingling nerves and Meghan found herself wishing Amado would appear.
“Don’t believe a damn word he says, Meghan.” Amado’s interrupted from the doorway. “I’ll never count Declan among my friends or associates.”
Chapter Eighteen
“You wouldn’t, child of mine?” Declan laughed easily, appearing unconcerned as Amado stepped into the studio.
“Never, Declan.” He confirmed with a haughty lift of his chin. Swiftly, he approached Meghan, his footsteps nothing more than a whisper on the highly polished wooden floorboards of the structure. Pulling her into his arms, he searched her face, his expression intent. “Did he touch you?”
Meghan didn’t have an opportunity to respond, Declan’s powerful voice filling the still air about them.
“I was the perfect gentleman,” He assured with haughty dignity. “I merely stopped by to converse with your latest flight of fancy, and found that she’s absolutely charming.”
“I didn’t charm you.” Meghan denied tightly. “I only kept you company, while you waited.”
“I didn’t lie.” Declan’s smooth features remained deliberate placid. He turned his back to the other vampire, suspiciously appearing to goad him into a confrontation.
“He’s told you to leave her alone!” Amado’s voice was low and filled with anger.
“You might as well throw a gauntlet in my face, Gianni.” He mocked with relative ease. Appearing as if the entire conversation was blasé, he brushed an imaginary bit of lint from his shirtsleeve, before lifting dark eyes. “I could never resist a challenge.”
“What does he want?” Meghan asked, wondering precisely what sort of scene she found herself trapped in. “Why’s he here?”
Protectively, Amado placed her behind him, using his body as a shield from his nemesis.
“It does not matter, Meghan.” He assured her but she sensed he wasn’t being truthful.
Declan issued a hearty laugh, confirming her suspicions.
“Ah, Amado!” He exclaimed on a gasping breath. “Have you not told this darling little mortal what you are, even after sharing your bed with her?”
A vicious growl erupted from Amado’s throat, and Meghan stepped away from the protective shield of his back. Warning bells exploded within her mind as she realized the sound he issued wasn’t quite human. A pale hand crept up to her heart, and she clutched the silky material of her blouse between trembling fingers.
“Amado?”
She heard him exhale heavily before he turned toward her, and she suspected that his expression was contrite.
“Don’t worry yourself, Meghan.” He soothed although his voice quivered with the effort to keep the murderous tones at bay. “Declan loves to taunt me.”
Meghan didn’t have an opportunity to say anything as a chill burst of air spun around her, and Declan’s voice whispered ominously into her ear.
“He didn’t tell you what he is, did he?” The man scorned mystically, his frozen breath caressing her cheek. Startled, she jerked about, confused by Amado’s howl of rage. Just as swiftly as Declan had appeared at her side, he vanished, his jeering laugh filling the room.
“Leave her!” Amado shouted and his cold hands reach for her, pulling her close to his chest and wrapping about her body.
“You didn’t tell her, did you?”
Declan’s voice had become a melodious echo that bounced from the rafters. Warily, Meghan turned her head, uncertain as she listened to the man repeat the question repeatedly.
“What were you supposed to tell me, Amado?” She inquired hesitantly, not certain she’d care for his response. He exhaled heavily and, for once, she heard his walk toward her.
“I’m not what I seem,” he supplied uneasily, his fingers lifting her chin upwards.
“What do you mean?”
“Tell her, Gianni,” Declan’s voice continued to dare, each syllable a rough grate on her nerves. “Tell her of the demon in your soul.”
“Demon?”
“Meghan,” her name was a painful exhalation, his breath warm. “I am…”
“I grow weary of the hesitance,” Declan interrupted in a tone resembling a petulant child. Another chilling breeze blasted past her, and Meghan shuddered uneasily. She stepped away from Amado, his hands falling as he allowed her the freedom she desired. “Tell her, before I take matters feast on her luscious flesh!
Amado’s hand shot out and knocked her to the floor, her pained cry muffled by the horrendous roar that shook the building. Startled, Meghan’s head jerked about as she heard the impact of body against body, Declan’s angry shout echoed by Amado’s enraged denial.
“Stop!” She yelled as she rose, wiping her hands across the seat of her jeans. “Both of you need to stop this foolishness!”
Her command went unnoticed and the sound of ferocious snarl and the smell of spilled blood surrounded her. Frightened tears filled her eyes and she twisted around in a circle, the telltale resonance of battling men reverberating loudly in her ears.
She gulped in a deep breath of air before issuing a high-pitched scream.
Her action produced the desired effect. Silence drifted around her and the icy draft filling the studio came to a chilling halt. Meghan raked her hands through her hair and shuddered, horrid reflections and images dancing in her imagination.
“Amado?” A heavy hush greeted her. Meghan waited, wondering if he were injured, and her hand rose to her throat. “Please, Amado, are you there?”
“I am.” His weak voice came to her from across a distance.
“Declan?”
“I’m here, as well,” he responded broodingly. “Although, I suspect my ears are a bit worse for wear.”
She scowled, not finding his quip very amusing. She exhaled a quivering breath, but remained where she stood, frowning.
“What was I supposed to know?” She braved.
“Darling,” Declan’s falsely suave voice interjected, not allowing Amado to speak. “Your lover forgot to mention the story of his past.”