The Den of Shadows Quartet (38 page)

“Never address the vampires by name unless given permission to do so. I know of very few who would hesitate to give a slave a beating if she forgot a title. In general, address any of my kind as ‘milady’ or ‘milord’ until told otherwise.”

He paused. “The present Master of Midnight is named Jaguar. He was a trainer in the original Midnight — one of the best. Avoid him as well as you can, because he’ll see through your act quickly.”

“Tell us about this Midnight,” Turquoise pressed, when Nathaniel paused again.

“I have avoided this new Midnight so far, but I knew the old one too well,” Nathaniel answered. “I’ve seen humans bred like cattle, beaten bloody for meaningless trifles. Worse, I’ve seen freeborn humans as strong willed as you two reduced to the servility of well-trained pets.” He raised his gaze to meet first Ravyn’s then Turquoise’s, scanning each of their expressions. “I’ve been told that Jaguar is changing some of the rules. People have been objecting that he’s too gentle with humans now, but no one with the power to overthrow him has bothered to do so. Don’t let his seeming kindness fool you. After Jeshickah, Jaguar was the most vicious trainer in Midnight. Even if he has somehow gained a set of morals, old habits die hard.

“Once I sell you in, you’re on your own. None of Midnight’s followers will go against a claim of ownership, so even if you want to pay a mercenary for help escaping, he won’t be able to take you out.”

Nathaniel was giving them one more warning. He had been the one to remove Turquoise from her first master’s possession, but only after Lord Daryl had thrown her away in a rage and ordered the mercenary to take her.

“It won’t be a problem,” Ravyn replied, though Turquoise could hear strain in her voice. According to Jillian’s recital, Ravyn had found herself once before in the uncomfortable situation Nathaniel was describing. The hunter was putting forward a brave front. “Tell us more about this Jeshickah you mentioned.”

“Jeshickah …” Nathaniel shook his head. “She gathered her trainers and taught them their trade. She picked the slaves who would be bred and the slaves who would be culled. After her Midnight was destroyed, she withdrew from vampire society.” He continued, “So far, she doesn’t seem to be involved with Jaguar’s project. Jaguar was Jeshickah’s favorite — brutal, and perfectly obedient to her. It isn’t surprising that he would attempt to re-create the environment in which he had power.” He turned to describing the trainer instead, leaving Turquoise unable to press about Jeshickah without revealing that she was their target. “Don’t trust Jaguar, and don’t irritate him unless you are willing to take a beating for it. It takes a lot to get his temper riled, but once it is, you’re in trouble. In general, don’t give him any reason to touch you, especially in anger, but don’t fight him if he does.
Never
raise a
hand against a trainer, not unless you know you can kill him.”

“Is he usually armed?” Turquoise asked the question out of habit. Both hunters were leaving their weapons behind; there would be no way to explain if someone noticed they were carrying when they entered Midnight. However, there were always ways to find weaponry, especially if one’s prey was wearing it.

“Jaguar rarely uses a knife,” Nathaniel answered. “He favors a nine-foot leather whip, which he is an expert with. I’ve seen him slice open the arm of another vampire, then pull a bird unharmed from the air with the back snap.”

Ravyn shook her head, sipping her water in contemplation. Turquoise found that burgundy gaze risen to meet her own. “Something wrong, Turquoise?” she drawled. “You look a bit pale.”

“Just annoyed,” she answered briskly, forcing her composure to return. Knives, crossbows, swords, staves … why did it have to be a whip?

It’s practical
The voice in her memory was Lord Daryl’s, answering that question, asked three years earlier.
A knife is more likely to scar, or do greater harm than intended. It is easier to establish discipline with a more versatile weapon
.

Lord Daryl had been able to snap a whip softly enough to sting the flesh, or hard enough to draw blood, depending on his mood.

Nathaniel’s gaze met hers across the table; he no doubt knew what she was thinking. Then he looked away, his eyes rising to flirt with the waitress who had just returned to refill their water glasses.

As soon as she was gone, Nathaniel continued. “Turquoise, you might want to go back to using your birth name; it will make it easier to convince anyone you see that you have been bounced around inside the trade the last few years. Either way don’t use Turquoise Draka — it’s too easy to trace. Ravyn, how likely are you to be recognized?”

Ravyn shook her head. “All the vampires I’ve ever known are dead.” Nathaniel gave her a look that said he heard both the implied threat and the lie, but Ravyn volunteered nothing more.

Nathaniel took another sip of tea. He held the liquid in his mouth a few moments, as if thinking of something else. “I normally don’t make a point of arguing the plans of someone who is paying me, but you both know this is insanity don’t you?”

“Insanity makes the rivers flow,” Ravyn replied nonsensically.

“Any more advice you’re willing to share?” Turquoise asked, ignoring Ravyn as well as she could. She bit back a yawn, and then frowned at her watch. It was only noon. Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that even she had limits. She had been up since three in the morning, and had spent much of the time fighting Ravyn. Still, there was enough adrenaline left in her system that she had expected to be wired until next Tuesday.

Nathaniel paused. “None that’s going to mean much to you. With luck, you won’t have any trouble dealing with Jaguar. He’s probably stronger than the vampires you’ve faced before, but he’s weak compared to
Jeshickah. If Jeshickah or Gabriel are there, pray you don’t run into either of them.”

Ravyn’s gaze snapped up from what had been a sleepy-looking contemplation of her chopsticks when she heard the second name.

“Something wrong?” Nathaniel inquired.

She shook her head. A frown crossed her brow briefly and Turquoise saw her stifle a yawn. As always, the yawn was contagious.

The waitress had returned with their check. By the time Nathaniel had taken the appropriate number of bills from his wallet, Turquoise was taking deep breaths in an attempt to keep awake.

One foot in front of the other
, Turquoise ordered herself as she followed Nathaniel to the car. He opened the two passenger-side doors before walking around to the driver’s side. The passenger’s bucket seat sank beneath Turquoise invitingly.

Turquoise was nearly unconscious before she turned her doubling vision on Nathaniel.

You drugged us?
It took two tries to form the thought coherently, and then her lips seemed too dry to say it aloud.

Sleep, Turquoise
, Nathaniel returned, speaking with his mind as he started the car.
It’s a long drive to Midnight, and there’s no reason for you to know the way
.

But…

Sleep
.

T
HERE WERE THREE
cartoon characters to choose from, though of course the best ones were on the square bandages and the tiny ones, the ones no one ever had a use for
.

“There, all patched up,” Cathy announced. “You take care of Bert for me,” she commanded. The eight-year-old boy grinned, any pain from the scrape on his shin forgotten in the swath of
Sesame Street
bandages, and kissed his sister on the cheek before hopping down
.

Tommy scampered off about the time that her dad descended the stairs. “That boy gets into more trouble in one afternoon …” He shook his head, still smiling. “He’s lucky to have you. Most fifteen-year-old girls have better things to do than take care of their brothers
.”

Cathy shrugged. It sounded like Mr. Minate was about to launch into another of his inspirational talks
.

“Honestly.” Right on cue. “Some people only care about themselves. They use things; they destroy. You’re … you’re a creator, a builder. A healer, not a user
.”

Cathy shook off the words using the traditional “nod and
smile” approach. Her father seemed to realize he had descended into the depths of hokey advice again, and gave her an impulsive hug. “Don’t let anyone change you, Cathy
.”

The dream crumbled, and Turquoise wrenched herself away from sleep, trying to gather her bearings.
You are not that innocent girl anymore. You are Turquoise Draka, a high-ranking member of Crimson, and a vampire hunter — one of the best
. She pushed the memories away.

She was on a job. Memories had no place here.

She was sprawled across the passenger seat of Nathaniel’s car, with a kink in her back where someone seemed to have tied the muscles into a square knot. She rotated her shoulders, cautiously peering out the car’s window as she pushed the remnants of her dream away.

They were parked at a gas station. Through the window, she could see Nathaniel speaking to the cashier, an attractive young woman.

Flirt
, Turquoise thought without bitterness, as she saw the cashier leaning forward, giving her customer an excellent view. Her hand lingered, fingers brushing over Nathaniel’s as she handed him his change.

Turquoise heard Ravyn starting to come to, as she waited for Nathaniel to get back in the car so she could grill him. It was dusk already; she wanted to know when they would arrive in Midnight.

She had just reached for her door handle, ready to confront the vampire, when she saw how the cashier’s flirting had paid off.

Nathaniel was holding the girl gently, almost in an embrace, one arm around her waist and his other hand on the back of her arched neck.

Turquoise stretched, turning away from the scene, and then fumbled with the radio dial for a few seconds, finding only static. Nathaniel was too discreet to kill the girl, and he had to feed sometime.

Ravyn grumbled a curse. “What the hell?” she snarled. “That —”

“We didn’t pay him to tell us where Midnight was,” Turquoise interrupted the other hunter. She had worked with Nathaniel numerous times; she knew how he thought. “And most likely, someone is paying him not to give Midnight’s location away.”

Ravyn grumbled an insult that Turquoise pretended not to hear. “What’s all the drama about this job? I’ve killed older bloodsuckers than this Jeshickah. She might have a bad rap, but that will all change once she’s got a knife in her.”

Turquoise did not respond except to shake her head. Nathaniel obviously did not know that Jeshickah was back. Jillian had said her return was very recent, and since Nathaniel had been avoiding Midnight, it was not surprising that his information was out of date. However, it was always worrisome when a prime source of information was wrong.

She sat back, forcing herself to relax. She could plan once she knew the score; until then, worrying about details was pointless.

Ravyn continued to grumble as Nathaniel bid the cashier adieu. She sank groggily to the floor, and the vampire returned to the car with a new bounce in his step.

Opening the door, he tossed a box of donuts and a soda at Turquoise, who took the drink gratefully; her
mouth was dry as cotton. When Nathaniel offered one to Ravyn, the other hunter refused to do more than glare at the bottle.

“It’s sealed,” he assured her.

“No thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” He dropped the soda into the cup holder. “We’re about ten minutes away from Midnight. If you want anything to eat —”

“No,” Ravyn said again.

Nathaniel chuckled lightly shaking his head. “Turquoise?”

She dug into the donuts. The drug had made her hungry, and who knew how often Midnight fed its humans?

Lost in her own thoughts, Turquoise still could not have missed the shift into Midnight’s territories. The hair rose on the back of her neck, and the skin of her arms tingled; she saw Ravyn shudder as they passed through the almost solid wall of magic.

“Midnight has always had witches on its payroll,” Nathaniel informed them. “They keep unwanted pests from stumbling in.”

They had driven on a single-lane road from a suburban town, through whatever veil Midnight’s witches had put up, past a thick wall of oak and pine trees, and into a different world. It was dark by now, and even the full moon above was all but obliterated by the thick leaves of this unnatural forest.

“We’re here.”

Turquoise found herself looking at a menacing building that could only be Midnight. A path of white marble led from the gates of an imposing iron fence
guarded by iron ravens to the opulent, carved doorway, around which black roses grew. Though the red ground cover was slightly less overgrown, the building had obviously been designed in imitation of the antique painting Turquoise had seen.

Nathaniel swore under his breath, driving off the road to avoid an oncoming car. Sleek claret, the car all but screamed money.

Ravyn whistled, leaning forward in her seat. “Who’s got the Lamborghini?”

“Shut up.” Nathaniel’s voice was crisp. He pushed open his door, every movement tense — not quite fearful, but wary and displeased. “Stay here.”

Turquoise caught his eye, but Nathaniel avoided her gaze. Instead, he approached the woman who had just stepped out of the Lamborghini. Suede encased her long legs — tall, black boots that laced from ankle to mid-thigh over a pair of black pants. The archaic-style boots contrasted with the modern styling of her shirt, which was the burgundy color of an especially bad bruise.

“Nathaniel,” she greeted. Her tone was not friendly, but neither was it openly threatening.

“I heard you had decided not to involve yourself with Jaguar’s project here,” Nathaniel returned, nodding in the general direction of Midnight’s main building.

“That was my plan,” she responded dryly, “but Jaguar’s games here have recently ceased to amuse me.”

“How so?”

“This place is a mockery.” She shook her head in disgust, and then her gaze fell on Turquoise and Ravyn,
who were waiting in the car. “That one looks familiar….” Turquoise’s heart stopped. She had not known her name, but she remembered this woman on sight. Mistress Jeshickah had been a frequent visitor to Turquoise’s tormentor’s home. She had been the only creature in the world Lord Daryl would admit to fearing. Belatedly, Turquoise realized where she had seen the painting of Midnight — also in Lord Daryl’s manor, hanging on the wall of his office. However, Jeshickah’s gaze had settled on Ravyn. “Jared’s pet, wasn’t she?”