Touch the Dark (26 page)

“Because their souls have already gone to Hell?” he asked, with apparent unconcern for the looks Mircea and Rafe sent him. The others didn't react; Tomas because he was eating, and Louis-César because he was apparently suffering from a severe migraine.

“When I saw how you acted in the Senate, I wondered if you have a death wish. I'm beginning to think you really do.”

“Then you admit they would as soon kill me as not.”

I glanced at Mircea, who was looking like he was contemplating having dessert. “Sooner, at the rate you're going.” I figured I'd better explain before the mage had a conniption. “This guy was part of a group that tried to kill us a few hours ago. But the vamps aren't going to kill him, at least not this time. A warning is given for the first offense, along with an object lesson to make it memorable. If the lesson is impressive enough, most people don't have to be told twice.”

Pritkin looked disgusted. “So they're not monsters and murderous beasts, only misunderstood; is that it?”

Mircea was trying not to laugh. He wasn't trying very hard. I felt my own lips quirk as I caught his eye. “Are you a murderous beast, Mircea?”

“Of a certainty,
dulceaţă
,” he replied cheerfully.

Mircea winked at me before trading his cowed victim for another that had just been brought in. This one was human, part of Tony's daytime muscle, I assumed. He must have been one of those hired for brawn instead of brains, because his hazel eyes were bright with outrage he didn't bother to hide. Apparently he'd already mouthed off to someone, since in addition to the chains he wore on his ankles and wrists, he had a gag stuffed in his mouth. I glanced at Pritkin and saw his jaw tighten. If he objected to weres being given the usual punishment for defiance, what was he going to think about a human undergoing it?

Maybe because the young man looked so rebellious, Mircea passed over the neck, the usual feeding point, with nothing more than a contemplative glance. The man was physically close to perfect, with tousled copper curls, classic features and well-defined muscles. But there was a small scar just below his left nipple that drew Mircea's attention. The vampire's long, white fingers ran across the slight blemish as if he was memorizing it — or, knowing Mircea, thinking of adding a matching one on the other side. The breast is another popular feeding point, and the man stiffened as if he knew that. I saw sweat bloom on his upper lip and he swallowed nervously. The nub hidden in the man's thick ginger body hair drew up temptingly under Mircea's touch, and his nerve broke. He jerked away, eyes wide, but got all of about a foot before a nod from Mircea caused Rafe to return him to the sofa.

Their captive tensed from the feel of Rafe's body pressed up behind him, one arm circling his waist like a vise. He seemed more worried about him than about the way Mircea was eyeing his pulse points as if trying to decide between favorite items on a menu. The man looked up and met my eyes and his own widened in surprise, as if that was the first time he'd noticed that the room held other people. The flush that already colored his cheeks quickly ran halfway down his chest. It made me wonder how long he'd been with Tony's outfit; most of them hadn't blushed even when they were alive. But he forgot about me when Mircea's deceptively slender hands suddenly forced him to his knees. He hadn't realized that struggling only made it more fun for the vamps, and the muscles of his calves and upper legs bulged as he resisted. I saw the direction of Mircea's gaze and knew what was coming.

The man was dragged onto the sofa and his knees pried apart. He seemed more concerned about being exposed in front of a group of strangers than about his imminent danger, but when a set of perfect, gleaming fangs appeared on Mircea's handsome face, he forgot to be embarrassed. He tried to roll off the couch, but his shackled ankles and arms allowed him little purchase. Mircea hauled him back to his knees to get a better angle but did not take him immediately. He drew it out, letting the man's panic rise as he discovered exactly how strong a vampire can be. He bucked uselessly against Mircea's hold, small whimpers escaping from behind the gag. Even I could see the femoral artery, bulging noticeably in his straining thigh.

When his struggles finally lessened, either because of fatigue or because nothing else had happened, Mircea struck, sinking those fangs into the silky skin at the junction of the man's hip. A muffled scream came from behind the gag when the artery was pierced, and his eyes bulged when Mircea's lips sealed over the bite and he began to suck. The struggles renewed, but Rafe moved up to ensure that his master could feed without having to bother to restrain his meal.

Pritkin flinched noticeably when Rafe suddenly bit into the straining jugular, but he was smart enough not to interfere. The vamps were well within their rights as long as the feeding stopped short of death. Looking at their captive's expression, I wondered whether anyone had told him that. Somehow I doubted it. But although it wasn't a pretty scene, I didn't like the revulsion on the mage's face. The man was an attempted murderer who was getting off pretty damned lightly. And Pritkin certainly had no room to talk. “How many did you kill tonight, Pritkin? Half a dozen? More? I didn't keep count.”

The mage bristled. “That was in self-defense, and to protect you from the results of your folly.” He looked at the man, who had started to sob like a baby, with growing anger. He flushed and his hands clenched at his sides as the captive contorted his body wildly in an effort to get away from the burning pain every pull of their lips caused. “This is grotesque.”

I would have considered it far more grotesque if I'd been the one who ended up writhing in agony so the guy could bag a reward from Tony. But then, I'm practical like that. “They have to feed. Would you prefer it if they hunted at large like in the bad old days?”

“Everyone knows they feed from anyone who can't defend themselves! The Circle was created to give humans a fighting chance against such things, and yet you, supposedly a human, sit there defending them! You disgust me more than they do.” Pritkin wanted a fight. It was in the set of his jaw and his wide-legged stance. He wanted to hit someone but didn't dare, so verbal assault it would be. Too bad I wasn't feeling very diplomatic.

“I'm as human as you are, and I saw you tonight, Pritkin. Until the Black Circle got involved, you were having a good time and you know it. Don't give me that self-defense crap. You're a predator. I grew up around enough to know.”

I broke off because the man on the sofa chose that moment to put on a show. The vamps must have felt it coming, because they sat back to watch as their victim was gripped by a fine shiver that spread along the length of him like tremors from an earthquake. A few seconds later, he arched his back at what seemed an impossible angle, so that only his bound hands and the back of his thighs were still in contact with the sofa. Then he climaxed powerfully, spasming helplessly again and again. His head was thrown back and his eyes wanted to close, but Rafe caught his gaze and held it, refusing his prisoner the slightest chance of distancing himself from what was happening. The man stared at him, wide-eyed and shaking, as he spilled over his own tanned skin and the polished wood of the floor.

It seemed to go on forever, as if his body couldn't calm itself and he would keep erupting until his heart gave out. But finally he finished, slumping bonelessly forward so that his hair covered his flushed face. The vamps gave a slight shove, and his body fell heavily onto the floor between the sofa and coffee table. I realized that they'd been waiting for the sexual side effect of the feeding to hit him before they stopped, banking on the triple whammy of humiliation, pain and fear being enough to ensure that they never had to deal with him again. Judging by the shattered look on his face as he lay there, trembling, I was betting they had succeeded.

The mage was resolutely not looking at the pathetic heap on the floor. I felt slightly guilty that I wasn't more upset about the man myself. I wasn't sure that I ought to be, but looking at Pritkin's set face made me wonder. It also made me defensive, although what I told him was the truth. “Vamps don't go around killing humans unless they try to kill them first. The Senate doesn't like it — too many chances someone will see and start dangerous rumors, or that a new vamp will fail to dispose of a body and cause an investigation. Unrestricted hunting hasn't been legal since 1583, when the European Senate made a deal with your Circle. Even Tony's guys don't do it.”

“I am relieved to hear it,” Mircea commented, taking out a monogrammed handkerchief to wipe his mouth. Other than his lips, he didn't have a speck on him — practice, I supposed. Since he hadn't bothered to just absorb the excess blood, I figured he was pretty sated. The guy must have held on longer than he'd expected.

“I know what their laws say.” Pritkin looked around the room with a sneer: I was beginning to wonder if he had another expression. “But there are thousands of vampires spread all over the world. Most of them feed at least every other day. That is a lot of enemies. Or are you going to tell me that they live off the blood of animals? I know that's a lie!”

“Don't put words in my mouth.” I noticed that none of the vamps were bothering to defend themselves. Maybe they were tired of it, or didn't think Pritkin worth the trouble. Or maybe they doubted that he'd believe anything they had to say. They were probably right, but I didn't feel like giving him the last word. “Vamps don't waste blood, ever, so any living enemies are dealt with like this. But they are allowed a second chance, which from what I hear is more than your Circle gives rogue magic users. Only vamps get an automatic death sentence for defiance.”

Pritkin watched helplessly as the human tried to crawl away on his bound limbs, his eyes still wide with shock, but he was hobbled by his exhaustion and the tight restraints. Lack of blood made him clumsy, and he slipped twice on the sticky floor. He finally made it to the door by using an undulating wiggle, but it did him little good since he couldn't get the latch open. He tried using his mouth, but failed, and had to turn and face the room again to give his bound hands access to the door. I finally felt a twinge of pity for him, despite the fact that he'd probably have put a bullet in my brain earlier without a second thought. It was hard to think of him as a cold-blooded killer, with his flaccid sex drooping between his sticky thighs, and his neck and groin oozing thin lines of blood that he couldn't wipe away. I was really glad that he didn't meet anyone's eyes this time.

Pritkin's face was angry when he turned to me. “You're telling me they punish their own people more than outsiders? You lie. Monsters understand nothing of mercy!”

I shrugged. “Believe what you want, but it's true. You don't see any vamps here, do you? If any were taken prisoner, they'll have been staked by now.” Assuming they responded well to questioning. If not, Jack was probably having a field day.

“It isn't a matter of mercy, Mage Pritkin, I assure you,” Rafe put in, his eyes on the man who was now all but clawing at the door with his bound hands. “We simply do not feel that your people are much of a threat.” Pritkin made a sound of disgust and marched over to swing open the door. The man fell backwards into the hall, and several servants looked at him in surprise before hauling him away for his lecture. I doubted he needed it.

“So how do they usually feed? Do you expect me to believe they won't finish what they started later, when there are no witnesses?” Pritkin obviously wasn't going to let it go. I couldn't believe he didn't know. I had never seen a mage show surprise at Tony's during a feeding. Maybe they had simply learned to school their faces, but my impression had been that it wasn't a big secret. Yet Pritkin seemed genuinely confused. What the hell do they teach war mages, anyway?

I looked at Mircea. “You want to show him?”

Mircea laughed delightedly. “I would love to,
dulceaţă
, but I don't trust myself. The temptation to rid us of his annoying presence would be too great, and the Consul said most specifically that he was not to be harmed unless he gave cause.” He slid his eyes in Pritkin's direction. “And alas, so far he has behaved himself.”

“I meant with me.”

“No.” Tomas spoke up, causing me to jump slightly in surprise. He'd been so quiet that I'd almost forgotten he was there. “She is not to be harmed.”

“I think, Tomas, that is the point our dear Cassandra is trying to make,” Mircea replied. “That, done properly, it is not harmful.” He looked at me. “You must have been a frequent donor at court, yes? You understand the procedure?”

I nodded. “Yep, not to mention feeding a ravenous ghost on occasion.” Having done both, I knew that what the vamps did was little different than Billy Joe's feedings, except that he could absorb life energy directly and they had to get it through blood. Billy was able to skip that step, a good thing since his body was somewhere at the bottom of the Mississippi. He'd have trouble metabolizing even a liquid diet.

Mircea glided over with that peculiar grace of his. All the undead have it, but he made even most vamps look clumsy. He was an old hand at this; I knew he wouldn't hurt me and he was too full to take much. It was Billy Joe I would have liked to throttle — if the coward hadn't run off somewhere. Billy's feedings normally didn't bother me, since I could replenish the energy he took with food and rest. But he knew the rules about how much I was willing to donate at once, and tonight he'd broken them all to hell.

“What are you going to do?” Pritkin started forward, but Tomas would not let him by. Neither looked happy.

“Make sure he has a good view, Tomas,” Mircea said, looking down at me thoughtfully. “I will do this only once. Cassandra is already tired, and we have much to talk about. I do not wish to put her to sleep.” He smiled and cupped my chin in his hand. He felt warm, but then, he always did. The old ones don't have temperature fluctuations based on whether they have eaten recently or not. “I will not hurt you,” he promised.