Twice Dead (11 page)

The Collector nodded, but her eyes were on me. Watching.

Analyzing. I pressed three fingers over my mouth, covering my yawn as I stared back at her, knowing that, at least at the moment, my face betrayed nothing, particularly not interest.

Returning her stare probably wasn’t exactly respectful, but I’d spent a good deal of my life as a cat, and every cat, everywhere, has mastered the disinterested stare. Her bottom lip twitched, like she’d suppressed a frown or some other disapproving expression, then her gaze slid away, dismissing me.

“This has been a most unenlightening investigation. Should I assume you will compensate me for the loss of one of my collectables?” she asked, her voice deceptively bored, as if she could barely be troubled to look into Luna’s death any longer.

“Of course,” Tatius said, flashing teeth without smiling.

“That is, if fault is found in my people.”

I blinked, trying to push back the exhaustion suddenly pressing down on me. Tatius hadn’t been lying about dawn approaching.

Time for good kittens to be in bed, I suppose.
Tatius’s voice said inside my head.

“Excuse us,” he said aloud. He crooked a finger, and a female vampire pushed off the wall. “Take Kita to our chambers,” he told her when she was only half across the room.

I stiffened at the words.
Our
chambers?

“I—” I didn’t get a chance to finish, or even start. My jaw snapped closed, blocking off my words. I felt an alien smile crawl over my lips as my body moved on its own. Great, one kitten-puppet, made to order.

Tatius leaned down, pressing a kiss against my mouth. A surprisingly chaste kiss. Maybe it just wasn’t fun to control his partner in a kiss—kind of like a teenager making out with a mirror.

Go with Samantha. I’ll be there as soon as I finish here.

And use that nose of yours as you pass the Collector’s
vampires.
With that, he dismissed me and turned back to the Collector.

I glanced at Nathanial. He was staring at me, his mask perfect everywhere but his eyes. And when those lost eyes met mine, he squeezed them shut, looked away. I wished I could have closed my eyes too. Made the vampires all disappear. But I’d made my choice, given my word. Nathanial and I were alive. And I guess I was now going to learn where exactly Tatius and my ‘chambers’ were.

* * * *

I paced across the main room in Tatius’s underground suite. I had no idea if I was still somewhere under Death’s Angel or if these underground hallways had taken me halfway across the city. Samantha had shown me to my new ‘chambers’ which, like most other rooms in this place, were mostly cloth draped stone.

Dawn pressed against me, making each step I took heavier, but I had to keep moving. If I stopped, I’d fall asleep.
I will fall down if I do not lie down soon,
I thought, but the thought sounded like Nathanial’s gentle chiding in my head. Not him broadcasting directly in my brain like Tatius, obviously, but it sounded like something he’d say.

I forced my legs to lift, my knees to bend. My chin hit my chest in mid-motion, but I lifted it again. I really did have to find somewhere to sleep soon because sleep was unavoidable.

Every heartbeat was slower, dawn imminent. I dragged my feet, stumbling.

I needed to close my eyes.

The suite had only three rooms: the sitting chamber where I currently paced, a bedroom, and a bathroom full of every color of hair dye on the market—the vampire should have owned stock in a hair-color company, or maybe he did. No second bedroom was present, and certainly no second bed.

I’d agreed to be Tatius’s companion, not his whore.

Shuffling to the furthest corner of the sitting room, I sank against the wall and slid down. I wasn’t going to his bed, but I had to sleep.

Drawing my knees to my chest, I closed my eyes and surrendered to oblivion.

Chapter Nine

Something blocked my vision.

I blinked, my eyelashes brushing against something solid, yellow, and covering my face.

What the hell?
I reached up, jerking at the thing over my eyes. It crinkled in my grasp.
Paper?

I pulled the thin sheet of paper, my eyes misting at the sharp sting as the tape securing the paper to my forehead ripped free. I sat up, silky crimson sheets falling around me.

Where am I?

I glanced at the note and its large, flowing script.

“We sleep in the bed. Not on the floor.”

Oh crap. I was in Tatius’s bed.

I scrambled from the mattress, nearly tripping as I tried to kick free of the sheets. My feet hit the plush carpet, and I took inventory. I was barefoot, but still dressed in my jeans and sweater, so while he’d moved me out of the sitting room and into his bed, he hadn’t undressed me. Well, except for my coat. I glanced around but didn’t see the familiar gray material. I also didn’t see Tatius.

Thank the moon.

Clothes had been laid out in a chair by the bed, another yellow note taped to the stack. I crept over, recognizing the flowing script as the same as had been taped to my forehead.

“Get dressed. Sam will assist you.”

Great.

I looked over the clothing. There was a short—a very, very short—black dress made out of a shiny black vinyl, a stringy corset that looked like a torture device, fishnets, and black boots made out of the same material as the dress.
Yeah, I
think not.
I dropped the ‘clothes’ back on the chair. There had to be something else to wear in the place.

I headed for the door, but the knob turned under my fingers. I jumped back as the door opened. A tall woman with straight, black hair and a tight, red dress that showed more than it concealed stepped into the room.

“Good, you’re awake,” she said, smiling at me. “Now let’s get you dressed, deary, so I can do your hair and get you to the council room.”

“Samantha?” I asked, remembering the name on Tatius’s note. The woman who’d brought me to Tatius’s room last night had also been a Samantha, but this wasn’t the same woman. Hell, if this was another Samantha, she was the third vampire by that name I’d met in Haven.

Her smile slipped an inch, and she tapped a finger against her cheek, her black polished nail pressing against a small red birthmark. “That’s right,” she said. “You’re new. You wouldn’t know. Well, let’s get this over with.”

She strolled further in the room. Turning, she gave me a wink. “Ready?”

Ready for what?
I didn’t have time to ask.

Her appearance rippled, and like one image unfolding to reveal another, changed. Her long dark hair flowed into blond, her makeup brightened, and her body rounded out to voluptuous curves. Even her dress changed from a revealing red to clinging silver sequins. The only thing that didn’t change was the small red birthmark on her cheek.

“More familiar now?” she asked, twirling and making the edge of her skirt lift.

I blinked, my jaw going slack. I most definitely recognized her now. I’d met her during my first visit to Death’s Angel.

She was probably also the redhead who’d brought me here last night.
But how did she…
“An Illusion?” I asked.

“Like the Hermit?” She shook head and her appearance rippled again, changing back to the dark-haired woman who’d first entered the room. “I’m called the Chameleon. I’m a master soldier.”

She said it like that should mean something to me. I just stared at her. “Soldier?”

“A soldier vampire as opposed to a psychic vamp,” she said, and then, looking at my expression, laughed and shook her head. “Deary, you really are new. It’s a blood-line title. Us solider vamps are stronger, faster, and we can turn humans easier than you psychic vamps, but we don’t have the euphoric bite or the mental powers. Hasn’t the Hermit taught you
anything
?” She didn’t give me a chance to answer. “Well, don’t worry. Tatius will take good care of you. Now let’s get you in that dress.”

An hour later, I was fully dressed—in a manner of speaking—my hair was piled artfully atop my head, and Sam had attacked my face with half a dozen cosmetic brushes.

She stepped back, pursing her lips, but she nodded.

“That should do it, deary. Why don’t you take a look?” She pointed to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room.

I stumbled over, my ankles wobbling in the spike-heeled boots. When I reached the mirror, I scowled at the stranger inside. The corset was indeed a torture device, which Sam had pulled tight enough that I was lucky I didn’t actually need to breathe. It tugged my waist in, making my non-existent hips look rounder and pushing up my chest, exposing maximum amounts of my small cleavage. It could have been a good look. After all, the shiny black dress and thigh high boots transformed me into someone who’d belong on Tatius’s arm. But the woman in the mirror looked uncomfortable, fake.

I turned my back on the mirror.

Samantha stood several steps behind, admiring her handy work. “I think you’re ready. We should get you to Tatius.”

Of course.
She walked out of the room. I started to follow, but as I reached the doorway, a tingle of magic rushed over my skin, and I froze.
Oh no. Gil wouldn’t seriously show up
here, would she?

An unmistakable
pop
sounded from further in the bedroom. Magic filled the air.

Dammit. Not now.
I couldn’t let Samantha see Gil.

“I, uh, forgot something,” I said, grabbing the doorknob.

Samantha looked back over her shoulder. “Wha—”

“Be right back.” I jerked the bedroom door shut.

A fist pounded on the door from the other side. “Kita, what’s going on?”

The knob jiggled in my grasp.
Crap.

I whirled around to face Gil and mouthed the words “Go. Get out.”

“Just five minutes,” the mage said. A bristly wave of magic washed over me, and I fell into blackness that wasn’t true darkness.

* * * *

I screamed. The darkness absorbed the sound before it could escape my throat. A moment? An eternity? I fell through the space between worlds. Or maybe I didn’t fall. But I sure as hell wasn’t standing. I
hated
the void. I was
so
going to hurt Gil.

I swallowed hard. I might hurt Gil, but if Tatius discovered I was gone, he would
kill
Nathanial. I’d bargained for Nathanial’s life with my cooperation. Tatius would definitely consider my disappearance as reneging on that promise. I couldn’t let that happen.

I had to get back to Death’s Angel.

I’d no sooner had the thought than the empty darkness shattered. Light and color exploded around me in a chaotic jumble. I saw stars, literally. Hundreds of pinpricks of light filled my vision.

I squeezed my eyes shut and doubled over as a wave of nausea slammed into me.

“Dammit, Gil. How much time passed?” I gasped the question. The world was too solid, too
real
after the void. But I couldn’t stay wherever she’d taken me. Pushing away from the grass beneath me, I wrenched my eyes open. “You have to get me back to Death’s Angel. Now.”

“This will just take a—”

“Now!”

In my still blurry vision, the pink-coated Gil-ish blob backed up. Then it stopped and little pink arms crossed in front of it.

“No.”

“Gil, I don’t have time for this. Nathanial and I have a situation on our hands. If I don’t get back before Tatius realizes I’m gone—”

“No, Kita Nekai of Firth,” she said, her voice firmer than I’d ever heard it. “No. Have you forgotten the Judge’s mark on your back? He’s out there, searching for proof you are too dangerous to be allowed to live. You told me yourself that you scratched several men when they attacked you months ago. We know Tyler was tagged and became a dangerous rogue. What if one of the others was tagged as well? What if the judge finds him? The judge will blame
you
. I’m doing this to keep you alive, so you should be more appreciative
and
helpful.
” She turned and marched past a stone mausoleum.

My fingers moved reflexively to the small of my back, where, under all the layers of vinyl, the Judge’s mark coiled, the tattoo-like snakes twisting and slithering in the shape of a Celtic knot. Gil was right. I needed to find out if there were any other tagged shifters.
But if Tatius thinks I’ve broken our
agreement… Nathanial…
I looked around. Gil had disappeared around the corner of a crypt.
She said five
minutes.
Hopefully Tatius wouldn’t notice if I was gone for just five minutes. I hurried after Gil.

Or at least I tried to.

It had rained recently, and the ground was moist, soft—not a good thing for four-inch spike heels, especially when I could barely walk in the damn things to start with. The heels sank with every other step, stopping me, making me work to get free again. Then one of the heels snapped.
Dammit!

I rolled the boots down and stepped out of them. Grabbing the boots and the broken heel, I marched in my fishnets across the damp grass. I finally caught up with Gil in front of a cast-iron gate blocking the doorway to a small mausoleum.

A thick chain and padlock ensured the deceased beyond rested in peace.

Great.
Helpful
apparently translated into heavy lifting and lock-picking—nice to be useful.

“Hold onto these.” I shoved the broken boots at Gil, and she made them vanish. Then I reached for my pockets only to remember I was wearing a tight black dress, not my familiar gray duster. “Uh, Gil,” I said, flashing my empty hands. “No lock picks.”

Her dark brows merged into one across her forehead.

“Can’t you snap the chain or something?”

I gave the chain, the links as thick as my wrist, a doubtful glance. Oh yeah, I could just
flick
that apart. No problem.

Riiight.

“Well, if not the chain, maybe the padlock?” she asked.