Chapter 16

I'd hopedto sit and chat with Adri before my meeting with Charles, but she was at the door checking IDs when I arrived at Hawthorne's and it was a busy night. We exchanged quick hellos and I went inside to find a table and a much-needed drink.

I squeezed in at the bar and flagged Pete down to order a beer. He slid it over to me, took my money, and gave me a quick smile before turning to grab a bottle of vodka off a shelf. I took my drink and headed toward my usual booth, hoping to find it empty.

To my disappointment, it was occupied by a lone man, sitting back in the shadows where I usually took refuge. I sighed and started back toward the bar.

A familiar voice stopped me. "Ms. Worth."

I turned around.

The man in the shadows leaned forward into the light. It took a moment for me to recognize him in civilian clothes, but I'd know those ice-blue eyes anywhere.

"Special Agent Lake," I said, startled. "I wouldn't have thought this would be your scene." I wasn't sure what Lake's scene would be, but a supe bar owned by a vampire seemed an unlikely place for a SPEMA agent to be spending his off-hours.

"Hawthorne's has the finest selection of bourbon in the city." Lake raised his glass. "The owner is a connoisseur, or so I've been told."

"That he is," I murmured.

He regarded me with raised eyebrows. "Are you acquainted with the owner?"

Before I could answer, I felt someone come up next to me. Even in my high-heeled boots, Bryan towered over me. "Miss Alice," he rumbled. "Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all," I said, hoping my relief didn't show. "Am I wanted upstairs?"

"You are."

Lake studied me. I might have been imagining it, but I thought the fact I was here to see Charles Vaughan might have piqued the SPEMA agent's interest and raised his estimation of me by several degrees—neither of which pleased me. I would rather Lake forget about me altogether.

"Enjoy your bourbon," I told him.

"I'm sure I will." A small smile turned up the corners of Lake's mouth.

I turned to follow Bryan's enormous back through the crowd, depositing my beer bottle in a trash can as I passed. The enforcer and I walked down the hall and through a door marked Private.

As we started up the stairs, I said quietly, "You know he's a fed."

Bryan glanced at me. "We are aware. Agent Lake comes in every few weeks, has one drink of good bourbon, and then leaves."

"Anybody know why?"

"No."

"Hmm."

We climbed three flights of stairs, went through another, much heavier door, and entered another world.

The floor above the bar was soundproofed. I knew there was music blaring downstairs, but I couldn't hear a thing. The carpet was thick, the lighting dim. It was the kind of understated elegance that would appeal to a vampire.

I'd first met Charles when I worked for Mark Dunlap. Mark was a longtime associate of the Vampire Court, doing investigative work for them. Most mages steer clear of the fangy undead, since mage blood is particularly tasty for vamps. Some are able to absorb magical energy that way, enhancing their own innate powers, and drinking mage blood can become addictive. There was a lot of mutual respect between Mark and the Court, though, and since I had no particular objection, we'd ended up doing a lot of work for them. It was lucrative as well; the vamps wanted discretion, and they were willing to pay premium rates for it.

When I left Mark's firm, I was no longer on retainer for them, but Charles had hired me on a per-job basis to do some work for his businesses and the Court when Mark wasn't available. I'd proven myself to be trustworthy and capable. Charles started inviting me up to his office for a drink—liquor, not blood—from time to time when I was in Hawthorne's. He told me my bluntness was a refreshing break from the lies, evasions, and machinations of vamp politics.

Charles had also made it clear he wouldn't mind a roll in the hay, but so far I'd managed to steer clear of that particular minefield. I figured if he was that determined, he'd have pressed the issue by now, so maybe his overtures were just one more way for a two-hundred-year-old vamp to pass the time.

I checked my reflection in the mirror in the hall. I'd dressed up for my meeting in slim black slacks, an emerald-green, cowl-neck sweater, and high-heeled ankle boots, and pulled my hair up. A pair of dangly, gold earrings danced above my shoulders.

"You look very nice," Bryan said.

"Why, thank you, Bryan." I patted his arm. "We mustn't keep him waiting, I guess."

He led me down the hall to a set of double doors on the end, where two guards almost as large as him stood at attention. He knocked twice with a fist the size of a football.

From inside, I heard Charles's voice: "Come in."

Bryan opened the heavy door and stepped aside so I could enter Charles Vaughan's office.

"Hello, Alice." Charles stood and came around his enormous desk to meet me. As usual, the strikingly handsome, dark-haired vampire wore an expensive, tailored suit cut to flatter his lean physique and a watch that probably cost almost as much as my house. He would forever appear to be in his early thirties, though no one looking into those ageless eyes would mistake him for a young man. His dark suit, hair, and eyes contrasted sharply with his pallor, but his coloring looked vamp-healthy, meaning he'd probably fed already this evening. His skin, when he took my hands, felt characteristically cool to the touch.

As he bent to kiss my cheek, he inhaled almost soundlessly, then chuckled softly. My pack alliance had been noted.

Charles sat back down, and I sank into a leather armchair across from him. Bryan closed the door and took up a position next to it.

The vampire closed a file on his desk and folded his hands on top of it. "I hoped I might have time to honor your request for a consultation on Thursday, but as I am sure Mr. Smith told you, my meeting ran very late."

"Not a problem at all," I said. "I figured it was a long shot anyway, just dropping in unannounced. Rude of me, really, but I was out and about and thought I'd risk it."

"Scotch?" Charles gestured at his extensive private bar.

"No, thank you. But if you have water, I'd love some."

He nodded at Bryan, who went to the bar and pulled out a glass bottle of imported artisanal water. He opened it, wrapped the cold bottle in a cloth napkin, and handed it to me. I sipped the fancy water. The label said its contents were filtered through natural lava rocks in a particular region of Iceland. I couldn't tell the difference between it and what you got out of a vending machine, but what did I know?

"I hope you are recovered from your recent misadventures," Charles said.

"I am, thanks. I ran into some black wards on Wednesday night, and on Thursday, I had a spell fail and got burned by uncontrolled magic."

His eyebrows raised. "Horrifying. Your job is dangerous at the most unexpected times."

"There's always an unpredictable element when magic is involved. Even the best of us can be surprised. The case I'm currently working on started out pretty straightforward but has quickly turned…interesting."

"It would seem so, if you encountered both black wards and uncontrolled magic in a single day," Charles said. "I am pleased to see you survived."

"It was a near thing, both times," I confessed. "It's been a rough couple of days."

"And yet, you drink water. Are you sure I cannot tempt you with a fifty-year single malt Scotch? I have looked forward to sharing a glass with someone who appreciates such a fine whisky."

A fifty-year-old single malt was an offer I couldn't refuse. "Well, if you insist."

"Mr. Smith, two glasses of the Glenfiddich, if you would."

We paused the conversation to watch with appropriate reverence as Bryan took out the bottle, unstoppered it, and poured us each two fingers of Scotch. We toasted each other and sipped. I closed my eyes to better appreciate the taste and smoothness of the whisky.

"Excellent." Charles clearly enjoyed both his drink and my reaction. "Simply superb."

"Definitely the best I've ever had. Thank you very much for sharing it with me."

"It is my pleasure."

We savored the Scotch a bit more, then Charles asked, "Have you had any contact with Mark Dunlap recently?"

I blinked in surprise. "No, we haven't spoken in years."

"He was puzzled by your decision to work independently, and hurt, I think."

"I know." I pondered my Scotch. "But I like being my own boss."

"Surely it has been difficult to establish yourself as a new investigator," Charles commented. "Mark has an excellent reputation and connections in both the supernatural and mundane worlds. He told me you did not attempt to steal any of his clients when you left."

"I wanted to leave Mark on good terms," I said a bit defensively. "I had no intention of poaching his clients. I'd still be friendly today if it were up to me, but Mark made it pretty clear he had no interest in talking to me."

"Perhaps it is presumptuous for me to say this, but I think you might find Mark's attitude has mellowed." He turned his glass in his hands, watching the light reflecting in the amber liquid. "Recently, he mentioned he had heard only good reports on your work. I detected a certain…regret regarding how you parted company."

"Interesting." On the one hand, part of me still smarted when I thought of the way Mark had reacted when I'd told him I was leaving, but years had passed, and perhaps it was time to let that go. I wasn't sure what kind of relationship we'd have these days. Were we colleagues? Competitors? It was hard to say exactly. Should I pick up the phone and call him? Then again, he could have called me at any point in the past three years if he was feeling regretful.

Finally, I said, "Well, the next time you speak with Mark, tell him I said hello."

"I will do that. What brings you to me this evening?"

I sipped my Scotch. "I came across an interesting situation and thought you might have some insights."

"How can I help?" Charles leaned back in his chair.

I weighed my words carefully, as was always prudent when dealing with vampires. "I met a young woman who has low-level magic, but a family member bound her, probably when she was very young, and until a few days ago, she had no idea she or anyone in her family had any such abilities."

He raised an elegant eyebrow. "How distressing for her."

"It was quite a shock." I smiled at the understatement. "She has no control over her magic. Because the family member who bound her passed away unexpectedly a few months ago, the binding spells began to fade, which is how we came to discover her hidden talent."

"Ah, I understand. The ‘uncontrolled magic' accident you experienced on Thursday."

"Yes. I was able to bind her magic again, so things are good for now, but she's decided she wants to learn how to control and use her magic."

"I am glad to hear it. One should always embrace one's natural abilities. What is the problem?"

"The problem is that her family has avoided any attention from either the cabals or SPEMA and she'd like to keep it that way. Since she's an adult, her magic is at full strength. She needs a strong fire and air mage who can teach her to control her magic, someone who isn't part of a cabal, and who can be trusted not to rat her out to the Agency."

"And my role in this?"

I leaned forward. "You know a lot of people, and you're an excellent judge of character. I was hoping you could find someone who would be a good mentor, and who wouldn't sell her out for favors or money."

Charles looked pleased at my praise. "It is a tall order to find someone honorable these days," he mused. "It is fortunate her power is not strong. She is less of a prize."

"I had the same thought. She's low-level air, mid-level fire. It's nothing a cabal would pay much for; mages of her power level are a dime a dozen. She does have null abilities, but there's nothing unique about that." Okay, I was fudging a little there, since Natalie could null a mage almost instantly and break circles simply by touching them, but he didn't need to know that.

Charles steepled his fingers. "I will need to make discreet inquiries. It may take some time to find the best candidates. Let me ask this: why not become her mentor yourself?"

"A couple of reasons. First, I don't have time," I admitted. "My schedule is completely erratic because of my job. She'll need someone to spend a lot of time with her, especially in the beginning, and I can't afford to take time off. Second, I don't have fire magic, and she really needs to work with someone with the same abilities she has. Third, I have no experience with training a new mage, much less an adult with fully developed power. I would suck at it."

Charles chuckled. "I doubt, my dear, if you ‘suck' at anything magic-related at all, but your reasoning is sound. A second question: why not ask around for a mage to train her, rather than come to me?"

Time to be careful. Charles had no idea of my background, or that I was anything more than the mid-level air and earth mage I made myself out to be, and I needed to avoid saying anything that might cause him to suspect otherwise.

"It's mainly a matter of expediency," I said, going for partial truth. "You know more people already than I could meet in a year, and you know them well enough to know if they meet the requirements. No one I know would fit the bill."

"Perfectly logical." Charles finished the last of his Glenfiddich and contemplated his glass. "One must savor such a fine Scotch slowly, and resist the urge to drink it so frequently that it becomes commonplace." He looked at me. "So, now that I know your request, what do you offer in exchange?"

Ah, yes, the proverbial deal with the devil. Money—unless it was in significant quantities—held little interest for wealthy vampires. Their preferred currency was favors. "I have a few possibilities in mind," I said.

"I cannot wait to hear these possibilities." Charles's lips twitched in a hint of a smile.

I raised one finger. "I offer my investigative services in exchange for your time and effort in locating an appropriate mentor for my client. A single employment contract, with prenegotiated duration limit."

He tapped his steepled fingers together and regarded me with half-lidded eyes. "Perhaps."

I raised a second finger. "My expertise in wards and spellwork. I have several new and highly complex wards I can discuss in more detail if you wish. One or more projects, depending on power levels and intricacy involved."

"Including black wards, if I require them?"

"Under specific conditions that I would have to preapprove."

"Understood. Any other offers?"

I blinked at him, rather surprised he didn't jump at the opportunity to have me create wards for him. "Did you have something particular in mind?"

"I do, in fact." Charles leaned forward, his hands folded on his desk. His gaze was suddenly very direct. "I require something very particular indeed."

I began to get an oh shit feeling. "Yes?"

"I would like to drink from you, Alice."

I stared.

Charles's eyes never left mine. "I have known you for almost five years, and never in that time have I tasted your blood. I have never asked, but this is something I have long desired. In return for finding a mentor for your client, I require one drink of your blood, at a time and place to be chosen by you, but within the next month. I am not asking for any intimacy beyond the bite, unless you wish it."

Anxiety surged inside me, but I squashed it and concentrated on keeping my breathing and heartbeat even and slow. One did not show fear in front of a vampire; they found it arousing. Charles could not be allowed to drink from me. He would instantly know I was no mid-level mage. Natalie's magic made her no trophy; I, on the other hand, was a great prize. I couldn't count on our history to protect me from being auctioned off to the highest-bidding cabal.

I looked at Charles and tried to keep my emotions off my face. He'd feel my alarm, but I hoped he'd chalk that up to a fear of being bitten. "I'm no one's cattle," I said quietly, using the slang term for a vamp's food supply.

Behind me, I heard Bryan shift closer to us at my tone. As far as he knew, I was little threat, but his job was to protect Charles. If it came down to it, Bryan would kill me before he'd let me harm the vampire.

"I would not ask you to be," Charles said. "Nor would I want you to be. It is a one-time arrangement."

"I've never allowed any vampire to drink from me." I was surprised at how calm my voice sounded. "I have no plans to do so."

"Even if it is I who does it, and you dictate the terms?" He looked mildly surprised at my reaction. For a normally poker-faced vamp, "mild surprise" was the equivalent of being flabbergasted. I supposed Charles thought I would have no objection to donating a meal, since I'd shown no previous aversion to being around vamps.

Many people craved the bite of a vampire. It could be intensely pleasurable, if the vampire wished it to be. No vampire ever had to go hungry; there were willing donors who happily lined up around the block for the chance to be breakfast, lunch, dinner, or a midnight snack. Countless men and women would climb over each other for a chance at what I was turning down.

How on earth could I extricate myself from this without arousing Charles's suspicion and anger?

"I can't," I told him. "I'm honored you'd ask this of me, Charles, but I won't be a blood meal, for anyone, for any reason."

Charles studied my face. I tried to keep my expression neutral.

Finally, he spoke. "Then I am afraid I cannot help you." His voice was calm, perfectly dispassionate.

My mouth fell open. "Because I won't let you drink my blood, you won't help me find someone to teach my client?"

"Yes."

"Why not?" The question popped out before I could stop it. It sounded far too much like a challenge. My fingers tightened on my glass.

Charles didn't move, though a muscle in his jaw twitched. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.

"I do not owe you any explanation," he said finally, his voice still cold. "But perhaps I will say that I have asked so little, and your refusal has…hurt my feelings."

Oh God. I hurt the feelings of a two-hundred-year-old vampire. I didn't wet my pants, but it was a near thing. My flat refusal was a slap in the face, and I had no way to better explain myself that wouldn't expose my secrets. I'd probably lost an employer and an ally. No more late-night drinks at Hawthorne's.

Because to leave any of the very expensive Scotch would add insult to injury, I drained what little remained and gently set my glass down on the desk. Slowly, I rose, keeping my hands in plain sight. I did nothing that could be read as threatening, very aware of the vampire in front of me and the enforcer at my back.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. The vampire said nothing.

Carefully, I backed toward the door. Charles remained motionless, his eyes on me. I suddenly felt like a gazelle under the watchful stare of a lion.

Just as Bryan reached to open the door for me, Charles spoke. "A moment."

I paused. "Yes?"

Charles rose but stayed behind his desk. "I will contact you soon about a project for the Court that requires wards: a new facility, one hour from the city. If you are available, it will be a lucrative contract."

"Thank you."

"Good night."

"Good night."

Charles remained standing as Bryan opened the door of the office. I backed into the hall, and the door closed in my face.

I'd originally intended to return to the bar after the meeting for another drink or two, and maybe a chat with Adri, but I was rethinking that plan. Despite Charles's parting comments regarding a potential contract from the Court—comments that may or may not have been designed to deescalate a tense situation—the thought of dealing with the noisy, boisterous Saturday-night crowd downstairs was suddenly unappealing.

I returned to the main floor. As I weaved through the crush of people, I noticed Lake was gone and a couple had taken his place in the back corner booth.

I slipped out the front door, giving Adri a quick wave as I passed. It wasn't until I was halfway home that I started to feel the tension seeping out of my shoulders.

When I parked in my driveway, I fired off a quick text: Home. I stuck the phone in my pocket and got out of the car, heading for my front door.

The phone beeped as I unlocked my door. I went inside, locked the door, and went to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Wolf: Meeting went well?

I texted back, then headed for the stairs, cup in hand.

Me: No. We could not agree on terms.

The response came back in seconds. Are you all right?

Me: Unharmed.

Wolf: What did he ask for?

Me: Long story. Will tell you when I see you.

A few minutes went by. I went upstairs and started taking off my clothes and jewelry.

Beep.

Wolf: I have Monday and Tuesday evenings clear as of now. Dinner Monday?

Me: Maybe. Good night.

Wolf: Good night, Allie. Sweet dreams.

I plugged in my phone, stripped, and used soap and water to wash Sean's blood off my wrists and neck. As I changed into pajamas and climbed into bed, I realized I was smiling. With a growl, I turned over to put my back to the phone, curled up under the covers, and fell asleep.