Night Runner: Falling From The Light Part 6

Malcolm nodded, a little smirk dragging up one side of his lips. The candlelight and shadows did impressive things to the elegant bones of his face, which in turn did powerful things to me. He didn't glamour me. I would have known and resisted even if he had, but he still affected me. His fingers stroked across my forearm, then dipped to caress the inside of my wrist.

"Shall we go on a tour?"

"I kind of like it up here." The center of the floor was open all the way to the ceiling which, since it was mostly dark, seemed miles away. The upper floor was closed to it, but this one was mostly exposed.

"I need to determine who is here," he said. "And it wouldn't hurt to show you off."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." I raised both hands. "Why?"

"I'm not using you as bait. Abel's no longer striking at Bronson or his people. He's considering turning himself in. Your presence will help convince him that he is safe to step forward."

"How am I guaranteeing his safety? I stabbed him last time I saw him. In the face. Believe me when I say that he did not appreciate it."

Mal waved that away, as if it was no big deal. Yet another reason I didn't really want to go down there. I was fragile compared to people who waved off facial slicing. Weak, protected by a system of rules I'd seen broken more times than I wanted to remember.

"We need you to be seen by more than him." He sounded apologetic, but determined, which meant this wasn't optional. "Others are curious. I'd rather escort you than have them trying to sneak up while I'm not here."

I hated having nothing between me and strange vampires but my fear. And Malcolm, who would stand up to anyone who tried to hurt me. I was sure of it, but him wanting to defend me didn't mean he could. I could sense the power inside of each of them, and while I adored him, there were many he wouldn't be able to compete with. I looked down, not wanting to let him see what was churning inside of me. This was part of being with him. Just as his vampirism was a frustration for me, my humanity was a weakness for both of us. It would be easier if he were human, or if I were a vampire. Neither was an option.

I could leave, drive away right now and be comfortable with my life. Except that I'd be leaving him. He couldn't walk away. Not now, not for some time. My leaving wouldn't punish Mal. He'd get over it eventually. I'd become one of those things he ignored, one of those things he got over. But I didn't want him getting over me. I craved the sound of his voice and the feel of him, the fact that being with him made me feel like I was special without anything about me changing. It was difficult to admit that, even in the privacy of my own mind. It seemed risky, liking someone so much, especially someone in a compromised situation. But the promise of how happy we could be, if we didn't have any obligations, had me building little fantasies in my head.

"We don't have to do it right now," he said, his energy snuffed like a candle as he pulled it tight. Hiding his disappointment. It still stung. I was weak but I wasn't a coward. Chev had said it would be cool so long as I had a chaperone.

"We won't have to do this when you're done with Bronson's contract, right?" I slid to the end of the booth.

"We'll do whatever we want." He smoothed his hand over his torso. He'd changed on the way down and wore a black tie over a gray s.h.i.+rt. His pants were charcoal, fitted, which did great things to his thighs. I'd thought that pants were pants until I'd seen the way he wore them.

He was also in full vampire mode, so pale that his lips, eyes, and hair were the only things that kept him from being a black-and-white cutout in the richly colored room. He touched my arm, and heat flooded me. I couldn't keep my eyes off his mouth as he pulled me up. He trailed a finger up to my bare shoulder, then along the high neck of my black s.h.i.+rt.

The wardrobe provided for me revolved around the throat. Everything either covered it while offering samples of other skin, or fell away to leave it completely uncovered. I used to squirm inside of three thick layers to see humans in vampire lounges dressed like that. On display.

"Stay close," he said. "If something upsets you, swallow it. Remember that this is all a show. Nothing here matters."

"What happens at Tenth World stays at Tenth World? Like Vegas, only the glow eyes are real?"

He smiled, but the expression sharpened as we left the small room. The collective feel of vampire swirled and fizzed in the air, and I gripped the banister as we descended the wide staircase. Face blank, I tried to match my strides to Mal's. He raised his chin as he peered around the room, attention everywhere other than me. But his energy, warm and intangibly dense, ran over my skin. It condensed in a strategic location, governed by his will, and, tense and startled, I jerked.

"Malcolm," I hissed through my teeth. He tilted his head and grinned wickedly, showing a hint of fang.

"You have nothing to be worried about." Leaning close, he brushed his knuckle over my cheekbone and whispered, "Just remember that you're mine."

Jesus. Game on.

He walked and I traipsed along beside him.

"Check out what they've done with the acoustics," Mal said.

All I heard were strings-a real-life string quartet in the corner was cla.s.sing up a song that I vaguely recognized as a country tune-and falling water over a rolling murmur. I watched a female ten feet away. Her lips were moving but I couldn't even catch the edges of her words. Strings and water, an arrhythmic beat and... I glanced at an arrangement of plants at my elbow. Inside, three-foot-long tubes rotated on a copper rod.

"Rain sticks."

"All filled with a precise balance of stones and grains. She's calibrated the public areas to make it more difficult to listen in."

"Clever and elegant."

A shriek cut through the air, a string but decidedly not from the quartet, and more than one of the vampires winced. Mal chuckled.

"That's for those of us who lack common manners. If you want to learn something, you have to work for it." He sounded as though he relished the idea.

We made a slow circuit. The place was impressive enough that the swarm of vampires weren't all that disturbing. Tall, leafy plants and burbling fountains gave the impression of a lush, humid place. A token display of wealth in the middle of the desert, plus clever hiding places for Chev's sound generators. A hallway led to a large sitting area, at the end of which was a bar. For how crowded it was, there were only a few people at the bar itself. Then again, most of the vampires had brought their own refreshments.

"What's his deal?" I discreetly pointed at a very young man with dark hair and bright blue eyes. He also wasn't wearing a s.h.i.+rt, which would have been sweet if the vampires weren't running their d.a.m.n fingers over his bare chest and then licking them.

"Spiced. He ingested something to change the flavor of his blood and, judging by the efficacy, it is too potent." Malcolm's expression brightened.

"What's fun about that?"

"This." He nodded toward two staff converging on the huddle.

The employees halted a few feet away. Their body language was deferential, their gestures small. No show of force, nothing heavy-handed. It was all very civil. I glanced at Mal, who handed me a pale pink c.o.c.ktail in a tall, thin gla.s.s.

"What the frou-frou is th-"

Someone lunged for the boy, who cried out, and the little group exploded into a frenzy of shoving and falling. Ah, that's more like it. I took a sip. Cranberry vodka and a show. Tenth World really was full service.

A ripple went through the air, a wave of force that nearly buckled my knees. Malcolm's arm slid around my waist, his hand closing on mine to keep me from tipping the drink. Time seemed to slow. One of the violinists b.u.mbled a high note, a drawn-out scream that wailed and wailed. Heads turned slowly toward it. Chev appeared, the squabbling vampires tumbling away from her as she strode through them. How was it the suckers were all over the missed note, but not flipping their s.h.i.+t at her manipulating physics?

She looked about fifteen feet tall, the flex of her power so ma.s.sive that it seemed to amplify her physical presence. Time came back on line. Her staff pulled the shaken human to his feet. Chev pulled a lanky blond vampire off of him with a gesture. He hung suspended in the air, fangs fully dropped, eyes round and white.

"Holy s.h.i.+t," I whispered. "You got that kind of juice?"

"n.o.body here has that kind of juice," Malcolm said, holding me tight against his side.

Another worker arrived and handed a paper to Chev. She held it up, but the suspended vampire never took his eyes off of her. His lips moved, forming a single word. Chev nodded, lowered him to the floor, and walked away. I'd half expected her to explode into a cloud of glitter bats and strafe the gaping crowd. But no, off she went, stopping to shake hands with a white-haired vampire wearing pastel pants and a polo s.h.i.+rt. The offending vampire slinked away, his head hanging low.

I turned to Malcolm, forcing myself to blink. He looked delighted with the proceedings. "Her rules are inviolable."

"What's she going to do?"

"There was no harm done, only a breach of etiquette, so she revoked his reservation."

"She's not going to throw him out in the sun, is she?"

"It's night, and no. She saves that treatment for people who steal towels."

I scowled.

"How well do you know her?"

His eyebrows arched at my tone.

"Well enough," he teased. I elbowed him before his ego could inflate. "Her guests make exotic demands. I specialize in procuring the exotic. She's strong as a master here, but doesn't have much clout outside of her territory. For me, filling her orders is...was less dangerous than the things I was usually asked to do. It was a good arrangement."

"A partners.h.i.+p."

"She's loyal as the day is long if you abide by her rules. Which is why this is the one house that I do not mind leaving you alone in. She knows how important you are to me."

I dropped my chin, trying to duck the implication. But I couldn't hide, not with him holding me so tightly.

"For an hour she interrogated me," he went on. "How could I possibly? After all this time? A human, and one that Bronson's taken an interest in?"

I wanted to melt against him. Somehow we were standing in an arena full of vampires and having a moment, and everything inside of me was squirming with discomfort. What the h.e.l.l was I supposed to do with a moment?

"Sydney?"

I shook my head, but then looked up. I couldn't help it. His brow was furrowed, his eyes dark and seeking. Gold smoke rolled through his irises.

"Did you tell her we met during an explosion? That we bonded over an a.s.sa.s.sination attempt?"

"I told her that I've seen you in bad situations and worse, and that you're strong enough to remain yourself." His fingers slid across my back. "Determined. Graceful no matter where you're at. You know what gives you joy and you chase it without losing yourself in the pursuit."

It wasn't a romantic sentiment. These weren't flattering things for a girl to hear, but they were correct things, for me. If I'd spent hours trying to distill what was important to me, I'd have come up with something close. Stay myself. Have a worthwhile life. He recognized me, and he valued what he saw. Probably for a reason.

"It's easy to get lost," I said. His eyes tightened, and then slid away from me. His hand slid down until his palm covered my a.s.s. I twitched, stilling when he made a low noise without opening his mouth. A warning and reminder that, out here, I belonged to him. Public displays of affection had never felt so cheap. So much for our moment.

"Sir." One of Chev's people stopped in front of us. Her ink-black hair was long and s.h.i.+ny, her skin was polished sand. "We're going to be hosting an experience in a few minutes."

"How exciting. What sort of scene?"

"Old-world manners and high style. No active feeding."

Malcolm squeezed my a.s.s and the female blinked, light blue was.h.i.+ng through her irises.

"Chev asks that you depart the room for a half hour if you find these parameters restrictive."

"Finish your drink, dear," Malcolm said. The lounge was clearing out, except for a few more sedentary groups. Other groups moved in, kitted out in jewels, tuxedos, and sophisticated updos. I finished my drink and slid it back toward the bartender. Our moment had been trumped by a human getting a taste of the vampire lifestyle. An intentionally polite and PG version for someone who'd return to the media or his friends-no doubt all part of a rich, influential group-to rave about how civilized and beautiful vampires were. An image they cultivated.

"Even this place isn't immune to the PR machine?" I asked as we followed the crowd.

"Tenth World is ideally placed," Malcolm said, leaning down to brush his lips against my temple. "For humans too scared to actually venture into our territory."

"They think Alaska's still theirs," I murmured. He laughed quietly.

"Not the people in power. Have you ever seen..."

I followed his line of sight when he trailed off, catching a glimpse of a broad, deep-in all ways large-vampire with orange hair that hung softly past his shoulders.

"Who's that?" I asked.

"An opportunity." He guided me down a wide hallway, his hand now on my back. The walls were covered in twelve-inch-by-twelve-inch square mirrors. In the stuttered reflection, I appeared to be talking to myself.

"I'm not understanding your use of the word opportunity here," I whispered. "Shouldn't we be moving toward that guy?"

"He'll find us. His name is Niall MacInness. His hive is mostly family relations, so they have to be differentiated by given name, but their surname has become a kind of brand. Here we are."

We entered a room lined with thick hanging curtains. The walls started white, went through pink toward red, and ended up deep burgundy at the far end of the room. It should have been tacky, but somehow came off as luxurious, maybe because of the vaulted ceilings and the warm glow of the gas lamps.

The room itself tapered, starting with four widely s.p.a.ced card tables near the entrance and ending with a single table at the far end. Floor personnel counted chips and escorted players from table to table. It was quieter here, only murmurs, shuffling, and the distinctive clink of chips breaking the silence.

"What's the brand known for?" I asked. "Service with a smile?"

"Resourcefulness." Malcolm loosened his tie, grabbed my hand, and led me into the room. A handful of humans roamed between the tables, wearing short red ap.r.o.ns over their black uniforms. They were all striking, some more distinct than beautiful. Their smiles appeared vaguely distracted, like they were all wondering if they'd left the oven on. Malcolm signaled to a member of the staff, who crossed quickly to us. Not full vampire speed, but definitely not trying to hide it. The casino must be off-limits for experiences.

"I'd like to reopen my account," Mal said.

"Of course, Mr. Kelly."

Nearby, a vampire touched the arm of one of the girls in black. It wasn't a violent act, not even possessive, but I s.h.i.+fted uneasily, looking away only to look back a moment later. She crouched between his chair and a small side table, talking, smiling at something he said. I relaxed incrementally. Maybe they were friends. Not every human-vampire interaction was terrible. She pulled a bundle of cloth out of her ap.r.o.n and unrolled it on the table. A knife, a rolled bandage, and an elegant little cordial gla.s.s.

I gritted my teeth and locked down against the shudder that threatened to rattle right through me. I was in a cave full of vampires at night. Even if I ran, I couldn't get away. The second I acknowledged it, the full strength of the a.s.sembled suckers pressed against me. If the force had been tangible it would have crushed me. My heart fluttered before settling into a hard, regular thump. I kept my hands still, my knees locked. I'd made a mistake, not in coming down to the floor but in pretending that being here was anything other than business. Mal made it easy to forget. This was his element. But I couldn't stand under his shade and think these people wouldn't turn on me the moment he stepped away.

"Syd."

"What?"

Mal's eyes went honey light.

"I'm fine."

"Malcolm Kelly," a voice boomed. I jerked when Mal spun away, his hand gripped in the vigorous, shaking paw of the giant Irishman.

"Niall," Mal exclaimed, "how the h.e.l.l are you?"

"Rolling in the good life, son. I heard you ran Hendrick Vorster through with a sword in some b.l.o.o.d.y jungle in South America. 'Bout time, I say. Never liked that fellow after Deirdre. You ask me, he always was a-" He enunciated the next few words as if he were taking hard bites of out a dictionary. "Piece. Of. s.h.i.+t."

"He's a dead piece of s.h.i.+t now, so take a few breaths and relieve yourself of the weight of holding that opinion inside."

They laughed while I marveled at how smooth-downright delighted-Mal sounded. He and Hendrick Vorster had been changed together. They'd been friends before and, for a while, friends after. He hadn't wanted to kill him. So what did that reaction make MacInness? Friend, foe, or the inhabitant of some gray s.p.a.ce in between?

"Cheeky p.r.i.c.k. Fancy a drop? I've got a pack of lovelies." MacInness jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward a gaggle of girls in short skirts and mile-high sandals. One of them gave Malcolm a finger wave, then winked at me. With the slight flush from the day's sun and the heavy black liner catching in the creases around my eyes, I clearly wasn't a vampire. Maybe she was just friendly. She tilted her head to show off a vivid bite mark. One feeder communing with another. I half closed my eyes in case my anger caused laser beams to shoot from them.

"Your generosity is as endless as your locks, but I'm well taken care of. On a holiday with my own lovely." Malcolm's voice drifted until it picked up a little of Niall's Irish accent. Wasn't he full of surprises?

"How about a game, then? We've years of catching up to do." MacInness gave me an appraising glance. "She compares favorably, I suppose. Should we play for money, or something else?"

Professional, professional, professional. What would it cost to have ocular laser beams installed?

"Niall," Mal chided, his hand firm around my ribs. "You know that your money is one of my very favorite things. In fact, right now it's close to a million of my favorite things."