Wuthering Frights Part 13

He paused for a few seconds, which had to mean something was on his mind. "I prefer to discuss the specifics in person, sweet Dulcie. I will send a vehicle for you."

"I have my bike," I started.

"No," he interrupted. "I prefer your visit be clandestine, sweet."

I was surprised and intrigued, I couldn't help it. "Okay, I'll see you soon then, I guess."

Fourteen.

It was only twenty minutes later when Bram's black limo arrived in front of my apartment, chauffeured by a long-haired, bearded werewolf. The were was even dressed in a black suit, white-collared s.h.i.+rt, black tie and a funny little hat that made him look like he just stepped off the Newsies lot. I'd seen the guy previously around No Regrets a few times. I think he also moonlighted as Bram's bodyguard. Why would a vampire need a bodyguard? I had no clue-I think it was mostly for show. It seemed everything Bram did was merely for the sake of doing it.

"Thanks," I said as the were opened the door for me and I seated myself in the plush black leather interior of the limo. I was immediately enveloped by Bram's smell-something slightly exotic and foreign, but captivating all the same.

The ride to No Regrets was quick and silent, which was just as well because I wasn't in the mood for small talk. Instead, I found my thoughts centered on why Bram requested the pleasure of my company this evening and more importantly, why was he being so secretive about it?

I lost track of time and when I felt the limo come to a stop, it didn't even seem like ten minutes had gone by. I smiled my thanks to the were when he opened the door for me and helped me out of the limo. Then he escorted me to the back entrance of No Regrets. So Bram hadn't been fibbing when he'd said he wanted my visit to remain secret. And I couldn't even say that it offended me ... Nope, I was getting used to skulking in shadows.

I'd used the back entrance of No Regrets a few times when I'd visited Bram in the past (basically when I needed information from him and he wanted me kept on the down low) so when the chauffeur bypa.s.sed the door and started down the alley ab.u.t.ting Bram's nightclub, I was instantly on high alert.

"Um, isn't it this way?" I asked, motioning to the back door.

The were shook his head and his voice was deep when he spoke. "Bram insisted you enter through the alleyway." Figuring I was relatively safe with the werewolf, since he was in Bram's employ, I followed him into the alley where he paused at the top of a flight of stairs. He glanced back at me as if to make sure I was keeping up and then started down the stairs, which terminated in a nondescript white door. He knocked and the door opened maybe three inches, at which time the were announced Bram had a visitor. Then he turned to face me, gesturing for me to approach. The person on the other side of the door held it open twelve inches wider, expecting me to squeeze my way through. Good thing for me that I was both small in stature and thin, otherwise I wouldn't have made it through.

Once on the other side, it took my eyes a few seconds to get used to the darkness of the room. Although it was nighttime outside, the moon was incredibly bright and now I felt like I'd just been thrown into a pitch-black cave. After a few seconds, my eyes adjusted and I found myself at the end of a long hallway. I could hear the sounds of Rihanna's "Rude Boy" in the distance, raucous laughter punctuating the song.

"This way," the person at the entrance said gruffly. I didn't recognize the thuggish looking guy although I could tell he was a troll of some sort-whether from the Netherworlds of Scandinavia or Britain, I had no clue. He encompa.s.sed an enormous amount of s.p.a.ce with his head nearly touching the ceiling. It would have, if not for the exaggerated hump on his back that caused him to hunch over to support its ma.s.sive weight. He looked like a giant with osteoporosis. As if the hump on his back weren't enough to ensure he wouldn't win any beauty contests, he also walked with a limp. It was as if his left side had suffered from a stroke, his foot dragging behind him. All in all, I felt like I was on my way to visit Victor Frankenstein and his lab of horrors, Igor leading the way.

I followed the troll down the darkly lit hallway which T-boned into another corridor. Not only had I never been in this section of No Regrets, I never even knew it existed. Yep, Bram was a sneaky one. We took a left and continued down the pa.s.sage until we came to a door. The troll whipped out a key ring, which was maybe ten inches wide, and gripping the longest key out of the bunch, unlocked the door, motioning for me to enter. When I did, I found myself in the midst of yet another corridor. I followed the troll when he made a right, suddenly feeling like I was in a maze. I definitely had no idea how to get back out again. The music from the main section of the club now sounded distant and m.u.f.fled.

"How much farther?" I asked. "I forgot my walking shoes."

The troll just "humphed" as if laughing at a joke, stupid though mine might have been, was entirely beyond him. He said nothing, but paused in front of another door before rapping his beefy knuckles against it, panting as he tried to catch his breath.

"Announce yourself," came Bram's voice from the other side.

"Your visitor is here," the troll breathed back, his tone of voice reminding me of Rensfield, Dracula's servant. Hmmm, how fitting.

"You may enter," Bram responded and the troll groaned as he turned the doork.n.o.b and opened the door, leaning against it for support. Immediately, I recognized Bram's office-the white, red and black motif being hard to forget. Twin red velvet armchairs sat atop the plush white carpet in the middle of the room. Both the walls and ceiling were painted black, making it feel like I was actually standing outside, under the night sky. The only things missing were some twinkling lights to act the part of the stars.

Bram was sitting on one of the red velvet armchairs, his right leg crossed over his left knee and his hands clasped beneath his chin as if he were Madonna, striking a pose.

I walked through the door and turned around to watch the troll close and lock it behind me. Only then did I realize the reason I'd never noticed this door before-it was conveniently disguised as a bookcase. Clever, Bram, really clever.

"If you're going for Rodin's Thinker, your posture is a little off," I said as I glanced over at him again, my hands on my hips. He was always predictable in his attempts to appear important.

He stood up and approached me, frowning as he observed my newly dyed hair. "Dulcie, sweet, you have done this to yourself again?" Then he shook his head as if he thought it was a d.a.m.n pity. "It is not a good look."

"I didn't do it for looks, dumba.s.s," I grumbled back, not wanting to get into a long, drawn-out explanation. He ran a strand of my hair through his fingers, "tsking" at it with obvious displeasure. I didn't pull away.

"Then why did you do it?" he asked glumly, maybe taking offense to being called a "dumba.s.s."

"It's all part of the game," I said simply.

"I do not care for it," Bram replied as he arched his eyebrows as if to further emphasize his disapproval.

"Well I don't care that you don't care so I guess we're even."

Bram threw his head back and chuckled heartily, not making any attempt to maintain personal s.p.a.ce between the two of us. Instead, he looked at me with amused eyes, a smile pulling at his plump lips. "I believe it must be your distinctive scent that so intoxicates me."

I shook my head with a deep sigh, desperately searching for the patience to deal with him, but coming up short. "Bram, why is it that every time I see you, we have to go through this song and dance? Haven't we been through it enough times now that we can just bypa.s.s it?"

"I am always hopeful, my sweet," he started, while circling me as if he were inspecting a horse to purchase. He stopped walking when he was directly behind me and I could feel his gaze on my a.s.s. I never encouraged this behavior and tonight was no different. I wasn't dressed up for the occasion, wearing fitted blue jeans and a v-necked, long-sleeved white T-s.h.i.+rt.

"Hopeful for what?" I snapped, even though I really wasn't looking forward to his answer. Things with Bram never seemed to change. I always had to play his little game of cat and mouse before he'd open up and tell me what I really needed to know.

Patience, Dulcie, patience.

I felt him grab a handful of my hair tightly at first, then loosening his grip, he draped it over my shoulder. At the touch of his fingertips along the sensitive skin of my shoulders, I got goose b.u.mps.

"Hopeful that you will give in to me," he whispered into my ear, his fingertips following the line of my T-s.h.i.+rt to my front, before trailing down to the cleavage of my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I grabbed his fingers once it seemed they were intent on further exploration.

"A for your effort, Bram," I said, turning around to face him. "Whatever acting cla.s.ses you've been taking, they're paying off. I bet you could even outdo Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire."

He frowned and sighed loudly to show his lack of amus.e.m.e.nt. "One night with you, sweet, would cure me of this insatiable hunger." His gaze moved from my eyes to my bust and back up to my eyes again as he smiled broadly. "Of that I am certain."

It almost sounded worthwhile. Just one night of s.e.x (which would probably result in a wham, bam, thank you, Bram) and he'd no doubt get over me, relegating me to all his other conquests he grew bored with. Yes, it all sounded fine and good until I got to the s.e.x part. "Sorry, can't help you there," I said with an apologetic smile. "Now how about you tell me why you wanted to see me? And what's with that maze of hallways?"

Bram pouted but at the steely expression in my eyes, he dropped the pout. "I have been thinking about you, sweet," he said as he led us to the red chairs in the center of the room again. He sat in the one he'd previously occupied and motioned for me to take the other. I did and faced him expectantly.

"And what's with all the secretive stuff?"

He shrugged as if it should be obvious. "I didn't want your presence here known." Then he nodded as if he were seeking more time to say whatever he intended to say. "I have been quite worried about you."

I frowned, not buying this story for one second. Emotions like worry and caring had no place in Bram's world. "Well, you couldn't have been that worried, considering you're just broaching this subject now," I said as I arched one brow at him skeptically. I'd been up to my eyes in chaos for at least the last two weeks, so Bram's timing was definitely tardy.

He nodded as if I had a point. "Yes, sweet, I was quite overcome by the fact that I was experiencing any human emotion at all. It took a few days for me to come to terms with it."

I just shook my head and rolled my eyes. "You are truly one of a kind, Bram." He smiled with fangs and I couldn't help shrinking back into my seat. Sometimes Bram could be ... slightly intimidating. But it was never wise to reveal one's fear to a vampire, especially this one. I sat up straight and glared at him. "Why did you want me to come here?"

Bram nodded and eyed me narrowly, his jaw tight. "I have been battling myself over whether or not to reach out to you ... dare I say it? To help you."

"Really? Let me guess, you looked inward and discovered you actually had a heart, after all."

He frowned as if he didn't find my comment amusing and looked down his nose at me. "I do care for you, more than I prefer to say."

"Well, I care for you too, Bram," I said, feeling a little forced to reciprocate. I mean, it was obvious he had information for me and the best way to obtain it was by being nice and appreciative. I had to admit that a part of me, (albeit a very small part), actually felt sorry for Bram because he seemed so helplessly infatuated with me. Furthermore, it wasn't like him to go out on a limb like he always did for me, especially since he was the most narcissistic, self-centered, egomaniacal person I'd ever met.

He smiled broadly at that, and almost looked innocent. Almost. Then the smile on his lips dropped and he inhaled dramatically, which was ridiculous, considering he had no respiratory system. "All hope is not lost," he said simply.

It was my turn to take a deep breath and count to ten before I lost my temper. "What does that mean?"

"Last we spoke, you intimated that you were 'in deep,' is how I believe you termed it, with your father's business?" he asked as I nodded, eager for him to continue, which he did. "There is a way out."

I felt my eyes go wide as my heart sped up. "A way out ... of what?"

"Your situation with Melchior O'Neil."

I didn't say anything for a few seconds, my surprise overwhelming me. "And what is the way out?" I asked finally.

Bram arched a brow, but remained quiet as if he were still debating over whether or not to tell me what was on his mind. "It is called The Resistance," he said simply. His silence told me if I sought any more information, he wanted me to dig for it. It was like trying to have a serious conversation with the Sphinx, who only offered riddles.

I reminded myself to keep my cool since I should have expected this. Conversations with Bram amounted to playing the game of Twenty Questions-me asking the questions and his answers amounting to no more than tidbits of what basically seemed like nonsense. "What is The Resistance?"

"An underground movement," he started, and when I hoped he'd expound, he simply stopped talking again. Yep, my work was cut out for me and this was going to be tiring.

I sighed. "What underground?"

He shook his head, as if irritated that he had to go back to the beginning. "There is an underground ..."

"Where?"

"It does not exist anywhere," he snapped. "The underground is termed so because it is a hush-hush society. And in this underground, there has arisen a group who call themselves The Resistance."

"And what are they resisting?" I asked, although I had a pretty good guess where Bram was going with this explanation.

"They resist your father's rule," he said simply. "They resist servitude, dictators.h.i.+p and tyranny." All the things my father advocated.

Although I sort of had been half expecting to hear the words from his lips, I still couldn't conceal the shock that made me inhale sharply. "How many are there?"

Bram shook his head. "I do not know."

"Are you part of The Resistance, Bram?"

He eyed me hungrily, arching one of his brows. "No, although I have their ear."

That was how Bram did most things in his life-he was always on the periphery, never quite involved enough to get his hands dirty, and far enough away to avoid reprisals.

"Then who is the leader?"

Bram shook his head. "I am not at liberty to say."

"Okay then, what can The Resistance do about my father? Are they actually a legitimate threat?" Bram studied me for a moment or two, and it was almost as if he were sizing me up, trying to judge whether or not he could trust me. "Bram, I want nothing more than to put this lifestyle and the tyranny of my father behind me. You should know me well enough by now to realize that."

He dropped his suspicious expression and merely nodded, apparently convinced of my loyalty.

"Are they a real threat to my father?" I repeated. "Can they take him down?"

Bram simply nodded. "They continue to recruit sympathizers to the cause daily. The Resistance is stronger now than it has ever been and, yes, I consider them a compelling threat."

And that was when I realized Bram was right-there was a way out of this mess and I had a feeling this Resistance was just the ticket. As to Knight's safety? I'd already worked that one out. When I met with Caressa, that would be the first topic I discussed. And once Knight's safety was secured, I believed The Resistance would be the best force to dethrone my father and strip him of his power permanently. Well, that is, as long as their army was large enough to take on my father's.

"I need to meet with them," I said urgently. "I need to tell them everything I know so we can stop my father together."

Bram held up his hands to quiet me down. "It is a secret society, sweet, and if they knew I had broken their trust by relaying this information to you, they would never forgive me and my relations.h.i.+p with them would be destroyed."

I frowned and hunched back into my seat. "So what should I do then? How am I supposed to get into touch with them?"

"They will call for you when the time is right," he said simply. "Until then, I have their ear."

I suddenly realized what he was getting at. He wanted me to spill the beans, and like playing a game of telephone, he would pa.s.s the information on. At this point, I had to seriously weigh my options and more specifically, my trust in Bram. Because just as Bram lived on the periphery of doing good, he also lived on the periphery of doing not so good. It wouldn't have come as an enormous surprise, consequently, to learn that Bram was employed by my father. I doubted he was, but how could I really be sure?

I eyed him speculatively as the conflict of whether or not to trust him continued to rage inside my head.

"Shall I provide you with some information to prove that all I have said is true?" he asked as I realized my emotions were as visible as the nose on my face.

I just nodded and watched him smile and study me for a few moments before he opened his mouth to speak again. "Were you notified of a certain letter to the ANC which warned ..."

But he never was able to finish his sentence. Instead, my mouth dropped open and I interrupted him. "That was you?" I asked, dawning realization instantly replacing the shock on my face. "You left the note with the ANC?"

Bram simply nodded. "Although there was no need to."

"Why?"

He leaned back against his chair and stretched like a cat. "The Resistance has eyes and ears everywhere, Dulcie sweet."

"In the ANC?" I asked, stunned, as I tried to imagine who could be the eyes and ears in our office. Trey? Elsie? Lottie, the super annoying pixie? Sam? I gulped. Knight?

"Everywhere," Bram said simply while buffing his nails against his lapel. "The note was a mere test."

I swallowed hard, disliking the sound of that. "A test?"

He nodded and glanced at me, his eyes suddenly harsh. "A test to evaluate what happened to the highly valuable information."

I realized then that I'd failed the so-called test. I sat back in Bram's chair and felt like I might pa.s.s out because my heart was beating so quickly. My stomach dropped to the floor. "I told Quillan, Bram," I said in a small voice, shaking my head as I realized the extent of my mistake. "I did exactly what I shouldn't have."

Bram nodded, but there was no sign of disappointment or blame in his eyes. They were uncannily hollow, devoid of emotion. "It will be difficult for you to gain their trust," he said while raising his brows to emphasize the sentiment. "You cannot play both sides of the coin."

"I had no choice!" I railed back at him, my voice sounding slightly hysterical. "I have to do what my father says because Knight's life is on the line!"

But Bram's lips were tight as he studied me. "The choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility," he said, adding, "Eleanor Roosevelt."

I nodded, because he was right. I couldn't play both sides. If I wanted The Resistance to trust me, I couldn't feed their information to Melchior. "What do I do, Bram?" I asked, in a flat tone.