Archangel's Viper

13

Holly wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. This woman could’ve been her not so long ago. But the ring of red around this broken vampire’s eyes was a warning she couldn’t disregard. Holding her nonetheless, she made sure she was very aware of the woman’s mouth and fangs.

The vampire cried until she went limp . . . then jerked back so hard that she tore herself out of Holly’s arms. Scuttling backward like a spider crab until her back was to the mound of body parts, she took harsh, hard breaths, her eyes scrunched shut. As tightly clenched as her hands where she gripped the lapels of Venom’s jacket.

Holly was almost expecting the blood red eyes that met hers when the woman flicked her eyelashes back up. “Help me.” This time, her voice was as rough as coarse sandpaper.

Venom was there before Holly saw him move.

Seizing the vampire’s wrists with a single hand, he used his other to hold her jaw with enough force that she couldn’t turn her head and try to sink her fangs into him. “Fight it,” he ordered. “You have my blood in your veins now. You have power.”

The vampire’s throat moved as she swallowed. “More,” she pleaded in a whispery tone that was eerie in its lack of humanity. “Please.”

Holly expected Venom to say a flat no, but he said, “Holly.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Hold her wrists.”

“I have them.” The woman’s bones felt like a bird’s, so thin and fragile—but Holly knew not to be fooled. The stranger was still a vampire.

Raising his own wrist to his mouth, Venom tore open a vein and, tipping up the woman’s head using his grip on her jaw, dripped his blood into her mouth. The woman swallowed frantically, blood splattering her lips when she missed.

“Enough,” he said after a few moments, when his vein began to knit naturally. “You’ll die if you glut yourself on me.”

Holly stared at him. He was right, of course he was right. He was too powerful for a weak vampire to take—but he’d let Holly drink her fill of him last night. Which said certain things about her that Holly didn’t want to face just now.

The vampire licked her tongue around her mouth to get all the splattered drops and at that instant she wasn’t human at all. But a heartbeat later, she smiled, and her eyes, they were devoid of red. “Thank you,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks again. “I haven’t felt clean inside since . . . a long time.”

“What’s your name?” Holly asked.

“My name?” The woman looked at her blankly. “I . . . I had one, once. I d-don’t remember.”

Holly’s fury was a cold rage in her heart. “How about Daisy? It can be your temporary name until you remember your real one.” Everyone should have a name, should have the dignity of an identity. “Or you can choose another name you like.”

A shaky smile. “I like Daisy, it’s pretty.”

“Look at me, Daisy.” Venom hadn’t raised his voice, but it demanded attention nonetheless.

Daisy turned her head, and, after examining her face, Venom released her jaw, though he shot Holly a look to ensure that she kept hold of Daisy’s wrists. “What are you doing here?” he asked the vampire. “Were you with one of the dead men?”

A hard shake of Daisy’s head, hate in the stare she shot toward the decapitated heads lined up on the pool table. “My master gave me to them for a week,” she spit out. “To reward them for something.”

Holly’s stomach twisted. This was why she would’ve never voluntarily signed up for a normal Contract. Those under Contract had few rights. For a hundred years, they were the playthings of the angels. It wasn’t always like that, of course. Dmitri had been with Raphael since the start, and he’d said things that made Holly think the two had been friends even before Dmitri was Made.

Janvier had come out of Neha’s court far more educated, and experienced in travel and diplomacy than when he’d gone in; he’d also been trained in how to use the kukri blades with lethal skill. Ashwini was treated like an asset by the Tower. So not all those under Contract were destined for a hellish life—but there was no way to know, was there? You could end up with someone powerful but “human” like Illium, or you could end up with a bastard who lent you out to his friends for them to abuse.

“Who is your master?” Venom asked.

“He’ll hurt me if I tell.” It was a rasping whisper.

“You’re not going back to him,” Holly said before she could stop herself.

Venom’s head lifted, turned toward her. But she refused to back down. “I’ll talk to Elena,” she said, speaking to both him and Daisy. “She’ll help.” The Guild Hunter turned angel was still human inside, didn’t look at the world through the jaded eyes of an immortal.

“The name of your master,” Venom said, returning his attention to Daisy.

This time, his voice demanded absolute obedience.

Daisy had no hope of standing against him. “Kenasha,” she whispered. “My master is Kenasha.”

Venom’s expression didn’t change. “When did you sign up to be his?”

It was an odd question. Vampires didn’t get to choose under which angel they served out their Contract—the Tower was in charge of assigning new vampires to angels. And not all angels qualified; they had to be strong enough to control newborn vampires. Holly knew there had to be other prerequisites, but she’d never had reason to find out what.

“He’s been my master for . . . a long time,” Daisy said lifelessly. “I don’t remember.” Her eyes returned to Holly. “I thought I knew you. But I don’t remember anymore. Why don’t I remember?”

“It’s all right,” Holly soothed before Daisy could panic. “You’re exhausted and weak. We’ll talk when you’re stronger.”

There were noises lower down in the house, the sound of steady, unhidden movement echoing up the steps. Venom glanced back over his shoulder. “The Tower team has arrived.”

Holly forced herself to release Daisy into that team’s care. “She needs medical attention,” she said to the powerful vampires who’d responded to Venom’s call.

They ignored her.

Holly had learned to live with the reality of being the lowest non-mortal on the Tower totem pole, but it still made her grit her teeth . . . as something inside her whispered: You can kill them all. Strangling that mad voice she tried to pretend didn’t exist, she anchored herself firmly to the here and now—where she was weird but didn’t pulse with power like those around her.

The Tower vampires turned their cool, dangerous eyes toward Venom. “Take her to the infirmary,” he said, indicating Daisy’s hunched-up form. “Keep her away from anyone else—and under constant guard. I want her blood tested. It’ll have mine mixed in with it.”

“Yes, sir.” Two of the vampires left with a terrified-looking Daisy, two remaining behind. Holly noticed with a corner of her mind that they were all wearing plastic covers on their shoes.

The last thing Holly saw before the three disappeared from sight were Daisy’s panicked eyes as the woman twisted to look back at Holly, tears melting from her irises. Not about to leave the weak and abused vampire alone among strangers, Holly moved to go after her.

Venom closed his hand over her biceps, holding her in place. “You can’t help her.” An unforgiving statement.

“Fuck you.” She tried to wrench out of his hold, failed. “What’re they going to do to her?”

“Exactly what I said.” Releasing her only when it was too late for her to catch up to the ones who had Daisy, he spoke to the other vampires who’d responded. “Clean up this mess and tell me about anything unusual you find.”

“Yes, sir.”

“There could be clues here,” Holly muttered, rubbing at her arm.

Venom’s sunglasses were still on, but she could tell he was looking at the place where he’d gripped her, and where she was now rubbing. She dropped her hand, not about to appear weak or soft in front of him.

“They’re a fully trained forensic team,” he told her, right as the others said they were going to retrieve their gear from the van. “Let’s leave them to it.”

Holly had to admit she was glad to be outside; it was still dark gray and drizzling faintly, but the air she drew into her lungs was welcomingly fresh. The stench inside had begun to get to her. “Why did you ask Daisy that?” she asked after Venom hung up following a low-voiced call. “About when she’d signed up to serve this Kenasha bastard?”

When Venom glanced at her, she reached out and snatched off those stupid sunglasses. She was half-tempted to throw them in the gutter and stomp on them, but, cognizant that they were probably worth six months of her salary, she folded them neatly before closing her fingers around them.

He smiled at her, tiny water droplets catching on his eyelashes. “When are you going to give those back?”

Never. “Maybe if you answer my question.”

She expected him to block her. If this was Tower business, she had no right to the information. She spoke to cut him off as they crossed the road to where he’d left his car. Of course it was still there, not a scratch on it. “I’m part of the team that works in this section of the city. I need to know if something is going on that shouldn’t be.”

She didn’t know if it was her words, or if he’d decided to trust her—after all, she’d made it clear she wasn’t about to incur Raphael’s wrath by spilling secrets—but he said, “I know who Kenasha is, and, as I suspected, he currently has no vampires listed as being under his care.”

The last word was hard.

Holly frowned, her eyes tracing a water droplet streaking down the gleaming viper green of the car’s hood. “The Tower didn’t assign him Daisy?”

“No. Kenasha is never assigned newborn vampires.” Unlocking the car, he waited for Holly to get inside, then got in himself. “If the angel officially in charge of her wanted to transfer her, he or she should’ve contacted the Tower.”

“Why?” Holly’s empty hand fisted, Daisy’s words about being “given” to the three dead vampires as a “reward” ricocheting inside her head. “It’s not like the Tower interferes to stop the newly Made from being abused.”

“They make their choice, Holly,” Venom reminded her without an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

Holly’s other hand tightened at her side, over his sunglasses, something Elena had said to her over two years earlier rising to the forefront of her consciousness. Holly had been feeling sorry for a vampire the Guild Hunter had recently retrieved when Ellie had pinned her to the spot with the silver-rimmed gray of her gaze.

And then she’d asked a question.

If you’d had a choice, would you have chosen to sign over a century of your life for the promise of hundreds, perhaps thousands of years of life?

Holly had said, “No,” with harsh finality. She’d grown up in a city filled with vampires and angels, had seen what it meant to be part of the immortal world. The dark, seductive beauty, the wealth . . . and the horrific terror.

Raphael had once left a vampire’s shattered body in Times Square for three terrible hours that had turned New York silent, people’s blood running ice cold in visceral fear. The rumor was the vampire had betrayed him. By the time Raphael got through with him, the vampire’s body had been held together by nothing but a few stringy tendons.

His jaw had hung wrong, his skin torn and flesh missing in places.

Holly had thrown up after seeing the news reports.

No, she’d never have chosen to serve beings so remote from humanity that they could do that to another living being. She still didn’t understand how Elena could love an archangel who could deliver such a punishment—but then, betrayal was betrayal. And immortals had such long lives and such an intense ability to heal that punishment had to be vicious for it to count.

“What does it mean that the Contract transfer wasn’t run by the Tower first?” she asked past the ice in her blood.

“Likely venal politics.” The lights of the Bugatti cut through the storm gray heaviness, but the rain against the windshield made it feel as if they were cocooned in a world apart from the life and chaos of New York.

“The reason for the rule,” he continued, “is so that utter incompetents like Kenasha don’t ruin intelligent vampires who could become long-term assets.” His hands guided the car with an ease that made it look effortless. “It also wouldn’t do for a low-ranked angel to build himself a harem of young vampires—quite aside from issues of control, there is a hierarchy.”

“Here I thought it was to protect the vulnerable.”

“Daisy would’ve torn out your throat, then buried her face in the wound and fed on your blood until she was glutted.”

Holly put his sunglasses on the seat beside her before she broke them. “She was obviously starved. You’d act insane, too, if you weren’t fed for so long that you became emaciated.” Daisy’s ribs, her collar bones, had stuck out sharp as blades against her paper-thin skin.

“No. Her reactions were off.” Venom’s tone left no room for argument. “She’s young enough that the amount of blood I fed her originally should’ve shocked her back into full sentience. It’s possible there’s a drug in the mix.”

“A honey feed?” She frowned. “The effect usually wears off much faster. Maybe it hit her harder because she’s so thin.”

“It doesn’t have to be a honey feed.” Venom’s words were a surprise. “There are always chemists trying out new formulations. Every so often, they roll the dice and play with vampiric lives.” His voice turned grim. “Did Janvier and Ashwini tell you about the drug named Umber?”

Holly shook her head. “I probably don’t have the clearance.” It was weird, but when her bosses told her that, she accepted it, conscious she had to earn her way up the ladder. When Venom told her the same, she wanted to claw out his eyes. It was irrational, but then her reaction to him had never been a rational thing.

“You definitely don’t,” he said. “But you need to understand certain facts to protect yourself if you’re working in the shadows.”

Caught, Holly turned partially in her seat to listen.