Chapter 19

So many emotions ran through Mencheres. Satisfaction that the man who’d abused Kira was dead. Admiration for her icy bravery at such a young age. Gratitude toward the human who’d interceded for her. Anger at the policemen who’d denied Kira a job out of loyalty to those who’d disgraced the law. Above every emotion, however, was empathy. He knew the agony she’d felt being the cause of death to someone she’d once loved, even if Kira hadn’t been the actual instrument. Yes, he was all too familiar with the pain of making that choice, then having to carry it through to the bitter, bloody end. Few people would ever know how heavy a weight that was to carry.

Of all the people in the vicinity of that warehouse three weeks ago, to have Kira be the one who’d followed his voice and come through that door had to be more than coincidence. It had to be fate.

But with that looming darkness waiting for him, could Kira be fated to be the cause of his death? In so short a time, her position in his life had risen to one of great importance. No one else in two millennia had been responsible for such a large change in his actions, thinking, and feelings. Cold reason was what had kept him alive throughout these many long, war-filled years, but whenever he was near Kira, reason left him. If he sought to stave off that impending dark void, his best chance was to cut Kira off from him. Those ruled by emotion instead of reason were so much easier to kill, as he well knew.

Yet, looking at Kira, he cared not about reason or death. Or his phone, which began to ring again.

Mencheres slid through the water toward her, drawn by the same inexorable compulsion that led moths to dance with flames. He’d had several lifetimes’ worth of reason, cold machinations, and, ultimately, emptiness. Perhaps the moths knew what he didn’t, that the joy of the flame was worth the price of destruction.

He intended to find out.

Kira’s eyes darkened to a richer shade of green as he approached. He set his hands on either side of her, bracing against the ledge of the tub as he rose to his knees. Her legs brushed his chest, the water running down him soaking the ends of her dress, but she didn’t draw away. Instead, her scent flared with desire as she slowly perused his body.

“I can almost feel your gaze on me,” he murmured, heat winding into his loins as he sent his bath-warmed blood there at last.

“If you expected me not to look, Mencheres, you underestimate yourself.”

Her voice was husky, lingering over the syllables in his name like she was caressing them. He moved closer, pressing his body against her knees until she either had to edge away from him or open them.

Kira parted her legs, careless of the water that soaked her as he brought his body flush against hers, savoring her moan as their skins met. She slipped her arms around his neck, her fingers separating his hair into several thick strands while she stared into his eyes.

“Not going to decide to stop halfway through again, are you?”

He dropped his mouth to her ear, licking the tender shell once before replying.

“I was separated from my wife for over nine centuries and forbidden by law from lying with anyone else. After her death, no one tempted me enough . . . until you.”

A noise of astonishment escaped her as Kira drew back to look at him. “You haven’t had sex in over nine hundred years?” She swallowed. “If you’re trying to say you want to take things slow, wait until we get to know each other better—”

He laughed, pulling her down into the tub with him. “No. I’m warning you that I will show you no mercy.”

He kissed her with all of the pent-up hunger that had been raging in him for the better part of a millennium. Kira’s arms tightened around him, the taste of her mouth intoxicating, the caress of her tongue a sensual extravagance. Water sloshed from the tub as he pulled her dress off and flung it aside. Her bra and underwear were likewise discarded, until nothing interrupted the sleek smoothness of her flesh along his.

She moaned as she ran her hands down his body. He slid his mouth from hers, kissing that beautiful jawline before moving down to the fullness of her breasts. He filled his mouth with each of them in turn, sucking on her nipples until Kira’s gasps became cries, and her nails raked down his back. Her touches became more frantic, and she curled her legs around his waist. The feel of her wrapped around was him magnificent, each luscious twist of her body inflaming, but he wouldn’t rush this moment. He wanted to explore her more fully first.

He caressed her breasts as his head dipped below the water. That tight adornment of curls teased his mouth before his tongue parted her depths. Lust mounted with unbearable intensity at his first taste of her. Her slick softness was addictive, urging him to flick his tongue faster, deeper, until more of her honey flavored his mouth, and her cries had an urgent, rhythmic edge. Her pleasure only heightened his overpowering, aching need, tightening everything inside him with ravenous demand. He had to be inside her. Had to—

Mencheres shot from the tub with a snarl, only their centuries-long friendship stopping him from striking out with lethal force at the vampire who intruded. Gorgon stood in the bathroom doorway, his expression grim.

“If it weren’t life or death, believe me, I wouldn’t interrupt, but you need to see this. Now.”

I f Kira could still have blushed, her cheeks would have been fire-engine red. Staying in the bathroom and never setting eyes on Gorgon again sounded like a good plan to her, but the words “life and death” made it impossible for her to cater to her embarrassment. Mencheres had closed the bathroom door with a muttered apology when he stalked out to see whatever it was Gorgon interrupted them for, so she had a private moment to gather her shattered equilibrium—and a towel—before she followed him.

“I tried to call,” Gorgon was saying as he went over to Mencheres’s computer, of all things. “Bones did, too. He phoned me after he couldn’t reach you. When I hung up with him, I ran back from town as fast as I could.”

Mencheres stood with his arms crossed, still naked, water dripping onto the carpet beneath him. Kira noticed he had a tattoo on his back of a symbol she didn’t recognize, but she didn’t take the time to admire it with her attention fixed on what Gorgon was doing.

“You can’t tell me what it is that’s so urgent while you are preparing the computer?” Mencheres growled.

“That strip club from the other night was torched,” Gorgon said while his fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard. “Those three vampires are dead, plus several humans as well. But that’s not the real problem.”

“Was Jennifer one of the humans killed? Jennifer Jackson?” Kira asked, taken aback by how coolly Gorgon described the deaths.

“It’d be better if she had been,” Gorgon muttered.

Kira gasped at his reply. Mencheres drew her into the circle of his arms, his wet hair falling across her shoulders, mouth lightly brushing her temple.

“This news, while important, could have waited,” he said to Gorgon in a hard tone.

Gorgon glanced up after a few more rapid taps of his fingers. “This can’t.”

The site for a Chicago news channel filled the laptop screen, video segment from the eleven o’clock news in the center of the page. Kira’s eyes widened at the frozen image with the headline of VAMPIRE ROLE-PLAYING RESPONSIBLE FOR ARSON? It wasn’t the headline that stunned her. It was seeing herself in the image, her head back, Mencheres’s mouth latched onto her throat.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

Gorgon clicked play, and the news anchor’s voice flowed out, talking about the grisly scene of burned bodies that firefighters found when they responded to the call. Surprisingly, the arson had happened the day before yesterday, not this past evening, but what had been discovered in time to make the eleven o’clock news was the security footage. The only set recovered from the scene, damaged, but some viewable segments still remaining.

“ . . . don’t have the names of the participants involved,” the news anchor droned on in a professionally somber voice. “Police are still in the process of seeking their identities, but as you can see, there seems to be a bizarre imitation of a vampire—that’s right, I said vampire —ritual taking place. Let’s watch the footage, Robert.”

Mencheres’s grip on Kira tightened as she watched, speechless, while her death took place on-screen. When she saw Mencheres pull her necklace off and use it to cut open his own throat, her hand convulsively closed over her cross. He must have replaced the chain, she thought, feeling numb. She’d never even noticed a time when her necklace wasn’t on her, but she’d been dazed from bloodlust that first day . . .

“You will regret this,” Mencheres said on-screen to Radje after she’d finished slurping from his neck, and her body was motionless.

The Law Guardian folded his arms. “You threaten me?”

It seemed like the screen tightened to show a close-up of Mencheres’s face. “I promise you.”

The image faded to show the news anchor again. She asked anyone with information about the identities of the people on the video to contact the Chicago Heights police department, CrimeStoppers, or the news headquarters.

Kira still couldn’t seem to form any words. My sister might have seen this, she found herself thinking in a frozen, detached way. Or her brother. Or her boss, or Lily, any of the other people at her office—hell, the cops who had been at Pete’s trial years ago might recognize her. In less than five minutes, all of her chances to return to some semblance of her former life were torched with the same ruthless efficiency as the fire that destroyed the strip club.

“Radje,” Mencheres spat. “This is an unpardonable crime, even for him.”

Gorgon gave him a steady look. “The Law Guardian’s claiming you killed those people and burned down the club.”

M encheres stared at Gorgon, absorbing that information. His arms stayed around Kira, feeling the fine tremor that went through her.

“Was this all the footage recovered?” she asked in a raspy voice. “The video from that night is several days old. Wasn’t there more recent tape available, maybe one that showed the real murderer and arsonist?”

Mencheres didn’t need to see Gorgon shake his head to know the answer to that. He’d guessed that the rooms in the club were videoed. Radje obviously had as well, and the Law Guardian would have made sure nothing that incriminated him would have been left at the scene. No, Radje had only left images that looked very damning for Mencheres to anyone in their world who saw them.

“No footage was found dated later than this, and what you saw was an abbreviated version. The full clip isn’t on the news-station site, but it’s up on YouTube and various other places.”

“Show me,” Kira said at once.

Gorgon glanced at Mencheres. He gave him a barely perceptible nod. After a few clicks, the YouTube version began to play. It was significantly longer, starting when Mencheres first arrived to heal Kira and ending with him carrying her newly dead body from the room.

The cold part of him could admire Radje’s cleverness. Saved on tape for all the world to see was Mencheres’s veiled threat to the three vampires who’d injured Kira, his clear displeasure with the Law Guardian’s sentencing, and his open threat to Radje at the end. Brilliant.

“Look at the comments.” Kira’s voice was hollow. “They’re critiquing my death.”

He scanned the commentary below the video box. Phrases such as “OMG that’s so fake!” “Shoulda had more blood” “Worst actress ever” and “WTF is up with the lame glowing eyes?” were all he read before he shut the laptop with a flick of his mind.

Kira tugged at his arm and Mencheres released her. “I need . . . I don’t know. I should call Tina. If she wakes up tomorrow and sees this, she’ll freak, but what am I supposed to say?” she mumbled as she began to pace.

“You should get dressed,” he said, gentling his voice to take out the anger and bitterness he felt toward Radje.

“Yeah. Dressed.” Kira wandered out of the room, still plainly shaken. Mencheres could not fault her. He knew Radje had sabotaged more than his life with this ill deed.

He met Gorgon’s blue gaze. “This is bad,” Gorgon said, stating the obvious. “With Flare, Patches, and Wraith dead, plus the strip club burned, most vampires who see this video will believe Radje’s assertion that you made good on your threats.”

That wasn’t the real concern, as Gorgon knew. Killing three Masterless vampires and a few humans wouldn’t rouse the Guardian Council’s interest. Leaving behind evidence of the vampire race for any human to download on the Internet? That would concern all vampires.

“Certainly, it would be easier to believe I did this than to believe a Law Guardian endangered the secrecy of the race this way.” Mencheres’s mouth twisted. “Nor do I have adequate proof of my innocence. The only people who know I was here during the fire are you and Kira.”

The same ones involved in the crime. Radje had chosen his attack well.

“We need to leave at once,” he stated. “Radje may have gambled that I was tending to Kira myself in her early days, away from most of my people and any alibi for the fire, but he also may have spies watching us. Even now, Guardians or Enforcers could be coming.”

Gorgon gave him a somber look. “It’s better if none of us were brought before any Guardians until you have means to prove that Radje did this. Radje wants something from you, but he has no use for me or Kira, and we’re the only ones who could back up your claims of innocence.”

Yes, the two of them would be Radje’s first targets. Mencheres calculated their chances if they stayed together. He didn’t like the odds. It was better if they split up while he rallied his allies. Otherwise, if one of them were caught, all of them were caught, and the truth might never be made public.

“Go,” he said softly to Gorgon. “Do not tell me where. Stay hidden until this matter is over.”

Gorgon clasped him by the shoulders. “You have allies who will urge the Guardians to listen to you. When the day comes that you need me, I will be there.”

Mencheres briefly touched his friend’s hands, the gesture encompassing the words he had no time to say.

“Go,” he repeated.

Gorgon left without taking anything or looking back. Wise. Time was of the essence, and what couldn’t be carried in one hand wasn’t worth the delay of taking.

He quickly pulled on some clothes, gathering only his mobile phone, his laptop, and his coat. Along with Kira, that was all he intended to leave with.

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