Night's Honor

TWO

Xavier watched with patient interest as Tess’s mouth opened and closed several times.

She said, her voice strangled, “You’re offering me a chance, just like that? You don’t want a second interview, or—or references?”

Some kind of interesting, complicated emotion lay behind her question. Maybe she had a checkered employment history, or she had gotten fired from her previous job. Briefly, he considered asking for her resume and references, just to see how she handled the request, but the fact was, he didn’t care if she had been fired. People got fired for a wide variety of reasons, and something that a previous employer might have seen as a weakness could be the very trait he was looking for.

Besides, nobody gave a prospective employer bad references. They only gave references for people who would say flattering things about them. Through the years, he had seen people game the interviewing system in every way imaginable, while the truest test of a person’s mettle could only come over time.

Also, this young woman could have no references for the kind of things he wanted from her. He would need to find out for himself what she would be capable of doing, or what she would even want to do. For now, it would have to be enough to avoid frightening her any further.

He told her, “As I said, there’s only so much that can be learned from the interview process. By the end of a year, we will both know whether or not we’re able to create a successful liaison.”

Her expression turned thoughtful. “I suppose a year for someone like you is not very long.”

“Quite true. A trial year is a standard offer. Most Vampyres offer it to prospective attendants.”

His truthsense was well developed. He knew she had been telling the truth about her skills and attributes. She was smart, good with finances and clever with a keyboard, although she had hesitated just long enough to intrigue him. What had she refrained from saying? He filed that away to pursue another time.

And she did have some kind of moral code. It had been a long, long time since he had considered anything sexual as an issue of morality, unless the sex involved coercion, outright force or some other kind of imbalance of power.

She, however, had clearly been uncomfortable with the thought of engaging in sex as part of the position, and she had been quite serious when she’d said she would not be a party to harming innocents.

She had also been telling the truth when she’d been onstage. She believed her looks were entirely forgettable, and in some ways they were. She had none of the glossy good looks that so many Vampyre attendants had, or that most Vampyres themselves had, for that matter.

But she did have her own quiet kind of beauty. Her brown hair shone with healthy chestnut highlights, and there was real intelligence in those large, dark eyes. Her narrow face had a precise, strong bone structure with a wonderfully aquiline nose, and her mouth was delicately shaped and sensitive.

Many modern eyes would pass over her in search of more flamboyance and color. Hair dyes had grown complex, and eye color could be intensified or changed altogether. Even Vampyres could sport golden, sprayed-on tans if they so chose, and muscles and breasts could be surgically augmented. People had grown used to the fact that virtually everything could be enhanced or altered.

An intelligent person with quiet looks could be very useful to him.

He considered the negative side of the scale. Her poise was abysmal. Intense emotions played across her face, and her rapid heartbeat sounded like thunder in his ears. That would have to change, of course. She would need a lot of work to realize any of the raw potential he saw in her, but the only way to shape a fine tool was with patience, attention and care.

He waited while she thought things over. “Thank you,” she said. “Yes, I would like to try.”

“Excellent.” He straightened the cuff of one sleeve. “I will expect you at my estate tomorrow evening at sundown. You will be very busy for the next few months, so arrange your affairs accordingly and bring what you will need for an extended stay.”

“I—yes, of course,” she said. “Where’s your estate?”

“On Pirate’s Cove, across the Golden Gate in Marin Headlands. The number you gave on your candidacy application—is that a cell phone?”

“Yes.” Her dark eyes watched him with equal parts wariness and fascination.

“My secretary Foster will text you directions. When you turn off the main highway, the road is narrow and winding, so the drive takes longer than you might think. Be sure to allow plenty of time in daylight.”

“That won’t be a problem—”

Julian strode into the room. Xavier watched the blood drain from Tess’s face before he turned to face his old friend.

The Nightkind King was the kind of man that took over a room the moment he entered it. He had rough, weather-beaten features, with lines at the eyes and the corners of a stern mouth, and a dark, penetrating gaze that could cut like a laser. Flecks of silver sprinkled his short, dark hair.

When Julian had been human, he had been a general during the Emperor Hadrian’s rule, at the height of the Roman Empire. He was broad across the chest and shoulders, flat through the abdomen, and he carried the heavy, powerful muscles of a man who had spent his life as a soldier. Life had been brutal in the Roman army, and when he had been mortal, he had not aged particularly well. He had been in his late thirties when his sire, Carling, had turned him, but he looked ten years older.

The formality of his black evening suit highlighted his rugged looks, and despite the sophisticated, hand sewn suit and the five-hundred-dollar razor haircut, he gave the impression of a wild, shaggy wolf, watchful of everything around him.

With one keen, lightning-quick glance at Tess, he assessed and dismissed her, then turned to Xavier.

I see you’re still playing with your new pet. Julian’s telepathic voice was like his physical voice, deep and rough, like a shot of raw whiskey. When are you going to be done?

Xavier regarded him, perfectly relaxed. In just a few moments. We’re almost finished now.

Good. We need to head back to Evenfall. The Light Fae delegation is already waiting, and gods help me, Tatiana sent Melisande. Plus, all twelve council members have confirmed they’ll be in attendance for the meetings over the next couple of days. Julian glowered at him. I’d rather be trapped in a pit of snakes.

Xavier closed his eyes briefly. Having all the Nightkind council members under one roof was going to be bad enough, but Melisande and Julian had had an explosive affair in the late 1990s that had ended famously. Badly. If the Light Fae Queen had sent her eldest daughter to conduct treaty negotiations, she was either punishing Melisande for something or she was seriously annoyed with Julian. Or both.

Understood, he said.

Unexpectedly, Julian turned his attention back to Tess. He rested his broad, scarred hands on his hips, which pulled his black jacket away from his torso. That reaction of hers isn’t all for me. You do realize she’s scared to death of you.

Yes, I know. Xavier would not add to Tess’s distress by looking at her.

I don’t get what you see in this one. Are you really going to take her on?

He gave an infinitesimal shrug that only Julian would catch. It says something interesting about a person when they don’t let their fear dictate their actions. That’s what she’s doing. We’ll see what else she has to her. Over time.

Julian spoke aloud. “Better you than me. I got ninety-nine problems, but finally, a bitch ain’t one. I’ll wait for you outside.”

As the Nightkind King strode out of the room, Xavier looked at Tess. Her gaze had gone wide and shocked.

He was unsurprised. Julian tended to have that effect on most people. He had always been rough and a bit antisocial, and over the last two hundred years, as his sire turned more and more unstable, he had grown even more so.

She said, “Did he just reference that song by Jay Z—?”

Xavier gave her a level look. “That will be all for now, Ms. Graham. Thank you for your time. Good night.”

Having been politely and yet thoroughly dismissed, Tess left the building and walked down the street to the parking lot where she had left her blue Ford Focus.

Her hands and feet felt numb, and a disbelieving part of her was convinced none of it had actually happened, until her phone beeped five minutes later. She pulled it out of her pocket and checked the display. As promised, it was a text message from Xavier’s secretary, with directions to the estate.

That was fast.

Pocketing the phone, she tucked her hands under her armpits and picked up her pace. She had left her jacket in the car, and while it had been sunny and warm all day, the temperature had turned considerably chillier. The Bay Area enjoyed mild weather throughout the year, but it could get very cold at night, especially in the winter.

While she had been inside, thick clouds had rolled over the city and now lowered overhead, promising rain. Shivering, she unlocked her car, climbed in and shrugged her jacket on.

The night was already half over. She didn’t know when sunset was this time of year, but she couldn’t have more than eighteen hours to get through before sundown tomorrow.

Everything in San Francisco had been more expensive than she had bargained for, including parking for the Vampyre’s Ball. While she had over a hundred thousand dollars in her checking and savings accounts, she didn’t dare access those funds. All she had in cash was twenty-six dollars and eighty-five cents, and she was low on fuel.

She needed gas to get across the Golden Gate Bridge to her destination in Marin County. Thank God there weren’t any tolls driving away from San Francisco.

After she put fuel into her tank, she should have enough left over to buy a cheap sandwich. It wasn’t enough food, especially after a sleepless night, but dealing with hunger for one day was the least of her worries. Presumably, she should be able to eat well soon enough.

Now she needed to find somewhere safe and well lit, where she could wait out the rest of the night.

Even as she tried to think of somewhere to go, a couple walking toward her caught her eye. One was a ghoul, with gray skin, gaunt features and overlong fingers. The other was a female Vampyre, who angled her head and looked at Tess with intent interest as they walked toward another car.

Tess’s skin prickled, and she glanced around. There was no one else within sight.

While it was illegal to feed on humans without their consent, who would know if the Vampyre chose to satisfy her hunger? The Vampyre was fast enough to attack and be sated before anyone could catch her. If she was old enough, she could even obscure her victim’s memory, and keep her description out of the hands of the police.

And even if this Vampyre chose to be law-abiding, San Francisco was the heart of the Nightkind demesne, and home to many different creatures. There were other predators here that roamed the night, and some would not choose to be so law-abiding. This was an elegant, expensive and dangerous city.

Chewing her lip, Tess started the car and pulled out of the lot. She couldn’t afford a hotel, so she needed to leave the city. Once she reached Marin County, she could find an all-night restaurant and drink coffee instead of buying food. When daylight came, she could find somewhere unobtrusive to park and take a nap.

She made her way by trial and error through the city to the Golden Gate Highway. The traffic was as intense as rush hour in daylight. Lights shone everywhere and in some places it looked as bright as day, a deadly illusion that could lull the unwary into thinking that the lights indicated safety.

Reaction set in as she pulled into the line of traffic to cross the bridge. This whole thing was as insane a gamble as anything she had ever taken, and she wasn’t a gambler by nature. Only time would tell if it would pay off.

She didn’t have to show up at Xavier’s estate. She had a day to think of other alternatives, other places she could hide. Right now, she was exhausted from stress, her mind frozen, but she still might find a way out of this.

Xavier surprised her. He hadn’t seemed so bad for a monster. Then she remembered everything she had ever heard about him and shuddered. Still, he seemed like her best bet for protection.

In terms of raw Power, nothing and no one, not even Xavier, could stop the creature she was running from. Malphas was a first-generation Djinn and quite literally one of the world’s most Powerful creatures.

He was also a pariah, an outcast who lived outside the laws of his own kind. As far as she knew, the Djinn didn’t police or monitor his behavior. A being of pure spirit, he could travel almost anywhere and breach any containment she’d ever heard of, and given enough incentive, he would have no qualms in doing so.

The only thing that might possibly stop him would be potential fallout from his actions, which meant political power, not magical Power. It had to become more uncomfortable for Malphas to pursue her than it would be to let her go, and that was what a position with Xavier might offer.

She was under no illusion about herself. As a lowly attendant, she wouldn’t have much value to anyone, but if Malphas attacked her while she was under Xavier’s roof, it would become a transgression of territory.

And that would matter. That might matter so much it could become an act of war.

Xavier was so highly placed in the Nightkind demesne that even a first-generation, outlaw Djinn would have to think twice about making him an enemy. The Djinn might turn a blind eye to Malphas now, but an official complaint from the Nightkind demesne could change their attitude.

Beyond the safety railings of the Golden Gate Bridge, the black waters of the bay glittered with reflected illumination. When she finished crossing the bridge, she looked for a late-night restaurant and a gas station.

Very soon, she found a 1950s-style diner located across from a gas station. After pumping twenty dollars of fuel into her tank, she crossed the street and entered the restaurant.

The place gleamed with chrome and bright colors. She took a seat, ordered coffee and watched out the window until pale streaks of color broke through the black cloudy night.

She felt hollow and light, her nerves jumping from too much caffeine and not enough choices.

Even after spending hours trying to think of another alternative, she knew she couldn’t afford to turn down this opportunity. Just the fact that she had landed the position—or at least the possibility of a permanent position—was like winning some kind of infernal lottery.

What would it be like to give blood to a Vampyre?

A Vampyre’s bite was supposed to induce euphoria for the human, but the very thought repelled her. That sense of euphoria was nature’s way of lulling the victim into compliance, even to the point of death.

Vampyres were predators that fed on humans and viewed humankind as prey. Only the sheer numbers of humankind, along with all the other Elder Races, served to keep Vampyres in check and forced them to create laws that governed their own kind. There was nothing sexy or enticing at the thought of being considered food. She shuddered at the thought.

Finally she paid for her cup of coffee, thanked her patient waitress and left all of her change on the table for an inadequate tip. Her eyes were dry and scratchy, and her body ached. Stretching, she climbed into her car and headed for Rodeo Beach, just a few miles away.

Along with the money she couldn’t access in her bank accounts, she had left behind comfortable, good quality furniture and what few mementos she owned in a spacious, stylish apartment. Now, for any practical purposes, everything she owned was in her car, a jumble of hastily packed clothes, and odds and ends.

One thing she had grabbed as she left home was a thick, soft throw blanket, since she knew she would be sleeping in her car. After pulling into the parking lot near the beach, she retrieved the throw and headed down the path to look for a likely spot to relax.

By the water, the world was wild and windswept. She could just see the tip of Evenfall, the palace of the Nightkind King, which was one of California’s great architectural oddities. The massive Normandy-style castle sprawled prominently along the southwestern coast of the peninsula. The blues of the ocean stretched into infinity, while the green shoreline curved up to gently rolling hills that had been molded over time.

The threat of imminent rain had fled along with the night, leaving behind an uncertain, moody morning. A fresh, piercing wind blew away the cobwebs that had gathered in her head. After living in the desert for two years, the view seemed impossibly lush. If it weren’t for the persistent fear that dogged her footsteps, she could have been very happy in that moment.

Wrapping the blanket around her torso tightly, she walked until she found a spot where the beach had eroded a niche into a higher point of land, and she settled with her back against the bluff, looking out over the water. The spot afforded some protection from the wind along with some privacy, and gradually, she relaxed.

Maybe being an attendant wouldn’t be so bad. Normally, humans could only donate blood every eight weeks. Because a Vampyre’s bite stimulated more than just the immune system, their attendants could donate more often, every four to five weeks, or even more frequently.

Still, it wouldn’t happen every day, or even every week. If Xavier was as principled about not having sex with those under his authority, he must be adept at controlling himself, despite the euphoria his attendants must experience.

Unless he had lied.

She sagged, feeling stupid that the possibility hadn’t occurred to her sooner.

Either he had lied, or he had told the truth. She would find out soon enough. All she knew was, despite everything, if she had to do the last two weeks over again, she would still do the same thing.

I guess that says something, she thought. Even if it costs me my life.

Tired of dealing with the constant fear, she wrapped the blanket tighter around her torso and pulled a corner over her head to block out the sun and wind. Her heavy eyelids drifted closed, and a veil of darkness descended as she fell into an uneasy doze.

In her apartment, the spring night was so warm, she had propped open all her windows and her front door. As she turned away from setting her dining table for supper, a creature slit open the screen at the front door and crawled inside. Neither a cat nor a dog but a demonic combination of both, its slanted eyes glowed with evil intent.

Terror pulsed. She grabbed her carving knife even as the creature slinked toward her, its sleek body menacing and boneless. It leaped, daggerlike claws spread—she grabbed it by the throat and fought to stab it. . . .

And it melted away into nothing.

Dread tasted acrid and repulsive, like somebody’s ashes. She backed in a circle, knife out, her frightened gaze darted everywhere. Invisible hands settled at her waist. She screamed and whirled, and Malphas stood in front of her.

The Djinn’s presence was so Powerful a corona of energy surrounded him. She had no magic other than a spark of telepathy, but even she could sense his Power burning in her mind’s eye.

Djinn were creatures of pure spirit, so Malphas had no fixed form, but the physical shape he chose to take was angelic. He looked like a slimly built man wearing an elegant suit, with golden hair, seraphic blue eyes and a beautiful, deadly face.

He gave her a light smile that showed too many teeth. “Of course I’m looking for you, Tess. It’s only a matter of time before I find you.”

“Get out!” she hissed. Horror tightened an invisible hold around her neck, restricting her breathing. She brandished the useless knife. “Get out of my head!”

“You shouldn’t have done it, Tess.” Malphas’s voice held a caressing tone. He strode toward her, moving at a leisurely pace. “Eathan was mine, and you stole him from me. And I never forgive someone who steals from me.”

“He wasn’t yours to take,” she said between her teeth. “He didn’t know any better. He was just a stupid kid.”

“You know, most people don’t really understand the definition of agony,” said Malphas as he circled her. “Nor can they grasp the concept of eternity, yet both of those things together are a powerful combination.”

At his words, wind blew over her and grew hot, until every inch of her skin burned. The pain was truly unendurable. She screamed again and, desperate to stop it any way she could, she turned the knife on herself.

The noise she made, half grunt, half whimper, woke her up. As she bolted into an upright position, her breath sawed in her throat and her gaze darted everywhere.

Her tired back muscles protested the sudden movement, sharp pain shooting down her spine. The day had progressed significantly, the sun was high overhead, and the temperature had warmed so much that she was burning up, wrapped as she was in the blanket. She pulled it off then tore out of her jacket to let the balmy air cool her overheated skin.

She could sense no presence other than the ocean, no other sound but the wind and the waves.

“It’s just a dream,” she whispered, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. “It’s not real.”

She had been telling herself that for a week, ever since she had run away from Las Vegas and Malphas’s employment. No matter how many nightmares she had, they were all just dreams. Not even the most ancient and Powerful of the Djinn could enter a person’s dreams.

She didn’t think.

But her words were a cold comfort. While her dreams might not be real, they were still, in the end, quite true. She used to believe she had a bright future, and now, suddenly, her life was reduced to choosing the lesser of two evils in an effort just to survive.

Compared to endless torture by a vengeful pariah Djinn, life with a Vampyre might not be so bad after all.