Morrigan's Cross
Page 13

“What the hell is that getup?”
He came awake and found himself staring up into the face of a giant. The creature was tall as a tree, and every bit as thick. He had a face even a mother would weep over, black as a moor and scarred at the cheek, and surrounded by knotted hanks of hair.
He had one black eye and one gray. Both narrowed as he bared strong white teeth.
“You’re not Cain.”
Before Hoyt could react, he was hauled up by the scruff of the neck where he was shaken like a mouse by a very large, angry cat.
“Put him down, King, before he turns you into a small white man.”
Cian strolled out of his bedroom, and continued lazily into the kitchen.
“How come he’s got your face?”
“He’s got his own,” Cian retorted. “We don’t look that much alike if you pay attention. He used to be my brother.”
“That so? Son of a bitch.” King dropped Hoyt unceremoniously back on the sofa. “How the hell did he get here?”
“Sorcery.” As he spoke, Cian removed a clear packet of blood from a locked cold box. “Gods and battles, end of the world, blah blah.”
King looked down at Hoyt with a grin. “I’ll be damned. I always thought half of that crap you told me was, well, crap. He’s not much for conversation before he’s had his evening fix,” he said to Hoyt. “You got a name, brother?”
“I am Hoyt of the Mac Cionaoith. And you will not lay hands on me again.”
“That’s a mouthful.”
“Is he like you?” both Hoyt and King demanded in unison.
Wearily Cian poured the blood in a tall, thick glass, then set it in the microwave. “No, to both. King manages my club, the one downstairs. He’s a friend.”
Hoyt’s lips peeled back in disgust. “Your human servant.”
“I ain’t nobody’s servant.”
“You’ve been reading.” Cian took out the glass and drank. “Some vampires of rank have human servants. I prefer employees. Hoyt’s come to enlist me in the army he hopes to raise to fight the big evil.”
“The IRS?”
In better humor, Cian grinned. Hoyt saw something pass between them, something that had once only passed between himself and his brother.
“If only. No, I told you I’ve heard rumblings. Apparently for a reason. According to the gossip of the gods, Lilith of the Vampires is amassing her own army and plans to destroy humanity, take over the worlds. War, pestilence, plague.”
“You can jest?” Hoyt said in barely suppressed fury.
“Christ Jesus, Hoyt, we’re talking about vampire armies and time travel. Bloody right I can joke about it. Going with you is likely to kill me.”
“Where are you going?”
Cian shrugged at King. “Back to my past, I suppose, to act in an advisory capacity, at least, for General Sobriety there.”
“I don’t know if we’re to go back, or forward, or to the side.” Hoyt shoved books over the table. “But we will go back to Ireland. We will be told where we travel next.”
“Got a beer?” King asked.
Cian opened the refrigerator, took out a bottle of Harp and tossed it.
“So when do we leave?” King twisted off the cap, took a long slug.
“You don’t. I told you before, when it was time for me to leave, I’ll give you controlling interest in the club. Apparently, that time’s come.”
King simply turned to Hoyt. “You raising an army, General?”
“Hoyt. I am, yes.”
“You just got your first recruit.”
“Stop.” Cian strode around the counter that separated the kitchen. “This isn’t for you. You don’t know anything about this.”
“I know about you,” King returned. “I know I like a good fight, and I haven’t had one in a while. You’re talking major battle, good against evil. I like to pick my side from the get.”
“If he’s a king, why should he take orders from you?” Hoyt put in, and the black giant laughed so hard and long, he had to sit on the sofa.
“Gotcha.”
“Misplaced loyalty will get you killed.”
“My choice, brother.” King tipped the bottle toward Cian. Once again, something silent and strong passed between them with no more than a look. “And I don’t figure my loyalty’s misplaced.”
“Hoyt, go somewhere else.” Cian jerked a thumb toward his bedroom. “Go in there. I want a word in private with this idiot.”
He cared, Hoyt thought as he obliged. Cian cared about this man, a human trait. Nothing he’d read had indicated vampyres could have true feelings toward humans.
He frowned as he scanned the bedroom. Where was the coffin? The books had said the vampyre slept in the earth of his grave, in a coffin, by day. What he saw here was an enormous bed, one with ticking as soft as clouds and covered with smooth cloth.
He heard the raised voices outside the door, but set about exploring his brother’s personal room. Clothes enough for ten men, he decided when he found the closet. Well, Cian had always been vain.
But no looking glass. The books said the vampyre cast no reflection.
He wandered into the bathroom, and his jaw dropped. The expansive privy Cian had showed him before retiring had been amazing and was nothing to this. The tub was large enough for six, and there was a tall box of pale green glass.
The walls were marble, as was the floor.
Fascinated, he stepped into the box, began to play with the silver knobs that jutted out of the marble. And yipped in shock when a shower of cold water spurted out of many flatheaded tubes.
“Around here, we take our clothes off before getting in the shower.” Cian came in, shut the water off with one violent twist of the wrist. Then he sniffed the air. “On second thought, clothed or otherwise, you could sure as hell use one. You’re f**king rank. Clean up,” he ordered. “Put on the clothes I’ve tossed out on the bed. I’m going to work.”
He strode out, leaving Hoyt to fumble through on his own.
He discovered, after some time and chill that the temperature of the water could be adjusted. He scalded himself, froze, but eventually found the happy medium.
His brother must have been telling pure truth when he spoke of his wealth, for here was luxury never imagined. The scent of the soap seemed a bit female, but there was nothing else.