Night Shift
Page 41

Olivia had read all about the massacre, and she scanned the mansion’s façade with some curiosity. She was rewarded at discovering a bullet hole on one of the window frames. Though it had been filled in and painted, it was detectable to Olivia, who knew her bullets. Lemuel rang the doorbell. He said, “Olivia, don’t leave my side in this house. If you have to answer a call of nature, I’d rather you do it in your pants than go somewhere alone with one of these vampires.”
“You might have said that before we got here,” she said, not knowing whether to laugh or make a dash for the bushes. “I can hold it.” Olivia wished he hadn’t brought up her bladder, though, because come to think about it . . .
Then the door opened, and Joseph Velasquez himself greeted them.
He was not a handsome man; short and squat and flat-faced. But he was powerful and intelligent, which was attractive in its own right.
“Mr. Bridger,” he said, with just a hint of an accent. “And perhaps your companion is Miss Charity?”
“I am,” Olivia confirmed.
“Very formidable,” Joseph said, in a voice that conveyed the exact opposite. “Please enter my home.” He stepped aside. Lemuel entered in front of Olivia, to take the first blow if there was an ambush. But none fell, and Olivia stepped inside behind him, trying not to feel shaken by the vibration of power as she moved past Joseph. There were other vampires in the hall, and still more in the room to which Joseph led them. When the house had been built (by humans)
this had been the family room, and it still served that purpose, though for a very different sort of family.
Olivia had never met any other vampire besides Lemuel, and she was surprised by how different they felt. She knew that Lemuel was unusual, but now she understood what a gap it made between him and the blood drinkers.
“Would you like a glass?” Joseph asked. He gestured toward a thin black-haired female who was carrying a tray of wineglasses. “Thank you,” Lemuel said, taking a glass from the central part of the tray.
“Would your human like something to drink?”
“Olivia?” Lemuel turned to her. There was a warning in his face. “No, thank you,” she said politely. Now was not the time to inform Joseph she could speak for herself.
“Thank you, no,” Lemuel relayed.
“We are so pleased to be able to extend hospitality to such a famous vampire,” Joseph said, slowly and carefully. “But since you have banned all such as us from your territory, I am quite interested to find out why you wanted to visit my own territory.”
“I have come to ask for one favor in exchange for another,” Lemuel said, just as carefully.
Their voices, you could hang icicles from them, Olivia thought. She was careful not to meet the eyes of any of the vampires around them.
She’d read enough to know that. The mesmerizing eyes were not a trait of Lemuel’s, and she was glad of that, because it would have been mighty inconvenient to dodge his gaze all the time.
“A favor?” Joseph was able to inject a lot of incredulity into two words. “From us? You astonish me.”
“I was astonished to hear that daytime servants of yours had come to my town while I slept,” Lemuel said.
“Ah. I will tell you why.” Joseph inclined his head graciously. “I had heard that a human who did us great harm was hiding in Midnight,”
he said. “Rather than offend you by sending one of us at night, I thought humans in our service would be less intrusive.”
“But of course, I heard of it,” Lemuel said, and though calm, his voice was truly terrifying. “And it did seem to me that such an action might be considered a violation of our agreement of so many years ago.”
“An agreement you made with Stan when he was young,” Joseph murmured.
“An agreement with the head of a nest is an agreement forever, unless it is renegotiated,” Lemuel said in return. No one in the room moved by so much as a whisker. Vampires could do that. In the silence that followed, Olivia kept her eyes on Lemuel’s feet.
She would know if the time had come to fight by the way he planted his feet.
“Perhaps you could explain the favor?” Joseph asked. “Certainly. I need the services of a young vampire in your nest.
Her name is Christine.”
The thin black-haired female with the tray moved an inch. Busted, thought Olivia. It was the equivalent of jumping up and down screaming, “That’s me!”
“This is Christine,” Joseph said, and the censure was heavy in his voice. “She is a weak vampire, but a fair fighter.”
He really doesn’t like Christine. Olivia began to feel optimistic about their chances. Perhaps Lemuel would not have to give up the truth ball if Joseph was anxious to be rid of Christine.
“On the other hand,” said a male with a blond crew cut, who had already caught Olivia’s attention because he looked very retro-1950s, “Christine has proven her worth to us. May we ask why you need Christine, in particular?”
Does she have something we don’t know about that we could use or exploit? Olivia translated.
“She is a weak vampire,” Lemuel said, with the air of one being sadly blunt. “She has only one recommendation to me, and that is her lineage. Her maker, who calls himself Dr. Quigley, gave me less than fair value in something I bought from him.”
Olivia found it draining to be so hyperalert to tiny movements. But at least no one was getting closer, and she could sense the vampires’ interest. Olivia was finding the atmosphere in the house stagnant and cool, and she realized that the vampires had not turned on the heat yet, though the night temperatures were dipping into the low fifties.
She was glad she’d pulled on a sweater for the drive.
The silence had lasted way too long, at least for a human conversation, and Olivia realized her thoughts were drifting when they should be most focused.
She’d heard that vampires could communicate with each other silently if they were connected by blood, and she figured that was what was happening.
“We are willing to give up Christine, for a price,” Joseph said. Good-bye, truth ball, Olivia thought.
“As it happens, I have something that may interest you,” Lemuel said smoothly.
Forty minutes later they were driving back to Midnight with a very sullen vampire in the backseat.
Olivia realized that her sex life was on hold for the foreseeable future. Lemuel was so private he didn’t admit in public that he and Olivia actually had sex, he had banned the F word from casual conversation, and he would never be induced into her bed with a vampire in the next room. Sure, there were more important things to face at the moment. But.