Bound to Shadows

Chapter Ten

"Ow," I said, rubbing my nose as I stepped back. "What the hell are you doing here, Rhoan?"

"I was about to ask you the same fucking question." He'd shoved his hands on his hips and was glaring at me fiercely.

I frowned and wondered what the hell was going on. "I'm getting information about the case. Why?"

"Because you car was found abandoned over near Vinny's, your com-link is turned off, and you weren't answering your phone." He thrust his fingers through his hair, and for the first time I noticed the tension in him. "We thought the worst."

I raised my eyebrows. "Why would you think that? You've always known when I'm in serious trouble in the past."

"Serious trouble, yes, but there's been times when you've been hurt and in trouble, and I haven't felt a thing." He hesitated and looked sheepish. "I guess I just panicked."

"Whatever game Kye is playing, it doesn't involve hurting me physically." Not yet, at least. "And my com-link isn't turned off. Not completely, anyway. I could hear Jack. He just can't hear me."

Given what I'd been doing last night, that had been a very sensible option.

"Well, the Directorate is getting nothing from your comlink, just an odd sort of deadness. Hence the panic." His gaze swept me, as if reassuring himself that I really was okay, then rose again. He frowned. "When did you start wearing an earring?"

"I'm not."

He reached out and plucked something off my left ear. It was small and round, with a blue stone at its heart. "Now I can feel you."

I barely even heard what he was saying, thanks to the fact that the minute he removed the earring, Jack's voice began to rebound loudly inside my head.

"Jack, slow down, I can't understand a damn word you're saying," I said, then added quickly, before he had a chance to blast me. "It appears I picked up some sort of electronic device that was blocking the com-link and maybe even telepathy."

"There's no device out there capable of that." His voice was gruff and it wasn't all anger. Concern was there as well, and that warmed me.

"Then maybe we'd better check out the device Rhoan just took off my ear, because I only began hearing you once it was removed."

Had Kye planted it on me? I couldn't remember him actually doing it, but then, he'd played my body like a maestro last night and would have had any number of chances to stick something on my skin without me being aware. After all, I had done exactly that to him. But why would he bother? He surely had to know that me being incommunicado would bring the cavalry running, and that we'd find the bug or whatever it actually was sooner rather than later. Especially given how obvious it was.

Maybe he simply didn't realize the com-link was also a tracker. Or maybe he simply enjoyed the thought of creating a little chaos.

"There's several bits of good news to make up for the bad," I added. "I managed to place the tracer on Kye—"

"Excellent," Jack cut in. "Once research hones in on the signal, we'll be able to monitor the bastard's movements. And we'll know whether he's anywhere near if we have another murder."

True. And I really did hope he wasn't, because that would only create a bigger mess than there already was.

"I have a name for you to run, too." I glanced down at the papers Kye had left me. "Carlos Martez, born in Spain twenty nine years ago, immigrated to Australia when he was nine. I have several photos of him I can send through, but no license details."

Although why Kye hadn't retrieved that when he'd gotten the name is anyone's guess. Maybe he didn't want to make things easy for me.

As if things would ever be easy when it came to him and me.

"And why are we chasing this man?"

"Because I saw him coming out of Vinny's last night, and he's some sort of emo vamp." I hesitated, then decided not to mention the fact that I'd probably gotten several nocturnal visits from him. Jack would only get mad that I hadn't mentioned it before now—although given that, until last night, I hadn't actually suspected my sexy dreams were more than just dreams, I couldn't really be blamed for that. Besides, until I knew for sure who was doing it and why, it was better not to jump the gun. All I really knew for sure was that it wasn't Vinny; it didn't have her feel. "I actually think he's the one behind the murders of the two women. Interestingly, when I was tracking him last night, he disappeared into Dante's."

"That doesn't mean the two cases are definitely connected."

It didn't mean they weren't, either. "I know. And I have no evidence connecting him to the murders. But I think we need to talk to both him and Vinny."

"I'll get Benson straight onto the trace."

"Have you gotten anywhere with the council? Are any of them willing to talk to us?"

"Given that your attempt to talk to Leon Gordon resulted in him losing his head, the answer to that is a definite no."

"Even Dante?"

"Dante is many things, but a fool isn't one of them. He won't risk talking to you if the others have refused. It would reflect on him badly."

I'd bet a hundred bucks that he would talk to me if I asked—but the cost would be sex and I really didn't want to go down that path. "We need to know what the hell they did to get someone so pissed off at them."

"I realize that, Riley, and it is being dealt with."

Meaning his sister—who happened to be the head of the Directorate—was dealing with it. "Good. Let me know if you get anything."

"No, Riley, I'm going to keep the information all to myself."

I snorted softly. Sarcastic was better than angry. "Thanks, boss."

He grunted and signed off. I blew out a breath and glanced at my brother. "You feel like breakfast? My treat, seeing I caused you so much stress."

He grinned and turned around, offering me his arm. "You know I'll never refuse an offer like that."

"Good, because we need to talk."

"That sounds serious."

"It is." He led me down the steps. His car was on the street and double parked, blocking the traffic from either direction. There were a couple of cars waiting to get past and it was probably only the Directorate plates that were keeping them from expressing their displeasure.

Rhoan opened the passenger door for me, then scooted around to the driver's side and climbed in.

"So," he said, starting the car and then driving off. "What's the problem?"

I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Kye."

Rhoan glanced at me, grey eyes considering. "That was his place, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"And you spent the night with him?"

"Yes."

"For fuck's sake, Riley, I thought you had more sense."

I smiled bitterly. "Tell me, Rhoan, how much success have you had keeping your paws off your soul mate?"

"That's different—"

"No, its not. Whether I like it or not, that man is a part of me, just like Liander is a part of you. I can't ignore him and I can't get away from him. I have to deal with him—and this whole situation—the best I can."

"And that best is sleeping with him?" He snorted softly. "That's not exactly dealing with the problem. That's giving into it."

"Yeah, it is. And it was done for a damn good reason, so don't you be looking down your nose at me, brother, or I'll damn well flatten it."

He grinned. "Them's fighting words, babe. Shame to waste them on me rather than him."

"Oh, trust me, I wasted a few of them on him, too." For all the good it did. "What's Liander involved with at the moment ?"

He didn't answer immediately, but the tension in the car suddenly ramped up several degrees. "He threatened Liander?"

"Yes."

"And you believe he'd do it?"

"He's the one who shot you—just to prove the point."

He didn't actually look surprised. But by the same token, the chill in his eyes suggested Kye wouldn't want to meet him on the street anytime soon. Which was the exact reason I hadn't told him earlier. "Bastard."

"Yup."

He blew out a breath and flexed his fingers against the steering wheel. "So we have to get him out of Melbourne. Immediately."

I knew he meant Liander rather than Kye, although I would have loved for him to get Kye out of Melbourne, too. "You have to get him out. I have to stay here and not only catch two killers, but deal with said bastard."

He swung into a McDonald's drive-through and ordered breakfast for us both. Once I'd paid and we'd collected our food, we headed for Vinny's. "Liander's not going to be happy."

"Tell him he can't be a daddy if he's dead."

He glanced at me sharply, hope flaring in his eyes. "Does that mean you'll agree to the surrogacy?"

"I can't agree to anything until we make sure everyone survives the current threat. Let's concentrate on that first." I took a bite of my egg and bacon McMuffin. "According to Kye, he has a tail twenty-four seven, so you'll have to make sure you're not followed."

"They wouldn't want to try." His voice was flat, deadly, and a shiver ran down my spine. He might be my brother, and we might both be little more than leashed killers, but sometimes he scared me. He had a switch that I didn't. He could so easily become everything I was fighting—a cold blooded, unfeeling killer.

Kye, in another form.

I gulped down some coffee, but didn't feel any warmer. Maybe because I knew that, one day, that switch would be mine. It was inevitable if I remained a guardian—and it wasn't as if I had any other option, when it came to that.

"It might be worth warning Quinn, too," Rhoan added. "Although that could be chancy. He tends to get a little annoyed with people who threaten him. And in this case, that wouldn't be good."

Not when he'd already threatened to beat Kye to a pulp. I finished my McMuffin, then started in on the hash browns. "If you don't eat faster, I'm going to finish the lot."

He grabbed one from the container and shoved the whole thing into his mouth. I shook my head in disgust then jumped as my phone rang. I dragged it out of my pocket and saw it was Jack. And he didn't look happy.

My stomach curled. There'd obviously been another murder. I pressed the receive button and said, "Who's dead this time?"

"I'm hoping no one." His voice was grim. "Sal just hit the emergency button. You and Rhoan get over to her house ASAP."

"You've tried contacting her via the comlink?"

"Yep. She's not answering." His voice was grim. "Drive fast."

We did.

Sal lived in a little two-story brown brick terrace near the heart of Brunswick Street's human hot spot. Meaning there were more night clubs here than there were in any other part of the city. Most supernaturals tended to avoid the area, simply because of the intense human population, but vamps seemed to love it. I guess being close to your food source did have its advantages. Interestingly enough, there weren't any clubs catering to blood whores here. Maybe it was too trendy and not out-of-the-way enough for them.

Rhoan parked several houses down from Sal's, then opened the trunk and tossed me a laser. He pocketed one himself then gripped a rifle. In my brother's estimation, you could never have enough fire power.

"Front and back?" .

I shook my head. "These are terrace houses. You'd have to run right around the block to get into the back lane."

If they had a back lane, that was. Some of these areas didn't. "Let's just hit the front together."

He nodded and walked forward, the rifle held at the ready by his side. A hunter ready to hunt. I turned on the laser and followed. The soft whine of the weapon powering up was a whole lot louder than either of our steps.

The pale yellow picket fence that divided Sal's little front garden from the street came into view. Bright red hollyhocks spilled over the pickets, contrasting sharply to the blue spikes of the monkshood. Names I knew simply because our mom had loved the cottage garden look when we were kids.

The door—a heavy wooden thing with metal straps running around its length—seemed untouched, as did the front windows. My gaze rose. One of the first floor windows was open. A lace curtain hung out, fluttering softly in the breeze.

Rhoan opened the front gate and ran lightly to the door. He tested the handle, then shook his head and side-stepped to the window, quickly and carefully peering around the frame.

Again, he shook his head then pointed to the upstairs window. I pressed on the laser's safety, shoved it into my pocket, then shifted shape. In seagull form, I flew up to the window and into the house.

The minute I landed, I shifted to human form, but remained kneeling, the thick brown carpet soft on my knees. The house was quiet and smelled ever so faintly of dog and vampire. There was no hint of blood riding the air, no hint of death. And in this room at least, no sign of violence.

I rose, grabbed a blanket from the bed, and dangled one end out the window. Rhoan grabbed the end and swiftly climbed up.

We moved to the door. After a three-two-one count on his fingers, we moved out—him high, me low. There was no one in the hall. And no one in either the two remaining bedrooms or the bathroom.

Which left the lower part of the house. I flicked to infrared and scanned the area immediately below the stairs. There was no sign of blood heat, no sign of life. Relief slithered through me. While it didn't mean there wasn't unlife, it did mean that Kye wasn't here.

Although Jack would surely have mentioned if he was. But I guessed that depended on whether they'd caught the tracking signal yet.

I glanced at Rhoan. "Anything?" I murmured.

He shook his head. "The house is empty as far as I can tell."

Which supported my own findings. I took a step down. The stair creaked softly and I paused, listening. The stillness remained, nothing moved, and yet… I suddenly wasn't so sure we were alone.

I padded down more stairs, my gun held at the ready and my muscles jumping with tension. The house remained still and free of any unusual scent or sound.

We reached the bottom step. I pressed my back against the wall, noting the glass littering the hallway. Someone had thrown a mirror—it lay in broken pieces near the front door.

Goosebumps fled up my arms as I stared at the broken shards. Two women had been killed by something that had probably come through their mirrors, I'd been visited in my sleep, and now we had a broken mirror here. Coincidence? More than likely not.

A quick scan of the front two rooms didn't reveal anything out of the ordinary. We turned and made our down the hall, our footsteps as silent as the house.

But as we neared the back room, the sensation hit me—an uncomfortable and all too familiar wash of heat. The sort of heat that came from lust. The sort of heat I'd felt when I'd followed the man who'd come out of Vinny's building last night.

I stopped abruptly. Rhoan glanced at me, one eyebrow raised in question. I signaled that I could sense someone inside and he shook his head, meaning he couldn't. Which was odd, but it didn't make me doubt what I was sensing. I learned long ago to trust what I felt. It might never have gotten me into less trouble, but at least it did give me a heads-up.

He raised his hand again and began to count down. When the last finger fell, I went in low and fast, slapping down on one knee as I scanned the room with the laser at the ready.

I had one brief glimpse of a man—the man Kye had identified as Carlos Martez—then he was gone, his body exploding into a mass of writhing, boiling black smoke that fled sideways. I followed with the laser, saw the mirror. Fired.

But I was too late.

The smoke that had been a man hit it a fraction of a second before the laser beam, the last of him disappearing into the confines of the mirror just before it shattered. I rose and ran over, but the glass was empty of anything but my reflection.

"What the fuck was that?" Rhoan said.

I glanced at him. He stood near the doorway, his gaze sweeping the room and his gun still held at the ready. "That," I said heavily, "was probably the vampire responsible for murdering two women. He's possibly also the vampire behind our beheadings."

"Vampires can't just up and disappear into smoke." He scanned the room a final time, then relaxed a little and lowered his weapon. "And they certainly can't disappear into mirrors."

"I don't think we're dealing with an ordinary vampire here."

"But even if he's an emo vamp, the same still applies. They just can't fade into mirrors."

"Unless they were something that could before they became a vampire." I pocketed my laser and began picking up the pieces of glass. If he could disappear through a mirror then he could reappear too, and I wasn't about to chance an ambush.

"So, what was he looking at so intensely?" Rhoan said, walking lightly across the room.

"I don't know." I rose and walked back down the hallway, opening the front door and tossing the mirror's remains out into the garden. Hopefully the bright sunshine would stop him using the shards as an avenue of return. I did the same to the mirror that had been smashed in the hall, then on the way back to the kitchen, I checked the other rooms. I found a mirror in what looked to be the main bedroom, and dumped it whole and intact outside. It looked old and may have well been an heirloom. And while I enjoyed baiting Sal, I wasn't about to destroy something she held dear.

Rhoan was kneeling where our vamp had been, but glanced up as I entered. "It's a trap door."

I raised my eyebrows. "Sal has a panic room."

"Pretty sensible thing for a vampire to do," he commented. "Especially given the human history of distrust when it comes to vampires."

"It's generally not that bad these days." The door itself wasn't large—it was big enough for a body to slip down into but little else. It was also metal, and looked strong enough to withstand a bomb.

"Tell that to the vampires who have lost their heads," Rhoan said, voice wry. "Or to the humans that wanted to belt your lights out."

"That's different." I knelt down beside him and ran my fingers across the cool metal, looking for something that might act as a lock or a switch to get into the thing. "Besides, it's not humans decapitating the vamps. How we supposed to open this sucker?"

As far as I could see, there was no damn lock. There wasn't even enough of a gap between the door and the metal frame around it to squeeze fingers in and rip it open.

"I don't think anyone is meant to." He raised a fist and pounded heavily on the door. The sound echoed through the stillness, and from what seemed a long way away, a dog yapped.

I grinned. I knew that bark. And if the little terrier I'd rescued was alive down there, then surely Sal was, too.

"Sal," I shouted, leaning forward a little, "it's Riley and Rhoan. The threat is gone. It's safe to come out."

"God," Rhoan said, wincing as he wiggled the ear lobe nearest me with one hand. "Give a warning next time you're going to do that."

There was no immediate answer from the room below us, but the excited barking got louder. Two seconds later, there was a hiss of air—similar to that of an air lock opening—then the lid popped upwards and slowly opened to reveal a ladder.

"Riley?" Sal almost sounded relieved, which definitely meant the situation had been bad.

"Yeah," I said. "The house is clear. It's safe to come out. "

"Good." The sound of steps on metal rungs echoed, then she appeared, looking more than a little disheveled and wearing a white satin night dress that showed off her curvaceous figure to perfection. The little terrier was tucked safely under her arm, though he was wriggling for all he was worth and giving everyone a silly doggy grin.

She set him down once they were both out, then met my gaze squarely. "Thank you."

I raised an eyebrow. "We were only doing our job. And Jack sure as hell wouldn't have wanted to lose the second-best liaison he's ever had."

A wry smile touched the corners of her mouth. "No, I mean thank you for giving me the dog. He saved my life."

"How?" I glanced down at the mutt in question. He was running excitedly around Rhoan's legs, yipping for all he was worth, stopping only when Rhoan bent down to give him a pat. "I mean, he's a great dog and all, but he's not really a threat, and he certainly wasn't much help to his first master."

Sal smiled and scooped up the little, dog as he ran back to her. "I was woken up by his barking. When I went down to investigate, he was frantic. The beat of life was strong on the other side of the front door, and whoever it was wore a very powerful nanowire that I couldn't get past. He scampered the minute I neared the door, but he left a miniature camera sticking through the key hole. I destroyed it, but it was too late."

I raised my eyebrows. "Too late for what?"

"To stop it." She gave the little dog another scratch. "Fred gave me the heads up when he started barking at the mirror. That's when I noticed the smoke forming."

She'd called him Fred? A woman with no imagination when it came to decent dog names, obviously. "And you knew what it was?"

"Yes. I've come across mirror wraiths before and have seen what they can do."

"So you smashed the mirror and ran for the safe room?"

"Yes." She smiled, though it held little in the way of amusement. "They can only travel through reflective surfaces, so unpolished steel is a perfect foil for them."

"So why not just destroy the rest of the mirrors in the house?"

"Because I had no idea how long the man at the door had been using the camera or how much of the house he might have seen." She shrugged. "It was safer to hide."

"If these things can come through mirrors," Rhoan asked. "Why would he be using someone to take images through a keyhole?"

"Because they cannot come through unknown mirrors. They have to physically see them before they can use them."

Which explained the housekeeper's observation that the second man had carried a camera but wasn't using it. It also suggested our two female victims had a tryst with the wraith before he'd started visiting them nightly.

Yet their friends and families had claimed that neither women had lovers. And while you mightn't tell your family that sort of stuff, most women did gossip to friends.

"How come you know about these things and Jack doesn't?"

"Because we come from two very different parts of the world. There are always regional evolutionary differences in species." She shrugged. "The question is, why would the wraith come after me?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Don't suppose you've been having seriously sexual dreams of late, have you?"

She glanced at me. "This is the first time the wraith has attempted to get into my house. So, no, I haven't."

"What about the Melbourne vamp council? Are you on that?" Rhoan asked, moving to the nearest window and looking out. He still held the gun ready, too, though I doubted our felons would risk coming back so quickly. Then I noticed his hand was still near his ear and realized he was in contact with Jack.

"No, I'm not." She frowned. "Although I did a short stint a while ago, when a friend of mine went overseas. And I have to say, most of the councilors are arrogant jerks."

Coming from Sal—who could be as arrogant as the best of them—that was saying a lot. I leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed my arms. "Those jerks are currently being murdered."

She nodded. "I'd heard, but I really didn't think it would involve me, given that my tenure was only brief."

"How come Jack didn't know?" He mustn't have; otherwise he would have mentioned it. Jack was many things, but he wasn't cavalier with the lives of his people, and he would have at least arranged protection for her.

"Because I only attended a few meetings, and my name never actually went onto the permanent roster."

"And how long ago did you stand in for your friend?"

"Nearly six months ago." She let the little dog down again then moved across to the percolator and began lining up cups. "As I said, it was mostly boring, everyday stuff. You know, someone wanting permission to set up a nest, someone else wanting help with a fledgling—" She paused and frowned as she pressed a button on the percolator. The machine began to spit and hiss, and the rich aroma of coffee filled the air. "There was one request the council refused. A man came to them requesting their help with several fledglings that were having trouble with coping with the turn. As it happens, he hadn't actually asked the council's permission to set up a nest, so he was punished. He was severely reprimanded, and the nest was destroyed."

"And how are nests usually destroyed?" The answer was pretty obvious given the method being used on the councilors, but it was a question that still had to be asked.

"Beheading, then the bodies left to burn in sunlight."

"That would certainly be enough to piss someone off."

"Yeah." She handed me a coffee, then walked over to the window and gave the other to Rhoan. "But it was six months ago. Surely if he was going to seek revenge, he would have done so before now?"

"If I've learned one thing in this job, it's that the bad guys never do what you expect," Rhoan said. "And six months isn't a long time when you basically live forever."

"Point taken," she agreed, and took a sip of her own coffee. "He didn't seem particularly angry at the council's decision, though. And he stood by and watched the destruction without saying a word."

"Maybe he was so damn angry he just wasn't able to react." I breathed deeply, savoring the divine smell emanating from my coffee cup, then took a sip. It lived up to the promise of its aroma. I might even be tempted to say the fresh fruitiness and creamy coconut flavor was every bit as good as my old favorite, hazelnut. "What happened to him after that?"

"I don't know. He just disappeared off the radar."

"And the council didn't find that alarming?" Rhoan asked.

Sal's smile was wry. "If the council got alarmed every time a vampire decided to make himself scarce, they would very quickly become nervous wrecks."

"I thought vamps tended to stick to their own territories?"

She arched an eyebrow. "If we did that, then there would be none of us in Australia, would there?"

That was certainly true. Australia didn't have the same history as England, Europe, or even the U.S. And when it came to white settlement—and the subsequent inflow of supernaturals—it was certainly one of the last places to be populated.

"So," I said, after taking another drink. "This man that went before the council, what sort of vamp was he?"

She shrugged. "I have to admit, I was bored and wasn't really taking that much notice of proceedings. But his name was Ammon. Ammon Nasser, I think."

It was a start, at least. I pulled out the photo taken from Kye's computer from my pocket and showed it to her. "Is this Nasser?"

She frowned at the printout, then shook her head. "Nasser is tall, with spikey brown hair and odd colored eyes."

"Odd how?"

She hesitated. "It's almost like the color is unstable. It shifts hue constantly. It's very weird."

It sounded it. "Are mirror wraiths vampires?"

"Generally no, but like any other person born to this world, they can chose to become one." She took a sip of coffee, her expression considering. "And he uses the mirrors extremely well, so I'd say he was a fairly old wraith when he changed."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because wraiths have certain restrictions when it comes to mirrors, much like vampires with sunshine. The ability really to use mirrors only becomes honed to a true skill as they age."

"How come you know so much about wraiths?" Rhoan asked, voice full of curiosity.

Her smile was bitter. "Because many years ago, one of them killed my family. It took me a very long time to track it down, but I eventually did."

Which was why she'd become a vampire. She didn't say it, but she didn't have to. "So how do you kill them?"

"The best way is to catch them in human form. Then you can dispatch them by any means that would kill a normal human. In smoke form, however, they are virtually unstoppable—though I have been told if you can hold them within the surface of one mirror, then smash that mirror in sunshine, you will destroy them."

"That doesn't exactly sound easy."

"No, which is why I chose the more old fashioned method." Her gaze skated down my body and she smiled when she saw I was wearing wooden heeled stilettos. "I would suggest stronger stakes. Those would not penetrate the heart of most vamps."

The weren't actually designed to do anything more than cause great discomfort, but Sal knew that. She was just getting back to her normal snarky self. Which was a good thing. "Are you able to give Jack a list of the councilors?" I added. "We really need to give these people protection."

Or, at the very least, warn them to get rid of the damn mirrors in their houses.

She hesitated, then nodded. "As long as Jack promises to keep his source confidential. They'd kick my ass if they found out it was me."

I couldn't help grinning. "I think you'll find there'd be more than a couple volunteers at the Directorate ready, willing and able to protect that ass of yours."

An eyebrow winged upwards. "Why, Riley, is that a compliment?"

"God, gag me with a spoon if I ever did that!"

She laughed—a throaty, warm sound. "Of course. How foolish of me."

"Riley," Jack said into my ear. "Get over to Vinny's and get whatever information you can about this man you saw leaving her building last night—and by whatever means necessary. You'll have to fly, because I want Rhoan to bring Sal back to base."

Jack was obviously using a party line to talk to us all, because Sal immediately said, "I am quite capable of bringing myself in."

"Yes, I know, but I refuse to lose any more councilors—or part time councilors—especially when that person is one of my own. So you will do as you're told."

"Boss," I said, "have you managed to get Kye's tracer signal yet?"

"We're only just now picking it up. He's not in the area." Which was no guarantee that he hadn't been. "Get moving, Riley."

"As soon as I finish my coffee." Which was a stupid thing to say, really.

"Now, Riley," he said, in that voice that suggested I'd better or there'd be hell to pay.

I blew out a breath, gulped down as much hot liquid as I could, once again burning my insides in the process, then did as ordered and got the hell out of there.

Of course, I might have been ordered to drag the information we needed out of Vinny, but that didn't mean I was stupid enough to do it alone. I'd confronted her like that once before, and it was only thanks to fact that Quinn had been there as back-up that Rhoan and I had gotten out relatively unscathed.

Once I'd gotten back to my car—which had been surprisingly ignored by vandals or looters in what was traditionally a high crime area—I grabbed my phone, hit the vid button, and dialed Quinn.

"Well, hello there," he said, in that softly lilting tone that always made my toes want to curl. "I was wondering when I was going to hear from you."

"Sorry, it's been a horrible night." If you could call great sex with a decidedly unwanted man who also happened to be your soul mate horrible, that was. "Have you got anything important on right now?"

"Why?"

The way he said it told me it wouldn't have mattered if he did. He'd be there for me, no matter what I needed. God, I really did love this man—even if it had taken me forever to realize that fact.

"I have to go question Vinny, and I suspect she's not going to like the subject matter—"

"And you'd like my presence as a motivational tool," he finished for me.

I grinned. "Well, she did become very motivated the last time you accompanied us."

"That's because whatever else she is, she possesses a sensible respect for beings that are far older and far more powerful than she is." He paused, and a deliciously sensual smile touched his lips. "Unlike some werewolves who shall remain nameless."

I laughed. "As you've noted repeatedly, werewolves have no sense."

"A truer point has never been made." He glanced at his watch. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"I'll be here waiting."

"Let's hope it always remains that way," he said, and hung up before I could say anything.

Making me feel even more horrible than I already did.

I rubbed the heels of my palms against my eyes and wished it would all become simple. Wished that the problem that was Kye would just disappear and that it could go back to being just me and Quinn.

But that was never going to happen, and I had to learn to deal—no matter how much pain that caused to both me and to those I loved.

Of course, Quinn would never understand the way I'd dealt with things last night. He was an old-fashioned sort when it came to sex, and giving in to what was basically blackmail would be something he'd never understand.

Or condone.

Not that he'd ever learn of it. Not if I could help it. I might love the man, but I also knew what he was capable of, and the one thing that worried me was him taking out Kye in a fit of anger. Or—worse—a fit of jealously.

He might know about the soul mate bond of werewolves, but I doubted he understood the true depth of it. Doubted he believed it could really lead to the death of the surviving partner, even though he'd witnessed the devastation Rhoan had gone through when Liander had almost died.

I leaned back against the head rest and turned on the music. But it didn't stop the thoughts from going around and around in my head, like cats chasing their tails. Nor did it help ease the worry that, sooner or later, this was all going to blow up in my face.

Fifteen minutes later, Jack buzzed me. I picked up the phone from the seat and hit the receive button. "If you're wondering why I haven't moved, I'm waiting for Quinn. I've got a feeling I'm going to need his help if we want Vinny to talk."

"Good idea," he said, "but that's not what I'm calling about."

The edge in his voice had my heart just about leaping into my throat. "Nothing has happened to Rhoan or Sal, has it?"

"No, they're safely on their way into the Directorate. But we did a full trace on Carlos Martez, and have discovered that he died some five and half years ago in a traffic accident."

"Well, he looks pretty good for a dead man."

"Obviously, we are dealing with someone who has usurped his identity."

So had Kye known that the real Carlos was dead when he'd given me his name? And if he had, why not tell me? Or was it simply another of his games? Another way of maintaining some form of control over me? "Was Carlos listed as human or vampire?"

"Vamp."

"Then how could he die in a car accident?"

"Easily. He ran into the back of a truck, which subsequently lost its load and decapitated him."

"And it was definitely an accident?"

"Yes. There was a witness." He paused. "Interestingly enough, that witness is a young woman currently residing in Vinny's nest."

"How convenient."

"Yes." His voice was heavy with sarcasm. "We've also done a preliminary search for Ammon Nasser. We have no records of him entering the country, but that's not unusual, given we only list those who come here legally. I've applied to the greater council for details, but it may take some time."

"You know, they're not exactly falling over themselves to help us, and that's damn strange, considering it's their people being chopped up."

"We're dealing with a very old, very formal organization here, Riley. And there are set processes in place for good reason, whether they chafe you or not."

I grinned. "Hey, they're the ones with their necks on the line, not me, so it's no skin off my nose."

He snorted softly. "Make sure the com-link is on so we can hear the conversation when you're in Vinny's."

"It'll be my first priority." Which was a dead-set lie, because my first priority would be kissing the hell out of Quinn.

Which is precisely what I did when he arrived eight minutes later.

"You're late," I murmured, when we finally come up for air.

He smiled and lightly traced his finger around my well-kissed lips. "Unfortunately, the traffic was worse than usual. A four-car accident, according to the news."

I kissed his fingertip and barely resisted the temptation to draw the digit into my mouth and suck on it. That would only lead to activities we really didn't have time for.

"Shall we head inside?" he said, even as the scent of desire began emanating from him. I guess after all the time we'd been spending together he'd know exactly where my thoughts had been heading.

"Yeah." I swung around and led the way. He walked beside me, not touching me physically but close enough that the scent of him, the heat of him, swirled around me—a blanket of warm protection that I just wanted to roll up in. But that was a distant likelihood for the next several hours, at least. "Our dear Vinny has been keeping secrets from us. We're about to lean on her to discover them."

"I always did appreciate a good 'lean'," he said, amusement in his voice. "But she's grown stronger since our last visit, and since she thinks she knows exactly what I'm capable of, she will be less tractable."

"Even I don't know exactly what you're capable of," I said wryly, "So she's a fool if she thinks she knows all there is to know."

And Vinny was many things, but a fool wasn't one of them.

My phone beeped as a message came in, and I dug it out of my pocket and glanced down. My heart skipped several beats when I saw it was from Kye.

Lunch is cancelled, it said. Have meeting with a client, Will contact you later.

Hope surged. Maybe last night—and my decision to stop fighting and give him what he wanted—was already beginning to pay off. With the challenge gone, maybe—just maybe—he'd pack up and move on.

It was a slim hope, but one I had to cling to nonetheless.

"Anything important?" Quinn asked, his voice nonchalant.

I glanced at him, noting the sudden remoteness in his expression.

He knew.

"Just a cancelled lunch meeting." I shoved my phone away. "Nothing important."

"Uh-huh," he said, voice still noncommittal.

I wanted to reach out and catch his hand in mine, but that would only confirm his fears. And even though those fears were very real, I didn't want to cause him any more pain than I already had.

We walked though the doors of Vinny's high rise and began to climb the stairs. A rumble of excitement began to touch the air, growing stronger the higher we climbed. I pressed the com-link, making sure it was on.

"Vinny knows we're here," Quinn said, the amusement back in his voice. "She is excited about it."

I glanced back at him. "Is that why the air feels so charged?"

"Yep. Our mistress of emotions is planning to challenge our authority."

"Then she's a damn fool."

He smiled, but this time there was nothing warm about it. "All youngsters challenge authority at some point in their lives. But most chose their targets more wisely."

We reached the top floor. A different girl guarded the door, but like the previous one, she was dressed casually and had a suspicious bulge on her right hip. Unlike the previous guard, this girl looked arrogant. Confident.

If the fledglings were taking their lead from their master, then Quinn was right. Vinny had grown overly confident. So why the sudden change? There'd been little evidence of this attitude when I'd talked to her a few days ago.

Did the man who'd visited her last night have anything to do with it? If so, it was more important than ever that we find him. And that she help us.

"We're here to see Vinny," I said, stopping little more than a foot away from the guard.

"You may go in, but the old one stays here—"

"His name is Quinn and he accompanies me or I will bust Vinny's ass and drag her down to the Directorate." I raised my voice a little. "So call off your dog, Vinny."

The guard's gaze went blank for a moment, then she said, her voice several octaves lower than it had been moments ago, "She does not wish problems with the Directorate, but she does not wish the old one inside her sanctuary."

"The old one can rip your precious little world apart whether he is inside or outside, Vincenta." Though Quinn's voice was still decidedly mild, there was a hint of steel underneath that was warning enough to anyone with sense. "But perhaps a demonstration is in order?"

The wash of power that suddenly burned across my senses was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. It was dark, dangerous, and somehow unholy, and it sent chills racing across my flesh. My gaze jumped to Quinn, and for a moment he didn't really seem whole or real, but rather a creature of shadow and imagination.

And somewhere deep inside of me, a memory twitched. I'd seen him do that once before, but that time he'd done it to save my life.

From within the room, there was a weird ripping, popping sound, then the screaming began. High, terrible screaming.

God, I said telepathically, what the hell did you just do?

I showed them just what an old one is capable of. I do not believe Vincenta will cause you any more problems.

Did you have to kill one of them to do it? But even as I said that, I knew it was a stupid question. If Vinny was beginning to test the Directorate's authority and control, then yeah, something drastic had to be done. And whether I liked to admit it or not, the Directorate maintained authority in this city—and others—by the knowledge that they would do whatever it took to hunt down those who went against the rules.

Vinny was an emo vampire, and her methods of rebellion were far subtler—and possibly more dangerous—than regular blood vampires. We couldn't afford to have her flexing her muscles when the city was already in turmoil.

I killed the one armed with silver who was standing in the shadows of the wall curtains. It wasn't one of her main concubines.

I'm sure Vinny will appreciate that consideration.

The sarcasm in my mental voice had his lips briefly twitching, but there was little amusement in his tone as he glanced at the somewhat paler guard and said, "Open the door, or I will do it for you."

The guard stepped back and opened the door. Quinn held out his hand and added, "Give me the gun and the extra bullets."

The note of command was in his voice and the girl obeyed without question. Those bullets were silver. I felt the burn of them as Quinn pocketed both them and the weapon.

I stepped inside the warm room, my gaze sweeping the velvet lushness before stopping at what could only be described as an explosion of flesh, blood, and gore. There was no bones, no body parts, just an oozing, awful mess.

He'd vaporized her.

God.

Just…

God.

How on Earth could you do that to another living being? I flicked my gaze across to Vinny and her cozy little set up down the far end of the room. If I was shocked, then Vinny and her entourage were positively scared shitless.

And with good reason.

Damn it, Quinn, just how long have you been concealing this little ability from me?

I was born with it. It is a gift—he paused, then added darkly—or a curse of my Aedh heritage. I do not use it much, because it has severe consequences.

Yeah. I was looking at the dripping remains of them. And yet… I've seen you do something like this before?

He hesitated. Yes. A while ago, when you first started dating Kellen. One of the chameleons from Starke's underground labs came after you.

Chameleons were a rare breed of non humans who could take on any background and literally become a part of it. They were also ferocious flesh-eaters and extremely hard to kill.

How come I've only just remembered it? Or is that a stupid question?

Our relationship was still very tenuous, he said gently, I did not wish to scare you away.

I told you to keep out of my head.

And I have. As I said, this was a while ago. Before you civilized me.

I snorted softly. As if there was ever a hope of civilizing this particular vampire. He might have an urbane and polished front, but underneath he was still very much a powder keg—and just as dangerous if handled the wrong way.

And yet I felt safer with him than I ever would with Kye.

I kept striding forward. Vinny was attended by her usual passel of toga-clad teenagers, but this time the clothing of those nearest the curtain bore the splattered remains of what had once been human. Or non-human. Their faces were positively green, and I guessed it was only Vinny's influence that was keeping them in the room. There was no caressing of their master's skin, no languid eyes or secretive little smiles. It had all been annihilated by the show of Quinn's power.

Vinny had definitely paled, and her normally seductive lips were little more than thin slashes, but the abject terror I'd glimpsed earlier was gone. She met my gaze squarely and there was now a hint of steel in the brown of her eyes.

She might still be scared shitless, but she wasn't about to let on to her fledglings or us.

And for that, I had to admire her.

I stopped several feet in front of her, with Quinn standing just behind me, his breath stirring the little hairs on my neck.

"I told you once before never to mess with the Directorate, Vinny. Now you know the consequences."

She glared balefully at me for several seconds, then pointed with her chin at the man behind me. "He's not Directorate. "

"He's an advisor, so that makes him one of us." I hesitated, then added, "One fledgling dead is better than the whole nest. And trust me, that is currently an option if the Melbourne council is informed of your recent activities."

"I have no idea what you mean."

She was lying. I could taste it, even if I couldn't see it in her expression. And while there was little to be seen in her face, the toga clad teenagers behind her rustled nervously. Pale fingers reached out and began to caress Vinny's arms and shoulders, and a gentle hum of energy tinged the air.

I wondered if they were reassuring themselves or Vinny, but didn't really care enough to ask. Not when there were more important questions.

"I'm talking about your association with the man calling himself Carlos Martez."

"I have no idea who—"

"Vinny, he was seen both entering and leaving your building last night, and we all know no one can get in here without your permission."

"He was merely here paying his respects. There is nothing sinister in that, guardian."

She changed tact as swiftly as a tiger snake, and was probably just as deadly. Or would have been, if Quinn wasn't standing behind me.

"Except for the fact that Martez has just tried to kill a Directorate employee."

"He wouldn't do that. You're mistaken."

"I was there, Vinny. I saw him."

Amusement flared briefly in her eyes. "If you were there, you should have stopped him."

"It's hard to stop someone when they can escape through mirrors."

"If you've come to me for information about how to destroy such a person, I'm afraid you're out of luck. I have no idea."

Quinn didn't move, but his power whipped out again. This time, it was the barb of telepathy. Somewhere behind us a door slammed, the sound echoing across the silence.

"Do tell your people not to try and sneak up behind us," Quinn said mildly. "I'd hate to kill any more of your concubines."

Vinny's fingers clenched. With a visible effort, she flexed them again. "I've already said I can't help, so I don't understand why you are still here."

"Vinny dearest, we haven't even started." I stepped forward, grabbed the front of her gown, and yanked her out of her chair and away from the caressing, calming influence of the teenagers. She yelped and briefly struggled, her pale arms flying. I ducked the blows and shook her a little more. "Carlos Martez died over five years ago. Tell me who has assumed his identity."

"I don't—"

I shook her again, hard enough to rattle her teeth. "One of your fledglings was a witness, so you knew Martez was dead. Who did you deal that information to?"

"I can't," she said, fury mixing with fear in her eyes. "He'll kill me."

"And the Directorate will kill you if you don't," I commented. "So chose which side of the bed you want to lie on, Vinny, because these games of yours are getting a little tiresome."

Something flickered through her eyes. The snake was twisting yet again. "He is my creator. I had no choice in doing what he said."

Is that true? I asked, without turning to look at Quinn. Without my full attention, the serpent I held just might strike, even with Quinn at my back.

To a degree, yes. The power of the creator over the fledgling lessens with time, but Vinny is not old enough to be totally free of his influence.

"Give me a name, Vinny."

She hesitated, then said, "Ammon Nasser."

The man the council had all but destroyed. He obviously had to be similar in looks to Martez to be able to maintain the fraud for so long. "And why did he come here?"

"Because this is my territory. It is considered polite to state one's aims when entering the territory of another."

Also true, up to a point, Quinn said. Vampires tend to tolerate other vamps within their hunting grounds if they are not causing problems.

I knew you guys were territorial, but I didn't think it actually meant having defined territories.

Why do you think there is such a wide spread of vampires? Unlike werewolves, we can not easily live in each other's shadow.

Which had to make life in a nest interesting. Obviously, though, emo vamps had no such problems. To Vinny, I said, "Would you even have a say in him setting up another nest given you're one of his creations?" Surprise flitted through her eyes, and I smiled grimly. "Yes, we know all about it. The council is not so staid and set in their ways that they wouldn't feed the Directorate information when someone is killing them off."

Yeah, they totally wouldn't, Quinn said, his amusement running through my mind—a river of warmth that made me want to smile.

"I did warn him of that danger," Vinny said, her sincerity almost believable. Almost. "I tried to talk him out of his plans, but to no avail."

"Then why did he wait six months to begin his revenge?"

She snorted softly. "Why do you think? If he'd begun straight away, the culprit would have been obvious. He is many things, but a fool isn't one of them."

"So what was he doing in the six months since the council wiped out his nest?"

She shrugged, pulling against my grip. "I didn't ask and didn't care to ask. He keeps out of my way—mostly, anyway—and I keep out of his."

"But you know where he's currently residing?"

"No. As I said, Nasser isn't a fool." Her brief smile was amused. "Apparently, he doesn't trust me."

Obviously, Nasser was well aware that he'd raised a snake. "Is he a mirror wraith as well as well as an emo vamp ?"

She smiled. It set my nerves on edge. "Yes, he is. I'm surprised you discovered it, because not even the council would have known that."

"Why not?" I asked, more out of curiosity than any real need to know.

"Because he came into this country illegally, and therefore would not be listed on the council's books."

Wouldn't have mattered if he was, Quinn commented. The council wouldn't have shared the information with you.

The council are rather large pains in the butt. To Vinny, I said, "So why did Nasser come here last night?"

"Because he supplements his feeding by feeding off of us."

I raised my eyebrows. "And you let him?"

"I have no choice." She almost spat the words. "He is an old and hungry soul who cannot be satisfied with feeding off a woman or two. He needs the energy supplied by a nest."

Maybe that's why Vinny's nest has grown substantially in the last few months, Quinn commented. She's been supporting her creator's needs as well as her own.

She's using him as an excuse. She wants her own empire, and would be growing as fast as she could anyway. To Vinny, I added, "So he has fed apart from the nest?"

"Yes." Something flickered in her eyes. Amusement, perhaps. Or cunning.

"And is he capable of killing?"

The cunning in her brown eyes got sharper, and I suddenly realized that she wanted her creator out of the way. She'd give us what we wanted, all right—not only to save her skin but to get rid of his.

"If you're asking me if his feeding killed Renatta Bailey and Janette Crowley, then the answer is yes. He boasted about it."

"And why would he do that when he knows you're as trustworthy as a snake?"

Her smile was bitter, hard. "Because it was a reminder that he could and would do the same to this nest if I stepped out of line."

I frowned. "How could one man kill an entire nest? Even if that man is your creator?"

It might be possible to kill Vinny, but there'd still be an entire nest to cope with, and even Quinn with his Aedh powers wouldn't have an easy time of that.

"It is because he's my creator that he can do it. I cannot deny his demand that we feed him, and he could, if he wished, drain us so completely that we die."

Hence her sudden desire to use us to get rid of her master.

"And you have no idea where he is staying?"

"No. I would give him to you if I could, but I really do not know."

She telling the truth? I asked Quinn.

Unfortunately, yes.

I grunted and released my grip on Vinny. The movement was so sudden she staggered backwards and fell into the chaise lounge. The toga-clad teenagers instantly began to caress her skin, and the soft humming I'd heard early resumed.

"I appreciate your help, Vinny."

It was sarcastically said, and the old arrogance flared in her eyes. "And I'd appreciate it if you leave and never come back."

"I'm afraid that is never going to happen. It's the price you pay for empire-building."

She didn't say anything to that. I turned and walked for the door—and felt safe only because Quinn was at my back. Had I been alone, I probably would have had a dozen silver bullets in it long before I ever got there.

The outside guard swung the door open as we neared, but before I could exit, Vinny said, "Riley?"

I paused and glanced at her. "What?"

"There is something else about Nasser you might want to know. Something that is vital if you're to have any hope of tracking him down."

I met her gaze and saw the cunning in them. "We're not paying you for the information, Vinny."

"Oh, consider this a freebie."

I snorted softly. "Hardly, when us getting rid of your creator means we'd actually be doing you a great favor."

"There is that, as well." She smiled benignly. I didn't believe it for a second. "Mirror wraiths have two interesting sets of skills. In vapor form, they can use reflective surfaces to travel through, therefore releasing them from the usual restraints of blood vampires."

Which explained how he managed to attack Sal during the day. "And the second?"

"The second will make your hunt more interesting." She paused—just to be annoying, I'm sure. "You see, they are flesh shifters. They can mold their skins to resemble any person they touch."