Night Owls

21

VAL WOKE UP disoriented and with a crick in her neck. She was also hot, which was unusual considering her normal corpse-like temperature. Something lay atop her, not the heavy, gritty weight of dirt, so she knew she hadn’t gone to ground. This was soft and fuzzy. Blankets? She wriggled out from under them, dislodging enough throws and quilts to keep an Eskimo family warm in the dead of an arctic winter. She realized she was in her own living room, the fading light of dusk filtering through the drawn blinds. The events of the previous night came back to her, including her undignified climb into Chaz’ trunk.

At least he was thorough. He must have stripped her bed and raided the linen closets to find all of these. It was a good call on his part: her bedroom was the only place in which she’d hung blackout curtains. She probably wouldn’t have caught fire from what light seeped in, but she might have woken up with some pretty nasty burns.

As it was, she’d just woken up sweaty. Her hair was plastered to her neck. She was just contemplating a shower when her cell phone buzzed, and Chaz’ number flashed across the display. She picked up, grinning.

“Thank you for not leaving me in your trunk all day.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, but he sounded harried. “Listen, uh. I’m on the way over. You’ve got about five minutes to tidy up.”

She glanced around the room. It was cluttered, sure, but not a pigsty. “It’s not so bad,” she said. “You’ve seen it in far worse condition than this.”

He cleared his throat, and when she spoke, she could hear the wince. “I have, but Ivanov hasn’t.”

Suddenly she wasn’t sweaty anymore; she was clammy and cold. “Ivanov?” She hadn’t seen the head of the Boston Stregoi in three years. At the end of their last conversation, she’d suggested she might stake him if they were in the same room together within the next decade. It hadn’t been her finest moment, but she’d also been carrying a dying Chaz in her arms at the time. A bit of theatrics were understandable, even justified.

“I told you I was calling them today if we hadn’t resolved the problem.”

Val put the phone on speaker so she could dart around picking things up while they talked. “You did, but I figured you’d, you know, set up a meeting.”

“It’s what I intended to do, but when I called . . . Shit, Val, I got the sense they were going to show up here whether we called them or not.”

“You think they know what’s going on?” She didn’t have time to fold the blankets. Gathering them up in a bundle, she carried them into the kitchen and shoved them through the cellar door. Her house wasn’t prepared to receive visitors, not the vampire kind, anyway. As a rule, she didn’t keep blood packs on hand to offer as refreshment. Or people, like they did in Boston.

Well, that’s their own problem, not giving me any notice.

“They must. Or at least part of it. Whatever lackey answered the phone put me right through to Ivanov’s primary Renfield. I wasn’t on hold more than ten seconds. And since they said he’d be here right after sunset, they have to have put him in the car while he was still out cold.”

Her stomach roiled. That didn’t bode well. “All right, well. Good to know.” His sucked-in breath was loud in the quiet room. “What are you leaving out?”

“Don’t freak out.”

“Time’s ticking, Chaz. Spit it out.”

“He’s bringing Katya.”

The stack of magazines she’d collected fell to the carpet in a flutter of pages. “He’s what?”

“She’s his right-hand now. That’s what the Renfield said.”

“Don’t you dare come here,” she said. “Turn around and go back to Sunny and Lia’s.”

“Fuck that.”

“Chaz—”

“No. I’m pulling into your driveway now, and I’m staying for this.” Headlights splashed across her front window, and the roar of the Mustang’s engine cut short. “How about you turn on some lights for the sorry-ass mortal, huh? I’ll be in in a sec.” He ended the call.

Numbly, Val wandered around turning on the lights. She could Command Chaz to leave as soon as he came through the door, but then she’d lose his input. He’d be able to fill her—and therefore Ivanov and Katya—in on what had happened during the day.

But, Katya . . . She’d threatened to stake Ivanov, but she’d flat-out promised to do it to Katya. Of course, not until after she’d garroted the woman with silver wire, poked her full of holes and stuffed said holes full of garlic. The Stregoi bitch was the one who’d stolen Chaz away and drained him to the point of death. She was the reason Val had refused to have any dealings with the Boston vampires ever since.

And now she was coming to Val’s house.

The key rattled in the lock. Chaz stepped into the living room, holding a paper bag. “Lamb’s blood,” he said. “Best I could do on short notice. I had to buy a whole fuckton of lamb chops, too. You got any good recipes for mint jelly?” His voice was light, but she could see tightness behind his eyes and smell the fear emanating from him.

“Chaz, you don’t have to stay.”

“Yeah, I do. I’m not going to hide. My job is to serve you. I’m not letting her chase me away from that.”

“You’re not my servant. That’s not how we work, you and I.”

He set the bag down on an end table. “No, but they don’t understand that. We need their help, Val, and that means conforming to their shit. So I’ll play the part.” He grinned wryly. “Plus, she probably expects me to make myself scarce, or for you to hide me away. Consider my presence a bit of a ‘fuck you.’”

They looked at each other for a moment, Val tried to find another way around it, but he was right. Ivanov and Katya already held most of the cards. She and Chaz needed to slip whichever ones they could up their own sleeves. “Okay. Fine. But that means that if I dismiss you, you go. No arguments.”

He didn’t like it, but he nodded his agreement. “Go get cleaned up,” he said. “I’ll finish down here.”

Ten minutes later, Val had changed into clean jeans and a tailored shirt. She’d dragged a brush through her hair and twisted it into a bun. By the time she came back downstairs, Chaz had cleared away the rest of the clutter in the living room. He’d broken out her tea service and transferred the lamb’s blood into the china pot. Three delicate cups and saucers, pale roses curling around them, were set out in anticipation of their guests.

They didn’t have long to wait. Chaz had opened the blinds as part of his tidying, and now they both watched as a sleek black town car pulled up to the curb outside. A liveried driver got out and opened the rear passenger door.

Ivanov got out first, dressed in a suit that had been cut to scream Old World. He looked no older than thirty-five, but his face was all hard angles and shrewd expressions. At first glance you might take him for a young up-and-comer at a law firm, but that impression never lasted for long. He was the kind of man who demanded deference. It had probably been centuries since someone had dared refuse it.

He held out a hand, and a set of slender, ring-laden fingers slipped into his. Katya didn’t so much exit the car as she slithered from it. She was tall and reedy; thick chestnut curls cascaded down her back. Her outfit made Val do a double take. Where Ivanov’s suit had something antique about it, Katya’s was ultramodern. It was so cutting-edge that Val suspected it wouldn’t officially hit the runways in Paris until next season. The last time I saw her, she was dressed like a street rat. Gone were the torn jeans and scuffed leather jacket, though when the breeze lifted the other woman’s hair Val caught a glimpse of the line of studs marching their way along Katya’s ear. Katya seemed a bit unsteady on the heels of her spiky shoes, too. That means her getup is Ivanov’s doing.

Which led Val to an odd thought: if Ivanov and Katya had left Boston before the sun went down, not only had their servants bundled their sleeping masters into the town car, they’d very likely dressed them as well. She repressed a shudder. Bad enough that Chaz had had to drag her out of his trunk this morning and deposit her in the living room. She couldn’t imagine making him dress her like an oversized Barbie doll.

Still, in the face of the two fashion plates out on the sidewalk, her own jeans-and-a-nice-blouse ensemble felt suddenly shabby. At least Chaz looked sharp; he still had on the suit he’d worn to the Clearwaters’ funeral.

Katya peered around the neighborhood, a look of disdain on her perfectly made-up face. Edgewood clearly didn’t meet her tastes, which, unless she’d had a personality transplant, ran toward the seedy. Edgewood’s biggest dive bar was still terribly white-collar. She shook her head and let Ivanov guide her up the walk.

Chaz opened the door as they ascended the front steps, sweeping his arm aside and letting them past. Ivanov walked straight by him, but Katya paused, her eyes lighting up.

Val clenched her fists, fighting the instinct to lunge forward and drag the woman away from him. By the hair.

“Charles!” she exclaimed, drawing out the A. “I’d hoped to see you here.” She reached out and cupped his cheek. “I see you’re handsome as ever.”

He used the open door as an excuse to pull away from her touch, moving smoothly to close it. “I’ve never won any beauty pageants,” he said.

“You looked so ill, last I saw you. I’m glad you’ve recovered.”

Chaz stiffened. His scent shifted from terrified to furious, and for good cause: he’d been so ill because Katya had nearly killed him. Much as Val wanted to let him give her a piece of his mind—much as she wanted to join in on it herself—she saw the tiny grin playing about Ivanov’s lips as he watched the exchange and knew she had to head it off.

“Lord Ivanov. Katya. Why don’t we all sit? You’ve come all this way. Perhaps we should get straight to business.”

Ivanov smiled indulgently. Katya scowled for the briefest instant, then turned to greet Val at last. She glided forward, clasping Val’s hands and kissing her on each cheek. Her cold hands and lips took Val by surprise—she’d been away from others of her kind for so long, the warmth of human touch had become the norm for her. Katya’s grip was cool iron as she looked Val up and down.

“Valerie,” she said. “We’ve missed you in Boston.” The lie was obvious in her ice blue eyes.

“Well, maybe it’s time I made my grand return.” If Katya wanted to play that particular game, Val could join in, too. Especially since she was the better liar. The other woman’s plastered-on smile faltered. Score one for me.

Ivanov cleared his throat and touched Katya’s shoulder. “I do believe Valerie had the right of it. Perhaps we should discuss what we’ve come for.”

“Of course.” Katya squeezed Val’s fingers once before letting go, a cold marble warning.

They moved the rest of the way into the living room and sat, Ivanov and Katya on the couch, Val in the armchair. Chaz followed silently, pouring three cups of lamb’s blood from the teapot then exiling himself to the corner. He placed himself within sight of all three vampires. Blood drinkers were an untrusting lot; standing where they couldn’t see you made the more paranoid ones wonder if you were coming up behind them with a stake. He stayed just on the edge of Katya’s peripheral vision, to fuck with her. If she wanted a good look, she’d have to twist around.

Ivanov took a sip from his cup. He was far too polite to grimace at the poor vintage, but he set it down on his saucer and didn’t touch it again. “I understand you’ve come into conflict with some Jackals,” he said. His mouth twisted as he said the last, like the word tasted worse on his tongue than the blood had.

“You could say that,” said Val. “A friend of mine came into possession of something they want. He died for it, but not before he arranged for it to come into my keeping.”

“And when they showed up to retrieve it, you refused to hand it over?”

“I couldn’t have.” She left out the part where she’d tried. If Ivanov pushed for details, she’d tell him, but she didn’t want to admit they’d taken her by surprise and overpowered her if she didn’t have to. “It’s a book. We don’t know exactly what’s in there, but one of my employees had a look at it before they came. Whatever they want so badly, it’s not in there anymore.”

“Oh? And where did it go?”

“Into him.” She shrugged. “We don’t know how, and we haven’t been able to put it back. When he writes, all he can do is write the words that were in the book, but none of the magic gets written out with it.”

Ivanov spread his hands. “Your solution seems simple.”

“You know a way to help him?”

Katya snorted. Ivanov smiled like he was speaking to a dim child. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose.” His steady gaze locked onto Val’s. “Kill him.”

Val nearly spat out her mouthful of lamb’s blood. “What? No! That’s . . . that’s not on the table. No.” She glanced at Chaz. He hadn’t moved, but his eyes were wide and angry.

Ivanov’s smile faded. “It’s the easiest way. You end his troubles and the spell dies with him, keeping it out of the Jackals’ hands. Two birds, one stone.” He tilted his head. “I’d have thought that would please you.”

“If you don’t want to do it,” Katya said, “you could give him to us. We can do it for you.”

“NO.” Chaz advanced on them, fists clenched at his sides. “Fuck that, and fuck you. You heard Val. It’s off the table.”

“Chaz—” Val started, but it was Ivanov who stopped him.

He was a blur as he rose, even to Val’s eyes. To Chaz, it must have been a shutterblink. “Kneel,” he said, the Command in his voice so strong that Val almost wanted to get to her knees, too.

Chaz dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut. His eyes were clear, the anger in them flaring, but the sheer psychic weight of Ivanov’s influence kept him opening his mouth to argue. It showed how old the vampire was, that he could utter a one-word Command and his subject would obey the unspoken orders buried within it. In this case, “Shut up.”

Ivanov stared down his thin, aquiline nose at Chaz. “I see your Renfield is still allowed free rein with his tongue,” he said.

“You just suggested I kill one of my employees. I think his reaction was pretty justified, considering.”

He waved that away. “A good vassal keeps his passions to himself. Unless, of course, you’re suggesting he speaks for you?”

“He speaks for himself, and that’s how we prefer it.” Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Katya’s sudden smirk, but dismissed it. One fight at a time, here. Ivanov was far more important.

He stood over Chaz, rubbing his chin. “Some of our kind allow the same because they feel their servants can offer wise counsel. I’m not sure I’d believe that of yours, Valerie. He’s only ever shown a smart mouth in front of me, not a clever mind.”

“He can be coarse,” she said, reminding herself to apologize to Chaz for that one later, “but he’s the only person I’d trust guarding my tomb when the sun’s up.” It was an old saying, since most New World vampires didn’t sleep in cemeteries anymore, but Ivanov caught the meaning.

“All the same, I think perhaps this would go more smoothly if he were to recuse himself from the discussion. Of course, that is your decision to make, not mine.” The look he gave her quite clearly told her what her decision ought to be. He stepped away from Chaz and said, “You may rise.”

Chaz got to his feet slowly, as if Ivanov might order him right back down again. He looked at Val, waiting.

“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m not going to let anything happen to Justin. Why don’t you go wait in the kitchen for now? There should be something in the liquor cabinet if you want to pour yourself a drink.” It was the kindest way she could think of to dismiss him without belittling him.

Chaz gathered his dignity and gave her a curt nod. He sketched a bow to Ivanov as he backed toward the kitchen door, but he might as well have shown the vampire his middle finger, for all the contempt there was in the movement.

Ivanov remained standing until Chaz was out of the room, then shook his head and sat beside Katya once more. “Better,” he said. “Now. Back to your unfortunate employee. You won’t kill him, and the Jackals will keep coming until they get what they want, which, let us be honest, means they might kill him instead. Or, if they keep him alive for the thing dwelling within him, it will be an unpleasant existence for him. They won’t treat him like an honored guest. You know this as well as anyone.” He folded his hands in his lap and eyed her.

Val grimaced. It was true. If the Jackals got hold of Justin, they’d keep him chained until they got what they wanted. Then they’d tear him apart. “I don’t intend to let them have him.”

“And yet your servant informed mine that attempts at restoring the spell to its rightful place failed.” A glint entered his eyes. “We should speak on that, as well.”

“The ritual? It happened during the day. I didn’t see it, Chaz did. And you’ve had me exile him to the kitchen.” The back door slammed hard enough to make the cups rattle in their saucers. Val sighed. “And now he’s gone for a walk to cool off. So there’s not much I can tell you.”

“No, I don’t care about the details of that.” He smiled like a snake about to strike. “Valerie. You didn’t tell me you were associating with Value’s children.”

She blinked. “Pardon?”

“The boy you’ve befriended, the freelance warlock.”

“Cavale?”

“Yes. And the girl who I’m given to understand brought the Jackals upon you in the first place. Surely they’ve told you who they are?” It wasn’t really a question. Ivanov always knew more than he let on.

“Only a little. They’ve mentioned a man named Value, but he’s dead.”

“And their ties to the Brotherhood?”

“Severed, from what I understand. At least, Cavale’s were. I didn’t even know that’s where he’d learned his trade until two nights ago. The girl . . . I think Value was her only link.” She peered at him. “Does it matter? Should I have contacted one of theirs instead?” Not that she had the faintest idea how to get in touch with the Brotherhood out here. She’d remained intentionally ignorant of that for the last ten years, and that suited her just fine.

Ivanov smirked. “Certainly not. It’s simply curious to me, Valerie. You renounced that whole life when you came east, showed up on my doorstep proclaiming you were out of the Hunt and wanted to be left alone. Yet, here you are, mired in it once more.”

“I told you,” she said, trying to keep the snarl out of her voice, “I didn’t know they were Brotherhood. This was dropped in my lap, and as soon as Justin’s safe and the Jackals are gone, I’m done. Again.”

“Perhaps you should reconsider.”

Val went still. Katya watched her, smirking. This is political. “I thought the Boston covens abstained from the Hunt.” It was part of why she’d come here, after the disaster that was Sacramento. Everywhere else, she’d be sure to run into a cluster of Hunters who would expect her to pick up the stake again. The Brotherhood’s numbers were thinning, their members leaving the Jackals’ extermination to the vampires. But the Boston covens seemed content to let the Jackals be, provided they didn’t wreak too much havoc. When they did—and they always did, eventually—the covens would call in Hunters from the South or the Midwest to take care of it.

Ivanov nodded. “We do, as a rule. But perhaps the game has changed.”

“How?”

Katya snorted. “I thought you were supposed to be clever.”

Val ignored the barb and looked at Ivanov. “I’m clearly missing something here, but I don’t have time to try sussing it out. If there’s something I ought to know, or something you want, just say it.”

She winced as soon as the words were out, certain the disrespectful outburst would raise Ivanov’s ire, but he only chuckled and took another polite sip of blood. Val was fairly certain he’d only lifted the cup to his lips.

“I’m saying these two have forgotten more about magic and ritual than most members of the Brotherhood will ever learn, and they’re both young yet. Father Value was a madman and a zealot, even by the Brotherhood’s standards. They threw him out, Valerie, but no one ever took those children from him.”

“And now you want them.”

“Think what an asset they’d be! They make most members of the Brotherhood look like hedge mages. And if there’s ever a time when the Brotherhood has something we want . . .” He trailed off, letting Val fill in the rest.

He might not have an immediate use for them, but Ivanov thought in the long term. If the Stregoi did need something from the Brotherhood, Elly and Cavale’s influence would be useful.

“I can’t speak for them,” she said. “I can ask if they’d like to meet with you, but that’s all.”

“And your own return to the Hunt?”

“No.”

He looked disappointed, but not upset.

This conversation isn’t done.

“Katya, will you be kind enough to get the colony on the phone? I’ve some business to discuss with them.” Katya rose and swanned out of the room, cell phone to her ear. Ivanov waited until the front door clicked shut, then turned the full force of his gaze on Val. “It wasn’t a question, Valerie, and I believe you know that.”

“You want me to Hunt again.”

“Yes.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because your talent is wasted here. You live like a human and it’s a shame. We are so very much more and you know this. Don’t you think it’s time to come out of mourning and do the thing you excel at?”

“I don’t. And with all due respect, sir, I have to call bullshit. My talent hasn’t mattered to you for years. I haven’t mattered to you for years. So if you’re going to ask me to Hunt again, it’s only fair you be honest with me about why.” She’d already danced right past disrespect, so it wasn’t hard to go for downright rude: “You’re making a show of power, aren’t you? Did some other colony challenge your authority?”

He didn’t respond, but the gleam in his eye told her she’d either guessed correctly or come damned close. While it wasn’t unheard of for vampires to fight one another, it was rare enough. Subtlety had a way of going right out the window when territory wars escalated. If Ivanov could say he had Sacramento’s champion Hunter allied with him—plus Elly and Cavale and whatever reputations they brought with them—no one would dare stand against him. He hadn’t needed them before now, but Ivanov was both arrogant and patient: he’d been keeping tabs on her, and thus probably on Cavale as well.

We’d be pawns.

She opened her mouth, trying to think of a way to buy some time, when her cell phone rang. Decorum stated she should ignore it—should actually have shut it off—but Ivanov gave her a little wave: Go ahead.

Cavale didn’t wait for her to say hello. His voice was calm and cold, a Hunter’s voice: “Val. We need you here. They’re coming.”