Dayhunter (10 page)

“You’re forbidden to use fire here!” he shouted. A fire snake slowly slithered around the pole, waiting for its prey to descend. I extended my right leg so that only the tip of my boot touched the ground. The snake instantly changed directions and came back to me. It wriggled up my leg and wrapped around my waist once before disappearing.

“We’ve been betrayed. All bets are off,” I replied in a hard, cold voice.

“Yes, we have,” he said, his dark gaze locking on Danaus. His words cut through me. I knew it looked like I was betraying our kind to the one who had hunted us for centuries. I could have told him that Danaus had protected Sadira, Tristan, and even Jabari in England, but I would have been wasting my words. Actions were the only thing these creatures believed. Words were just neatly packaged lies.

“When the day comes that you have to choose a side, ask yourself who will be willing to protect you,” I called back, drawing his grim gaze back to my face. Tonight alone, I had sworn to protect not only another vampire, but a human, from the Coven. Any protection offered by the Coven was a flighty, mercurial thing at best, which seemed to change each time the sun set. I still hadn’t been forgiven by Valerio, but at least I’d given him something to think about. It was a start.

We traveled the rest of the way to the main hall unmolested. That’s not to say we weren’t surrounded by a sizable group of very pissed-off nightwalkers. At the moment, however, they were content to let the Elders work me over first.

SEVEN

T
he Great Hall of the Coven was near the opposite side of the island from where we docked but still a distance from the shore, so that any one landing would be forced to walk at least a few dozen yards before reaching the main doors. The large three-story building was made entirely of dark gray stone and resembled an old fort with its long, slender windows reflecting the pale moonlight. It rose up from the interior of the island like a cold, silent guard refused eternity’s rest. There were no lights leading up to the building, nothing to welcome the curious if someone happened to be on a leisurely stroll around the island.

Walking up the main stairs, a pair of heavily muscled men pulled open the massive wood and steel doors. There were other humans about the large building, a collection of servants and pets. And when the need called for it, food readily on hand. It was better than worrying about grabbing a bite from the nearby hotel when dawn drew close.

The two doormen barely earned a glance as I strode past them and down the long, dim hall to another set of doors. A heavy pounding echoed through the entryway as the front doors were closed, the sound bouncing off the walls as it flew up to hammer against the high ceiling. A chill skittered along my spine but I said nothing as I suppressed the old memories that attempted to crawl into the forefront of my mind. Clenching my fists at my side, I forced myself to take a step through the open doorway leading into the main throne room. I didn’t let myself look back at Danaus for any kind of encouragement, though I wanted it. I just kept moving, my eyes never wavering from the trio sitting on the slightly raised dais at the other end of the room.

The cold, uneven stone that comprised every inch of the entryway gave way to jaw-dropping opulence in the main hall. Shiny black marble floors gleamed in the candlelight as if a lake of liquid night stretched out before us. The three-story ceilings disappeared in the darkness, as the flickering candlelight could not penetrate the inky blackness overhead. The Coven had found a way to cage the night itself, but had yet to find a way to stop the passage of time.

There were no windows in this room, making it a safe hiding place from the dawn if necessary, but the main sleeping chamber was several meters below ground. The walls were covered in exquisite paintings, tapestries, and flags—a collection of art almost as old as man. From the ceilings hung gold and crystal chandeliers that flickered and twinkled with candlelight. Yet as beautiful as it was, it was also cold and silent. The room somehow managed to have the feel of both an elegant ballroom and a dusty mausoleum.

At the end of the hall, three small steps led to a raised platform that held four intricately carved gold-leaf chairs. In the middle sat Jabari and Macaire, while Elizabeth rest in the chair to the far left. The chair on the far right next to Jabari remained empty. It had belonged to Tabor. That vacancy seemed all the more ominous now that I’d walked in with a nightwalker hunter. While no one on the Coven had said anything to confirm it, some believed that Tabor was killed by Danaus, while others believed he was killed by another Ancient who refused to step forward, fearful of crossing Jabari. I’d begun to wonder if the slaying had been completed by the naturi. What better way to ensure that we couldn’t protect the seal than to destroy the triad that had created it? Yet now, with the presence of the naturi in the main hall, an even darker theory began to take shape in my mind.

Behind the set of four chairs was another set of three stairs and a smaller dais. On this platform rested just one chair, made of wrought iron with a red velvet cushion. That chair belonged to Our Liege. It was empty as well. I stared at that empty spot for several seconds before finally dragging my eyes down to the Elders. I had yet to meet Our Liege, and while I wasn’t particularly comforted by the fact that he was missing now, I was glad that I would not meet him for the first time under the current circumstances.

At the center of the room, I stopped walking and bowed my head to the Coven. It was polite but not overly subservient. I was treading on thin ice already. Jabari was more than a little pissed at me if he was looking to create my replacement, and I had never gotten around to playing nice with Macaire or Elizabeth, so there was no help to be found there. My goal was to not slit my own throat in the first five minutes, while I tried to keep the others around me alive. Danaus wisely remained a step behind my left shoulder and did not move. In fact, I wasn’t even sure he was still breathing. However, by remaining behind me, I felt reassured that he was willing to follow my lead in this intricate tango. Well, at least for now.

Sadira, on the other hand, came around to stand next to me on my right. She was willing to stand with me, but her placement opened the door for her to jump ship if things got too ugly.

Macaire shifted in his chair, reclining while stretching out his left leg. His eyes paused over each of us before he finally drew a breath to speak. “
Benvenuto,
Sadira. It has been a long time since you were last in Venice.” His Italian was smooth and flawless, as if he were a native.

“Grazie,”
she murmured as she bowed to the trio. “It is rare that I leave my home, but it is always good to look on the loveliness of Venice.” Despite the anxiety I could feel washing off her in small waves, her tone remained its usual calm, as if nothing could disturb her tranquility.

I thought I was going to gag, but I kept my mouth shut and my face blank.

“Please, come sit near us. It seems we have much to catch up on.” The silver-haired Elder motioned with a careless wave of his right hand for her to take a seat on the stairs before him.

Macaire was not the leader of the Elders, not even the strongest of the three. That was and always would be Jabari. However, Macaire loved to play with his prey. He liked to toy with their minds, break their spirits before he broke their bodies. It was a trait Sadira shared with him, one many nightwalkers shared.

“I am honored, but I would like to remain beside my daughter,” she said, lifting her chin slightly. I raised one eyebrow in surprise before I could catch it. Macaire had given her an easy out, an extremely generous opportunity to save her own skin. She wouldn’t get a second chance.

“Yes,” he hissed. Macaire’s eyes slid over to me and his gaze narrowed. “Mira. It has been a long time.”

“Not since that last little job in Nepal,” I said with a pleasant smile. It was a little nudge, a friendly reminder that I had fulfilled the requests of the Coven in the past. One of the Coven toadies had contacted me several years ago to eliminate a vampire who was causing some problems in a small village in Nepal. He was leaving behind a large trail of bodies. It was raising too many questions, and a major media organization was starting to look into it. I destroyed the nightwalker and it was covered up as a rare disease sweeping through the remote area. After the job, I stopped by Venice as a way of politely checking in before returning home. At the time, only Elizabeth had been in residence on the island.

“Yes. Well, it seems you were quite busy in England recently.” I opened my mouth to argue, taking a step forward, but Macaire raised a silencing hand. “Jabari told us of how you were attacked by a horde of naturi not far from London. Nasty business.” Macaire shook his head, while resting his elbows on the arms of the chair. He folded his hands over his stomach and watched me for a moment as if thinking. “We are grateful that you saved the lives of Sadira and our Jabari. It would have been a dreadful loss.” He paused for half a second, and I thought I saw something in his eyes, but he quickly pushed on. “But it seems your little display has caused some problems that need dealing with.”

“What problems?” I flinched, the muscles in my shoulders tensing. What new horror was I opening myself up to? I took a small step forward, wishing I could push Danaus and Sadira behind me a little better, but I could offer only so much protection.

“I’ll let our visitor explain,” Macaire blandly said.

At the same time, a door to the left of the dais opened and a woman walked out. She was African American, with rich black hair that poured past her shoulders and large, lovely brown eyes. She walked across the room with a natural ease and seductive grace that could bring men to their knees. I’d seen her do it. Her name was Alexandra Brooks and she was a werewolf. I’d known her for nearly five years, but I doubted that the Coven was aware of it. During the long centuries, lycans and nightwalkers had learned to tolerate each other. On rare occasions, nightwalkers and shapeshifters would team up for some mutual fun, but the peace never seemed to last long.

We had held a contest once. It was Valerio’s idea. We grabbed a poet and made him decide which race was more alluring: vampires or lycans. Poor fool. It really was a no-win situation for him, but we found it entertaining. After more than two weeks of allowing his senses to feast on a handful of vampires and a choice selection of weres, he made some interesting comments. For this poet, vampires could be extraordinarily sexy just standing still, quietly occupying space like the white, slender beauty of the Venus de Milo. On the other hand, lycans seemed to come alive with sexual allure the moment they moved. Their energy flared and filled the room, brushing against its occupants; an exquisite blending of animal and man.

To my surprise, we released the poet after he made his comments. Both sides seemed content with the assessment, and Valerio’s interest had wandered elsewhere. I later heard that the man committed suicide a few months after escaping our collective clutches.

Behind Alexandra, a prime specimen of male beauty strolled in. At well over six feet, he looked as if he were built of pure muscle with a hint of granite. A seeming child of the sun, the stranger possessed thick blond hair and bronze skin. His features were soft, with full lips and small cleft in his determined chin. He was also a lycanthrope. His movement was too liquid to be human, and with him came the scent of nature. Not the same as you would smell when the naturi were near, but definitely woodsy with a musky hint of man.

If the circumstances had been different, I would have happily taken the time to get to know the shifter. Unfortunately, my main concern then was making sure Alexandra didn’t say anything to reveal our friendship.

I smiled coldly at the woman, my fangs peeking out. “I never thought I’d see the day when the Coven let a mongrel loose in the main hall.”

Alexandra sharply halted and glared at me, but said nothing. She and the male lycan were outnumbered in the court of nightwalkers. As an emissary, she expected a level of protection from the Elders, but that didn’t mean the members of the court couldn’t mock her in an attempt to get her to attack. If she attacked, a nightwalker had every right to defend herself.

I walked over, drawing closer with each circle I closed around her. The sharp click of my heels on the marble was the only sound in the enormous room. The blond man stiffened when I slipped between him and Alexandra, but he didn’t move, didn’t even change his even breathing pattern. “Tell me, Alexandra, are you still an Omega or did a Beta finally have pity on you and make you his bitch?”

Alexandra growled low in the back of her throat at me, and I saw a subtle shift in her eyes for a second. Her brown eyes had faded to liquid copper as the wolf in her fought for control on the swell of anger. Lucky for us both, she caught it in time. She wouldn’t risk changing here—it was too dangerous with this many vampires hanging about; she wouldn’t survive the night.

Of course, after my last comment, I was asking for her to rip my throat out. There were three grades to the werewolf pack. There was the Alpha male and female; leaders of the pack. Everyone else generally filtered down to the Beta class. And then there were the Omegas hanging on the periphery of the pack, not exactly a part or accepted, just barely tolerated. They were permitted the scraps of the kill after everyone else had eaten, and they served as the whipping boy for the family. The only thing lower than an Omega was dead.

“Arresto,
Mira,” Macaire said mildly with a vague wave of his hand. There was no censure in his voice, only a note of boredom and maybe a hint of amusement. “It seems you have already met our Ms. Brooks,” he continued, switching to English for Alexandra’s benefit.

“She came sniffing around my domain a couple years ago. I sent her on her way,” I said, turning my back on the lycan as I walked back over to Danaus and Sadira.

“How nice,” he said with a false grin. “That does not matter. She’s brought word from her people in England.”