The sole color choice he had was his boutonniere. Three of them had been delivered, all roses: deep red, white, and, because his friend was truly amazing, a Black Baccara. Asil touched the black-dusted deep red petals gently. But his date was wearing blue this evening, so he pinned the white rose to his coat and headed out.
The front desk had advised him to look for a gray BMW, and such a one, an i7 M70, was parked in the pickup area just outside the hotel entrance, headlights striving to cut through the darkness and driving rain. The storm had increased since the last time Asil had been outside. It was also colder than last night had been—just a hint of the possibility of snow in the air.
Waiting beside the car was a man dressed in unrelieved and very expensive black, entirely unruffled by the rain.
As Asil approached close enough to get a good scent off him, he could tell the driver was human. Given his recent dating experiences, Asil wasn’t taking anything for granted. The rain did a good job of keeping Asil’s nose from telling him much else, so he used his other senses.
The driver’s trimmed beard was dark and there were more years on his face than Asil wore. He was probably somewhere between thirty and a well-maintained forty-five.
Experience of violence dictated the man’s balance and foot placement. He carried a gun in a shoulder holster. It was a good holster, and someone less observant than Asil (which meant most anyone else) might have missed it. Probably there was an ankle holster, too. Scarring on the man’s knuckles indicated that he might not need a gun to hurt someone. He was, perhaps, bodyguard as much as driver.
Asil found him interesting.
“Mr.Moreno?” The man’s voice was neutral. He took in Asil’s appearance without a change in voice or posture. That was unusual. Asil was very pretty and people, regardless of gender, noticed.
He is very angry and he doesn’t even know us yet, observed Asil’s wolf.
Asil didn’t sense that, but he trusted that his wolf observed things Asil did not. He always had.
It was going to take Asil a while to get used to the return of his talkative companion. It was undoubtedly a good change. Without the constant battle for control, Asil felt a return of flexibility in his decision-making process that had been missing.
“I am Asil Moreno,” Asil agreed.
The driver’s head jerked up; possibly there had been an unintended edge in Asil’s voice. Whatever had been angering the man hadn’t been Asil, because the driver’s attention was fully focused on him for the first time.
Asil waited for the driver to decide what he was going to do. Saw intention change from immediate violence—or possibly just an intimidating warning—to caution. After a moment, all that personality was tucked back behind an aura of impartial service.
Like you when you want to hide me, noted the wolf.Did we just startle him? Or do you think he noticed that we are dangerous, too?
Rhetorical questions.
“Welcome, sir.” The driver was all propriety. He went to the back of the car and opened the door with a single touch on the latch. Some sort of pressure switch. Asil didn’t think that would be useful in Montana. In Montana, sometimes you needed a door handle for leverage to break the ice.
He slid into the back of the car, smelled new leather, shampoo, and a hint of a woman’s vanilla perfume. He caught the driver’s various lotions and potions—more of those than most straight men in the US used unless they were courting—overlaying fainter scents of people who had been in this car only briefly. Only when the driver shut his own door, enclosing the two of them together, did Asil catch the hint of vampire.
A vampire in Seattle.
Asil pulled his cell phone out and texted Angus, the Emerald City Alpha.
Asil:I thought you had rid yourself of vampires here?
Angus:Wishful thinking. No organized seethe, though Bonarata is building a house in Medina—a very excusive suburb.
Asil remembered that now. The Marrok had been concerned that the Lord of Night, who ruled all the vampires inEurope, had decided to build a house in Seattle. It signaled a challenge of some kind. Doubtless one that would be answered in the future.
Angus:He owns several buildings in Downtown, and has since the nineteen eighties. But I have not seen him or any of his retinue. None of my people have caught a hint of vampire, not even in Medina, where his house is still several months from completion. What do you know?
Asil had not explained why he was in Seattle when he’d arranged the visit with Angus. But Alan Choo had known enough to approach Asil’s Concerned Friend to arrange his date with Ruby. Asil felt sure he could assume Angus knew as well. So Asil was able to describe his current situation quickly and briefly.
Angus:The driver is a vampire?
Asil:No. Nor a sheep.
Sheep, people who were regular meals for a single vampire, began to smell like vampires after a month or two. Possibly because the feeding became mutual, or because the vampire’s magic began to infest their sheep from simple contact. Asil had no desire to find out the true reason. But if the driver had been a vampire—or even a sheep—Asil would have scented him from the door of the hotel.
Asil:But I would lay odds that a vampire has fed from him recently—and more than once. Maybe to keep control of a useful servant.
Angus:I would never dream of offering one such as the Moor advice, but the only vampire I know of who has any ties in my city is Bonarata.
