Whoever this guy was, he was big-time. Darius’s men looked like amateurs compared to Patrick’s bodyguard.
“Such a precocious child,” Patrick said.
“Is he yours?” I asked, having sensed Patrick was a Mage.
Aside from not being able to reproduce, a Mage had no business with a child. If Patrick was recently turned and this was his human child, the Mageri would have made him sever the relationship. But something in his eyes told me he was very old.
Patrick cupped an elbow with one hand and pinched his chin, looking at the child. “Sadly, no. I have many people in my employment, one of whom was my Relic. Helen was an exceptionally bright woman, and I was quite fond of her in some ways. A year ago, she was walking to a restaurant when a Mage juiced her energy to the point where it killed her.” Sadness brimmed in his eyes and he shook his head. “Terrible tragedy. The boy was hers. As is the custom, he would have been in my employment after his mother retired, so it just made sense to raise him. It’s not the ideal situation, but what can you do?”
My heart sank. Tragedies like that occurred far too often—I’d seen them. So many rogues developed an addiction to energy. If they couldn’t find another Mage to juice from, they’d choose any Breed. Their light was dimmer, so it wasn’t uncommon that it resulted in their death.
Blue and Wyatt were hunched over in private conversation, making themselves barely noticeable.
Patrick glanced back at Darius. “You two look as though you want time alone to catch up. I’m going to run across the street and visit with the owner to schedule another reservation. You were right about the linguini. Wait for me outside; that wasn’t enough time for us to get reacquainted, so I’m inviting you to my place for drinks. No arguments.” He turned on his heel and bowed to me. “It was a pleasure, Miss…”
“Black,” I answered.
“Patrick Bane, at your service. Perhaps we’ll meet again. Good day to you.”
He left the shop and walked briskly across the street, leaving Darius staring daggers at me.
I stood up and approached him, hands in my pockets.
“At last we meet,” he said, his tone layered with irritation and contempt. “One of my men told me that you roughed him up in the bathroom and had him arrested. You fabricated lies about him and risked exposing our secrets to humans. I could have you arrested for slander.”
I lifted a toothpick with a cookie sample on the end and took a bite. “Something tells me you won’t. Even if you did, you can’t prove anything. I didn’t make any statements, and your man is less than reliable.”
“Is there something you want?”
I shrugged nonchalantly and set the toothpick on the counter. “I just happened to be sitting over there when I recognized your voice. Thought I’d say hello. There’s nothing I want; your friend in the bathroom just caught me on a bad day when I wanted to be left alone.”
His expression went rigid.
I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I certainly didn’t expect what happened next.
Darius leaned in close, his voice a cold whisper. “I’m going to kill you.”
With a mirthless smile, I lifted another sample from the tray and ate it. “You’re a funny guy, Darius. Chances are you’ll send one of your goons after me. If that’s the case, can I put in a request for your bathroom buddy? I have a score to settle with him.”
“If you couldn’t finish off Salvator, what makes you think I’m quaking in my boots?”
I poked him in the chest with the toothpick, and he flinched. “Did one of your guards go missing recently?”
He stared for a frozen moment, unblinking.
I tucked my dirty toothpick in his coat pocket and patted it with my hand. “Don’t make empty threats you don’t mean to carry out yourself.”
Darius slowly inclined his head, moving around me. Before he passed, he bent down and whispered in my ear. “Did one of your Vampires go missing lately?”
I blanched and quickly looked up.
His dark eyes sparkled with interest. “I wasn’t sure at first. Thanks for the confirmation. Shame,” he added, implying the Vampire was dead.
I turned on my heel as he went out the door.
A bluff. Ithadto be.
Wyatt all but flew out of his seat, his chair knocking over. “You’re Dirty Harry! The whole toothpick in the pocket…man.” He threw his head back. “That wasclassic.”
