I blink at him. “Sorry? What are you talking about?”
“You are the named beneficiary on the Gold Weaver accounts.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. I didn’t know it existed until now.”
His eyes crinkle, and he slants me a skeptical, cynical smile. “That’s weird, because we found a man who identified you as someone he’s seen poking around an old warehouse in Richmond that used to be a Gold Weaver printing operation just weeks before Tony was murdered on the river very close to here.”
Fuck. The homeless man? How? He never knew my name, which means Fuller must have shown him a picture. He must’ve already suspected me. Of course he suspected me. My name was listed as a beneficiary on the Gold Weaver account! My fingers ache, and I realize I have the arms of the rocker in a death grip. I stretch them, then rub my sweaty palms on my thighs. “Agent Fuller, I don’t know anything about any of this. I think I’d better call my lawyer before we go any further. I feel like there are things you know that I don’t.”
With a throaty grunt, he stands. “I think that’s a good idea, Ms. Harcourt. It seems that Tony had an unusual connection to accounts in the Caymans and a printing operation here. Interesting, don’t you think? I have to believe that those closest to Tony are disappointed that so much of his wealth and capital will be transferred to you, considering you were so close to breaking ties before he died. Stay safe, Ms. Harcourt.”
With a slight tip of his head in lieu of goodbye, he rises and lets himself out. As soon as he’s gone, I pick up the phone and call Maeve.
9
Dead Man Walking
DAMIEN
Pain is manageable. Eventually the mind blocks out the sensation, disassociates to a better place. The body grows numb. My better place is Eloise. I replay our dream encounter again and again. I fixate on the taste of her blood.
Night falls over the silo. I tip the bed on its side and lie in the pool of shade created by the frame. I still can’t go anywhere. I’m still surrounded by light on all sides. But for a blissful time, the pain stops. I rest under a canopy of light-fringed stars and just breathe.
Only then do I realize the damage my prison has caused. Even with the partial protection of the bed and mattress, even with the gift of Eloise’s blood, the light has burned a small hole through the webbing of my right wing. Now that I’m in the shade, it’s already healing.
I wince when the sound of two sets of perfectly synced footsteps fills the silo. There’s whispering and then Tae’s face appears over the canopy of the bed. A second later, power blows through me. The cuffs are back. The walls grow dim. It takes all my strength to stand from my fort of shadows and rise to my full height.
Valeska enters the silo and crosses to stand next to the two Kims. I meet the vampire queen’s deadly gaze.
“We will speak now,” Valeska commands. As always, she possesses a rare dark beauty. No one would deny it. Her brown skin is smooth as marble, flawless under the black silk dress she wears. Her ebony hair falls in waves around her shoulders, and she blinks golden-amber eyes at me that put off their own light. But Valeska is bright in the way of a poisonous spider—I know better than to be fooled by the colors she displays to draw prey into her web.
“Talk then,” I croak through my parched throat.
She laughs cruelly. “Oh, Damien, you’ve looked better.”
I say nothing. She wants a response. She wants lively banter. I am a toy whose buttons she’s pushed, and she expects a reaction. Negative or positive doesn’t matter. Whether I beg for mercy or fight for freedom or pretend to be interested in her, any response feeds her ego and makes me her entertainment.
I am no plaything.
Perfectly silent, I stare past her at the wall, willing my body to heal, thinking about the gift of Eloise’s blood in my veins.
Valeska digs her nails into my lower jaw and turns my face toward her. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
I do, but I keep all emotion from showing. The look I give her is flat, soulless. I might as well be dead. Tire of me. Set me free.
“Poor baby. Look at your wing.” She tsks, running her fingers over the webbing and probing the wound painfully. It is healing, but slowly, and her rough handling draws blood. She licks it from her fingertips before stepping in close to me. The front of her dress brushes my bare chest. “I bet you’re hungry now,” she whispers into my ear.
I am hungry, and the scent of her blood makes my throat burn with need. Instinctively, I bring my lips close to the vein in her neck, but I don’t strike. Indisputably, I need more blood than what I consumed from Eloise to fully heal. But I am far from hungry enough to even consider drinking Valeska’s.
“Go ahead,” she whispers. “Drink of me. I know you want to. You need to.”
Only my eyes move as I spot Tae and Lang an arm’s length behind her. They appear even more drained than before. Tae’s head is bobbing like he can hardly hold it up.
I brush my lips over Valeska’s vein.
“That’s right,” she coos. “You need blood. There’s no reason to fight it.”
“Blood,” I concede. And then I stab my talons into her gut as hard as my mortal arms are capable of. I toss her aside, her blood staining my hands. She cries out, but I’m already in motion. I kick Tae in the gut, knocking him down, while at the same time I loop my cuffed wrists around Lang’s neck and sink my teeth into his carotid. Blood sprays across my shoulder, and his screams turn into a gurgle as I drink as fast as my body will draw blood. He’s the stronger of the twins. If I can take him out first, Tae should be an easy second target. Lang’s heart slows. His eyes roll back in his head.
