“When she’s emotional or vulnerable, Karson gets glimpses.” I gritted my teeth. That’s how he knew; he probably heard everything. “But if Rodney can’t read a mind and he wants to know what the truth is, if he touches their head and they refuse to let him in, he can deep-fry brains like donut batter. I have seen smoke sizzle out of ears.”
Georgie grimaced. “They die?”
“Yes, Georgie,” she said dryly. “They die.”
“But he and Karson are definitely friends, right?”
“They were very close, but they had a bit of a falling out some years back.” Her hands tightened on the wheel. “It’s curious he is back now though. No doubt Karson needs to work out what his angle is. Rodney always has an angle.”
“What about the others, can they read minds too?”
“Very few have the ability. All vampires have different skills—a lot depends on what they were naturally gifted with as a human. Kenneth and Janice are as good fighters as you can get.Fast and smart. They can’t mind-read, but they have an innate ability to read a move before it happens. Janice is a mean bitch. You do not want to get on the wrong side of her. Together they are formidable, which is why Karson put Rodney in charge of dealing with vampires behaving badly. Rodney oversees our laws, and he enforces them if need be.”
Georgie chewed on her bottom lip. “Does that happen often?”
Monique shook her head. “Rarely. Vampires are loyal to the firstborn who turned them, and they know the laws and the consequences of not obeying them.”
“What about surfer boy?” Georgie leaned forward, clutching the seat again. “What can he do?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know who he is. He looks like he is just out of nappies.”
Monique took us to a bustling bar in the middle of the wharf district. It was filled with young twenty-somethings out for pre-dinner drinks, and a few older, wonky-eyed men who had been there about four hours too long. A group of ladies in their mid-forties laughed furiously around a table, half-empty glasses of champagne in their hands. A long wooden bar ran along the back wall, there was a pool table, a small stage, frosted windows, and the faint musky scent of beer permanently tainted its walls. Soft music floated through the room.
I scanned the place for somewhere to escape. Most venues had back doors. Monique being here was a bonus, I realized. She could take Georgie back safely. Monique summoned the barmaid with her fingers and ordered two whiskeys and a double shot of Kahlua, Baileys, and ice for Georgie.
Georgie placed her hand on my arm. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked gently.
I shook my head, too afraid if I spoke about what I heard I’d cry.
“Karson is not always fabulous.” She rested her arms on the bar top, chipped red nails holding the glass in one hand. Her long black hair swept over her forearms.
“He is much less anxious and more tolerable when vampires aren’t trying to rip the throat out of people he cares for,” Monique said casually, scanning the room.
I snorted. “And ones he pretends to care for.”
I took a mouthful of whiskey, the burn of alcohol more tolerable than the tears burning the back of my throat.
Monique’s face hardened. “Listen, I don’t know what you heard, but he took you both in, risked his standing with his own people, killed his own kind, to protectyou both!”
I met her steely gaze. “I’m not talking about it with you of all people. I’m sure you’d be happy for me to be gone.”
“You have no idea how happy I’d be.” She looked away. I wanted to come back with “me too,” but if she knew I was planning on leaving, she’d watch me like a hawk, so I pulled on a mask. Blanked my face, pretended to be alright when inside I was screaming.
Georgie grimaced and tossed back her drink, then asked for another.
Rain began to pummel against the window and heavy-set clouds brought with them early darkness. It was warm in here, so I took off my jacket and sat it on the bar stool beside me. I’d leave without it if need be.
“Nice bruises.” Georgie looked at the bruises trailing the top of my shoulder where Leah had dug her claws in. “Is it sore?” She pressed a finger into the top of my shoulder blades, right on a wound she couldn’t see under my top. She was probably trying to distract me, so maybe my mask wasn’t as effective as I thought.
“A little.”
“Out of ten though, how would you describe your pain level, Miss Williams, zero being none at all and ten being unbearable?” She put on her nurse’s voice, her drunk nurse’s voice, and poked my shoulder again.
I flinched away. “Well, it would be a two if you stop jabbing it.”
“Let me look.” She peeled my top back before I could pull away, and caught sight of the bandages. “Amy, what happened, why didn’t you come and get me?”
I waved a hand. “It’s nothing, I didn’t want to bother you.”
