Patrick was able to grit his teeth and stand within these walls because he had to. Fenrir was birthed out of the void, and from what Jono had told him, the god considered it a home away from home.
The club lights had all been turned on, chasing away the shadows. The air-conditioning had not. Patrick was sweating by the time they made it over to the bar on the first floor. Carmen sat perched on a stool, wearing jean shorts cut high over her hips, a lacy bandeau, and heeled sandals the same patent leather red as her lipstick and the pupils of her eyes. Her thick, black curly hair was pulled off her neck in a high ponytail, the curled horns of her kind twisted back over her skull. Despite the skimpy outfit, she wasn’t lacking in the weapons department.
The sexual desire all her kind exuded hung in the air like perfume around her. Patrick strengthened his shields against her power and ignored the smirk Carmen directed his way. Naheed, Lucien’s favorite human servant who doubled as Carmen’s bodyguard during daylight hours, stood behind the bar, sipping at a glass of water. The necklace of bite scars circling her throat were courtesy of Lucien’s teeth. The pistol that sat on the wooden counter within easy reach was an extension of her hand whenever she held it.
The master vampire in question still had blood on his lips from feeding off her. Lucien stared at them with black eyes like holes in his pale face, no sclera showing. The black jeans he wore were torn over the knees, and the shirt beneath his leather jacket was more gray than white. His dark hair was messy from the motorcycle helmet sitting on the bar counter.
Lucien had been sired by Ashanti directly, the last child she’d ever made. He was almost a thousand years old, born in the time of William the Conqueror, and better at changing with the times than any of his brethren. Patrick always thought Lucien’s desire for murder stemmed from his stint in that ancient army as much as the hunger for blood that drove him these days.
“I hear Reed can’t get the job done again,” Lucien said from where he lounged against the bar.
“General Reed has always gotten the job done, no thanks to you,” Patrick retorted.
“The battle at Cairo would have ended differently without help from us vampires. Your history books tend to gloss over that fact.” Lucien smiled, revealing sharp, jagged teeth. Vampire teeth weren’t pretty, despite what Hollywood showed on the big screen. “I’m curious what your government wants from me this time.”
Patrick and Jono came to a stop a couple of feet from Lucien. Patrick kept his hands loose by his side, his dagger and magic within easy reach. Despite the alliance they’d brokered with Lucien, Patrick would never trust him.
“We have a lead on the Morrígan’s staff. There’s an auction happening in London. Black market, deep pockets, and run by people like you,” Patrick said.
“There is no one like me.”
“Maybe, but everyone who got invited are all arrogant fucks like you, so you’ll fit right in.”
Lucien didn’t move for several seconds; his chest didn’t rise and fall because the undead had no need to breathe save to speak. When he finally did, he sounded viciously amused. “You want to use my name.”
Patrick nodded. “They’ll see me coming a mile off. Anyone the PIA tries to send in will get made, probably killed, and I’d bet good money the police would find their body dumped in the Thames. People who run in those kinds of circles know each other. They don’t trust outsiders.”
“And you think they will know me?”
“Everyone who matters in the shadows of the preternatural world knows you. If you walk into that auction carrying the invitation, they won’t question it. You’re a believable buyer.”
“All I hear is a job. I’m not hearing an offer.”
Patrick grimaced. “Price isn’t an issue. Whatever you want, the government will pay.”
Lucien didn’t react, but Carmen sat up straighter, a slow smile curving her mouth. “Carte blanche is a dangerous offer. Your president must be desperate.”
“The government believes Ethan getting control of the Morrígan’s staff is a worse situation than whatever threat your Night Court poses,” Patrick said.
“You don’t know what I’d demand in payment,” Lucien said.
“If it is within the government’s ability to pay, then they will pay it.”
Carmen slid off the barstool and sauntered closer to Lucien. She wrapped an arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “We won’t be asking for money.”
“Got enough dosh?” Jono asked. “That’s a first. I thought you were the greedy sort?”
Lucien blinked slowly, a sleepy-eyed predator hunting for prey. “Money is useful, and I have a lot of it. What I don’t have is the legal freedom to walk upon these shores.”
Patrick stared at Lucien before shaking his head. “I thought you didn’t care about pieces of paper that confer rights on a person?”
Lucien draped one arm around Carmen’s shoulders. “I don’t, but you humans do.”
“I’m pretty sure the government would draw the line at handing over a state or two for you to rule. Us Americans are allergic to monarchies in this country.”
“If your government wants my help, then it will let me and my Night Court remain in the United States without being arrested or spied on. I’ll take that guarantee in writing.” Lucien smirked. “Consider it diplomatic immunity.”
“So you want the government to just look the other way every time you break the law?” Patrick asked incredulously.
