“Ah. Your government gave you a shorter leash.”
He bristled at that, annoyed Takoma had zeroed in so rapidly on the underlying reason for the headache that had upended his stay with that agency. “So what if they did?”
“I wouldn’t trust any promises the United States government gives you about this new position you have. It’s best to always have a way out.”
“And was becoming a vampire yours?”
Fingers tangled in the longer strands of his hair, gripping tight, before Spencer even knew the master vampire had moved. He should have remembered that speed. Not even werecreatures could match it. “Don’t pretend to know me.”
Spencer tongued at his teeth as his head was yanked back, showing off the line of his throat. His pulse kicked up, but he couldn’t decide if it was out of fear or sheer arousal. He’d always been attracted to highly competent, sometimes murderous people, whether they were human or not. Fatima had always despaired of the times Spencer followed his dick and not his brain.
“Never said I did.” Spencer licked his lips before flashing a quick little smile. “Never said I didn’t want to either.”
Takoma’s eyes narrowed to slits, fingers tightening on Spencer’s hair. “I asked you a question.”
“Yeah, and I gave you an answer. Not my fault you didn’t like it.” Spencer shrugged with one shoulder, waving his free hand around to encompass the museum. “I’m not here for you or your Night Court, if that’s what you are worried about.”
The fingers in his hair loosened ever so slightly. “Good to know.”
Movement out of the corners of his eyes had Spencer looking at the entrance to the gallery they stood in. Another vampire leaned against the wall there, dressed in a dark suit with his arms crossed over his chest. He was maybe a little shorter than Spencer, black hair gelled back, head turned to look back the way they’d come rather than the gallery. He appeared to be of Chinese descent, and Spencer wondered if the vampire was Takoma’s right hand. Spencer hadn’t been on a first-name basis with too many of the vampires when they’d fought together in Manhattan, but he didn’t remember seeing this one.
The fingers in his hair finally let go, causing Spencer’s gaze to return to Takoma. The master vampire stepped back, and Spencer awkwardly dropped his arm to his side, unexpectedly missing Takoma’s closeness.
“I still want to know what you are doing in my city,” Takoma said.
Spencer made a face. “It’s classified.”
“Is it?”
Technically, Takoma had been read into the mission with the Dominion Sect and the Morrígan’s staff. Spencer didn’t really think his superiors would appreciate him breaking confidentiality about the Repository and missing Ouroboros Mirror with the master vampire though. Spencer wasn’t sure how he could talk his way out of this corner he was in, but luckily, Fatima provided a distraction.
An image flashed through his mind, vision suddenly overlaid with Fatima’s. She saw the world differently through layers of light and shadows from a vantage point closer to the ground. He’d long since become used to balancing her sight with his own, middle ear riding out the momentary imbalance with long practice. The sight of a pulsating darkness wrapped around a dim soul that she passed along to him was enough to make him go cold.
“Fuck,” he said, low and mean under his breath as he spun away from Takoma. He got one step away before a hand wrapped around his upper arm, grip unyielding, keeping him in place. Spencer futilely tried to yank himself free, but there was no getting free of preternatural strength without a little bit of magic. “Let go.”
“We’re not done. Where are you going?” Takoma demanded.
“Fatima needs me.”
Takoma still didn’t let him go, and Spencer glanced over at the gallery entrance. The vampire there was no longer keeping watch on the other space; his eyes were on them, ready to intercede on behalf of his master at a moment’s notice. He clenched a hand into a fist, attention snapping back to Takoma. Spencer didn’t bother pitching his voice low, knowing that vampires could hear his heart beat from half a mile away if they wanted to.
“A demon showed up riding a guest’s soul. I need to check it out,” Spencer said.
“You saw that from here?” Takoma asked.
“Fatima saw it.”
Takoma’s gaze sharpened in a way that made all the hair on the back of Spencer’s neck stand on end and his cock twitch in his pants. “Lead the way.”
The grip on his arm loosened, and Spencer jerked free, rocking back on his heels. “I don’t know what we’re walking into, so don’t say anything about the demons.”
Takoma’s lip curled upward disdainfully. “I’ll play along, but I expect you to give me answers afterward.”
Another flash image from Fatima—this one of a different possessed soul—had Spencer reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “All right, fine.”
He bent to pick up the drink tray because he still had a part to play. His grip was steady enough that the glasses didn’t shake. Takoma stayed right by his side, an imposing presence that drew attention Spencer really couldn’t afford but which also kept everyone steering clear of him out of sheer self-preservation. He didn’t know where the other vampire went, but hopefully, they wouldn’t cause a scene.
The gala was far busier than it had been when Takoma had dragged him off for their little chat. It made finding a direct path around people a little difficult with the tray, but no one said anything to him once they saw Takoma. Spencer was too intent on following Fatima’s mental tugging, mostly ignoring the looks shot his way. When he came upon an entrance leading to the long gallery on the first floor where the tables were set up for the gala dinner, he discovered the crowd was thickest there.
