Half-asleep, he heard Roger wish him a good night, and he murmured something in reply. As the door shut, he drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 9
The hotel suite was massive, but the confines of glass and walls were high-end torture when Roger was restless. In Taliville, he’d walked the streets until dawn on nights like this. He could do that in Chicago, but he didn’t want to leave the hotel while Zack was in his current state. He seemed fragile.
So Roger went to the balcony. The city beyond had changed over the course of his long, long life, but in the thirty years away, it hadn’t changed dramatically enough to be unfamiliar. Lights still dotted the tall buildings, even late into the night. Past the skyscrapers were hints of the deep darkness of Lake Michigan. This far up, the chilly wind continuously rustled his shirt.
If he closed his eyes, he could ignore the cold metal railing under his hand and the outdoor furniture around him and imagine he was on the edge of a sailing ship. The only memory he had that made him long for his mortal days was bright sunlight on the endless blue waves. The seas at night weren’t the same. Their depth was no longer a beautiful wonder but a foreboding nightmare.
“Because if this doesn’t work out, I’m nothing.”Zack’s words played through Roger’s mind on a loop. The slight hitch in his voice, the clarity when all of his other words had slurred fromthe alcohol. Roger had dragged him off to the bedroom out of frustration, but as soon as he’d thrown Zack over his shoulder, he’d been able to grasp a clearer picture of Zack’s fears and desires. Touch could enable him to reach past Zack’s tattoo, and as drunk as he was, Zack had dropped his relentless guard.
And there was a fear festering deep in his soul, one that Roger had thought he was easing. He was terrified he was doing the wrong thing.
Roger hung his head. Zack’s morality was a beacon for him. Before spending so much time with Zack, he would have never thought twice about the two gray-banded donors on the plane.That’s not true. There was a time I questioned. A time I thought to run.
Attempting to flee Seamus hadn’t worked. He’d believed that because Jamestown was as unfamiliar to Seamus as it was to him that he’d have an advantage, but he’d forgotten about the bond between sire and sireling. At the time, his vampiric life force had been connected to Seamus, and so his master had used it to hunt him down. As punishment, Seamus had left him on the deck of the ship during the midday. Roger had scrambled from sliver of shade to shade. His skin had burned, and he’d had deep blisters that took nights to heal since he wasn’t allowed much blood.
And the gold ring had remained bright and shining.
Roger flexed his hand, unsure of when exactly he’d reopened his eyes. The memory had fully swept his attention. Out of an old habit, he went to spin his gold ring around his finger, but his finger was bare. Anton put a cursed ring on every vampire that Seamus held dominion over. The ring wouldn’t fall off until one was strong enough to be their own master. It was a constant reminder of weakness and Seamus’s claim.
Roger’s had fallen off in 1989. He’d worn it anyway, but whoever had cursed him with the sleep spell had also taken thering. Or perhaps it had just slipped off his finger and his captor hadn’t noticed. He had a replica in his pocket, and he took it out to examine it. Anton might realize there was no magic in it, but he doubted Seamus would notice the difference.This is our collar. If I don’t begin to wear it, I’ll never pass myself off as a devoted follower.
“Do you think I like this?” he’d said.
And Zack had sounded so sure in his response. “You’ve been doing it for hundreds of years, so some part of you must.”
But had he?
No. Doing nothing and liking what was happening were two different behaviors.But I can’t blame him for being angry.Because Roger should have felt … something. Looking over the past, he had a numbness where some emotions might have been. Even now, safe in the present, he pushed away the memories before the disgust and sadness could infiltrate his heart.
The sliding door to the suite opened with a soft woosh. No breathing or heartbeat accompanied the one stepping through the doorway.
Roger closed his hand around the ring and shoved it back into his pocket. Using his smoothest voice, he asked, “Is there something I can do for you, Takashi?”
“You have a visitor.” Takashi had left his suit jacket behind, loosened his tie, and undone the top two buttons of his dress shirt. His black hair had broken free of the stranglehold gel on it, but only by a small measure, just enough to tempt Roger to run fingers through his hair. He had perfected the casual businessman look decades ago, and modern tailoring suited him better. He slid his hands into his pockets as he took another step out onto the balcony. “Dmitri would like a word.”
Turning, Roger had a view of the hotel suite. The light of the room was bright against the midnight darkness. Kit and Carver were sitting on one of the black leather couches, watchingsome program on the television. Dmitri stood in the center of the living room in a stark suit without a trace of mirth in his features. Somber had always been Dmitri’s default state. Becoming a vampire had only exaggerated his stoic, broody demeanor.
“Come out here,” Roger said.
Dmitri scowled, then made his way out into the darkness. He stood beside the sliding glass door and motioned for Takashi to go inside.
“Anything you have to say can be said in front of him,” Roger said.
A ripple went across Dmitri’s features. The motion was quick and subtle, but Roger had seen that undercurrent of anger back when they were mortal men. He closed the door harsher than necessary. Completely disregarding Takashi, he said, “You told him?”
“Technically, Nell did.” Roger leaned back against the railing. Around Dmitri, he had always been the casual one, and he slid into the old, comfortable habit of pretending not to give a shit. But he watched. He searched for details. Zack and his notebooks had stressed the importance of minutia, and while unlikely, Dmitri could have been the one who worked with the Unseelie who cursed him. “But consider him informed.”
“I wouldn’t mind a little more information, if I’m honest,” Takashi said as he strode across the balcony to stand beside Roger.
“I could use some myself,” Dmitri said, Russian accent thick. “We have been planning your return for two months, and the night before you arrive, you text that you’re bringing another boy and Nell’s lackey.”
“Former lackey,” Takashi replied.
Dmitri snorted in disbelief.
“I have the writ rescinding her claim to him,” Roger said. “Signed in her blood and witnessed by myself and Zack.”
