Takashi had been in rooms like this before. Ancient vampires rarely had any caring for a mortal’s sanity, let alone their well-being, unless they belonged to their collection. Selections likethis were like grapes on a vine, a ripe grouping meant for the plucking and pleasure of a fresh bite.
Before Takashi had taken his third step into the room, Marcus whirled on him. He squared his shoulders, using his few inches of height superiority to puff up and loom over him. While he was nearly two hundred years old, Marcus barely had a scent of the grave. He flared his eyes red, but it was a pale, muddy color. His anger was an obvious and superficial thing. He put his hands on his hips and demanded, “What did Roger do?”
“Pardon me?” Takashi said.
Jong-Su, one of the other lieutenants, stepped up beside Marcus and narrowed his eyes. “One minute, Roger seems like he’s ready to suck Seamus off for the umpteenth time, and the next, Seamus is casting him out.”
“Oh, good lord,” Aileen, another lieutenant, said with a roll of her eyes as she strode to the far side of the room. “Roger declared that human boy his boyfriend at the gala. He’s clearly gone soft. Seamus can’t stand a weak captain, and none of us should tolerate one.”
“I’d buy that if the same human wasn’t now Seamus’s ‘son,’” Xenofon said. He stood beside a boy who might have been eighteen. As he spoke, he was casually using his power on the boy, toying with the boy’s fears and desires in a way that made his body react. The behavior was vulgar and cruel.
And one I’ve seen too often. Interrupting another vampire with their food was a faux pas. Takashi dropped another mental wall into place. Who was to say the boy was an innocent? Takashi had fed on many “good people” who had used their privilege and wealth to intentionally harm others. The boy could have easily been one of them. Takashi didn’t owe some random boy his own life, and wasn’t about to jump up and down on a wire he was struggling to balance on.
“So,” Xenofon was saying, “what did our illustrious Roger do?”
“He was plotting to take the throne,” Dempsey said simply.
Decades of living as a diplomat among dangerous creatures kept Takashi from a knee-jerk reaction. Dempsey had been among the group Roger had trusted. He was one of Candide’s oldest sirelings, oneshetrusted and treasured.
“A real laugh that he thought it’d work,” Lucille added. She, too, was of Candide. Every ounce of her teenage good looks was morphed by the sadistic glee in her grin into a reflection of the worst Takashi had seen from their species. She gestured at Marcus. “He hates those gray bands of yours, Marcus.”
“They serve a practical function!” Marcus announced defensively.
Lucille shrugged.
As subtly as he could, Takashi kept Candide in the corner of his eye. She had been at the same meeting where Roger had brought Lucille and Dempsey into his confidence. Dmitri and Takashi had been there as well, though Dmitri had left upon hearing Roger’s intentions for their gathering. Dempsey had been advocating for a coven support system for artists like himself, especially for ones that could be turned and join the fold. Lucille had seemed relieved that anyone was willing to overthrow Seamus.
And they were both Candide’s sirelings.
Roger had been confident that Candide was on his side. Was she a traitor?
In public, Candide tended toward smiles and exuded a charismatic warmth. She had a charm that was impossible to deny, but Roger had told Takashi that that was a false face. She used her guiles to lure people into believing her good moods were for them.She’s warm, then cold, then genuine, Roger hadsaid about her. Recently, Seamus had nearly broken through her outermost façade when he’d threatened Ezra.
At the moment, her gentle smile had a strain to it, one nearly imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t looking for such a thing. She tsked at her sirelings as she circled the room to find a victim. She settled on one near the back of the room. Takashi had a clear line of sight to her, but few others would, especially since they were focused on him. “Now, now, mes petits, it’s rude to insult those who aren’t in a position to defend themselves.”
“Give itup, Candide,” Xenofon complained. He said toward Takashi more than the others, “You’d think after almost three hundred years, she’d figure out she has the wrong equipment to please him.”
“And you’d think after two hundred, you’d learn how to enjoy a meal without torturing it first. I suppose that’s why Seamus likes having me around. He’s lacking in sophisticated subordinates,” Takashi replied with a light tone.
The gamble had been a big risk, but the die was cast. Takashi couldn’t take back the quip that had come out of his lips.
Xenofon abandoned the boy in front of him and moved with a liquid speed at Takashi. Though he was quick, Takashi saw him in motion. A few nights without good blood weren’t enough to dismantle Takashi’s powers. He could move out of the way with only a little effort.
Instead, he let Xenofon grab him by the throat and shove him up against the wall. Xenofon’s incredibly emotional response was something that the young were supposed to indulge in, not someone this old.These fuckers love to think they’re so powerful and they’re so easy to play. Xenofon was snarling in his face. The intimidation attempt would have worked—if Takashi had been two nights old and not an experienced vampire who’d had multiple private conversations with Anton that week.
Inspiration struck. Unpredictability had its uses. Takashi leaned back against the wall and laughed in Xenofon’s face. He watched for the reactions across the room. Marcus’s shock was as clear as the trumpet of an elephant. Jong-Su and the final vampire in the room, Kazik, narrowed their eyes at him while doing their best to school their features into expressionless masks. Lucille raised an eyebrow; Aileen and Dempsey continued to slurp blood from their victims.
Candide shot Takashi the glimmer of a brief smile, but it brightened her eyes. Then she bit her prey and ignored him.
Having gathered the information, Takashi slapped his hand over Xenofon’s wrist and held on tight. Then he pumped every inch of fear that had driven him across the tightrope of life for the last few nights into Xenofon. Xenofon’s grip began to slip, so Takashi took greater hold and twisted his arm hard enough that bones snapped.
Xenofon screamed and went to his knees.
The sound was pleasing. A hypnotic rush was swung through Takashi. The centrifugal force was drawing violent desires outward.
Cruelty was part of being a vampire. Takashi tempered his for moments like this, ones where he could punish the fucking worst—their kind, humanity, the fey, it didn’t matter. Justification added a narcotic carte blanche to his actions and absolved him of his guilt.
The right application of pressure and strength would rend Xenofon’s arm from his body, and he wouldn’t fondle any more boys with that hand. At least, he wouldn’t if Takashi managed to destroy the limb before Xenofon could stick it back to himself and heal it.
