Maker's Song - A Rush Of Wings Part 3

Von sent. "No, I -" Wallace's words ended abruptly as excited whispers buzzed and echoed throughout the club.

Dante watched as etienne's Armani-clad form sliced through the crowd. His chicory-and-cream-colored skin seemed lit from within; he bristled with hate. A step behind, Von strode along the now silent path etienne had cut.

etienne stopped at the bottom of the steps. A fringe of cobalt-beaded braids framed his cold, chiseled face. Von stood to the visiting vampire's right, taking up his duties asllygad on the floor instead of on the dais at Dante's side.

Dante sat forward, hands on the throne's armrests, muscles coiled.

"You've been ordered to present yourself before Guy Mauvais," etienne said.

"You're f.u.c.king kidding," Dante said, half laughing.

etienne tensed. "The Council is conducting an inquiry."

"The Council has no authority over Dante," Lucien said.

"Je regrette, Nightbringer," etienne said, inclining his head respectfully. "But this doesn't concern the Fallen."

"Willing to stake your life on that?" Lucien's deep voice rang through the club.

FBI investigations. Council inquiries. Goody. "Nothing like being popular," Dante murmured. To etienne, he said, "If this is about the fireagain , tell 'em not to waste their time.Sa vaut pas la peine. I don't know -"

etienne flew up the steps, only stopping on the third when Von, in a nightkind blur of speed, leapt behind him and seized his arm.

"Arrogant lying p.r.i.c.k!" etienne hissed, his narrowed gaze dark and seething. "You need to be leashed!

Brought to your knees!"

Cool air fluttered Dante's hair as Lucien rushed from behind the throne. Dante flung out an arm, blockinghis pa.s.sage. "You calling me out, etienne?" he asked quietly.

etienne yanked free of Von's grasp and smoothed the front of his suit. He touched fingers to the carved ivory rose cuff link at each Armani-sleeved wrist. "No," he said, his hands knotting into fists. "Not yet."

"Too bad." Dante lowered his arm.

"But one night," etienne added, a smile stretching his lips, "I'll be waiting."

Dante stood. "Bring it on," he said.

"I delivered the order," etienne said. "I hope you ignore it,marmot ." Whirling, he stalked into the silent, staring crowd, Von on his heels. The mortals melted away from him as though he were on fire.

Dante sank down onto the throne. Pain throbbed at his temples and behind his eyes. His stomach knotted. He gripped the armrest with white-knuckled fingers.

"What was that all about?"

Dante looked up to see Agent Wallace down on one knee beside him. She scanned his face. He had the feeling she missed very little. "Nothing much," he sighed. "a.s.s-kissing denied. Harsh punishment threatened. The usual."

"Funny," Wallace murmured, her tone sounding as though he was anythingbut . "De Noir told the truth about the headaches, didn't he?"

"Indeed, Agent Wallace," Lucien said dryly. "Iam right here."

Wallace's gaze flicked from Dante to Lucien, then back. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice low, no longer official. "My sister suffers from migraines, too."

Dante glanced at her. The FBI mask had slipped from her face. She met his gaze, her expression open and her blue eyes steady. For a moment, he thought he saw into the heart of her, warm and compa.s.sionate and tough, edged in flame and steel.

"Yeah?" he said.

Wallace nodded. "Dante, listen, I can save us both a lot of time and trouble. Just give me your permission -"

"No," Dante said. Her mask was back in place. Maybe that was all there was to her; maybe what he'd thought he'd seen within her was an illusion. White light edged his vision. Hurt his eyes.

Wallace's smile faded. She stared at him in frustration. Standing, she said, "This is pointless. I can get a search warrant in an hour."

Unhooking his shades from his belt, Dante slipped them on. "Get it. I'll be waiting."

"I'll do that," Wallace said. She strode down the steps and into the crowd.

Wallace's clean, fresh rain scent lingered, as did the heated aroma of her blood. But her spiky rays ofauthority receded with every step she took, and Dante found himself breathing a little easier. She was strong, persistent, and gorgeous. Too bad she was a f.u.c.king cop.

A hand, cool and soothing, brushed against the hair at Dante's temple, icing the pain for a moment. He closed his eyes.

Lucien's thought curled past the pain. "No." Dante pushed Lucien's hand from his temple. "I'm gonna get in the Cage."

Lucien stepped around in front of him. Dante looked up into golden eyes. "Not tonight," Lucien said.

"You're in no shape -"

"I'm inexactly the right shape," Dante cut in.

"Hey, sugar."

Lucien turned, and Dante saw Gina and Jay standing on the step behind him, holding hands, satiated smiles on their lips. Gina's bodice was still unlaced. The cleavage created by her corset, fragrant with black cherry perfume, reawakened his hunger and twisted around the pain, braiding the two together.

Releasing Jay's hand, Gina stepped past Lucien and settled herself in Dante's lap. She cupped his face, bent her head, and kissed him. He tasted Jay on her lips and tongue; tasted her, too - pungent and rich.

He bit her lip, sucked at the blood oozing from the wound. She gasped, then moaned.

Burning. Restless. Dangerous.

Trembling, Dante ended the kiss. He licked her lower lip until the bleeding stopped and the wound healed. Gina looked at him with half-lidded eyes. Sleepy. Happy. He caressed her jaw-line with shaking fingers. Sweat trickled along his temple.

Gina touched a finger to his lips. "We gotta go, s.e.xy," she whispered, sliding from his lap. "Tomorrow night?"

The pain was an ice pick through his brain and his control was slipping. He released her without a word.

Jay leaned over and kissed him.

"Tomorrow," Jay murmured. Grasping Gina's hand, he led her down the steps. Gina waved, an impish smile on her lips.

Tomorrow night.

Dante watched them walk away.

4 Still Falling Bourbon splashed into Thomas Ronin's shot gla.s.s, dark amber under the low lights. The bartender swiped the debit spike Ronin had left on the counter, then sauntered on to the next customer bellied up to the long, polished bar. Ronin picked up his gla.s.s and turned around.

"Looks like you f.u.c.ked up," E drawled. Shaking a cigarette from the partially crumpled pack of Marlboro, he stuck it between his lips and lit it with a silver Zippo.

Ronin plucked E's cigarette from between his fingers, and dropped it onto the floor. Twisted out the embers with the toe of his snakeskin boot. "Amuse me," he said. "Tell me how."

E glanced at Ronin, his eyes hidden behind shades, a stretched-out grin on his face. He shook another cigarette from the pack, jammed it between his lips, then lit it. He exhaled gray smoke into Ronin's face.

"Think you know everything, dontcha, Tommy-boy?"

Ronin nodded, sipped his bourbon. "Most things."

"Yeah?" E's grin widened. "Didcha know the chick talking to Dante is Special Agent Heather Wallace?"

Ronin's hand hesitated in the act of fanning away the cigarette smoke. Lifting his shades, he stared at the trenchcoated woman on the dais. Yes, itwas her - the profiler working the Cross-Country Killer case.

"Even changing MO and signature and s.h.i.t didn't fool her," E said, his gin-scented words smug. "I knew it wouldn't. Heather's in the house."

The admiring tone in E's voice drew Ronin's gaze. E stared at Wallace, his face lit with love. Or what pa.s.sed for love in a twisted and stunted thing like E.

Ronin finished his bourbon. It burned through his veins, awakening another kind of hunger. He watched Dante and the woman. The boy was exquisite. His a.s.sessment went beyond Dante's stunning exterior.

Ronin had read the files. He knew what the boy was and what hecould be.

De Noir stood behind the cheesy throne like one of the statues guarding the mausoleums in St. Louis No. 3. And what was De Noir? Not vampire, no. Something else entirely. Something Ronin suspected to be far older and far darker.

Her lovely face composed despite the anger tightening her movements, Wallace whirled and trotted down the steps to the dance floor. She disappeared into the crowd.

Ronin turned to face the bar again. Nudged the bartender with a gentle flick from his mind. The bartender refilled Ronin's gla.s.s. Ronin's pulse quickened.In all my centuries. I've never seen or felt anyone like Dante. Not once. He tossed back the bourbon. It burned, untasted, down his throat to his gut.

E remembers his past. Dante doesn't. Why is that? Was Johanna harder on Dante because of his bloodline? Did she push him over edges a mortal could never endure?

Ronin watched as Dante dropped back onto his throne, fingers at his temple, caressing his pale skin.

Or maybe he hasn't endured, after all. Maybe he fell further than anyone else. And is falling still. Ronin turned to face his companion. "Anyone catch your fancy yet?"

"Maybe the purple-haired kid or the blonde vamp with him." E continued to look straight ahead, scanning the crowd. Red telltales shone from the edges of his shades. Infra, thermal, name it, E most likely had it installed.

Ronin shook his head. "Too much for you to handle."

"I've got an idea," E said, voice cheerful. He turned to look at Ronin. "What about Dante? He's f.u.c.king gorgeousand f.u.c.king dangerous. I bet he'd be as.h.i.tload of fun." The grin vanished from E's face.

"Whaddaya say? Can I play with Dante?"

Metal whispered against denim as E slipped free one of his shivs, smuggled in past th.e.l.lygad who'd let them into the club. Ronin's hand snapped out and seized E's wrist, locking it at hip level. He squeezed.

Sweat beaded E's forehead. Ronin twisted. E grimaced, baring his teeth. The smell of his pain, hot and bitter like bile, rushed into Ronin's nostrils. The shivtink-tunk ed onto the mist-shrouded floor.

"You do and I'll feed you your own guts," Ronin snapped. "Touch him before it's time and see if I don't."

E stared at him, his eyes hidden behind his shades, but his hatred shimmered in the dim light like radiation from a leaking nuke. Ronin twisted E's wrist a little more, then released him.

"Have you forgotten what he is?"

"No, a.s.shole, I haven't. f.u.c.king bloodsuckers." E rubbed his wrist.

He bent and scooped his shiv from the floor. Then, like a magician at a cheap Las Vegas dinner show, he made it disappear. Jaw clenched, he turned and stabbed a finger at the bartender, then down at his gla.s.s in case the bartender was an idiot.

"Are we clear?" Ronin said.

E spun around. "Like a two-way mirror," he muttered.

A pretty dark-haired girl plopped down onto Dante's lap, while a blond youth in lace, velvet, and black eyeliner stood on the steps, watching as they kissed.

"Keep our goal in mind," Ronin murmured. "Remember who truly deserves your...artistic...touch."

Hand in hand, the dark-haired girl and the blond youth walked down the steps and into the crowd.

"Tag. They're it." Tossing back the last of his gin and tonic, E slammed the gla.s.s onto the bar. A smile crawled onto his lips. He glanced at Ronin. "See ya later, Tom-Tom." He shoved away from the bar and into the crowd.

"Have fun," Ronin said, voice dry. When he couldn't see E any longer, he shifted his attention back to the dais.

E didn't seem to get that Dante was more than just a "bloodsucker." He'd beenborn vampire - a rareTrue Blood. A fact even Dante seemed unaware of; an ignorance Ronin hoped to use to his advantage.

Ronin watched as De Noir brushed his fingers against Dante's temples. The boy closed his eyes, but only for a moment. Twisting free of De Noir's caress, he stood. Strode down the steps and disappeared into the sweating, adoring, grasping crowd. The house lights dimmed twice, then went out.

Ronin worked his earplugs back into his ears. The crowd buzzed and chattered. He shivered as the crowd's sense of antic.i.p.ation splashed over him like a wave of warm seawater. He stared through the darkness and into the Cage. Stark-white bone, red feather, and leather fetishes hung from its steel bars.

"Dante! Beautiful angel!" a pining female voice cried out.

"Mon beau diable,"a male shouted.

A low growl rumbled through the crowd as voices took up the chant of: "Inferno! Inferno! Inferno!"

The fetishes swung and twisted as heat-radiating bodies climbed into the Cage. An aura of bluish-silver light surrounded one slender figure.

True Blood.Ronin drew in a deep breath of the club's reeking, heady air.When our paths join, only one of us shall walk away into the night.

The lights switched back on. The crowd roared.

"Can't believe I wanted it," Dante whispered into the microphone, dark eyes hidden behind shades. His hands cupped the mike like a lover's face. "Needed it. Tied to the bed. Unable to reach myself."

The overhead lights sparked silver fire from the rings on Dante's fingers and thumbs and glinted from the rows of hoops piercing each ear. Dante rocked the microphone back and forth, leaning it over, straddling it, then stepping back and jerking it up again. Ronin noticed Dante's fingers trembling as he yanked the mike free of the stand, caught the gleam of sweat at his temples.

He's hurting,Ronin thought, sipping at his bourbon.And he's using it .

Behind Dante, the rest of Inferno flailed and slammed at their instruments - braids, dreads, and 'hawks swinging through the air, their frenzied movement a blur of tattoos, piercings, leather, steel, and races - almond eyes; toffee-colored skin; strong noses; and hard, wiry muscles.