Night Runner: Falling From The Light Part 21

"Sydney?" he asked quietly.

"Shut up." A pane of gla.s.s cracked as we pa.s.sed it. I ignored it, focusing on my breathing, on walking, on the thoughts that were my own. All the little things I'd taken for granted until someone had whisked them away with me.

"Where are we going?" he asked. We. Those were some b.a.l.l.s after the show he'd just put on.

"The city of angels," Thurston murmured.

"You can't go," I muttered. "They don't like drunk slobs."

"LA does have a distinctive sense of style. I must say it's odd that you'd acknowledge it while wearing that."

"Designer labels don't make people better." My head was pounding. This was no good. It wasn't any fun to spar with him when he was being mean. "You're undead proof of that."

"What a mood you're in," Malcolm all but purred. "Is something the matter?"

My hands curled around the bottom of my hoodie, because it wouldn't do to punch him in public. Something hard rolled around on my tongue. I'd managed to chip a tooth. Outstanding.

"If you want to come, we're leaving in ten minutes. With or without you." I managed to look him in the eye when I said it, but even that was difficult. My gaze flinched away, landing on Chev. She observed us from across the lobby, probably considering whether she needed to throw us out on our a.s.ses. How could she be so powerful, rule-bound, and all-knowing, and allow Emil here after what he'd done to Mickey?

Malcolm's silence lasted long enough that I wondered if he'd gone back to his crew and his pile of money. Except that I felt him there, felt his anger. He had no right to it. I might have let myself be caught and twisted up, but I wasn't the one being a d.i.c.k. I raised my chin but his gaze was on anything other than me.

"I'll see you two later," he said dismissively. And then he was gone. Thurston caught my eye.

"What?" I demanded. "I can see you want to say something. Spill it."

"You're behaving strangely."

I almost laughed. "I am? Me?"

He shrugged and headed for the front desk. I looked for Chev, paranoid that she'd singled me out. Her attention was elsewhere, locked on Laura, the blonde feeder that Mickey liked so much. Chev's companion. She wore a pale green maxi dress which clung to her legs and left her neck and shoulders uncovered. When her arm rose in a particularly animated gesture, Chev caught her hand. As she pulled her close, I turned away. My right hand rose to the tender bite scar on my left arm. I'd bet Laura never had to worry about her life being torn apart. I wouldn't, either, if I had someone that powerful watching over me. Someone stronger than Malcolm, and more resourceful.

I didn't like thinking that, but what about it wasn't true? In twenty years, he'd managed to p.i.s.s off Bronson repeatedly when he could have been trying to get close to him. He'd wasted all that time when he could have been gaining influence and power. At least Richard Abel could do what was necessary in order to gain a place of strength. That was...that was important. I glanced back at Chev, but she was leaving, the end of Laura's long ponytail in her hand. Almost every vampire in the lobby was watching them. That was power.

Thurston signaled to me and I joined him at the counter where a slim clerk with black eyes circled her fangs with her tongue. A newbie, just getting used to them. She glanced back and forth between us, trying to figure out the dynamic. Shaken, feeling slightly ill, I smiled at her. Fake it till you G.o.dd.a.m.n make it.

"I need to check out or rent a vehicle," I said. "However that works."

"Of course. We have these available." She set a black folio on the counter and opened it to reveal a glossy page covered in pictures of vehicles. She tapped three of the nine vehicles showcased there. Vamp-proofed vans and sedans. I perked up at a sleek Mercedes that probably purred. Then I saw it, a burly SUV with ma.s.sive wheels and a vented engine.

"What's this?"

"You have discerning taste, miss. That's our Bradigan, custom made in Ireland and loaned to us by Mr. MacInness. Seven hundred horsepower, a V-12-"

"Yes. That. I'll take that."

Tenth World truly was luxury service with a pointy smile. I didn't have to hand over my ID or go through an endless optional insurance spiel. A name, a room number, and we were off. We waited in the valet tunnel for the car to be brought around, Thurston hovering near the door while I walked to the end where the sun shone hot. The valets were human, but their attention was on the vampires coming and going.

I ran my tongue around my mouth until I found a hard grain wedged between tooth and gum. If I had to get dental work done, I was giving up. That was the end of the line. I pulled out the fragment and held it up to the light. It wasn't a piece of tooth. It was a small red...thing. It flashed in the sun, like a garnet or a crystallized sliver of cherry.

The only thing I'd ingested that color recently had been blood.

I threw it out into the gravel lining the room, then backed away. That wasn't right. That wasn't right at all.

I retreated into the darkness and huddled behind Thurston. Saliva filled my mouth and my stomach twisted, wanting to spill its contents. I startled when a door opened behind me-some hidden valet shortcut-then straightened, shoving my hand back through my hair, when Malcolm stepped out. His hair was damp and curling a bit, and the charcoal suit and crisp white shirt he'd changed into made him look about a thousand times better. A pang went through me. If only the clothes made the man.

Soraya slipped through behind him. She gave me a sharp once-over, reminding me that she was no longer a fan. I fiddled with my bag, checked my wallet, then stilled as the vehicle rolled up. Its rumble filled the small s.p.a.ce. It was squared, lined by a series of ridges that looked like it had been squeezed through a too-tight mold and come out the other side angry. And it was murdered out, all deep-smoke window tint and flat black paint.

"Do you like it?" Mal asked.

"It's nice," I said cautiously, not wanting to provoke him to another display.

"Do you want one?"

My head caught when I tried to shake it. "It's not very practical."

"She's driving this?" Soraya asked skeptically.

"There's nothing wrong with the car," I shot back.

"It's fine," Malcolm said. "I'm certain it will get the job done."

"It looks as though it was put together by Dr. Frankenstein," Soraya said, glaring at the car over crossed arms.

"You can't blame the monster for what she looks like." I ran my hand along the wheel well. Oh, she was sweet. "If you're coming, we're leaving now."

Malcolm dealt with the valets-a significant amount of green seemed to exchange hands-while I climbed into the driver's seat and waited for the back doors to close. The rumble of the engine worked its way into my bones. She might be ugly, but the Bradigan could kick. The inside was leather, low-profile blue dash lights, and chrome edging. Yeah, maybe I kind of wanted one.

Within thirty minutes, I'd found all my comfortable settings. The right seat recline. The right air flow. The right speed-significant. Thirty minutes after that, I was three-quarters in love with the car. I was also furious. My anger had built with every mile, and the press of vampire energy from the other side of the metal and gla.s.s had fed it. Where did Malcolm get off sneering at me? He'd made fun of my clothes, for f.u.c.k's sake. Like my normal state, the way I'd always been, was suddenly ridiculous. And he'd G.o.dd.a.m.n flaunted Chast.i.ty at me. Spun her around and thrown her in my face before grabbing and kissing me in front of a million vampires.

I pulled the car off the side of the freeway, then drove down an embankment and straight into the desert. I'd never in my life been too angry to drive, but I could barely see the road through a haze of rage. I kicked the door open and jumped out. Dirt and sagebrush cracked and ground beneath my boots. My hands clenched on my hips.

I'd trusted him. I'd negotiated for his freedom. And when I'd needed him most, he hadn't come through. He'd left me on the cold concrete in the bas.e.m.e.nt. And while he'd said that nothing had changed... A thought went through my mind and I nearly choked on my next breath. Nothing had changed for him because he'd always considered me a throwaway, a toy.

f.u.c.k. Him.

I glared at the handle to the back door. The Bradigan rumbled, its profile mean and strong. It was a great vampire vehicle. Two rows of seats in the back, wrapped in metal and insulation. Double-pane gla.s.s tinted almost opaque, with a thin layer of woven lead in between. It boasted the finest in sun safety insulation. But the door could still be opened. I could be rid of that handsome b.a.s.t.a.r.d who'd allowed this to happen to me and then laughed. This wasn't Chev's territory. She wouldn't do anything. Bronson liked me better than Mal. He wouldn't f.u.c.king care, I'd bet. All I had to do was open the door and let the sun burn him to ash. Then the car would be perfect.

I walked back, my anger quiet now, simmering in antic.i.p.ation. The handle grew larger and larger until my fingertips brushed it. They were pale against that matte dark finish. It would take so little effort. I didn't have to have a vampire's strength. I didn't need to rely on anyone else. I could simply end him and walk away from this pain that had nothing to do with what had happened to me and everything to do with what he was doing to me. I could find someone more powerful than him to take care of me, and life would be good.

I frowned. That wasn't right. I wasn't going to replace one vampire with another. I didn't want another vampire. I didn't even like them. I'd only ever wanted him.

"Remember who's in here with me," Malcolm said. "Remember that I'm not your only cargo."

His voice was m.u.f.fled but I heard each word distinctly. And there was no influence, none of the chill scratch of glamour against my mind. He wasn't trying to push me. There was fear, though, but it wasn't Mal's. His energy was pulled tight. But Soraya, she was radiating, spewing terror. Because she'd been trapped and threatened with daylight. An inhumane treatment, no matter who it had come from. And now I was doing the same to her.

I s.n.a.t.c.hed my hand away from the door. My darkened reflection in the window looked shocked. The wind kicked up, stirring dust and rolling small rocks along the parched ground. I looked around, my senses waking abruptly as the anger dimmed.

Cars slowed as they pa.s.sed us on the freeway. My tire tracks were deep and erratic. The door I'd left open was chiming patiently.

All I had been doing was driving. Nothing about that should have been disorienting. Nothing about it should have made me want to murder the only man I'd ever loved. I shivered, cold even though it still had to be over ninety degrees out.

"I'll get us back on the road," I murmured, climbing mechanically back into my seat. I flexed my hands before placing them on the steering wheel. Red dust smudged the leather and I rubbed my palms against my thighs. "It's going to be a little b.u.mpy."

Chapter Eighteen.

We reached the Sunset Strip a few hours after nightfall, the vampires a chill pressure in the back of my mind. I couldn't ditch them and split. If I kept driving, eventually I'd run out of gas and they could drag me out. Even through the filter, the air tasted weird. But at least the traffic was terrible. Too angry to deal with stop-and-go traffic, I parked in a lot four blocks from our destination. I'd barely shut off the Bradigan when the vampires tumbled out. Soraya disappeared, flitting away from my senses immediately. It would have been a relief if she hadn't left a trail of disgust behind her.

I shoved open the door and dropped out, my body stiffening as I waited for Mal to lay into me. He stood a few feet away, between the Bradigan and a Porsche Cayenne, between me and the road. His anger filled the cramped s.p.a.ce. The light overhead popped and went out. When he spoke, I flinched, one arm shooting up to block him.

"You should have parked closer," he said mildly, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"When it's your turn to drive," I said, nerves making my voice bounce, "we'll let you pick the parking spot."

"We're abducting someone. It's too far to carry him."

"I'm sure Thurston can do it if you're not feeling strong enough." It shouldn't take more than a nudge to push him over the edge into his anger. The sooner he got it out of his system, the sooner I could move on. Hopefully.

He took a step toward me and I winced. Sweat trickled down my spine and each breath came hard and fast.

"Sydney."

"Just do whatever you're going to do," I ground out.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're p.i.s.sed-"

"You think I'm mad at you?" He grabbed hold of my chin, his other hand gripping the back of my head when I struggled. He gave a frustrated snarl when tears leaked out of my eyes. His head tipped forward until his forehead rested against mine. His chest heaved a couple of times before he went still.

"Baby, I'm furious," he murmured. "But I'm not mad at you." His hands gentled. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me close. I touched his arm tentatively and the muscle bunched beneath his jacket. His energy wound out of him, dense and warm, and threaded around me. A heavy buzz filled my head, making my eyelids droop closed and turning my muscles loose and languid.

"Everything in the card room," he said, "that was for them. I didn't mean it."

I opened my eyes as the lethargy vanished. He was lying. Maybe it wasn't a full-blown lie, but enough of it was untrue that the statement was tainted.

"We have to go." I pulled back, extracting myself from his arms.

"Sydney..."

I held up a hand. "Not now. We have something to do."

Thurston stood on the sidewalk and gave me a questioning look when I pushed past Mal. People walked the streets, most of them dressed for clubbing. They didn't pay any attention to me, but Malcolm got a few looks. Soraya rejoined us before we'd reached the first vampire club. Her face was blank, and she seemed to have shed the feelings that had been flooding from her in the car.

"Describe the target," Soraya said, sounding downright tactical. I used that as inspiration. Time to be professional. I could do that. I just had to avoid looking at Mal, had to ignore the energy that stretched between us.

"He's about five foot eight," I said, "maybe a hundred and fifty pounds. Caucasian. Straight brown hair that's so long in front that it looks like he shouldn't be able to see where he's going. Gla.s.ses with thin dark rims. Late twenties to midthirties. Has an off-kilter geek thing going on. Will probably have a satchel or backpack with him." There was something else about Kevin, but I couldn't quite remember. A mole or a birthmark or a foot fetish or something.

"And this is the individual who spread terror throughout Santiago," Mal said, all scornful arrogance. So he was wearing his business face, too. "Five foot eight. Gla.s.ses."

"Sometimes bad things come in small packages."

The clubs lining the street weren't yet doing much action. Until we reached the first sucker spot. The bouncer ignored me but decided to step up to Soraya. She demonstrated her appreciation of that action by walking over him, literally. An extended leg, a twist of her hip, and he was on the ground. I skirted his stunned body, trying through elaborate gestures to show him I was sorry as he stared up at us.

"We're trying to maintain a low profile here," I said as I caught up to her halfway down the loud metal stairs. "We want to catch this guy, not scare him off."

Soraya's brow crinkled. "Who's being scary?"

"Just...low profile. Stick to the plan. Get in. Ask around until we find out where he is. Take him. Get out." And turn him over to the male who'd requested him.

"The plan requires the opposite of subtlety." Mal popped his top two b.u.t.tons and shed his jacket. He offered his hand.

"Sora can go with you. Thurston and I w-"

The other two swept past and shoved through the door before disappearing into the writhing crowd.

"Looks like it's you and me." Mal smiled.

"We'll cover more ground if we split up," I muttered after the retreating backs of the traitors. Couldn't they see that Mal was off?

I ground my teeth and caught the door before it closed and stepped into an underground club as alive as the topside ones were dead. It was amazing that so many people were allowed in such a small s.p.a.ce, or maybe vampires didn't count toward fire code limits since they were undead. There were a lot of suckers, one to every three humans, the highest ratio I'd ever seen outside a blood lounge. It was a smallish club, a single square room illuminated by globed gas lamps. The music, which hadn't been audible from the curb, consisted of a chick with a small drum kit, a skinny tuxedo-clad guy with a cello, and a slinky singer with a smooth, low voice. Predictably, she was warbling about dark hungers and anything that rhymed with them.

Malcolm's arm snaked around my waist as he hauled me into the crowd. His grip tightened when I tried to shrug him off, and the glare I tossed at him only earned me a grin.

"Sit," he said when we reached the bar.

"I'm fine." I tapped the stool. "Why don't you sit? You were hitting it pretty hard earlier."

He braced his hands against the bar on either side of me and lowered his head.

"We're here for information and you're destroying my street cred."

"You want everyone here to think you're a dog trainer?"

A smile played over his lips. He didn't look like he'd been ten sheets to the wind a few hours ago. He looked good, his eyes dark whiskey, the beginnings of stubble shading the strong line of his jaw. I'd missed him. Not the b.a.s.t.a.r.d he'd been all day. This version of him. Except that this version, the nice version, was a liar.

"They believe that dominance equals strength."

"And it doesn't?" I clenched my hands together to keep from touching him. I needed more from him first, confirmation that he wasn't going to keep stinging me.

"Strength equals strength. Intelligence. Foresight. Understanding that you're willing to give one ounce more than your opponent, even if it's the last ounce. All these things contribute. Posturing only gains you a foothold over the weak or weak-minded." His eyes flashed as they roved over me before focusing on my own. "Sit. Please."