Shadowflame Part 4

David set aside his toy and sat back, crossing his arms. "I dropped a dead deer on his head."

She blinked, sure she'd misheard. "What?"

A nod. "It was his state visit after Deven and Jonathan Paired. He waited nearly a year to come, then proceeded to abuse the Haven staff, belittle the Elite, and treat the Prime like a c.o.c.kroach. He didn't say anything to Jonathan because Jonathan would have cheerfully crushed his skull, but I heard him in the hallway calling Deven a degenerate f.a.ggot, and lo and behold this hideous old deer head that had been hanging on the wall for seventy years fell down. The antlers almost put his eye out."

Miranda laughed so hard she nearly cried.

It was widely known that David was powerful; he had almost all of the higher abilities attributed to the most powerful of their kind, including the power to Mist, basically a form of teleportation that could be performed only by a Signet bearer. His telekinesis, however, wasn't common knowledge. It was entirely possible Hart had no idea there was any malicious aforethought in Bambi's suicidal leap.

Before she could compose herself completely there came a knock at the door, and Faith joined them, looking more agitated than Miranda had ever seen her.

The Queen sobered immediately. "Faith, what happened?"

The Second shook her head, her mouth set in a tight line. "Your guest is ready for you," she said.

Queen and Prime exchanged a look. "Faith, tell me," David said. "I want to know exactly how that b.a.s.t.a.r.d behaves while he's here."

Faith's eyes were like two slivers of flint ready to spark off any available tinder. "He brought his women," she replied. "Four of them. They're . . . the rumors are true, Sire."

David closed his eyes and sighed. "I was afraid of that."

Miranda looked from him to Faith. "What rumors?"

"Everyone knows Hart has a harem," Faith told her. "There's been speculation for years over whether the women he keeps are there of their own free will, and over how he treats them. The prevailing thought is that he turns them himself and keeps them weak, nearly starving, so they can't fight him."

Miranda felt the first stirrings of molten wrath forming in her stomach. "And it's true?"

"Apparently. You should see them . . . they're skin and bone. None of them make eye contact. They just shuffled into their room and one of his Elite shut the door and stood guard."

The Prime rarely displayed anger, even to his Queen, but she felt it flare up inside him and saw the subtle change in his expression that few other people would recognize as carefully controlled fury. When he spoke he was deadly calm. "All right. So he brought them into my Haven knowing perfectly well how I would feel about it. I think it's safe to a.s.sume his intentions in coming here are not pure."

David stood, straightening his shirt and reaching for the suit jacket he had hung over the back of his chair. They always dressed to the nines for these things, and although some Primes reinforced their reputations with old-fashioned wardrobes or stereotypical Goth-esque vampire attire, David opted for impeccable hand tailoring from the finest local shops so that everything fit him perfectly and only added to his allure.

Miranda was still working out her own style as far as that went. She had her stage clothes, lots of leather and jewelry, and a variation thereof that she wore into town when her presence was required. So far she'd had the most success with what she called "neo-b.i.t.c.h G.o.ddess," and tonight she'd worn black pants and heeled boots, a long coat, and a bloodred lace-trimmed top that perfectly matched the stone of her Signet. It was definitely not casual wear, but still wasn't a frilly c.o.c.ktail dress or Hillary Clinton pantsuit. She wanted to look impressive but be able to breathe, fight, and slouch when necessary.

"Let's go, beloved, and get this over with," David said. He turned to her, arms out slightly in the universal vampire gesture of I have no idea how I look-what do you think?

Miranda ran her hand down the front of his jacket, resting her palm over his heart. "Gorgeous as always," she said fondly.

"You, too," he replied, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead before taking her arm.

Faith looked like she'd rather eat a live scorpion than go anywhere near Hart again, but she was nothing if not a professional; she held the door open for them, but as Miranda pa.s.sed she heard Faith mutter, "We're going to need another deer head."

David was immensely proud of Miranda for not drawing her sword and decapitating Prime Hart five seconds after meeting him.

In fact, his fears about her reaction were completely overblown; he realized she had been observing him the last three months, and though she was friendly and somewhat relaxed with the first three Pairs who came to visit, when confronted with a notorious man like Hart she did the same thing David did and slipped on a mask of cordiality coupled with professional disinterest.

He loved it when she surprised him. It reminded him that though she was young and a little rash, the Signet never chose wrong. He could only imagine her in twenty or so years when she had stepped fully into her power and authority and was every inch the Queen . . . no one, not even Hart, would dare cross her then.

Or, it seemed, today.

"Welcome to our Haven, Prime Hart," David said, bowing, extending his hand. "Our home is your own."

Hart gave a slight bow. "I bring you greetings from the Northeastern United States," he said smoothly, and reached out to shake David's hand.

Hart was a handsome man; he had a polished look and demeanor that would not have been out of place debating on the Senate floor and appeared to have been in his early forties when he came across. He had silver hair and iceblue eyes; the overall effect was that of a man who presumably would have had no trouble landing women . . . willing ones. If David hadn't known about the actions behind the suave facade, he might even have called him charming.

David turned to Miranda. "Allow me to introduce Miranda Grey-Solomon, Ninth Queen of the Southern United States."

Hart looked Miranda up and down, then bowed a bit less than he had to David. Still, he smiled when he said, "A pleasure. Prime James Hart."

Miranda bowed. "Welcome to our Haven, Lord Prime. I hope you enjoy your stay."

Hart had already returned his attention to David. "I look forward to the next three days," he said. "I think it's time the Northeast and the South renew their friendship, with a Council meeting coming up soon."

Having fulfilled the requirements of Signet formality, David nodded. "Perhaps we could retire to the study to discuss matters of state."

Hart nodded curtly, then gave Miranda a faintly dismissive look. "I'm sure your young wife has other matters to attend to and is quite busy with her household duties."

David wasn't quite quick enough to change the subject.

"I am neither a housewife nor a servant," Miranda said coldly, staring daggers at Hart. "I am Queen of this territory and I don't require a man's permission to stay or go."

Before Hart could reply, David interjected, "She does, however, have a performance in town tonight, which I'm sure she would much rather attend."

Silently he willed Miranda to let it go this time-he wanted to know what Hart was up to, and if he stormed out now in a fit of pique they might never find out.

Miranda shot David a poisonous look but merely turned on her heel and walked away.

David gestured down the hall. "This way, please, my Lord Prime."

The study David had chosen for their meeting was not in the Signet wing; he wasn't going to let Hart anywhere near their private residence. It was a somewhat neutral venue with a square of identical love seats that put no one more in the spotlight than any other and was tastefully decorated to show off the Haven's wealth without ostentation. There was a map of the U.S. Signet territories on the wall in their current configuration with Kentucky firmly in David's grasp . . . just as a little reminder.

As they sat, one of the servants came forward to pour their first gla.s.s of whiskey. David hoped they'd brought up a very large bottle.

"Ice," Hart said shortly to the servant without looking at her.

David felt himself bristle at Hart's officious tone but said nothing. He couldn't let every little thing Hart did aggravate him, or they'd be at war before the hour was up. Hart came from a different world and time than David; the rumor was he'd been a Crusader, son of a n.o.ble family somewhere in Europe. He'd been ordering people around his entire life. David had spent his childhood covered in soot at his father's side, and as a vampire he had worked his way up through the ranks of the Western Elite. Plenty of Primes were disdainful and dismissive of their servants. He couldn't let it get further under his skin just because it was Hart.

Not to mention it would be hypocritical to lecture Miranda about diplomacy and then start trouble himself.

"Why don't we get down to business," David said.

Hart actually smiled, though it wasn't a particularly friendly expression. "And what business is that, Lord Prime?"

"Cut the c.r.a.p, Hart. What are you doing here?"

Hart regarded him silently for a moment before saying offhandedly, "You're going to have your hands full with that woman."

"She has a name."

Hart lifted his hands. "All right. Pardon my tone. I'm just saying, you know how the others talk. You have a reputation to protect-my advice would be to rein her in before that shrewish tongue gets you in trouble."

David didn't bat an eye. "The only person in this building about to be in trouble is you. And if you think I don't notice that you're dissembling, you're a fool." He took a sip of his whiskey, then asked, "Are you after Kentucky again, James? Because you're not going to get it."

The Prime made a noise something like a snort of derision. "I have more important things to worry about than a state full of vampires swilling home brew and f.u.c.king their sisters, David."

"Then what do you want?"

His pale eyes narrowed and he said, "You're telling me you don't know?"

"If I did, trust me, you would be on the first plane back to New York."

Hart's gaze turned speculative, and for just a moment David saw something in his face-not quite fear, but very close, and equally astonishing. Then, even more surprisingly, Hart was perfectly honest.

"You and I aren't friends," Hart said, his tone almost becoming amiable; it wasn't as if how he felt about David-or vice versa-were any big secret. "I've opposed you at every turn, and frankly I think you're a limp-wristed, bleeding-heart child with no business playing at the grownups' table."

"And I think you're a relic of an age best left behind," David replied, "and also an arrogant, raping, pretentious swine. Your point being?"

"Call off your dogs," Hart said. "Whatever you want from me, name it. I'm done with this game."

David felt his eyebrows shoot up. "My dogs?"

"The Red Shadow, David. Whatever reason you sent them after me-a vendetta, to prove something, I don't give a d.a.m.n-name your price. I've lost five of my Elite in the last four months and my Court is scattering to the winds. There's unrest in every state. You know d.a.m.n well what happens then-some little deviant upstart like you slips in and has my head."

"Deviant," David said, rubbing his chin. "I haven't heard that one in a while."

"I'm serious. Everyone knows it's the Shadow. You're the only Signet with ties to the Shadow. What little intel we've gathered points toward you or someone here in Austin as the Alpha. Insult my belief in our supremacy, insult my virility, but don't insult my intelligence."

David leaned forward, frowning. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't know any more about the Shadow than you do. How do I have ties?"

"That girl, the one who trained your Queen. My sources say she was one of them. She had to have been working for you."

Finally something made at least a little sense. "Sophia Castellano? I didn't even know she knew Miranda until later. She was acquainted with my Second, and she told Faith she had left the Shadow."

"No one leaves the Shadow. How do you think they've maintained their secrecy for so long? Either they die on a.s.signment or the Alpha kills them. There's no retirement plan. This Castellano woman was either trying to get inside your Haven for something or lying about ever being an agent."

"But I thought they only worked alone," David said. "How could more than one be in your territory causing problems? That doesn't sound like their tactics."

"Oh, it's them all right. Elite disappearing, not even a second's static in the line, no witnesses, and their bodies reappear after obvious torture-but there's no evidence whatsoever on the bodies or anywhere else. No mere gang is capable of that kind of ghost operation. Then there's this . . ."

Hart reached into his coat pocket and tossed a small object to David, who caught it and held it up to the light. "The h.e.l.l?"

"You're the technomancer. You tell me. I recovered it near the corpse of one of my Elite."

David frowned and examined the tiny device in his hand. It was some kind of wireless communication device, obviously, but he'd never seen one quite like it. It was made of silver metal, the same size and shape as an in-ear hearing aid, and completely seamless except for the hole that sound came through. The metal was the same color and sheen as the coms his Elite wore, but it was much harder and there were absolutely no markings on it.

"You checked this for fingerprints?" David asked.

"Of course," Hart snapped. "You're not the only Prime with resources."

David smiled. "Oh? Then you had this sent to a lab and a.n.a.lyzed?"

"Why? Obviously it's one of your little inventions."

David was itching to crack the thing open, but he feigned indifference as much as he could. "Given that I have my own intelligence network and my own Elite, why would I need an organization like the Shadow at my beck and call? As I understand it, they hire out to humans as a.s.sa.s.sins and spies, to go where human spies can't go. That's why the Council has never bothered tracking them down-they're no threat to us." He turned the device over in his palm again, considering it, and said, "Besides, they predate me by at least a century. Prime Deven heard about them as early as 1500. He'd heard that the Alpha was an Italian connected with the Medici family."

"Surely the organization has changed hands by now."

"Not necessarily. It's difficult to maintain that kind of secrecy if you have to hand over control to someone else. From what little I know about them, they sound like the kind of network that was created by one person who trained each agent individually."

Hart let out a slow breath and downed his whiskey in one long swallow. "Then you give me your word that you are not involved in this."

David stared at him for a moment, then down at the device, then back up. "I will do you one better, Lord Prime. Leave this thing with me. If you give me a chance to tear it apart and a.n.a.lyze it, see what makes it tick, I can learn more about its manufacture and send you all my findings. Knowing how it's made and where it came from might help you track down your killers."

For a moment Hart looked dubious, but finally he agreed with a nod. "Done."

Then Hart set his gla.s.s down and stood. "If you don't mind, then, Lord Prime, I shall retire for the morning. We can meet again after sunset to discuss anything else-there are a few finer points I'd like to go over with you about the upcoming Council, but I think that's best saved for later."

David stood as well and bowed. "I bid you good morning, then, and good rest."

Hart nodded, still curtly, but with a slightly less dismissive edge than before; David could hardly believe it, but it almost seemed like he'd won some grudging respect from the Prime in the last hour.

Hart was escorted back to his suite by one of the door guards, and David sat back down in his chair still holding the earpiece. He was madly curious about it. Was it really Red Shadow technology? Or something else? Whatever it was, it wasn't his.

David had considered using earpieces for the coms, but in the end he'd gone with the wristbands because they were harder to lose in battle unless the wearer's hand was severed. He'd never been entirely happy with any of the in-ear models he'd tried, and their reception of outgoing speech was iffy. Plus, he'd created the coms with the DNA sampling system, and that would have been much harder on a piece a tenth the size. For his purposes wrist coms worked just fine.

Depending on what he found when he got the earpiece open, however, there might be some new tech inside that he'd want. He didn't much care about Hart's problems, but there were plenty of reasons to want the earpiece in his possession.

He hadn't lied to Hart-he knew little of the Shadow because there was little to know. They worked for insanely wealthy humans, not vampires; they were mercenaries with no moral code, and they never worked in groups. It was highly unlikely that they were involved in this . . . but still . . . whoever was clearly had advanced tech, and that could pose a problem.

He lifted his com. "Star-three."

"Yes, Sire?"

"Report to the first-floor study, please."

"Two minutes, Sire."

Faith joined him, still looking a bit frazzled, and he gestured for her to take Hart's vacated seat and pour herself a drink.

"What did you learn?" she asked.

David held up the device. "We have work to do."

Miranda was angry that night.

Kat couldn't help but think back to the night she'd seen her friend onstage months ago, back when the worst thing Kat could imagine was that Miranda was strung out on drugs, and she had walked offstage and fainted. Kat had had no idea what was really going on-the possibility would never have occurred to her in a thousand years.