Chapter Twenty-One
Day Four dawned bright and clear, the sun a brilliant red wound against the sky. I stood in Stavros' office, staring out the large wall of glass, just watching the sunrise. I had a feeling I didn't have too many of those left. A mug of hot coffee that someone had brought me—I was so out of focus I couldn't remember who had handed it to me—kept my hands warm, but it did nothing to fight off the chill down in the pit of my stomach. I had ordered everyone to leave me be, but I could practically feel them all hovering just outside the office door. I knew everyone was worried about this whole mess—Claudiana and Mikhail and Vann, not to mention the fact that there was still a traitorous master vampire roaming around out there who could or could not have anything to do with the Mikhail thing yet was powerful enough to lure Sal the restaurant entrepreneur away from Stavros' side. Yeah, things were just one big mess. And our days, or at least, my days, were numbered.
The door to the office opened. "I said I wanted to be alone," I said, not really caring to put any conviction in my voice. The person who had entered didn't say anything, but I heard them walk closer. I didn't bother to turn around. I figured it was Chase. I was wrong.
Winter appeared at my side. I glanced sideways at him; he was watching the sunrise with rapture. Stavros had made his fortune making tinted windows strong enough to allow a vampire to see the sun. What a wonderful invention, especially for vampires like Stavros and Winter, who hadn't been able to see the sun for near on a thousand years. He looked very relaxed in his blue jeans and black suit jacket. If I pretended, I could almost imagine he was human.
My gaze was drawn to a large iron cross hanging from his neck. He was shirtless underneath the jacket; the cross was touching the bare skin of his chest. I cringed. "How?" I asked. He just looked at me.
"How what?"
"How can you stand the cross when other vampires can't?" I asked him. "There's a cross hanging on your bedroom wall, you're wearing one . . . The one time I wore my cross around Vaughn I almost blinded him. How come you aren't affected by religious symbols?"
He was still gazing at the sun as he said, "Because I, unlike some vampires, have not lost the faith. And some never had it. The first vampire slayers came about in medieval times, when the church ruled everything and everyone. Most vampires then were ancients—those made before the time of Christ. Because they believed in the old gods, and not this new God, the religious symbols were most affective against them. Then, as more vampires were made, they stopped believing. They lost their faith, and so God lost them. I did not stop believing just because I became a vampire."
I frowned. "Are you saying that if all vampires believed in God, crosses wouldn't work on them?"
He chuckled. "Can't put anything past you, can we?"
"So, what, Vaughn stopped believing in God when he died?"
"Vaughn never believed in God to begin with," Winter said. "He was born in India during British occupation there; he was raised Hindu."
Well, you learn something new every day. "So, Winter, did you come in here just to cheer me up?"
He shook his head. "Actually, I came in here to give you your new assignment."
"From Stavros?"
"No, from me." I frowned again. Was Winter even allowed to give me assignments without Stavros' consent?
"Does Stavros know?"
Winter sighed. "No, he doesn't, and I'd like to keep it that way, at least for a little while."
I turned away from the now fully-risen sun to look him full in the face. "Is this going to involve any merc work?" I asked. "Because if so, I really need to clear it with Stavros. He signs my paycheck, not you."
Winter just smiled at me; I got the feel of an adult placating a child. I didn't like it. "Do not worry, you won't have to kill anyone, Kayla," he assured me. "Just keep an eye on someone for me, and tell me if anything suspicious happens. Oh, and it would probably be best if you keep this from your guard, as well."
"All right," I conceded. "I'll do it. Who am I watching?"
Winter had the grace to look a little sheepish. "Antonio," he finally said.
If I had been taking a sip of coffee, it would have been the perfect time to spit it back out. Unfortunately, my coffee mug was empty. "Antonio?" I repeated, incredulous. "You want me to watch Antonio?"
"For anything suspicious, yes," Winter said.
"That's why you don't want Stavros to know," I said, a conspiratorial note to my voice. "He'd freak if he knew you were 'keeping an eye' on one of his favorites. But what's your beef with Antonio?"
He gave me a look. "My . . . beef?"
I refrained from slapping myself in the forehead. I sometimes forget that older vampires don't keep up with modern slang, even though that particular bit of modern slang had been around for about fifty years. "What's your problem with Antonio?" I tried instead.
Winter shrugged, gracefully, I might add. "I simply do not trust him anymore," he told me, and turned to leave.
I thought about reaching out and touching his arm, but decided not to, as some masters didn't like it when humans touched them. Instead, I said, "Hey, can I ask you a question?"
He stopped and looked back at me. "Yes, what would you like to know?"
"It's kind of a personal question," I said. "But . . . why did you leave Mikhail?"
He stared at me, and I thought he wasn't going to answer. But finally, he sighed, and said, "I did not agree with what happened to your friend that night at the warehouse. Mikhail had lost his mind over you. It wasn't safe to stay with him."
I turned back towards the window; my eyes were stinging. "But you held me back," I said quietly, so quietly that if he had been human he might not have heard.
I felt his hand on my shoulder. "Mikhail is my maker, and back then he was my master. I was forced to obey every word he said. That doesn't mean I had to like it. But I've become more powerful since then. He has no control over me anymore."
I looked into his eyes; the grey of a winter sky. "Are you saying that if circumstances were different, you wouldn't have made me watch?"
"Who can say? Perhaps I would even have helped you save her."
I had nothing to say as he left the office. I tried not to dwell on our conversation too long; if I did, I might cause myself to have a mental breakdown, and that wouldn't be pleasant for anybody. Instead, I placed my coffee mug on Stavros' desk, turned, and walked from the office. The guard was standing just outside, as I had predicted. I walked past them without saying anything. Chase jogged to my side.
"What's up?" he asked.
"I've got something I need to do," I told him. He just gave me a look, but he didn't ask questions. I could have given him a treat, but I figured that would be insulting.
"Do you need us to go with you?" was all that he said.
I stopped, and turned to look at them all. Out of all of them, I trusted Chase the most. Broderick and Frithick were all right, I liked them well enough. Then there was Morgana. She was leaning against the wall, smirking at me. I didn't trust her at all. Again, I had to wonder what the hell Stavros had been thinking. She was more likely to poison me than guard me. I looked back to Chase. "Just you," I told him quietly, although I knew the other three could hear me just fine. To them, I said, "Why don't all of you take the day off? It's ridiculous for you to guard me when I'm not planning to go anywhere."
"You just told us you had something to do," Morgana said.
"Yeah, inside the lair," I told her.
Her lip curled. "I'm not leaving you."
"Aww, Morgana, I didn't know you cared."
She rolled her eyes as she said, "Please. He's paying me to do this, you know."
No wonder she hadn't poisoned me yet.
"Will you two stop fighting?" Chase asked. "Kayla's right; it's ridiculous for all of you to follow her around the lair. Who's she going to need guarding from in here?"
Well, according to Winter, maybe Antonio, I thought, and really hoped there was no one nearby who could read minds.
Morgana just rolled her eyes again. "Whatever," she said, and slunk off down the hall, her hips moving languidly. Just watching her move, I became jealous; some women, me included, only dreamed of moving with that animalistic grace. Of course, Morgana did have the whole werewolf thing going for her.
Both Broderick and Frithick watched her leave, and then Frithick turned to Roderick and said, "So, do you want to—" but he never got to finish his sentence. Broderick shot him a look, and then took off in the direction that Morgana had left. I stared with wide eyes.
"Did he just blow you off for Morgana?" I asked.
Frithick shrugged. "I'm used to it," he said jovially. Giving a wave, he sauntered off in the direction of the kitchen, knowing that despite the fact that this was Stavros' penthouse and that Stavros himself was asleep, someone would be up and about, possibly cooking breakfast, or, at least, willing to cook breakfast.
"Maybe I'm just dumb," I told Chase as we started off towards the elevators, "but I didn't see anything between Morgana and Broderick."
"You know, that's pretty funny," Chase replied as the elevator doors closed in front of us with a sharp ding. "Neither did I."
"So, what are you looking for?"
Chase and I stepped off the elevators onto the Torture Floor. I heard the sound of distant screams; so, even though the sun was up the party kept going down here. Interesting. There must have been things more sinister than vampires at work here.
"I'm looking for someone who works on this floor who sees Antonio frequently, talks to him frequently," I said. "Do you know anyone like that?"
Chase thought for a moment. "As a matter of fact, I do." He took my hand and started pulling me down the hallway. It was the furthest I'd ever ventured on the Torture Floor. He pulled me to a white door which looked ordinary enough. I knew better than to think it was truly ordinary.
"What is this?" I asked.
"Antonio's personal play room," he answered as he knocked.
A voice on the other side of the door called, "Who's there?"
Chase called back, "Your favorite werewolf."
I raised an eyebrow as the door opened. Standing in the doorway was a girl who was nineteen, maybe. She looked drowsy, as though we had woke her up. Her short black hair was tousled like she had just rolled out of bed, although I didn't see how she could stand to sleep in the outfit she was wearing—it was like a leather bikini, with just enough material to cover her nipples and the area between her legs. When she turned to allow us in, I found out the bottom part of the ensemble was a thong. Joy of joys.
"What are you doing here, Chase?" she asked, sitting back down on a black leather couch that was on one end of the room. On the other end there were two sets of shackles hanging from the wall, and a table with an assortment of "toys." Personal play room, indeed. I tried to keep my attention on the girl, but even that proved difficult.
"I wanted to introduce you to someone," he said. "Skye, this is—"
"Kayla Atrelic," the girl supplanted. "Our very own monster slayer." She stood, and held out a delicately pale hand adorned with long black fingernails. "I'm Skye."
The moment I took her hand, I felt it. That tingle at the base of my neck that let me know when there was magic around me. It was the sense that let me feel for vampires and other creepy crawlies, but this girl didn't feel like anything I'd ever encountered before. "You're not human," I said bluntly.
She laughed. "They told me you were good," she said, and then gave a little bow. "You are, indeed, correct. I am not a human, but a pixie."
I raised the questioning eyebrow. "A pixie? I'm a little rusty at fairy lore, but aren't pixies supposed to be only a few inches tall? You don't look like Tinkerbell to me."
Skye shook her head. "Such a terrible misconception. Faeries, like myself, as well as other types, are humanoid." Feeling that she had officially made us welcome, Skye sat back down on the couch. "So, Chase, Kayla—I can call you Kayla, right?—how can I be of service?"
"I just need to ask you a few questions," I said. "Skye, how well do you know Antonio?"
"Very well, I'd imagine," she answered. "I am, for now, his personal plaything. Until he tires of me, that is."
I frowned. "What happens when he tires of you?"
"I do not know." She shrugged. "Perhaps Stavros will turn me out on the street. More than likely, though, when Antonio is bored with me he will drain me dry. I hear faerie blood is a delicacy. Apparently it's one of the only things that can inebriate a vampire."
"And you're all right with that?" I asked incredulously.
"Of course not," she told me. "But what can I do to change it? Faeries have long been treated as the dirt beneath other supernatural beings' feet. The days when we were feared and worshipped are long past."
I was feeling elated; this was just the sort of situation I needed. "Skye, do you like being Antonio's toy?"
She shook her head. "Well, no, but it puts food on my table. I have a kid to feed."
I smiled at her. "How would you like to be free of this?"
Her eyes lit up. "I'd like it very much."
"What would you do?"
"Anything."
"It'd be dangerous."
She waved my comment away with an elegant hand. "Please, danger is of no importance. Please, tell me what you want me to do."
"Well, for now, just watch him," I told her. "Maybe give him a sip or two of that precious blood of yours, enough to get his lips loose enough to spill some secrets."
Skye looked at me conspiratorially. "What kind of secrets are you looking for?"
I shrugged. "I'm not sure. Anything suspicious, that might spell trouble of Stavros, or any of the big players here. Winter—"
"You?" Skye interrupted with a knowing look.
I sighed. "Well, I hadn't really thought about it, but yes, me, too, I suppose."
"So, let me get this straight," Skye said. "You want me to basically spy on Antonio, and see if he's doing anything suspicious. Maybe get him drunk enough to talk about anything he might be up to."
"Exactly," I said. "I can guarantee you that if you find anything worth knowing, Stavros will reward you greatly."
In the end, Skye agreed, and I left Antonio's playroom feeling elated. Mostly because I was leaving Antonio's playroom. On the elevator Chase shot me a glare.
"Stavros doesn't know anything about this, does he?" he asked.
"Nope," I answered, as the doors closed shut with that familiar ding.
