Promises to Keep

At a loss, Jay obeyed, though guilt nagged at him for walking away when she so obviously needed somebody. If he had known how to comfort her, he would have.

The adjacent room was occupied by a small but rowdy group engaged in an intense debate. There were no servant-slaves among them, though someone had left two plates of appetizers on what was probably a priceless antique table.

Jay leaned against the wall, taking a moment to soak up the friendly atmosphere. This group’s energy and enthusiasm felt cleansing after the artist’s melancholy.

“I’m only saying,” a human man protested as he leaned over the table to swipe a snack from the tray, “that working with Rikai is like working with some kind of venomous animal. She’s perfectly lovely right until she tries to eat me. I know you two are close, but I must express concern on behalf of your actors—myself included.”

“Concern noted,” the vampire in the middle of the group answered.

Rikai! Jay tuned into the conversation with interest when he heard the name. Rikai was a Triste, a creature who had studied and trained beneath another of her kind and had gained a vampire’s near-immortality and a witch’s ability to manipulate raw power. She was supposed to be an expert in the study of power of all kinds but was also said to be vicious in her quest for knowledge, willing to exploit anyone who gave her opportunity—except, perhaps, the two others in her elite group.

Given the context, the vampire discussing Rikai had to be Xeke. They were both part of a group called the Wild Cards, a trio of artists whose irreverent works ranged from mildly irritating to frighteningly infuriating. Their third compatriot had once been a witch, like Jay, but had broken those ties long before his birth. Now she was a writer, telling the stories no one wanted her to share. Xeke was supposed to be the most cautious and polite of the three, the one who maintained the greatest number of political and social ties. Jay had never met him but had followed his exploits from a distance.

When Jay made inappropriately intrusive remarks, people called him young and impulsive, unable to control his empathy. When Xeke put the same kind of remarks on film, people called it art. Jay owned several of Xeke’s more controversial videos, and had once written a fan letter that he suddenly hoped Xeke had never received.

“Oh, hell, it’s late. I’ve got to run, luv, if I’m going to get back on set in time.” The blond human kissed Xeke on the cheek and then darted out of the room, nearly colliding with Jay.

Jay tried not to blush as he felt Xeke’s attention turn to him. The vampire stood to greet him with a warm “Welcome” that betrayed both curiosity and interest. His thoughts had a predatory flavor but a neutral tone that Jay tended to find in nature, as opposed to the hostile aggression he associated with most humans and once-humans when they stalked their prey.

“Hi.” Real clever. He tried to ride the coattails of Xeke’s calm-and-collected- ness.

“You look a little overwhelmed,” Xeke observed.

“Is any of this art yours?” Jay said, the first polite question he could summon.

“Some of the photos,” the vampire answered, “but most of my work is in cinema.” He glanced at the clock and remarked, “It’s rather late for your kind to be here.”

Jay followed the vampire’s attention, and realized it was only a few minutes from midnight. Known as the Devil’s Hour at gatherings such as this, midnight was traditionally when the vampires fed. Xeke could smell that Jay was a witch. He was intrigued but also distinctly wary.

“Are you asking?” Jay asked.

“Pardon?”

Oh. He had done that thing where he responded to something not said out loud, skipping ahead in the conversation.

Jay reached a little more toward the vampire’s mind, getting a more solid sense of him, and asked, “You’re Xeke, right?”

“I am,” the vampire answered. “And you are?”

“Jay Marinitch.”

“A full-blooded witch at Kendra’s gala?” Xeke asked, no doubt recognizing Jay’s family name. Voice somewhat cooler, he added, “And a hunter, if I’m not mistaken. Surely you aren’t intending to do something stupid?”

“I try to avoid stupid things,” Jay responded. Occasionally successfully, he thought. He was going to get an earful about coming here once Sarah got wind of it. “I’m here as a guest, not to hunt.”

“Yet you’re armed.”

“Of course I’m armed. You can’t ask a cat to shed its claws.”

“Are you a pet?” Xeke asked, his mood lightening in the face of Jay’s honesty. “Or more of a wild animal?”

“Depends on how I’m feeling,” Jay replied. Sometimes he was a lizard, or a fox. Sometimes he wanted to be a kitten. “What are you looking for?”

He hadn’t intended the words to be flirtatious, but as Xeke quirked one brow and the images in his mind answered for him, Jay knew the vampire had taken them as such. It was hard not to flirt with someone whose mind exuded confidence and frank interest.

Aloud Xeke said, “Your knife makes me nervous.”

Jay took a step away, and then turned his back on the vampire so it wouldn’t be taken as a threat when he drew his knife.

This blade wasn’t just a weapon; it was an anchor. Generations of magic imbued in the silver helped Jay ground himself and focus, despite his limited ability to filter what his empathy picked up. Without it, he might still be staring, slack-jawed, at Kendra, lost in her mind.

He could probably live without it for a few minutes.

He flipped the knife around so he was holding it by the blade, and offered it to the vampire.

“Put it somewhere safe, or give it to someone you trust to get it back to me after.”

The offer shocked Xeke. Voice laconic but mind nervous, he asked, “Isn’t this violating some kind of ancient law?”

Jay laughed, shaking his head. “You’re thinking of Vida’s line. Mine trusts us to make up our own minds. I know you’ll get it back to me.”

“How?” the vampire asked.

“I just know.”

And he did. There were mysteries in Xeke’s mind, but he would honor any deal he made, and any power relinquished to him willingly would never be abused.

“Telepath?” Xeke asked.

Jay nodded.

Empath, actually, but most people didn’t know the difference and didn’t care. The crucial distinction at the moment was that, while Jay could shield his mind to keep telepathic creatures from reading his thoughts, and could protect himself from most magical intrusions, he wasn’t very good at shielding against the empathic impressions he always picked up from those around him. Xeke needed to make his mind up, because Jay needed to get out before he completely burned out.

The clock began to toll midnight.

“Well?” Jay prompted.

“Keep the knife,” Xeke said. “I don’t know you well enough to accept it.”

“Want to get to know me a little better?” Jay asked as he returned the knife to its place. He had been on his way out, anyway. He might as well round out the evening with another new experience.

Xeke was said to be of Kendra’s line, and though he was nominally allied with Midnight, he was outspoken against the slave trade. He was also politically savvy enough that he wouldn’t want to cross SingleEarth and the witches, which meant Jay was probably safe with him.

Probably. Xeke was also known for breaking rules and crossing people who shouldn’t be crossed.