Surely not even he could be
“I’m a guardian,” he said, coming to a halt about half a dozen paces away. Which was about half a dozen paces
I scrubbed a hand across my nose, and half wished—and not for the first time in my years of dealing with vampires—that my olfactory sense wasn’t so keen. I’d long ago given up trying to get
“You only walk the streets when you’ve been set loose to kill,” I said, and motioned to the club. “Is that what you’ve been sent here to investigate?”
“No.” His brown gaze bored into mine, and an odd tingling began to buzz around the edges of my thoughts. “How did you know I was there when I had shadows wrapped around my body?”
The buzzing got stronger, and I smiled. He was trying to get a mind-lock on me and force an answer— something vamps had a tendency to do when they had questions they knew wouldn’t be answered willingly. Of course, mind-locks had been made illegal several years ago in the “human rights” bill that set out just what was, and wasn’t, acceptable behavior from nonhuman races when dealing with humans. Or other nonhumans for that matter. Trouble is, legalities generally mean squat to the dead
But he didn’t have a hope in hell of succeeding with me, thanks to the fact I was something that should not be—the child of a werewolf
“Hate to say this, Gautier, but you haven’t exactly got the sweetest scent.”
“I was downwind.”
Damn. So he was. “Some scents are stronger than the wind to a wolf.” I hesitated, but couldn’t help adding, “You know, you may be one of the undead, but you sure as hell don’t have to smell like it.”
His gaze narrowed, and there was a sudden stillness about him that reminded me of a snake about to strike
“You would do well to remember what I am.”
“And you would do well to remember that I’m trained to protect myself against the likes of you.”
He snorted. “Like all liaisons, you overestimate your skills.”
Maybe I did, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to admit it, because that’s precisely what he wanted. Gautier not only loved baiting the hand that fed him, he more often bit it. Badly. Those in charge let him get away with it because he was a damn fine guardian
“As much as I love standing here trading insults, I really want to know what’s going on in that club.”
His gaze went to Vinnie’s, and something inside me relaxed. But only a little. When it came to Gautier, it never paid to relax too much
“There’s a vampire inside that club,” he said
“I know
His gaze came back to me, brown eyes flat and somehow deadly. “How do you know? A werewolf has no more awareness when it comes to vampires than a human.”
Werewolves mightn’t, but then, I wasn’t totally wolf, and it was my vampire instincts that were picking up the vamp inside the building. “I’m beginning to think the vampire population should be renamed the great unwashed. He stinks almost as much as you do.”
His gaze narrowed again, and again the sensation of danger swirled around me. “One day, you’ll push too far.”
Probably. But with any sort of luck, it would be
“Yes.”
“So are you going to do something about the situation or not?”
His grin was decidedly nasty. “I’m not.”
I blinked. I’d expected him to say a lot of things, but certainly not that. “Why the hell not?”
“Because I hunt bigger prey tonight.” His gaze swept over me, and my skin crawled. Not because it was sexual—Gautier didn’t want me any more than I wanted him—but because it was the look of a predator sizing up his next meal
His expression, when his gaze rose to meet mine again, was challenging. “If you think you’re so damn good, you go tend to it.”
“I’m not a guardian. I can’t—”
“You can,” he cut in, “because you’re a guardian liaison. By law, you can interfere when necessary.”
“But—”
“There are five people alive in there,” he said. “If you want to keep them that way, go rescue them. If not, call the Directorate and wait. Either way, I’m out of here.”
With that, he wrapped the night around his body and disappeared from sight. My vampire and werewolf senses tracked his hidden form as he raced south. He really
My gaze returned to Vinnie’s. I couldn’t hear the beating of hearts, and had no idea whether Gautier was telling the truth about people being alive inside. I might be part vampire, but I didn’t drink blood, and my senses weren’t tuned to the thud of life. But I could smell fear, and surely I wouldn’t be smelling that if someone wasn’t alive in the club
Even if I called the Directorate, they wouldn’t get there in time to rescue those people. I had to go in. I had no choice
I took the cell phone from my bag and quickly pressed the Directorate’s emergency number. When the operator answered, I gave them my details and told them what was happening. Help would be there in ten, they said
Those people inside would probably be dead in ten
I shoved the phone into my bag and strode across the road. Though I’d inherited a vampire’s ability to shadow, I didn’t bother using it. The vampire inside would know I was approaching. He’d hear the rapid beating of my heart
Was it fear? Hell, yeah. What sane, normal person wouldn’t feel afraid when about to walk into the nest of a vampire? But fear and I had been on many adventures together. It hadn’t stopped me before, and it wouldn’t stop me now
When I reached the pavement, I stopped and studied the metal doors. Though the urge to hurry was beginning to beat through my brain, I knew that was the one thing I couldn’t do. Not if I wanted to save lives
The locks on the doors were simple padlocks. When the club was closed, they used a grate similar to the one over the windows to stop forcible entry. Which meant Vinnie, at least, was inside, and probably some of the wait staff
I closed my eyes and breathed deep. Three different scents were coming from the left. The vampire and two others from the right
I blew out a breath, then kicked off my shoes. Four-inch heels might be okay to party in, but they were shit when it came to fighting. At least, they were shit on the feet. The heels actually made damn fine weapons, especially when they were made of wood, like mine. Not only did they provide deadly little stakes when it came to dealing with vampires, but they were handy against everyone else, too. Few people ever thought that a shoe could become dangerous, but these
I rolled up my jeans so I didn’t slip on the excess material, then tossed my bag into the right-hand corner of the doorway, out of the way and out of sight. After flexing my fingers, I stepped forward and kicked the door. It shook under the impact of the blow, but didn’t open. Cursing softly, I kicked it again. This time it flew back with enough force to shatter the nearest window
“Directorate of Other Races,” I said, standing in the doorway and letting my gaze roam the darkness. I
