Taken By The Others. Jess Haines
I repeated myself. “Hello? Who sent you? What do you want from me?”
“Max Carlyle wants you. I’m one of his assistants, Peter. He sent me to come get you.” He brightened up some, sounding hopeful. “Don’t suppose you’d come along willingly, would you?”
My God, this guy was dumber than a box of rocks.
“Not after that little show of temper,” I said.
“Damn!”
“So, get the fuck out. Go away. If Max Carlyle wants to talk to me, tell him to just call my fucking office to arrange an appointment like everybody else,” I said, grabbing my phone. “If you don’t leave in the next ten seconds, I’m calling the cops.”
“They can’t do anything to me. No human is strong enough to take me on.”
“Good for you,” I muttered, shaking my head at his naïveté. He must be newly turned. Like within the last few days newly turned to be this stupid. Guess he hadn’t heard that it was now standard issue for cops to carry crosses and holy water with the rest of their equipment.
I could practically picture a dim lightbulb buzzing to life above his head, his look suddenly going sly. His voice turned sickly sweet, cajoling. “You’ve got to come out of there sometime. Why don’t you come along now and make this easier on everyone?”
Yeah, like he could possibly sweet-talk me after flashing fangs. “Give me a break. Look, fang-boy, I’m not interested. If you hadn’t gone all vampire-y on me, maybe I would’ve listened to what you had to say. As it is, I’ll be calling the police now.” I started dialing, staring at him, free hand braced on my hip as I waited on hold for an operator to pick up. It didn’t take long.
“Hi, I’ve got a vampire who’s threatening me and trying to break into my apartment.” The angry epithets and pounding sounds followed by pained howls must have sounded awfully funny to the operator on the other end of the line. “Could you guys get here quick? I could really use some help. Here’s the address …”
I hung up while the operator was still sounding completely frazzled, telling me to “stay calm” and that “help was on its way.” I was more interested in what Peter was up to. Tilting my head to the side, I examined the vampire, who was alternately cursing the pain in his hands and still trying to find a crack in the defenses around my door.
“Not the brightest crayon in the box, are you?”
He glared at me, a glimmer of red returning to his eyes. “Shut up! Max said you were a troublemaker, not a bitch.”
“Guess he didn’t hear I’m a New Yorker.”
Peter was abruptly jerked backward off his feet, out of my line of sight. I shifted to peek into the hall and see what was going on.
“What is the meaning of this?” came Royce’s smooth voice, warm with anger as he held the much-beefier-looking Peter by the back of the neck. He picked him up like he weighed as much as a housecat and flung him down the hallway. My brows rose to my hairline at that little display. I knew Royce was strong, but I’d never seen him use that strength so blatantly. Except when we were fighting to the death that one time–but I digress.
“You presume to touch my property without permission?” My eyes narrowed at that. Property, was I? “Go back to Max and tell him I want recompense for this grievance. Immediately!”
Peter growled out something I couldn’t quite hear, then audibly lumbered off toward the stairs. Weird. Never heard a vampire that tromped around so loudly. Usually they were light on their feet, quiet and swift like cats. Like predators.
Royce, for example, could move with a speed and fluidity that defied physics and not make a single whisper of sound in the process. The one time I’d seen him do it, it scared the living hell out of me. That, coupled with the stupidity of Peter’s actions, only reinforced my assumptions about him being newly turned.
Royce’s gaze shifted to meet mine, and for just a second I thought I felt the same type of pull and compulsion to come to him that Peter had vainly and oh-so-obviously tried to use on me. I turned my gaze away with more effort than such a simple act should have taken.
“Thanks for getting rid of him.”
He nodded and then turned his attention to my doorway. His thin lips quirked upward in a smirk as he ran a fingertip along the frame, sending luminous ripples through the otherwise invisible shield that kept out all things Other aside from those I personally keyed to it. A tendril of whitish smoke curled from his fingertip as it reddened, much like Peter’s hands had. “This is new.”
“Yeah, well, some creatures of the night can’t take a hint,” I said, moving to take his wrist below the cuff of his elegantly tailored suit jacket and pull him past the barrier.
Though he looked surprised at the touch, he didn’t resist. The barrier clung to him like Saran Wrap, more grudging than it had been for Chaz the first time I tried this, not wanting to let the vampire pass. Guess it was smarter than I was, trying to keep the dangerous stuff out instead of inviting it in for a little chat.
Once he was past it and the tug of resistance faded, I immediately let him go, shut the door, and backed away to put some much-needed space between us. “You’ve got good timing. Want to tell me what that was all about?”
“That vampire you just met is the progeny of Max Carlyle. I assume he told you why he was here.”
“Yes, but that’s not what I meant. What’s the big idea, calling me property?”
His smile could have melted the coldest of hearts. “Simply that. You and I are contractually bound rather than by blood or bond, but the old ways still apply. Long before these courts and contracts came about, any vampire binding a human was considered to have staked a claim that other vampires had to respect. It’s simply not done to harm or feed upon a human claimed by another vampire without his permission. You would not take your neighbor’s dog or housecat and do harm to it. You might play with it, but you certainly wouldn’t kill it or take it from its owner without permission. Do you see?”
I’m pretty sure my face must have registered some incredulity. He was comparing human servants to the family dog? He sighed at my speechless reaction and continued.
“I’m not saying that it is right or fair for humans to be considered this way. It is simply how it has always been done. To be bound to one of us is also considered an honor. It means that person has the benefit of the protection of the one who chose them and that they are being considered as a candidate for being turned. Since we are bound by the contract, you are ‘taken territory,’ so to speak. It puts you off limits as food or sport by anyone else since you are, by our laws, my property.” He paused thoughtfully before giving voice to a little laugh, amused by his own thoughts. “Though in this case I suppose ownership goes both ways, considering those little changes you made to the contract. An interesting and novel concept, though I don’t see how you might take any advantage of it.”
Great. Just great. Shaking my head, I stalked to the couch and sat down, folding my arms over my knees as I leaned forward to watch him. “Okay, you know, I’m not going to debate the morality of the subject with you, but I want to make one thing crystal clear. We have a working relationship. I will never be bound to you or anyone else by anything more than paper. Understand?”
He regarded me thoughtfully for a time, head tilted slightly to one side. That look from those black eyes was intense enough that I wondered if he now saw me for who I really was; not just another threat or conquest. He nodded and approached, settling himself with that enviable, centuries-practiced grace on the other side of the couch. “I understand.”
Somewhat mollified, I eased back into the couch cushions. He was a lot of things, but not a liar. Since he seemed to respect my stance on the matter, I trusted him to play nice for the time being. “Good. So what can you tell me about Max Carlyle? Any idea why he sent a flunky out to play fetch?”
“He considers