Dangerous Women. Группа авторов
contempt. “You would have used our alliance as a pretext to murder innocent thousands, making us your accomplices.” He crouched down to put his face inches from Froggy’s, and said in a calm, quiet, pitiless voice, “You have stained the honor of Svartalfheim.”
“I will make payment!” Froggy gabbled. “You will be compensated for your pains!”
“There is but one price for your actions, Fomor. And there are no negotiations.”
“No,” Froggy protested. “No. NO!”
Etri turned away from him and surveyed the room. Andi was still in wolf form. One of the turtlenecks was bleeding out onto the marble floor, the sprinklers spreading the blood into a huge pool. The other was crouched in a corner with his arms curled around his head, covered in bleeding wounds. Andi faced him, panting, blood dripping from her reddened fangs, a steady growl bubbling in her chest.
Etri turned to me and offered me his hand. I thanked him and let him pull me up to a sitting position. My throat hurt. My head hurt. My face hurt. It’s killing me, nyuk, nyuk, nyuk. C’mere, you.
You know you’ve been punched loopy when you’re doing a one-person Three Stooges routine in your internal monologue.
“I apologize,” Etri said, “for interfering in your struggle. Please do not presume that I did so because I thought you unable to protect yourself.”
My voice came out in a croak. “It’s your house, and your honor that was at stake. You had the right.”
The answer seemed to please him and he inclined his head slightly. “I further apologize for not handling this matter myself. It was not your responsibility to discover or take action against this scum’s behavior.”
“It was presumptuous of me,” I said. “But there was little time to act.”
“Your ally alerted us to the danger. You did nothing improper. Svartalfheim thanks you for your assistance in this matter. You are owed a favor.”
I was about to tell him that no such thing was necessary, but I stopped myself. Etri wasn’t uttering social pleasantries. This wasn’t a friendly exchange. It was an audit, an accounting. I just inclined my head to him. “Thank you, Mister Etri.”
“Of course, Miss Carpenter.”
Svartalves in security uniforms, mixed with mortal security guards, came into the room. Etri went to them and quietly gave instructions. The Fomor and his servitors were trussed up and taken from the room.
“What will happen to them?” I asked Etri.
“We will make an example of the Fomor,” Etri said.
“What of your treaty?” I asked.
“It was never signed,” he said. “Mostly because of you, Miss Carpenter. While Svartalfheim does not pay debts which were never incurred, we appreciate your role in this matter. It will be considered in the future.”
“The Fomor don’t deserve an honorable ally.”
“It would seem not,” he said.
“What about the turtlenecks?” I asked.
“What of them?”
“Will you … deal with them?”
Etri just looked at me. “Why would we?”
“They were sort of in on it,” I said.
“They were property,” said the svartalf. “If a man strikes you with a hammer, it is the man who is punished. There is no reason to destroy the hammer. We care nothing for them.”
“What about them?” I asked, and nodded toward the dead girls in the Fomor’s chamber. “Do you care what happened to them?”
Etri looked at them and sighed. “Beautiful things ought not be destroyed,” he said. “But they were not our guests. We owe no one for their end and will not answer for it.”
“There is a vampire in your custody,” I said, “is there not?”
Etri regarded me for a moment and then said, “Yes.”
“You owe me a favor. I wish to secure his release.”
He arched an eyebrow. Then he bowed slightly and said, “Come with me.”
I followed Etri out of the suite and across the hall to room 6. Though the door was shattered, Etri stopped outside of it respectfully and knocked. A moment later, a female voice said, “You may enter.”
We went in. It was a suite much like the Fomor’s, only with way more throw pillows and plush furniture. It was a wreck. The floor was literally covered with shattered furniture, broken décor, and broken turtlenecks. Svartalf security was already binding them and carrying them from the room.
Listen walked out on his own power, his hands behind his back, one of his eyes swollen halfway shut. He gave me a steady look as he went by, and said nothing.
Bastard.
Etri turned toward the curtained door to the suite’s bedroom and spoke. “The mortal apprentice who warned us has earned a favor. She asks for the release of the vampire.”
“Impossible,” answered the female voice. “That account has been settled.”
Etri turned to me and shrugged. “I am sorry.”
“Wait,” I said. “May I speak to him?”
“In a moment.”
We waited. Thomas appeared from the doorway to the bedroom dressed in a black terry-cloth bathrobe. He’d just gotten out of the shower. Thomas was maybe half an inch under six feet tall, and there wasn’t an inch of his body that didn’t scream sex symbol. His eyes were a shade of deep crystalline blue, and his dark hair hung to his wide shoulders. My body did what it always did around him, and started screaming at me to make babies. I ignored it. Mostly.
“Molly,” he said. “Are you all right?”
“Nothing a bucket of aspirin won’t help,” I said. “Um. Are you okay?”
He blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I thought … you know. You’d been captured as a spy.”
“Well, sure,” he said.
“I thought they would, uh. Make an example of you?”
He blinked again. “Why would they do that?”
The door to the bedroom opened again, and a female svartalf appeared. She looked a lot like Etri—tiny and beautiful, though she had long silver hair instead of a cueball. She was wearing what might have been Thomas’s shirt, and it hung down almost to her ankles. She had a decidedly … smug look about her. Behind her, I saw several other sets of wide, dark eyes peer out of the shadowy bedchamber.
“Oh,” I said. “Oh. You, uh. You made a deal.”
Thomas smirked. “It’s a tough, dirty job …”
“And one that is not yet finished,” said the female svartalf. “You are ours until dawn.”
Thomas looked from me to the bedroom and back and spread his hands. “You know how it is, Molly. Duty calls.”
“Um,” I said. “What do you want me to tell Justine?”
Again he gave me a look of near incomprehension. “The truth. What else?”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Justine said as we were walking out. “I was afraid they’d have starved him.”
I blinked. “Your boyfriend is banging a roomful of elfgirls and you’re happy about it?”
Justine tilted her head back and laughed. “When you’re in love with an incubus, it changes your viewpoint a little, I think. It isn’t