“Thank you for doing this,” Diana said as Maggie inserted the needle into Michaela’s arm to take the blood samples they required.
“No problem. Friends help friends, right?” the young Slayer said with a smile that softened the stony look on her face when she had first entered the apartment. It turned almost impish as she caught sight of Ryder walking into the room carrying a tray loaded with a tea service and a large plate of cookies and pastries.
“I thought you might need something to give you a boost,” he said, and placed the tray on the coffee table near the chair where she was trying to relax as Maggie worked.
He sat down next to Diana and wrapped his arm around his wife, and casually swept away a lock of her hair to drop a kiss on her cheek.
“Married life agrees with you,” Michaela said, eyeing them with a mix of amusement and skepticism.
Diana felt Ryder stiffen. “Is that so hard to believe?” he challenged.
Maggie removed the needle and urged Michaela to bend her elbow and apply pressure. She lifted a shoulder. “It is, after so many years of fear and violence. But I’m trying to keep an open mind.”
He nodded and relaxed. He rubbed small, soothing circles at the top of Diana’s arm, but she felt the tension return to his body as Michaela said, “I saw my father a couple of nights ago. At least, I’m pretty sure it was my father.”
“Why do you think it was him?” Maggie asked, wide-eyed. They all knew the gist of the Slayer’s background—the product of a vampire rape.
Michaela motioned to the tubes of blood Maggie held. “Blood tells, Maggie. You can sense when your blood is nearby. In fact, I found one of his fledglings last night. He was less than cooperative.”
“You staked him,” Ryder said in uneasy tones and the motion on Diana’s arm stopped.
“He gave me no choice. He refused to tell me where I could find Connall—”
“Connall is your father, I assume?” Diana asked.
Nodding, Michaela continued. “His fledgling, Kieran, knew where he was, but he attacked J and me to avoid telling us. I never found out.”
“Is that how Jesus was hurt?” Diana asked while Maggie stored the blood samples in a small cooler. She poured some tea into a dainty cup and added honey and milk, then placed a couple of cookies on the rim of the saucer and passed it to Michaela.
It looked somehow incongruous in hands more accustomed to fighting, but she took the cup and offered her thanks. “This will hit the spot. I haven’t had much time to grab a bite.”
“On the hunt?” Ryder pressed.
Nonchalantly, as if such discussions were typical over tea and scones, she confirmed his assumption. “I think I’ve found the area where he might have his lair. I just need some video feeds to get a better idea where to hunt.”
“Is that the only thing you can think about? Hunting. Fighting. Killing,” Ryder challenged again.
Michaela dunked her cookie and popped it into her mouth. With another shrug, she said, “Haven’t known much else in my life, Ryder. It’s what I do, and you’d do well to remember that.”
Maggie gasped at the affront, and Ryder surged to his feet, his hands balled into fists at his side. “We offer you friendship and you dare to threaten us in our own home?”
Diana laid a hand on his fist, trying to calm him, and pulled him back down beside her. “Easy, Ryder.”
Michaela took another sip of tea and eyed Ryder. “Not a threat, just a suggestion. You think you can control what will happen when you turn Diana, but you know there’s no guarantee. As for friendship, you know what I’m sworn to do, and yet you would flaunt this turning right in front of my face and ask me to forget that sacred duty. Is that what friends do?”
“Sacred?” Ryder spit out a harsh laugh. “We both know who the monsters are, Michaela. We both know who will have your back in a fight, and it’s not your fuckin’ precious Slayer Council.”
With a resigned sigh, Michaela placed her cup and saucer on the table, her gaze skipping between him and Diana. “You may be right, but what will I be if I ignore duty? Who will trust me if I go back on my word?”
“We will,” Diana said.
Maggie nodded. “And so will anyone else who understands why Ryder and Diana don’t have any other choice. They have to do this. I know that, and so do you.”
“What I think doesn’t really matter. An oath is an oath.” Michaela shook her head and rose. “I think it might have been easier when I didn’t have any friends.”
Before anyone could say anything, she streaked from the room in a blast of vampire speed. The slam of the door was like a shot, and made them all jump.
“Well.” Maggie picked up her medical bag with the cooler and samples. “She’s a hard case. Not quite what I pictured Jesus falling for.”
“I agree, but you know what?” Diana said. “She’s the kind of challenge that will help him loosen up, and he’s just the kind of man she needs. Someone strong and gentle. Someone who knows about violence, and when to back off.”
She went to rise, but Maggie waved her off. “No need to get up. I know the way out. I’ll work with Melissa on these blood samples and hopefully we can have an answer for you—”
“Soon, Mags. I’m not sure how much longer we have.” She risked a glance at Ryder, whose features went rigid as steel. But at his nod, she knew he also recognized that time was running short.
“Please, Maggie. Soon,” he echoed.
***
Michaela skimmed the e-mail Jesus had sent to her smartphone. It contained a number of links and access codes to the other video feeds for her to check, but after her visit with Diana and Ryder, she had not only lost the will to fight, she had been filled with shame at what she was.
No, not what she was. Who she was—the kind of person who could even think about hurting a friend.
She just wanted to forget everything and everyone. Embrace oblivion. And she knew just the place to do it.
Striding past the pedestrians in her friends’ tony neighborhood, she hurried through Midtown and, once she cleared the crowded business area, she scaled up the side of a building and dashed across the rooftops from building to building, pushing herself until her breath rasped and her chest hurt from the growing chill of the night air.
Finally, she dropped down at the mouth of the narrow alley on the Lower East Side where her destination was located—The Blood Bank vampire bar. A line of sweat trickled down the back of her neck, evidence that her body was still not 100 percent. That worried her, considering what she knew of Connall.
The man killed and raped without hesitation. He was a little more judicious in choosing who he turned—usually those he was sure would be fanatically loyal to him. Fledglings like Kieran, who would protect him at the cost of their own lives.
He had inspired his men as a soldier when he was human and still managed to do the same as a vampire. If he had many more friends watching his back, he would be very difficult to find and kill.
Friends.
God. Was she as bad as he was? Just using her friends, and abandoning them—or worse—when the friendship got inconvenient?
Her gut clenched with unease and disgust at herself.
Bracing herself with a deep breath, she hid her chaotic emotions behind the swagger in her step as she headed for the entry door of the Blood Bank.
It was too early for a line. Too early for the usual throng of undead who came to the bar for blood, sex, a good fight, or all of the above.
She was in the mood for two out of three.
The bouncer recognized her and opened the door. She sauntered in, alert as she scoped out the patrons. Just two dozen or so were there so far, mostly human, except for a couple of servers and Foley, the owner, who was tending bar at the moment.
Needing a drink, or maybe three, she went to the counter, slid onto a stool, and was greeted with a broad smile from Foley.
“Michaela. What brings you here tonight? Will I be mopping up blood later?” he asked with a teasing grin. He was a handsome man, with bright blue eyes filled with humor. His dark brown hair was white-tipped, a leftover from the Chinese vampire who had enslaved him for many years. With another haircut, he would be free of any visible reminders of that part of his undead life, and she wondered why he kept them.
Free. A concept that was hard for her to understand. She hadn’t been free as a child because she and her mother had always been on the run, and since becoming a Slayer she’d had even less independence.
“Michaela? You okay?” Foley questioned, leaning on the counter and tilting his head.
With a stubborn tilt of her chin, she asked, “What’s it to you?”
He raised his hands in a gesture of apology. “Whatever. Not trying to pry. I just thought we were friends, and you might need an ear.”
Guilt flooded her at the hurt on his face. She shook her head and mumbled a succinct curse. “I’m sorry, Foley,” she said, and cursed again. Had she really just apologized to a vampire for hurting his feelings?
Foley chuckled and plunked a shot glass down in front of her. “I can see that you’re conflicted, Slayer. In vino veritas. Drink up,” he said and poured her a shot of Cuervo.
“Leave the bottle,” she said as Foley started to walk away.
Foley arched a dark brow, but sauntered back and placed the bottle of tequila within easy reach. He lingered again, searching her features. He was making his presence known, and making it impossible to ignore him.
She poured herself a shot and jerked her head in the direction of the glass. “Never good to drink alone. Will you join me?”
He smiled, reached beneath him on the counter, and grabbed a glass. “This round is on the house.”
“Thanks.” She clinked her glass against his, tossed back the shot, then slammed the empty glass on the counter. “Hit me again.”
Foley did so, eyeing her dubiously, but pouring anyway. “Sure you can handle this? You’re a little thing.”
“Dhampir, remember? Don’t worry about me.” She raised the glass and again downed it in one swallow, then placed the glass on the counter and gestured for another.
Foley rolled his eyes and, despite his obvious concern, poured her one more shot. He leaned on his forearms and adopted a casual listening stance. “Seems like you’ve got something on your mind. Care to share?”
She supposed that as a bartender, even if he was a vampire, this kind of chitchat was part of his gig. But she wasn’t interested in companionship.
“Not really. Don’t you have anyone else to help?” She swiveled around on the bar stool to look, but since it was early the crowd was still relatively small, and Foley’s crew was handling it fine without his assistance.
“I’ve got nowhere else to be right now. I guess you don’t, either.”
“Actually, I should be chasing a vampire.” She faced him again and sipped the next shot more slowly. Why was she here instead of out killing Connall?
“Anyone in particular?” Foley asked, poured himself another shot, and joined her in taking a few leisurely sips.
“My father.”
Foley grimaced. “Ouch. I imagine that makes it a tad complicated.”
She shook her head. “Actually not. He deserves to be staked. It’s a Slayer-sanctioned kill.”
His brows flicked. “So he’s badass enough for the Council to be involved?”
She nodded and finished off her drink. “Trust me, he’s earned his punishment.” When Foley hesitated with another refill, she beckoned with a finger.
Foley relented, and said, “I don’t doubt he’s earned a staking, but it still must be difficult for you.”
“Just because he fathered me? Guess again, Foley,” she said curtly.
“Daniel,” he corrected genially.
Confused, she narrowed her eyes. “Daniel what? I don’t get it.”
“My friends call me Daniel, and I suspect you could use a friend at the moment. That’s why you’re here, right?”
She made a deprecating noise. “Another friend is the last thing I need, Foley. Friends make things complicated. So do lovers. It was a lot easier when I was going it alone,” she said with a certainty she wasn’t quite feeling inside.
Foley gave her a wry smile and topped off her glass. “I used to think the same thing, Michaela. I pushed away people for the last hundred years or more. Kept my secrets close, and they almost killed me.”
He reached beneath the counter and pulled out a bowl of party mix, then placed the bowl between them and grabbed a handful of the nuts and crackers. Popping a few into his mouth, he waited expectantly for her to continue the conversation.
And damn, if she wasn’t seriously considering it.
To keep herself from saying something stupid, she chucked a handful of snacks into her mouth and peered at Daniel. His blue-eyed gaze skimmed over her face, almost inviting her to ask about those secrets.
Truth be told, she knew part of his story. She knew he had almost lost his life, but not why.
“Why?” he mused, munching on the party mix and surprising her. She hadn’t realized she’d said it aloud. She wished she could blame the tequila for her loose lips, but she hadn’t had enough yet. Yet being the operative word.
“Yeah, why keep secrets?” she asked, as long as she’d already stepped in it.
He shrugged and looked away, busying himself refreshing their drinks. Finally, he said, “I’d been alone for too long. Living in fear of my chiang-shi master. Not really living, if I’d taken a moment to think about it.”
“Vampire, remember? You haven’t been alive in how long?”
“About three hundred years, if you must know. Two hundred of them answering to that Asian bastard, until I got the courage to stand up to him. To help save my friends.” This time he was the one who slugged back the shot. Afterward, he braced his hands on the edge of the counter and expelled a harsh breath.
His pain called to her, and she reached out to lay her hand over his. She sensed it then, a familiar vibration of power she’d come into contact with often. One that she would know anywhere. It wasn’t strong in Daniel, but it was there.
“You’ve fed from her, Daniel?” she asked, astounded, wanting to make sure she wasn’t wrong.
He nodded. “Bastard gutted me and left me to die, but Diana saved me. She’s saved so many of us.”
“Saint Diana,” Michaela muttered. “No one is that perfect.”
Daniel leaned forward. “Not perfect at all. She's dark inside.” He tapped his chest. “Like me. Like you. That’s why she understands us. Understands how to help, and when to back away. You’d do well to learn from her.”
“Why? Why the fuck should it matter to me what any of you think?” she ground out, possibly more angry with herself than with him.
The smile he offered was indulgent. “It matters because you’re not sure where you belong. With them or with us.”
She eyed him over the rim of her nearly empty glass. “What makes you such a fuckin’ expert?”
Daniel’s smile widened and he filled her shot glass again. “You don’t tend bar for nearly two hundred years and not learn a thing or two about human nature.”
“I’m not human,” she retorted, but Daniel tutted, chastising her.
“What you are is a dhampir. Who you are is in here.” He tapped his chest again.
“Funny thing for a vampire to say. That he’s human inside.”
“Maybe one day, you’ll understand,” he said, his tone as indulgent as his smile. “Hopefully before you’ve driven away everyone who matters to you.”