Guild Hunter: Archangel's Shadows Part 14

It wasn't the response he'd been hoping for, but neither was it the light, flirtatious one he'd begun to find increasingly dissatisfying. He loved playing with Ash, but not when she was using that play to keep him at a distance. This at least was a sign he'd breached the armor she used to hold him at bay.

"Any particular club you want to hit first?" he asked, after getting into the car and starting up the engine.

"I say we start at the low end and work our way up. We have no way of knowing if she was beautiful enough to be invited into the exclusive clubs." Beauty talked in the clubs, especially if s.e.xual feeding was involved. "But if she had been a regular at one of those places, or over at Erotique"-the most elite club in the city and located outside the Quarter-"her disappearance would've created more waves."

"I haven't heard any rumors of such a disappearance," Janvier confirmed.

"Did your contact have any success in reconstructing her face?"

"Yes, I received the image during dinner. It has no life to it so we'll have to be judicious in how we utilize it." Janvier tapped a finger on the steering wheel, the streets shadowed and dark around them. "She had to be in a one-on-one relations.h.i.+p."

"Why?"

"You saw at Giorgio's how the cattle cling to one another. If the victim was part of a group, her housemates would have reported her missing even if her vampire didn't."

"Unless she told them she was leaving him, and he kidnapped her after allowing her-and them-to believe he'd let her go. You know how many times that happens in abusive mortal relations.h.i.+ps. Any reason it should be different for immortals?"

Face grim, Janvier said, "No."

Blowing out a breath at the bleak ugliness of it, she ran a hand through her hair, having left it down for tonight. However, since she didn't want anyone running their fingers through it in the clubs-it was creepy how many people thought that was okay-she reached back and began to braid it tight to her skull. "The situation with Giorgio is bugging me. You don't think our victim could've been part of his harem, do you?"

Janvier shook his head. "I made it a point to check him out-all his cattle are accounted for, even the ones nudged out of the nest after becoming too old." Distaste colored his tone. "Giorgio's use of women apparently stops short of murder."

"d.a.m.n, he made such a good, smarmy suspect." She tied off her braid and considered whether to swap her heeled red boots for the hunter boots she'd left in the car. She decided to stick with the heels since this was about blending into the clubs.

"And you, cher-did you sense any disturbing memory echoes in his house?"

"No, but it's new. The only time I've had an overwhelming reaction to a place rather than a person was at Nazarach's home." A s.h.i.+ver rippled through her. "I do get a hint of it now and then with older homes, but nothing like the screams in his walls."

Janvier ran his knuckles over her cheek, the caress chasing away the s.h.i.+ver and wrapping another set of chains around her heart. "Even with the Tower," she said past the knot in her throat, "I don't get anything. Could be because it's continuously modernized."

"Or perhaps," Janvier said, "the reason is that it's filled with so many different souls, rather than one who dominates everyone to cowering obeisance."

Ashwini could see that; Raphael was ruthless, but he gathered strong men and women around him. Ellie, for one, had never backed down from anyone in her life, and Dmitri wasn't exactly a cream puff. Then there was Janvier. He had the ability to bend, his temperament slow to anger, but he was also very much his own man. She knew that should it ever come down to it, Janvier would walk away from the Tower rather than go against his principles.

"As for Giorgio," Janvier said, "I'm not convinced he isn't hurting his cattle." His hands tightened on the steering wheel before he seemed to consciously make himself loosen his grip. "I have people keeping an eye on the situation-there was just something too sickly sweet about it all."

"Like an abused spouse who's been charmed into forgiving and forgetting." Ashwini's stomach twisted. She knew too well what it was to want to believe in the promises of someone she loved. "The honeymoon phase, I call it. Before the next hit."

Janvier shot her a hard, dangerous glance before returning his gaze to the road. "No one hurts you."

She heard the protective rage and, below it, a kind of stunned shock. "No one has ever hit me," she clarified. "Except, of course, during my work as a hunter." Then, all was fair.

Janvier's rigid shoulders didn't relax. "You think I don't know you well enough to see through that?"

Suddenly, the s.p.a.ce between them didn't exist, the intimacy as blinding as when he'd brushed the crumb off her lip. "I don't talk about this." Tried to not even think about it, though seeing Arvi the previous day had stirred the pain of it back up.

No, Ashwini, she told herself, be brutally honest. The reason you can't find a way to tell Janvier everything is that it'll break you if he looks at you with pity in his eyes.

The car ate up the road, a sleek piece of the night.

"When I was a boy," Janvier said into the silence that had grown too heavy, too dark, "I used to work for a man who caught crawfish and supplied them to others. It was a way to earn a little money for my family, help my mother provide for my baby sisters."

Ashwini turned in her seat, compelled by the intimate vein of memory, affection, and sadness in his tone. "How many sisters did you have?" It startled her to realize she didn't know this about him when they'd spoken so many times, trusted one another so deeply.

"Two." A smile that creased his cheeks. "Amelie arrived in time with a thunderclap one rainy day, Joelle a year or so later in the midnight hours, both squalling and red-faced and tiny." Having reached the fringe of the Vampire Quarter, he drove around to the small lot behind a blood cafe, after first unlocking the gate by pressing in a code on the keypad at the entrance.

He parked, switched off the engine, then turned toward her, one arm braced on the steering wheel. "My father died in a logging accident when Amelie and Joelle were only two and three, so it was just the four of us until my mother married again seven years later."

Meaning he'd effectively become the head of his household for those seven years. "How old were you when you began working?"

"The dates weren't so well kept then-you understand, sugar? But I was old enough. Seven or eight."

"So young?"

"It was nothing unusual, not then." A shrug. "The man I worked for, he used to hit me if I didn't move fast enough; he'd kick me at least once a day. I have never forgotten the feeling of helplessness I experienced as a small boy trapped in a position of no power against a bigger, stronger opponent."

Blood hot and hands fisted, Ashwini had to remind herself that he hadn't been that small, helpless boy for a long time.

"You'd think I learned my lesson," he continued, "but we both know I later made the decision to enter into another situation where I did not hold power, out of what I then thought was love." He smiled, as if at the foolishness of it. "I was so green, so inexperienced in the ways of the world, and Shamiya was sensual, beautiful-and she told me incredible tales of lands far beyond the bayou."

A shake of his head. "It was a deadly combination when it came to the restless young man I was then, the hunger for adventure a craving in my soul, especially when she said such sweet words to me. I did not understand that I was in the throes of infatuation, and that she was merely playing."

Ashwini could see it, see the young male he'd been, hungry to experience life and to prove himself. "Did she help you become a Candidate?" A person couldn't simply ask to be a vampire; he or she had to be chosen.

"Yes. She took me to Neha's court, where she was a favorite." He laughed. "I have never been so sick as I was on that voyage. The waters of the bayou never crashed and rolled as that ocean did, as if attempting to throw an insect off its back."

The idea of the long journey, the things he must've seen, made a thousand questions form on her tongue, but she was even more fascinated by this deeper glimpse into his path to vampirism. "Shamiya must've felt something for you to go to all that trouble," she said, unable to imagine how any woman could be so careless as to throw away the loyalty of a man like Janvier. "Even as a favorite, she still had to pet.i.tion Neha." And the Queen of Poisons was an archangel, as ruthless and as deadly as Raphael.

"She felt what a child does with a new toy." He spoke the words without rancor. "I was different enough in my lack of sophistication that I was new and s.h.i.+ny and amusing for a period. I, on the other hand, believed myself in the grip of a grand pa.s.sion"-laughing at himself, eyes dancing-"and so like a fool, I gave up gumbo for blood." There was no recrimination in his gaze, nothing but an affectionate humor directed at the young man he'd once been.

Ashwini had asked him once if he loved Shamiya still. His answer had resonated deeply with her.

A silly question, cher. You know love cannot survive where there is no light.

Tonight, she saw that he'd not only moved on lifetimes ago, he bore no grudge. "Have you ever seen her again?" she asked, curious. "Shamiya, I mean."

"Oui, many times. She is as f.e.c.kless and as fickle as she always was, while I am no longer green and impressionable. I outgrew her at the infancy of my Contract." His eyes locking with hers. "But before I grew into this man I am today, I was that boy at the mercy of a brute, and that unsophisticated young man abandoned in the court of the Queen of Poisons. I am no stranger to being under the control of others."

Ashwini knew that like the small boy, that idealistic young man was long gone. Janvier had survived both his childhood and the betrayal of the woman who had lured him into vampirism, come out of it a strong, intelligent male who would never again allow himself to be powerless.

Except . . . that was exactly the position she'd put him in once she told him everything. And not telling him was no longer an option.

"Your sisters?" she said, choosing to focus on the good and not the dark; there'd be plenty of time for the latter. "Did you continue to support them after you became a vampire?" The answer wasn't truly a mystery to her. She knew who he was.

"It was my task as their elder brother," he said simply, allowing Ashwini to turn the conversation back to his family. "Though Amelie and Joelle married young to proud men who would not take my help-and that, too, is right-for my mother I was able to do a great deal."

"Her husband didn't protest?"

"Oui, of course." A laugh. "But there is a difference between a son who wishes to ease his mother's life and an elder brother who wishes the same for his married sisters, non? My stepfather knew he stood no chance, and he was a good man, understood that I had been the head of the family long before he came on the scene. We were never father and son, but we were good friends."

"I didn't realize vampires could earn income early on in their Contract." She'd always believed it was more a case of indentured servitude.

"It depends on the angel, but loyalty and a willingness to learn and work hard beyond simply fulfilling the letter of the Contract are generally rewarded." The rhythm of his voice, it held a heavier Cajun accent now, some of his words not quite English. "For a young man from the bayou, those rewards were staggering. I was able to get my mother anything she needed, help my nieces and nephews with their educations."

Ashwini knew they should get out, start walking to the clubs, but she wanted to know so much more, could listen to him speak forever. "Amelie and Joelle," she said, stealing another minute, "were their marriages happy?"

That wonderful deep cheek-creasing smile again. "My sisters grew up into strong women who ran their households with iron hands-their husbands were quite henpecked and delighted about it." Unhidden love, his eyes warm with memory. "They created a legacy of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

"But even when they were 't.i.te old women who'd lived such lives, cher"-raw pride in every word-"they would act as my baby sisters when I visited." His smile faded into poignant tenderness, the grief tempered by time. "They'd tuck themselves against my chest and complain to me of everything and nothing while I held them as I'd done since they were babies with dirty faces and a hundred kisses for their brother.

"'Janvier,' they would say, 'dat Arnaud, he's a lazy saleau. He sits on his behind all day long while his pa-pere carries and fetches. And did you hear what Colette did? She put a cunja on dat jolie jeune fille I said you should marry.'" A thickness in his voice. "It didn't matter when I came, they always had room at their table for me, and a hundred stories to tell."

Ashwini could almost see it: him, eternally young and strong, holding his fragile mortal sisters protectively in his embrace. Until one day, there were no more complaints, no more stories. Reaching out, she comforted him the same way he'd done her so many times, her knuckles brus.h.i.+ng his cheek in a touch that said he wasn't alone.

He took her hand, pressed his lips to her knuckles before releasing her.

"Do you stay in touch with any of their descendants?" she asked, his name written so deep in her heart, it would never be erased.

He laughed, and the sound was big and warm and gorgeous. "Cher, I would be hunted down and fed to a gator should I miss a single family event. Their descendants are as fierce as my sisters were, and just as glorious. I'll take you to the next fais do-do-or I'll say we're coming and it'll be the excuse they need for a party. Then you'll see what a wild family I call mine."

Ashwini had known some vampires kept in touch with the descendants of their original families, but she'd never met one who spoke of his family with such affection. For most, the loss of the old seemed to outweigh the delight of the new. Or they'd become too inhuman to find happiness in familial connections. "I'm up for a good fais do-do. As long as you haven't told them tales about me."

"Trust me, sugar, you are already a favorite. My family thinks I need someone to put me in my place."

It was so tempting to stay here, to talk and laugh and flirt, insulated from the world and from reality, but tonight their time wasn't their own. It belonged to a woman whose life had been stolen from her with heartless cruelty.

They stepped out without any need to discuss the point.

"Your fancy car will be safe here?" It was an artwork of a machine. "You don't want to put it in one of the bigger lots with security?"

"Elena owns an interest in the blood cafe over there," he told her, to her surprise. "She set up this lot for anyone from the Guild or the Tower who needs to use it in this part of the city-it has top-of-the-line security. Your Guild hasn't told you?"

Ashwini winced. "Memo must be in my Guild in-box. Haven't checked it for a while." Words had never been her friend. "I'm dyslexic. Got help late, and while I can read fine if I put my mind to it, it's not the relaxing thing for me that it is for others."

Janvier locked the gate behind them and they began to walk in the direction of the clubs. "I didn't learn to read until I was in Neha's court."

"It must've been hard."

"Yes, but there's a scholar in Neha's court who is very patient."

So many pieces of him she was seeing tonight, and she knew why. He was taking the first step, the first risk, being the brave one. Ashwini wasn't sure she had the courage to follow him, to take the steps that would lead to a confession that, once made, would change everything. But neither did she want to belittle his trust by withholding her own. Whether it was dangerous or not, right or wrong, they were beyond that.

"My family," she began, "is very academic."

20.

"My father was a professor of philosophy; my mother, literature, with a particular emphasis on South Asian texts," she said, heart hurting. "You know my brother is a neurosurgeon." No matter the pain between them, Ashwini was fiercely proud of Arvi's achievements. He could've permitted the agony he'd borne to crush him-instead, he'd used it as an impetus to become the best in his field.

She just wished he'd chosen any specialty but that related to the brain. Arvi used his own skill like a razored whip with which to flagellate himself, always looking for an answer, a "fix," and coming up empty.

"One aunt is a paralegal," she continued, "the other a political strategist. My cousins run the gamut, from engineers to psychologists to biomedical researchers." s.h.i.+ning bright, that was the unofficial Taj family motto.

Even the rebel in the group, the laughing black sheep everyone loved and Ashwini wanted to grow up to be, had been a brilliant scholar of languages. Tanu had interceded for Ashwini more than once, but her sister had been much older, with her own life. Away at college when Ashwini's problems with the written word first became apparent, Tanu hadn't been there to mitigate the fallout at home.

"My parents were impatient with me, thought I was lazy, not trying hard enough." As a confused child who couldn't understand why she was being punished-by being banned from attending the dance lessons that healed every hurt inside her-she would stay up all night trying to teach herself to read the letters that got all confused in her head.

"They were learned people." Janvier's scowl was heavy. "Shouldn't they have known?"

"It's funny how really smart people have the most unusual holes in their worldview and perception." For Ashwini's mother, this supremely clever woman who was around words every day, reading was such a joy, such a wonderful escape, that she'd been unable to wrap her mind around the fact it was a struggle for her daughter.

"There was pride, too." Seeing a flas.h.i.+ng sign that said part of the Quarter had been flooded by a burst water main, Ashwini and Janvier took a slight detour. "The idea of asking for help, of having me seen as different . . ." As an adult, she'd come to understand that the latter had been the crux of it, her entire family trying desperately to avoid looking into the blinding, eviscerating light of truth.

"Pride has often led to foolish actions."

"Yes." She had the Taj pride, too, and knew it. "Anyway, I was falling desperately behind in school before a teacher realized what was wrong and got me help." Digging up a smile, she said, "I still love books, though. Listen to a ton on audio."

"How about if I act as your personal narrator?" Janvier closed his hand around her own. "My voice is not so bad."

His voice was raw s.e.x and molten honey. Ashwini wasn't sure she'd comprehend a word of the actual story if he read to her. "Looks like we've ended up at the exclusive end after all." Breaking the handhold out of habit, she nodded at the club coming up ahead.

The detour had funneled them to the opposite end of the Quarter from the blood cafe. "Might as well start here."

Club Masque was the definition of exclusive-and of dangerous. It was the center of the Flesh Market, a group of clubs that catered to the darker appet.i.tes of the sophisticated vampire upper cla.s.s. Club Masque's sign for the mortal queue made the club's direction clear. It said Fresh Meat.

Ashwini could see at least fifty pieces of hopeful "meat" in the line.

Most would be turned away. The bouncers allowed in only the spectacularly beautiful or those handpicked by one of the VIPs inside. The hopeful were uniformly young and s.h.i.+ny and pretty, their flesh on display despite the cold, males included. Forget the teensy skirts and bra tops; one modelesque male with pouty lips and serious cheekbones was rocking short shorts and body glitter with biker boots.

The sight made her want to s.h.i.+ver. "I feel like I'm dressed for a blizzard compared to Hypothermia Central over there."

Janvier turned up his lip at the display. "Cold blood is so unappetizing." Ignoring the queue-and the eyes made in his direction by more than one clubber, he walked straight up to the bouncer.

Ashwini knew Janvier's charm could be lethal, but she didn't expect the bouncer to open the door at first sight. "Wow," she said as they walked into the black-painted hallway lit with bluish lights that created deep pools of shadow, the sound of thumping music vibrating through the floorboards. "Are you a VIV?"

"VIV?"

"Very Important Vampire."

"Mais oui, ma belle." Winking, he turned right and said, "Strip, sugar."