their commitment to maintaining the status quo, though that last sometimes depended on the mood of the moment. The youngest Council member had been around during the Wars of the Roses; one didn’t manage to live that long, especially in the treacherous mire of vampire politics,without an innate cunning backed by mental toughness and unusual power.
Then Marie sat forward, her dark gaze pinned on him. “So. What you are saying is that one of us is a traitor.”
Luca smiled, an expression that held all the humor and friendliness of a shark going in for the kill. “Exactly.”
CHAPTER
THREE
They were all quick to make the connection, but then cunning and trickery were necessary parts of their lives. Hector could only have been killed by a powerful vampire who was already inside the building, and knew where his quarters were. Tie that with news of a brewing rebel faction, and his killer was obviously part of that faction. Yes, there were aides and servants inside the building, but the key word was “powerful.” A vampire in a support position wouldn’t fit that description.
This was the tricky part. The traitor had had help in killing Hector, which meant Luca was currently outnumbered and handicapped by not knowing who all the players were. He could feel his heartbeat speeding up in anticipation of a fight to the death—vampires almost didn’t know any other way to fight—but he quickly focused and brought his heart rate back to normal. With their acute hearing, every person in this room could hear one another’s heartbeats and he didn’t want his to be racing. He’d been listening, but the only fast heartbeat he could hear was Enoch’s, though the manager was settling down now. Whoever the traitor was, he or she was either very controlled or not at all worried—or both, which brought up some interesting possibilities.
First he had to make it out of here alive, and that meant making the traitor think he was safe, at least for the time being. The only thing Luca had going for him was that no one other than himself—and Hector—knew how he could read the remnants of energy, of both life and death. That was his ace in the hole, the thread he could pick up that would, with luck, eventually lead him back to the traitor.
He hadn’t been able to pick up a betraying flicker of expression from any of them that would tell him who was behind Hector’s murder. He’d hoped he could, but that had been an outside chance. Not one of them was unduly upset by Hector’s death, and in the rarified air of the ruling Council, a vampire killing another vampire wasn’t something they worried about. What concerned the Council—most of the Council members, anyway—was preserving the wall of secrecy that protected them all. A simple murder … bah! Unless it was done in a public manner, who cared?
He
cared. Hector had been his friend.
Deliberately he dragged back the chair Hector had always occupied, the seat of the Head of the Council, and sat down. He didn’t pull the chair up to the table; instead he kept it back and slightly at an angle, his long legs sprawled out and crossed at the ankles. He was just far enough from the long conference table that he didn’t give the impression of taking Hector’s place, but at the same time the fact that he’d taken the chair at all offended their egos. He liked to keep them a little off balance. He figured it was good for them—and in this instance might startle one particular member into making a tiny mistake.
Every one of them was highly conscious of their privileged status, and they didn’t like the casual way he’d just put himself on their level. Even Marie looked taken aback, though for what felt like centuries—hell, maybe because it had been—every time there had been anopening on the Council she had lobbied him to accept the position.
He lifted his arms and laced his fingers behind his neck, the very picture of indolence. “No question one or more of you is working
Then Marie sat forward, her dark gaze pinned on him. “So. What you are saying is that one of us is a traitor.”
Luca smiled, an expression that held all the humor and friendliness of a shark going in for the kill. “Exactly.”
CHAPTER
THREE
They were all quick to make the connection, but then cunning and trickery were necessary parts of their lives. Hector could only have been killed by a powerful vampire who was already inside the building, and knew where his quarters were. Tie that with news of a brewing rebel faction, and his killer was obviously part of that faction. Yes, there were aides and servants inside the building, but the key word was “powerful.” A vampire in a support position wouldn’t fit that description.
This was the tricky part. The traitor had had help in killing Hector, which meant Luca was currently outnumbered and handicapped by not knowing who all the players were. He could feel his heartbeat speeding up in anticipation of a fight to the death—vampires almost didn’t know any other way to fight—but he quickly focused and brought his heart rate back to normal. With their acute hearing, every person in this room could hear one another’s heartbeats and he didn’t want his to be racing. He’d been listening, but the only fast heartbeat he could hear was Enoch’s, though the manager was settling down now. Whoever the traitor was, he or she was either very controlled or not at all worried—or both, which brought up some interesting possibilities.
First he had to make it out of here alive, and that meant making the traitor think he was safe, at least for the time being. The only thing Luca had going for him was that no one other than himself—and Hector—knew how he could read the remnants of energy, of both life and death. That was his ace in the hole, the thread he could pick up that would, with luck, eventually lead him back to the traitor.
He hadn’t been able to pick up a betraying flicker of expression from any of them that would tell him who was behind Hector’s murder. He’d hoped he could, but that had been an outside chance. Not one of them was unduly upset by Hector’s death, and in the rarified air of the ruling Council, a vampire killing another vampire wasn’t something they worried about. What concerned the Council—most of the Council members, anyway—was preserving the wall of secrecy that protected them all. A simple murder … bah! Unless it was done in a public manner, who cared?
He
cared. Hector had been his friend.
Deliberately he dragged back the chair Hector had always occupied, the seat of the Head of the Council, and sat down. He didn’t pull the chair up to the table; instead he kept it back and slightly at an angle, his long legs sprawled out and crossed at the ankles. He was just far enough from the long conference table that he didn’t give the impression of taking Hector’s place, but at the same time the fact that he’d taken the chair at all offended their egos. He liked to keep them a little off balance. He figured it was good for them—and in this instance might startle one particular member into making a tiny mistake.
Every one of them was highly conscious of their privileged status, and they didn’t like the casual way he’d just put himself on their level. Even Marie looked taken aback, though for what felt like centuries—hell, maybe because it had been—every time there had been anopening on the Council she had lobbied him to accept the position.
He lifted his arms and laced his fingers behind his neck, the very picture of indolence. “No question one or more of you is working
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