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Authors: Susan Sizemore
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to her.
Typical Prime bastard. Strahan brought me here, used me, and now abandoned me to go hunting.
She knew this was not completely true and was annoyed with herself. She was a pro at pouting—shouldn’t she be able to come up with something better than that to keep her interest in Strahan under control?
“Welcome back,” Ben Lancer told Tobias as he opened his front door.
Tobias had a key and knew all the security codes, so he was surprised to find the old mortal waiting up for him.
“You do know our needing permission to enter somewhere is only folklore, right?”
Lancer didn’t take this as a joke. “Not at my house it isn’t,” he said.
Tobias hadn’t been in contact with Lancer for many years, but he trusted their old friendship. “What’s up, Ben?” he asked.
Lancer moved aside to let Tobias enter the house, then led him into the kitchen before he spoke. “I hear you had a pretty good time tonight.”
Tobias wondered where Lancer’d gotten his information. “I did,” he answered. Except for watching Wilde kiss Flare and being unable to stop it, the last several hours had been most satisfactory.
Lancer opened the refrigerator and handed Tobias a beer. “Unless you’d prefer something stronger,” he said. “Scotch?”
Tobias had already twisted the cap off the beer bottle. “I’m good.” The old mortal’s emotions were . . . not angry, exactly . . . more like tense and worried. “What’s the matter?” Tobias asked him. “What have I done that you don’t like? Was it bringing Flare here?”
Thick silver brows lowered over bright blue eyes. “Why would that bother me?”
Tobias didn’t know. Flare had been the first thing that came to mind—hadn’t been off his mind since the beginning of the day. Had they been together for only one day? It seemed like forever.
He shrugged. “It’s been a long day, Ben.”
“A fun one for you,” Lancer said. “You’ve been hunting Purists, protecting vampirekind. Taking prisoners?” he asked, the tone and tilt of his head skeptical.
Tobias knocked down the rest of his beer before answering. “I take it you want a full report on the Dark Angels’ activities.”
“I think I deserve one.”
“Because you’re my host? Because I could be putting your household at risk?”
Ben Lancer snorted. “My household consists of professional bodyguards. I deserve an explanation as your self-appointed mortal conscience. There’s a whole city full of mortals out there uninvolved in your war. I want to make sure you remember the innocents and try to keep them out of your battles.”
“I noticed you said
try.
”
“I understand the nature of combat. But you damn well better keep collateral damage to a minimum.”
Tobias knew that if he didn’t stop the attacks in Los Angeles, mortals were soon going to know of his kind’s existence. Then the war wouldn’t be with only Purists and hired guns. Who would be the innocents then? Who would be the targets? Vampires and werefolk, that’s who. But for now, Lancer’s concerns about mortals were legitimate.
“Several mortals did die tonight,” Tobias said. “Mercenaries working for the bad guys.”
“I have no problem with that. Pros know the risks. What about the Purists?”
“Taken prisoner. Every Purist we manage to snatch is being held. For now.”
Lancer didn’t ask about later. He knew the old rules between vampires and the mortals who hunted them. The Purists would eventually be brainwashed and freed, turned over to the hunter authorities to deal with, or killed. Their fate depended on the truth about how they’d become involved in the attacks.
“What about the cops you ran into tonight? What about the security patrols?”
“Are you worried about how we treated the paparazzi, too?”
“Even them,” Lancer said. “More or less.”
Tobias smiled. Many of Lancer’s clients were celebrities. The bodyguards who worked for him would probably cheer any news of bad things
Typical Prime bastard. Strahan brought me here, used me, and now abandoned me to go hunting.
She knew this was not completely true and was annoyed with herself. She was a pro at pouting—shouldn’t she be able to come up with something better than that to keep her interest in Strahan under control?
“Welcome back,” Ben Lancer told Tobias as he opened his front door.
Tobias had a key and knew all the security codes, so he was surprised to find the old mortal waiting up for him.
“You do know our needing permission to enter somewhere is only folklore, right?”
Lancer didn’t take this as a joke. “Not at my house it isn’t,” he said.
Tobias hadn’t been in contact with Lancer for many years, but he trusted their old friendship. “What’s up, Ben?” he asked.
Lancer moved aside to let Tobias enter the house, then led him into the kitchen before he spoke. “I hear you had a pretty good time tonight.”
Tobias wondered where Lancer’d gotten his information. “I did,” he answered. Except for watching Wilde kiss Flare and being unable to stop it, the last several hours had been most satisfactory.
Lancer opened the refrigerator and handed Tobias a beer. “Unless you’d prefer something stronger,” he said. “Scotch?”
Tobias had already twisted the cap off the beer bottle. “I’m good.” The old mortal’s emotions were . . . not angry, exactly . . . more like tense and worried. “What’s the matter?” Tobias asked him. “What have I done that you don’t like? Was it bringing Flare here?”
Thick silver brows lowered over bright blue eyes. “Why would that bother me?”
Tobias didn’t know. Flare had been the first thing that came to mind—hadn’t been off his mind since the beginning of the day. Had they been together for only one day? It seemed like forever.
He shrugged. “It’s been a long day, Ben.”
“A fun one for you,” Lancer said. “You’ve been hunting Purists, protecting vampirekind. Taking prisoners?” he asked, the tone and tilt of his head skeptical.
Tobias knocked down the rest of his beer before answering. “I take it you want a full report on the Dark Angels’ activities.”
“I think I deserve one.”
“Because you’re my host? Because I could be putting your household at risk?”
Ben Lancer snorted. “My household consists of professional bodyguards. I deserve an explanation as your self-appointed mortal conscience. There’s a whole city full of mortals out there uninvolved in your war. I want to make sure you remember the innocents and try to keep them out of your battles.”
“I noticed you said
try.
”
“I understand the nature of combat. But you damn well better keep collateral damage to a minimum.”
Tobias knew that if he didn’t stop the attacks in Los Angeles, mortals were soon going to know of his kind’s existence. Then the war wouldn’t be with only Purists and hired guns. Who would be the innocents then? Who would be the targets? Vampires and werefolk, that’s who. But for now, Lancer’s concerns about mortals were legitimate.
“Several mortals did die tonight,” Tobias said. “Mercenaries working for the bad guys.”
“I have no problem with that. Pros know the risks. What about the Purists?”
“Taken prisoner. Every Purist we manage to snatch is being held. For now.”
Lancer didn’t ask about later. He knew the old rules between vampires and the mortals who hunted them. The Purists would eventually be brainwashed and freed, turned over to the hunter authorities to deal with, or killed. Their fate depended on the truth about how they’d become involved in the attacks.
“What about the cops you ran into tonight? What about the security patrols?”
“Are you worried about how we treated the paparazzi, too?”
“Even them,” Lancer said. “More or less.”
Tobias smiled. Many of Lancer’s clients were celebrities. The bodyguards who worked for him would probably cheer any news of bad things
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