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approaching you was to make it clear to the
Watchmen that we’re not responsible for the killing.”
Wishing like hell that he hadn’t quit smoking—seeing
as how he was jonesing for a cigarette so badly he could taste it—Kierland
tilted his head a little to the side, his eyes narrowed on the vamp’s handsome
face as he tried to get a read on him. Though he hated the Deschanel with a
passion, he had to admit that he’d never actually met a vampire who wasn’t
beautiful in a cold, deadly way. “Why do you even care what we believe?” he
rasped.
“War is coming,” Gideon replied in a low rumble. “We
intend to play a part in it.”
“Do you, now?” Kierland murmured, lifting his brows.
“I find that hard to buy, considering how the Deschanel have never given a crap
about anyone but themselves. What’s your interest in the Merrick’s war?”
“Have you forgotten that four nesting grounds have
been massacred by the Collective? Have you ever seen a murdered vampire,
Watchman?” A low, humorless laugh fell softly from Gideon’s lips. “But of
course you have. After all, when the clans refuse to take care of their own
business, the Consortium often calls on their pets to take care of the
monsters. I’m sure the killing of a Deschanel isn’t a memory that would fade,
seeing as how it’s such a colorful sight. Now, imagine what it’s like looking
out over a blood-covered field that’s littered with the decapitated bodies of innocent
women and children.”
Raking one hand back through his hair, Kierland swore
softly as the macabre scene took shape within his mind, making his stomach
turn. The Collective was an army of human mercenaries who sought to purge the
world of every nonhuman species that walked the earth, their tactics as brutal
as they were merciless. In an ironic twist, the army had partnered up with the
Kraven and the Casus in exchange for information that would further their ends.
As a result, dozens of Deschanel families had been slaughtered in their
ancestral nesting grounds. Located throughout Scandinavia and other parts of
Europe, the grounds were ancient, sprawling castlelike communities where
families lived for security, the lands protected by powerful magic that kept
them hidden from the world—until their trust was betrayed.
Clearing his throat, Kierland slid the vamp a grim
look of regret. “The nesting grounds had slipped my mind.”
“Yeah, well, the locations of those nesting grounds
were given to the Collective by Ross Westmore.” The man’s hatred and rage were
unmistakable in the huskily spoken words, though his deep voice remained eerily
quiet. “You know that as well as I.”
And the Deschanel obviously wanted revenge, he
thought, reflecting that this could easily get ugly. Not to mention complicated
as hell. “So because of the nesting grounds, you want to join forces with us?”
“We’re not asking to become a part of the party.” The
vampire’s dry tone suggested that he knew damn well Kierland would never agree
to work with the Deschanel. “But we’re willing to help you learn more about the
things you don’t know,” he offered suggestively. “Willing to get you
information that you’re going to need.”
Certain there had to be a catch, he asked, “And just
what would you want in return?”
“That brings me to my second purpose.” With his hands
still buried in his pockets, Gideon straightened away from the street sign and
stepped forward, narrowing the space between them to no more than a few feet.
“If you find Westmore before we do, we want him.”
“We?” Kierland asked, acutely aware of his beast’s
repulsion at having the vamp so near. “You mean the Deschanel?”
Gideon shook his head. “This is a personal matter for
my family, considering our positions and the fact that we had cousins who died
in the massacre. My brother and I intend to deal with Westmore alone.”
Fury scraped down Kierland’s nerve endings like a
blade, and it
Watchmen that we’re not responsible for the killing.”
Wishing like hell that he hadn’t quit smoking—seeing
as how he was jonesing for a cigarette so badly he could taste it—Kierland
tilted his head a little to the side, his eyes narrowed on the vamp’s handsome
face as he tried to get a read on him. Though he hated the Deschanel with a
passion, he had to admit that he’d never actually met a vampire who wasn’t
beautiful in a cold, deadly way. “Why do you even care what we believe?” he
rasped.
“War is coming,” Gideon replied in a low rumble. “We
intend to play a part in it.”
“Do you, now?” Kierland murmured, lifting his brows.
“I find that hard to buy, considering how the Deschanel have never given a crap
about anyone but themselves. What’s your interest in the Merrick’s war?”
“Have you forgotten that four nesting grounds have
been massacred by the Collective? Have you ever seen a murdered vampire,
Watchman?” A low, humorless laugh fell softly from Gideon’s lips. “But of
course you have. After all, when the clans refuse to take care of their own
business, the Consortium often calls on their pets to take care of the
monsters. I’m sure the killing of a Deschanel isn’t a memory that would fade,
seeing as how it’s such a colorful sight. Now, imagine what it’s like looking
out over a blood-covered field that’s littered with the decapitated bodies of innocent
women and children.”
Raking one hand back through his hair, Kierland swore
softly as the macabre scene took shape within his mind, making his stomach
turn. The Collective was an army of human mercenaries who sought to purge the
world of every nonhuman species that walked the earth, their tactics as brutal
as they were merciless. In an ironic twist, the army had partnered up with the
Kraven and the Casus in exchange for information that would further their ends.
As a result, dozens of Deschanel families had been slaughtered in their
ancestral nesting grounds. Located throughout Scandinavia and other parts of
Europe, the grounds were ancient, sprawling castlelike communities where
families lived for security, the lands protected by powerful magic that kept
them hidden from the world—until their trust was betrayed.
Clearing his throat, Kierland slid the vamp a grim
look of regret. “The nesting grounds had slipped my mind.”
“Yeah, well, the locations of those nesting grounds
were given to the Collective by Ross Westmore.” The man’s hatred and rage were
unmistakable in the huskily spoken words, though his deep voice remained eerily
quiet. “You know that as well as I.”
And the Deschanel obviously wanted revenge, he
thought, reflecting that this could easily get ugly. Not to mention complicated
as hell. “So because of the nesting grounds, you want to join forces with us?”
“We’re not asking to become a part of the party.” The
vampire’s dry tone suggested that he knew damn well Kierland would never agree
to work with the Deschanel. “But we’re willing to help you learn more about the
things you don’t know,” he offered suggestively. “Willing to get you
information that you’re going to need.”
Certain there had to be a catch, he asked, “And just
what would you want in return?”
“That brings me to my second purpose.” With his hands
still buried in his pockets, Gideon straightened away from the street sign and
stepped forward, narrowing the space between them to no more than a few feet.
“If you find Westmore before we do, we want him.”
“We?” Kierland asked, acutely aware of his beast’s
repulsion at having the vamp so near. “You mean the Deschanel?”
Gideon shook his head. “This is a personal matter for
my family, considering our positions and the fact that we had cousins who died
in the massacre. My brother and I intend to deal with Westmore alone.”
Fury scraped down Kierland’s nerve endings like a
blade, and it
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