Read Online Roaring Shadows: Macey Book 2 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 8) by Colleen Gleason - Free Book Online
Authors: Colleen Gleason
Ads: Link
you to The Music Castle?” she asked Chas as she edged toward one of the inner walls, out of sight of the coatroom window.
“I heard Louis Armstrong was going to be here tonight. Thought I’d come and listen to some good jazz music.” Sarcasm rolled off his very posture.
Though the only light was that which came from the lobby outside, she could still see Chas’s features and expression relatively well. He looked the same as always: hard, closed-off, dark and swarthy from his Gypsy heritage, and unhappy to be there. He wore a suit and coat, like most of the men present, his of charcoal gray, with an unfashionable dark shirt—likely to allow him to meld into the shadows without the white beacon of a cotton button-down to give him away. His hair—thick, wavy, and too long—was completely out of date. He looked as if he belonged to an utterly different era. He sometimes spoke that way too.
“I’m promised it’ll be a good show,” she replied. Then, dropping all pretense, Macey continued, “How is Sebastian?”
“Sebastian? Ah, then you do care—at least about his welfare. He’s slick and sly and impatient as ever, lulu. Oh, and he can’t go about in the sunlight, you know. Poor fop.”
“Now, Chas,” she said, her voice dropping a little. “Jealousy doesn’t become you. Of course I care about your welfare as well as Sebastian’s, and Temple’s too, of course—but the last time I saw him he barely escaped poofing in the sun.”
“And that was, what…five months ago? Last fall, was it? Apparently your concern didn’t extend to proactive communication—now that you’re Big Al’s sidepiece,” Chas replied coolly. “What’s it like, living in the lap of luxury, on the dime of the most evil man in Chicago—that is, besides Nicholas Iscariot—while the undead roam like feral rats in the underground and the rest of us try to keep them at bay?”
She caught herself just in time; her hand had jerked, ready to fly up and connect with his sharp-boned cheek, and she only barely kept it at her side. Chas met her eyes, challenge and knowledge in his gaze. “Good decision, Macey. Save your tantrums for Snorky. You were having a ripe one, too, from the looks of your little display in the lobby back there.”
She drew in a deep breath, and with effort forced the fury to ebb from her body. Chas had a right to be angry, to question her. He didn’t have to be such an ass about it, but she couldn’t deny he had cause. And just because she was feeling a little thin-skinned tonight…
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Sorry for precisely what?”
She pursed her lips. “All right. I deserve that, I suppose, to some extent—”
“You sure as the devil do deserve that—and more. Look, Macey, the last time I saw you, we’d just battled our way out of a den of vampires and you got forced into a long black car—and I was detained from joining you. I hear from Sebastian that he nearly died and lost the Rings of Jubai to Al Capone…and then he tells me you’re staying with him? With that bastard? What in the hell is going on—”
“Keep your voice down. He’s got people everywhere—which is why I haven’t been able to be in contact with you or Sebastian or anyone. Capone’s kept me under house arrest for months now, and in case you couldn’t tell, I was damned happy to see you here.”
At last Chas relaxed a little. “As a matter of fact, I could. I could’ve sworn you looked like you were going to faint with relief when you looked over and noticed me.”
She breathed a little sigh of relief. That was Chas. Furious and black-hearted one minute, ready to crack a wry joke the next. “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t need to be saved. But I do need to talk to you—”
“So talk. Let’s get down to business. What are you doing for Capone, lulu?”
“He wants me to be his bodyguard, his—well, his personal Venator. Mainly, he wants me around. Because he believes one of Rosamunde
“I heard Louis Armstrong was going to be here tonight. Thought I’d come and listen to some good jazz music.” Sarcasm rolled off his very posture.
Though the only light was that which came from the lobby outside, she could still see Chas’s features and expression relatively well. He looked the same as always: hard, closed-off, dark and swarthy from his Gypsy heritage, and unhappy to be there. He wore a suit and coat, like most of the men present, his of charcoal gray, with an unfashionable dark shirt—likely to allow him to meld into the shadows without the white beacon of a cotton button-down to give him away. His hair—thick, wavy, and too long—was completely out of date. He looked as if he belonged to an utterly different era. He sometimes spoke that way too.
“I’m promised it’ll be a good show,” she replied. Then, dropping all pretense, Macey continued, “How is Sebastian?”
“Sebastian? Ah, then you do care—at least about his welfare. He’s slick and sly and impatient as ever, lulu. Oh, and he can’t go about in the sunlight, you know. Poor fop.”
“Now, Chas,” she said, her voice dropping a little. “Jealousy doesn’t become you. Of course I care about your welfare as well as Sebastian’s, and Temple’s too, of course—but the last time I saw him he barely escaped poofing in the sun.”
“And that was, what…five months ago? Last fall, was it? Apparently your concern didn’t extend to proactive communication—now that you’re Big Al’s sidepiece,” Chas replied coolly. “What’s it like, living in the lap of luxury, on the dime of the most evil man in Chicago—that is, besides Nicholas Iscariot—while the undead roam like feral rats in the underground and the rest of us try to keep them at bay?”
She caught herself just in time; her hand had jerked, ready to fly up and connect with his sharp-boned cheek, and she only barely kept it at her side. Chas met her eyes, challenge and knowledge in his gaze. “Good decision, Macey. Save your tantrums for Snorky. You were having a ripe one, too, from the looks of your little display in the lobby back there.”
She drew in a deep breath, and with effort forced the fury to ebb from her body. Chas had a right to be angry, to question her. He didn’t have to be such an ass about it, but she couldn’t deny he had cause. And just because she was feeling a little thin-skinned tonight…
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Sorry for precisely what?”
She pursed her lips. “All right. I deserve that, I suppose, to some extent—”
“You sure as the devil do deserve that—and more. Look, Macey, the last time I saw you, we’d just battled our way out of a den of vampires and you got forced into a long black car—and I was detained from joining you. I hear from Sebastian that he nearly died and lost the Rings of Jubai to Al Capone…and then he tells me you’re staying with him? With that bastard? What in the hell is going on—”
“Keep your voice down. He’s got people everywhere—which is why I haven’t been able to be in contact with you or Sebastian or anyone. Capone’s kept me under house arrest for months now, and in case you couldn’t tell, I was damned happy to see you here.”
At last Chas relaxed a little. “As a matter of fact, I could. I could’ve sworn you looked like you were going to faint with relief when you looked over and noticed me.”
She breathed a little sigh of relief. That was Chas. Furious and black-hearted one minute, ready to crack a wry joke the next. “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t need to be saved. But I do need to talk to you—”
“So talk. Let’s get down to business. What are you doing for Capone, lulu?”
“He wants me to be his bodyguard, his—well, his personal Venator. Mainly, he wants me around. Because he believes one of Rosamunde
Similar Books
