Page 30 of Revenge of the Blood Pack

We suddenly stop at a door and the guard pushes it open, then he indicates for us to go in. Max starts forward, but I’m faster, pushing forward and practically running in to enter before him. Which is probably stupid, but makes me feel a littlebetter. Like I’m not just some lackey. Like this mission ismymission instead of just a job like it is for the Enforcers beside me, because that’s what it is.

In the spacious room, a blond man with short hair and a slight beard leans against a desk. A fire blazes behind him and jazz plays on a record in one corner. He has a drink half-tilted to his lips, a drink that strangely looks like a mixture of scotch and blood.

Actually, as I take a deep breath, I’m pretty damn sure that’s exactly what it is. I scent the copperiness of it and also the deep, intense flavor I associate with scotch, along with the smoky scent of the fire crackling behind him.

As I move closer to him, I frown, pulling my focus from the scents around me and to the man himself. Something is off with him. Like he’s… sick, which makes no sense, vampires don’t get sick.

Do they?

His blond hair is strangely dull, almost stringy. Not at all how most vampires keep their hair. In general, they’re a vain lot and would do just about anything to preserve their youthful appearance. But it’s more than that. He’s pale. And I know people always make jokes about vampires being pale, but they aren’t. Because they can go out in the light, that’s not something we supernaturals associate with them. His color though? It’s sickly, almost green. And his blue shirt and dark slacks are wrinkled and unkempt, hanging off of him like he’s recently lost some weight. Not something I’d think a man who owns a place like this would wear.

“Mr. Blackwell,” he says with surprising relief before setting his drink down and moving forward to shake Max’s hand, followed by Braxton’s. He doesn’t shake my hand, just casts me a curious glance, then focuses back on Max. “Thank you so much for coming.”

Max takes one of the seats the man indicates for us to sit in, seemingly ignoring the fact that the man seems to be some kind of sexist asshole. Although, fine, he looks like he’s been through some shit, so maybe it’s more about that than me being a woman. Maybe his thoughts are occupied by whatever he’s dealing with, whatever reason we came here.

“Thank you for seeing us, Mr. Vangardee.”

The vampire practically collapses into a big leather chair by the fire, leaving Braxton and I to sit next to Max on the couch. Our thighs touch for the briefest moment where energy sings between Braxton and I before I jerk my leg away from the big shifter. But even so, his body feels too big to be next to mine, and it’s the first time I realize how much smaller I am than him. Somehow, keeping him in the backseat for most of the trip gave me just enough distance to avoid this weird feeling between us.

“This is a delicate matter,” Mr. Vangardee begins, interrupting my strange thoughts. I glance at him and see him staring down at his hands, looking lost.

“Delicate how?” I ask.

Max shoots me a dirty look, then refocuses on the man in front of us. “We understand. Everything you say here will be classified information.”

The vampire’s gaze meets mine then sweeps to Braxton and then Max. “For a man like me, if this gets out, my reputation will be ruined. The money… the money pisses me off, but money can be replaced, my reputation cannot.”

“Understood,” Max says with a nod.

The vampire drops his hands, crosses his legs, then uncrosses them and settles back against his chair looking even more uncomfortable. "You must understand that I’m an important man, so I have guards, but they’ve never really had to do anything other than remove guests who had a few too many drinks. They are more or less… just in case, but I don’t requirethem to be at my side. So, when there was a lovely evening earlier this week, I decided to go out for a walk alone.”

I don’t know why, but I study the man. He seems embarrassed that something bad happened to him, which logically makes no sense at all. If someone hurt him or took advantage of him, they should be the ones embarrassed not him, but I hold my tongue, because I don’t quite understand what’s going on yet, and the last thing I want to do is make the wrong move and piss Max off even further.

Mr. Vangardee takes a deep breath and wipes his palms on his pants before continuing. “I saw a young man wearing a hoodie. He looked like the thousands of other young people who frequent the park, so I thought nothing of it. But when he went to pass me, he suddenly turned and gripped me so damned hard… harder than I ever thought possible and began a spell. I struggled to get away from him, but then I felt a horrible burning on my arm and all thoughts escaped me.

I came to on my knees with him standing over me. He told me that either I withdraw a million dollars and drop it back off in that exact spot in four days, or by that time in four days I would be dead. He said the mark would spread until it slowly killed me. And before I could so much as argue, he ran away.”

Fuck. I’d seen this before. The marks on the berserker woman and her men. They also were given a task or their mark would kill them.But those Blood Mages died. How did this one learn the same thing?

And, please, don’t let it be my brother doing this.

Or maybe I should hope it is him. At least it’d mean he wasn’t as crazed as the others, and that he was close enough for me to find him and help him. But it would also say something about the man he became, a thief.

Not that I’m one to judge. He, or whoever he is, probably has his reasons for doing this and it’s probably about more than greed. At least, I hope it is.

“Time passed,” he continues, shaking his head, “and the mark spread. It was painful, horrible-looking, and it felt like as each hour passed I felt worse and worse. I went to witches, ancient vampires, even fucking shifters and demons.” He winces, as if remembering we’re shifters, but continues. “No one could remove the mark. So, I did the only thing I could, I arrived at the park and gave him the money. Only, I also had my men track him. They lost him in an industrial park.”

“Can you get us the information on where he marked you and where your men followed him to?” Max asks.

The man nods. “I have a file with the information already. But I want to make this clear: I couldn’t give two shits about the money. I want this man found, and I want him killed.”

“Like hell!” I say, my fists clenching.

Braxton reaches over and touches my knee, and I jerk it as far from him as I can. His hand curls into a fist and goes back onto his leg. “What my partner here means is that Enforcers don’t just go around killing people. You called us to fix this situation, and we will.”

Max is glaring at both of us, but I ignore him.

“Another thing… can you describe this man for us?”

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