Page 8 of Bullets and Blood
Fine, he’d meet with Lance.They were on the other side of the country, well beyond the reach of the Orlan matriarch.Perhaps they could work something out.He could sacrifice a finger or even a fang to send her, so she thought he was dead.
He showered and changed and put on the coat with the garotte in the pocket and slipped the stiletto blade into the sheath against his wrist.He’d watch Orlan disarm before he did.He wasn’t still alive because he trusted blindly.On a whim, he grabbed a bottle of wine—a peace offering or a club depending on what happened and placed it in the basket of his bike.
The streets were still busy, but the heat was gone from the day.Autumn’s chill was starting to creep in with the dark.He rode through the streets, darting around cars, his reflexes faster than a human’s.In the dark, he was freer.There’d been a time when he’d have sneered at riding a bike anywhere, but back then, he’d had a driver and access to the family pool of cars.He’d grown to love the freedom of riding to the beach at night to surf alone on the breaks.
No one gave him a second glance on his bike, and more importantly, there was no documentation required to own a bike.He didn’t need the hassle of a stolen car when he was trying to vanish—not that it mattered now.He stopped at the hotel and chained his bike.
‘Hotel’ was really the wrong word for the apartments.Some people lived in them all year round, but most were for holiday makers.He’d enquired about the price, but it had been well beyond what he could afford, so he’d taken the granny flat.It was galling to know he had money that could ease his plight, but using it would alert those he was fleeing from to where he was.
He strolled up to the apartment Orlan had named, watchful, careful, and silent.He was waiting for an attack, but he couldn’t smell any other vampires in the area.He loosened the blade at his wrist and shifted the weight of the bottle in his hand, then he knocked, his body loose and ready for a fight.
Footsteps.One set.Then the door was unlocked and opened.
Orlan was limned by light, momentarily ruining Nix’s night vision and making him blink.He stepped back out of habit, hand holding the wine lifting.
“You brought wine,” Orlan said as though shocked.
“Um, yeah.”He couldn’t use it as a club if Orlan was being friendly.“You didn’t get to finish your tasting.”He held the bottle out, not sure what else he could do.
“Thanks.”Orlan stepped aside.“I invite you in under the formal rules of hospitality.”
That vampires needed inviting in was a human myth.But a vampire that had been invited in and offered formal hospitality couldn’t lash out at a host—that was extremely poor form—nor could the host attack.The Orlans were known for breaking hospitality rules, though, so Nix took it with a pinch of salt and stayed on alert as Orlan shut the door behind him and locked it.
“Weapons?”Orlan opened a drawer to reveal a gun and two knives.
Nix removed the stiletto blade and the garrote and added them to the pile but kept the one in his boot.He expected Orlan to have something on him even though they were both disarming.Nix picked up the gun, removed the clip, and tipped the bullets out.They gleamed in the light.He was fast but not fast enough to dodge bullets.“Silver hollow point?”
“Yes.”
Nik nodded and swallowed.Maximum damage.Cruel and unnecessary when a regular silver bullet would stop a vampire from healing and make them vulnerable.They were the Orlan’s bullet of choice.“Were you there?”
He didn’t need to say where.Orlan would know.
“No.”
Nix glanced at him.Was he telling the truth?“Why do you want to talk?Why not just shoot me and leave me for the sun?”
The apartment was bigger than his place, all done up in bland beiges and ocean prints that told him nothing about the man standing in front of him.
“That’s not my job.”
“What is?”
“To make sure you are escorted home.”Twice, Orlan had claimed that.Either he was telling the truth or following a script.
“This is my home,” Nix said through gritted teeth.Not his territory, though.
“That all your weapons?”
“No gun if that’s what you’re asking.”
Orlan squatted and ran his hand down the back of Nix’s calf.Nix’s body got entirely the wrong idea.Orlan pulled the knife out of Nix’s boot.“I meant this.”
He stood and added the knife to the growing collection of weapons.
“You know me too well.”
“I’ve studied you for the last six months.”
