Page 72 of Just Dare Me
I jerk a thumb at Jay’s bloody smile. “Clearly, not for nothing, but it’s true that Tabitha Durran takes the top spot on our Most Wanted list. If we had to leave without her, well, the only way to compensate would be to haul in two or three of you lower-tier guys.”
“I see. And if you knew where Tabitha Durran was?”
“Oh, if we knew where she was, we’re right back to Christmas morning. You know what kids do on Christmas morning, Theo? They get so excited, they rush out of their rooms, totally forgetting about the old toys theyusedto want.”
Theo looks uncomfortable. He grinds his teeth, working his jaw in and out. “So…I’m a lower-tier old toy?”
“We both are,” says Marco Deus, stepping out from the opening at the back of the room. “If we weren’t, we’d be dead already. Or something pithy like that. Sound about right, Agent Davies?”
I don’t attempt a comeback this time. It’s no fun messing with somebody who won’t be bothered by it, and Marco Deus looks pleased as punch, smiling placidly in his dinner jacket, as though he’s taking a stroll through the park on a nice evening. Unlike Theo Coltrane, Marco Deus seems all, like, mature and shit. I can’t imagine a better match for Madison West. Too bad he’s dead. Without the magic revenant glamour, he’d be a decaying corpse.
Reaching the back of the couch, he says, “And now you’re thinking maybe you should remind me that I’m already dead.”
“Hey, neat!” I exclaim. “Doing the old sorcerer mind glimpse thing? What am I thinking now?” In my mind, I envision Madison West briefing the entire Agency about Marco Deus and his plan to out the underworld.
His smile turns sour, then somber. “She spoke of me?”
“She said she’s really not looking forward to killing you a second time. If you give up the necromancer who brought you back, maybe she won’t have to.”
Smoothing his salt-and-pepper beard with the back of his fingers, Marco’s easy smile returns. “Even if I told you the identity of your ‘Sorcerer X,’ what makes you think I’d ever let you leave this room with that knowledge?”
He stretches out his hand, palm down, and then turns it palm up with a graceful flourish of fingers. A spell is broken, revealing hidden figures. It turns out the “empty” couches along the walls had been occupied all this time. Forty or fifty Cleveland vampires rise to their feet, surrounding us. Theo Coltrane stands, pushing the fedora back on his head, relishing this apparent reversal of fortune.
Emphasis onapparent.
“Honestly, that’s impressive,” I say. “To cloak that many people at once. How many is that, forty? Fifty?”
“It’s more than enough, I should think,” Marco says with eyes narrowing, clearly annoyed by my lack of fear. And then there’s Jay—he’s still smiling.
I wish I could revel in this glorious moment, but I don’t want to push my luck. “What do you think?” I ask Elle. “Could you do fifty at once?”
She shrugs. “Sure, but that’s overkill, don’t you think? All I needed to cloak was one.”
Theo Coltrane is suddenly jolted by an impact from behind. He arches his back, screaming out in pain. Every one of the vampires in the room cries out with a similar response, feeling his agony as their own.
Materializing out of thin air behind him, Dominique plunges her forearm into a hole in his back, pushing past Theo’s spine. His chest bulges, as though something is trying to explode out of him. His piercing screams suddenly cut off, and he drops dead as Dominique pulls her hand from the gaping hole in his back. Clutching his severed heart in her hand, Dominique quirks an eyebrow and says, “I thought it would be bigger.”
I level a smartass grin at Marco, who’s now white as a sheet. “Aw, look, Theo got to be someone’s Christmas morning after all.”
The chamber fills with the shrieking and pitiful wailing of fifty Cleveland vampires writhing in torture. The thin guy who brought us here is curled on the couch in the fetal position, trembling with instant, severe withdrawals.
Marco’s face returns to full color, tinted red with anger. “Get up!” he booms at the useless minions. “We’ve got them. We’ve won!”
None of them respond. They’re out of their minds with shock and grief. I’m alarmed to see that some of them are beginning to channel their emotion into anger, snarling and hissing at Dominique.
“Silence!” she commands. Immediately, the entire clan is cowed into submission. The weeping and wailing dies down, replaced by gasps of recognition—not of Dominique but of her sire bond. It’s irresistible. Loyalty be damned, a bond is a bond, theymusthave a master.
Or, in this case, a queen. With one word, she has claimed their allegiance. The thin guy crawls to her feet, his tie dragging on the white rug. He’s just about to kiss her expensive leather boots when a surge of electricity courses through his body from head to toe, spitting sparks of lightning from his fingertips. He crumples to the rug with a painful groan.
“Pathetic,” Marco Deus says, summoning lightning into his other hand. He brandishes the power with a look of disgust for the vampires. “You think Theo Coltrane was your master? He pledged himself to Arael Moaz. East Side claims your fealty. If one word from thisconsortis enough to turn you from our cause, then you deserve to fry, every one of you!”
Dominique hisses at him, fangs bared. Elle steps forward, readying a protective spell, while Oliver conjures a fireball in his palm. But it’s Nora who takes control of the situation. Her rich, melodic voice cuts through the tension with a single musical tone that sends shivers down my spine.
“Marco,” she sings. In the absolute silence of the chamber, the echo of her siren call splits into higher and lower notes, harmonizing with itself. The effect is immediate and absolute. Finding Nora’s face, Marco’s eyes relax, widening with devotion for his new obsession. The lightning in his fist dissipates.
“Why don’t you sit?” Nora suggests.
“Of course,” Marco answers.
