Page 10 of The Vampire's Vendetta

CHAPTER6

West scanned the street for potential threats before ducking down the long, narrow passage between two old warehouses in the Tenderloin District. Time to place his quarterly armament request from Mel’s shop.

West banished the urge to lift his upper lip, reminding himself the ripe-dumpster stench deterred humans from the site. If only the odor didn’t double-down with his enhanced ability to smell. When he’d mentioned the odor and how Mel might alter the spell to not offend his senses, the mage smiled and changed the subject. Since a blood oath couldn’t be taken over the internet, West understood the antiquated in-person ordering system.

He glanced on either side to make sure there were no witnesses, then pushed on Mel’s doorbell, a brick two courses from where the hidden door should appear.

While he waited, West stifled his impatience. He needed a partner to shoulder some of this burden. His blood smuggling side had taken a hit and needed rebuilding if he was to keep the money flowing to the rescue side, which meant he’d have less time to spend on the victim operation. He’d considered moving two people up, one to head smuggling, the other for rescue, with him coordinating at the top. Unfortunately, he had no tie to anyone in his organization and his trust had limits. Too much knowledge left him vulnerable, hence ‘West’ smuggled the blood to raise profits for ‘Ryn’ to save victims.

He tapped an impatient finger against his thigh. With the way both sides had grown, he’d probably have to give up the separate identities anyway. He cursed himself for not using an amulet to cover his Ryn side.

A door’s shape began to appear in the brick, and he shelved his recriminations for another time. Moments later, he turned the knob, stepped into the vestibule, and shut the door behind him. On a podium sat a large, dragonhide-bound tome opened to a set of pages. At the top, a short paragraph of legalistic sentences bound the person to non-violence upon entry, no matter who was inside, even if their sworn enemy. Mel didn’t have patience for people who couldn’t abide by the rules, and placed a pinprick next to the tome, a vehicle to deposit a drop of his life’s essence under the heading ‘Blood,’ a column which sat to the far right after ‘Date’ and ‘Name.’

Because the mage’s wares could be stacked against the best in the world, he had no trouble signing his name, stabbing his finger on the needle. He sealed his agreement by adding the crimson drop to the page along the line indicated by an ‘X’ to the left. Within moments, his writing and the scarlet smear faded from the paper and the mark moved to the next line.

A wall dissolved and he stepped into a dimly lit corridor about a football field long. About half-way to the glass door at the end, his finger stopped tingling from where the skin healed. No matter. He’d donate a drop again when he bought his supply of spelled ammo and other armaments. To avoid Clan Magic or North American Council Security scrutiny, he’d agreed to use the magical wares within his clan only. No problem. Blood smuggling was a clan issue, and all benefitted when he stopped the abuse of humans and HPs. Not only did his actions help keep Sanguis-Human Paranormal relations friendly, but also kept the clan from violating its North American Council agreement to avoid human detection of the paranormal world. Win-win.

West swung open the door and stepped inside the brightly lit showroom. He stopped to take stock of his surroundings. To his left, a male and female stood at a case, perusing amulets guaranteed not to affect shifters if worn, which indicated their clan. On his right at a case with charms and potions stood Mel and…

Caro.

For a moment, he stared at the vampire, no less desirable in a pair of jeans which lovingly clung to her ass and thighs, and a stylish, light jacket which ended at her hip. She’d probably worn the covering to hide any weapons she carried, like his own rain jacket performed the same service for him, concealing a fae-silver long knife, a pistol, and several magazines to be exact.

Wait. He’d never seen Mel show real emotion.

His gaze focused on the mage with her long brown hair kept back in a low ponytail, ‘Mel’s Magical Armaments’ branded t-shirt, and wide, genuine grin replacing her usual salesman’s smile.

Caro glanced in his direction, perhaps sensing his heartbeat when he entered and performing the same situational awareness check as he’d completed moments ago. She stiffened, then said something he couldn’t hear to Mel. From within her jacket, she produced a sizable black pouch, perhaps concealed in a pocket spelled to hide much larger objects since he hadn’t noticed the bulk. Caro placed the sack carefully on the glass. Despite her caution, the metal inside clinked audibly, which continued as she slid the leather across the glass. No doubt a nice quantity of fae gold.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted the shifters trying hard to conceal their interest in the bag and Caro. They’d bear watching, especially since their clan had recently upended a breeding scheme using kidnapped shifters in the San Francisco area. Their security might’ve missed a couple of bad guys. The no-violence clause extended only as far as the store’s domain, and despite the fact the shop’s exit would put clients out in different points across a two-block radius, the duo could be a threat.

He refocused on Mel. The mage’s nimble fingers slid the pouch from sight without opening to verify the contents. “I’ll have your order boxed up and delivered today.”

“Thank you. Let me know if I can be of further assistance.” Caro pivoted toward the dark glass door marked ‘Exit’ in letters which glowed an unearthly yellow.

Wise to keep their prior relationship, business, of course, on the downlow. Yet, he wanted to learn more about this mysterious creature who had somehow won over the notoriously mistrustful mage.

“Excuse me. I’d like to talk to you for a moment if I may?” Now why in the hell did he do that?

Caro paused with his words, then glanced over her shoulder, her gaze narrowed, as if a human woman trying to determine if the man next to her wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. “For a moment only.”

Mel gave him the once over, her narrow-lidded silent perusal and lack of greeting suggesting her displeasure with him, despite their decades-long working relationship. Generally, customers didn’t intermingle in the shop. ‘Sign in, place your order, and get the fuck out’ should be the business’ logo, instead of ‘Quality Guaranteed,’ which had been painted under the shop’s name on the wall. The mage darted her gaze to Caro and raised a delicately sculpted eyebrow.

“It’s okay, Mel. Can we use your conference room?” Caro had turned to face him, her body posture signaling defense, while her tone and the tilt to the corners of her lips suggested amusement.

“Only for you my friend.” Mel waved a hand at the wall decorated with the logo, which slid back, revealing a moodily lit room with a large mahogany table and rolling chairs ringing the edges. She pinned West with a glare. “The shop rules are in effect.”

West wanted to stare at the mage—she had friends? In the underworld business of magic, like blood smuggling, relationships too often led to betrayal. He jerked a nod at Mel. “Understood.”

He followed Caro into the room, the whole time cognizant of the mage’s stare following him. The panel shut behind him with awhoosh.

Caro spun on him, a wariness in her gaze warring with the confident tilt of her head. “What can I do for you, Ryn?”

If he could’ve kicked himself in the ass, he would’ve. He’d made the request to talk to her on impulse, and now his brain vapor locked. “When I’m done here, I need your assistance with a matter.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Why?”

Again, the offer had been on impulse, like he didn’t have eight hundred years’ worth of reasons to plan every step he made. He had no real need for her to help pick out a piece of jewelry for his sister’s birthday, the appointment he’d made for after the ammo purchase. Why did Caro seem to evade every sense of caution baked into his soul?

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