“You,” Sorin said through clenched teeth, “have been compromised.”
Merely moments ago, after awakening, the vampire had been reclining near the clear-water lagoon of the emporium, enjoying the attentions of a Groupie. The sounds of the waterfall had sluiced over him as lovingly as his partner’s tongue, her fangs, her long body. This Persian female was his favorite pet, talented with her mouth. Though Sorin adored her, he had been slightly dismayed that she, along with three other male and female Groupies, had recently chosen to shave their heads in a fashion statement of modern chic. Certainly, as a whole, the fun-loving vampires were prone to the trends Above, but this time Vashti, who had so named herself upon taking her Underground vows, had displeased him. Her “punishment”—if their exotic activities could be termed so—was even now occurring, her lips worshipping him to arousal.
Now, as the Servant Milton Crockett submitted himself before Sorin, the vampire eased Vashti’s smooth head away from his lap, his unfulfillment doubled by what the human had just revealed.
A single bead of sweat dripped from the lawyer’s face to the lagoon sand. “Master, Dawn Madison and her friends can’t be certain of what I am. I’m confident they’re only following up on Robby Pennybaker’s case, nothing more than that.”
Master. No one but the elite citizens knew that Sorin was merely a double, a bodyguard who took the place of the true leader for security reasons. That was how it had been these past fifty years, since this particular Underground had been established. However, these days, the real Master disguised himself and mingled among the populace more and more frequently.
As he was doing now.
While mist from the waterfall gathered on the air, one cloud remained more solid than the others. The wispy tendrils wove through each other, beautiful and deadly.
The Master. Dr. Eternity, as the Elites had named him. The creator of this Underground paradise.
Do you hear this Servant? Sorin thought to the Master, accessing the Awareness a vampire and its child could use to silently communicate. The threats Above are growing even stronger.
Yes, I can hear.
Sorin gestured for Vashti to press her ear to his mouth so he could whisper an instruction to her. She complied, covering him with a swath of silk. Then, pressing her fingertips to her forehead in a sign of respect, she left to fetch another Servant, another lawyer who would do well to listen to this conversation with Mr. Crockett. All the while, her silver eyes flashed disappointment at the interruption of her punishment.
A thought tugged at the edges of Sorin’s mind. Yes…he-remembered now. Vashti had been among the flock of Groupies who had first recruited Lee Tomlinson to the Underground. They had come upon him at one of the many so-called vampire bars humans loved to frequent.
Fitting that she should be the one to fetch the lawyer who would now see to Lee Tomlinson’s fate.
Alone with the Servant, Sorin turned his full gaze upon him. “Rise.”
Mr. Crockett wiped away the sweat that had gathered on his upper lip.
“You think Limpet and Associates is harmless,” Sorin said, “even if their tiny detective—the one who is said to have the sixth sense—was touching you, as if to know your thoughts.”
“I think they only suspect that I’m a basic familiar and that I know more about Robby than it appears to the public.”
“You do not think this psychic looked into you?”
“I blocked my thoughts as soon as I felt him touching me.”
That might be true, but Sorin was not a vampire who traded on maybe’s. “I hope you are correct, Mr. Crockett. Surely you recall how Robby and Nathan Pennybaker leaked information about our home to these detectives.”
The Servant nodded, gaze fixed to the ground.
It was not enough to assuage Sorin.
Having been present at the scene of Robby’s final betrayal, the Guards had informed Sorin, their keeper, of every last detail. What Dawn Madison and her friends had learned concerned him a great deal, yet the Master remained insistent that they wait for a “better” time to attack. A time when they knew with absolute certainty that Limpet and Associates was hunting the Underground and not merely investigating Robby Pennybaker. A time when they could ascertain if this “Limpet” was perhaps even a master from a rival Underground, an “other” to be avoided at all costs.
Others forced takeovers, and Sorin knew this all too well.