“No, the FPA tries to uphold their squeaky clean mission statement. My business is only mine.” He poured a generous amount of whiskey into a crystal glass and pressed it into my hands. “Although, being FPA does have its perks. As you can see.”
It certainly did. I wouldn’t mind having a set of FPA handcuffs myself, just in case. When I got home, I’d have to see if Briggs would be willing to slip me a pair. He would have his price of course.
I tried to hear the thoughts of those surrounding me. Since Sloane’s mention of angel blood, they had all shut up their minds tightly.
Speaking of angels, where the hell was Falon? The ass**le had ditched me. Letting Linden sell me off as a blood slave would get me out of his hair. He was probably concocting a story for Shya right now.
Shya was a strange one. He could go from threatening my life to claiming he needed me alive in the same sentence. I didn’t doubt that he would come for me at some point. However, I was not his damsel to save, and I would rather die than be further indebted to the demon.
A shrill, piercing screech bounced around inside my head as Falon’s blood became too much for my mortal body. It needed release. I sipped the fine whiskey and squinted through the pain.
I swung my accusing stare to Sloane who sat stiffly near the door. As much as I loathed that bitch right then, I knew she was my only shot at manipulating someone on the inside. Whether we liked it or not, we shared a bloodline. Appealing to that side of her might be my only chance at finding an ally among so many monsters.
“What is wrong with you? You betrayed your own blood. For what? Money? Blood? Power? And why the hell would you take a beating to hide your disloyalty if you’re so ok with it?”
With an exasperated and forced sigh, she met my eyes. “You wouldn’t understand. You haven’t lived with them for hundreds of years. You’re still new to them, a novelty. That wears off.” Her glossy lips pressed tight into a thin red line, and she stared out the window at the bright city lights. She hadn’t given me much, but it was enough. She was hurt and lashing out. Maybe I could work with that.
“My girl does what it takes to keep a secret.” Linden beamed a fangy grin at Sloane who ignored it. “She knows loyalty comes at a price.”
Linden loved to hear the sound of his own voice. He had no trouble carrying on a conversation consisting mostly of his stream of consciousness as we drove through the city. The first prickle of nervousness trickled through me when I noticed the area we had entered. It was littered with large commercial buildings and warehouses with very little human activity, where nobody would hear you scream.
I tossed back the last of the superb whiskey, knowing it might be my last. I wanted to tap Arys’s thoughts but decided to wait. I didn’t want to interrupt if he was healing Jez.
Jostled along by two big but quiet vampires, I followed Linden into one of the warehouses that looked much like the rest. A building number was its only identification, and I made a point to commit it to memory. There was nothing special about the warehouse. It was big without being massive, drab grey from the concrete walls to the floor and smelled like absolute fear.
Consisting of half a dozen vampires, further security greeted us. Linden spoke in low tones with one of them, and I heard the mention of a white wolf. My guts twisted painfully. I was afraid, not for me, but for Shaz. It had been my call to kill Harley. He didn’t deserve to be punished for having my back.
The warehouse was made up primarily of one giant room, which was furnished with many sofas and electronic devices, TVs and such. A long conference style table sat along one wall. Lining the back of the building, a brick room caught my attention. That’s where the thick aroma of fear emanated from.
I drifted toward the heavily barred door, needing to see what lie on the other side. A vampire with a fat head on his oddly skinny neck stopped me with a rough hand on my shoulder.
“No, it’s fine.” Linden glided over, taking my elbow as if we were old friends out for a stroll. “You want to see the wolf. I understand.” He barked instructions for the door to be opened.
I held my breath, afraid to inhale too much of the intoxicating scent. Fear was a trigger for both the wolf and the vampire. It stirred my hunger for the hunt.
The door opened, and I was pulled into a dank, dimly lit room. It was filled with people, all human. Old, young, of various ethnic backgrounds, there was much variation. My gaze landed on a woman in the corner, crying and holding her pregnant belly. The vampire side of me had no emotion, no sympathy, but the wolf raged and roared, seeking to break free of its human cage.
“You’re the worst kind of evil,” I said.