“That’s Kalamack?” Quick on his feet, Cormel went to stand over him. Trisk’s eyes narrowed when the vampire’s eyes closed and he breathed deep, as if scenting Kal. He might be. Elves were uncommon enough that he might not have ever met one before. “I thought he’d be taller.”
Orchid flew to hover beside Cormel, and the man’s eyes flashed open at the clatter of her wings. “I thought he’d be smarter,” she said, her high voice holding a world of disdain.
Cormel smiled, hand dipping into a pocket to bring out a silver wire. “You should wake him up. It’s either now or before the council.”
Trisk clamped down on a flash of fear, not liking that Cormel noticed it. “He’s only going to lie. Try to get away. In that order,” she said.
“Truths will be outed.” Cormel crouched to fasten the silver around Kal’s wrist. “He can’t do magic now. Or at least not ley line.”
Orchid snorted, a burst of dust coming from her. “He couldn’t do that much magic before,” she said, and Daniel, content behind the bar, muttered about it being more than he could do.
“What is that?” Trisk asked suspiciously as Cormel stood, and she touched her wrist to indicate the metallic band around Kal’s. “Charmed silver?” she guessed. “Where did you get it?”
Cormel grinned, looking very unvampiric. “Vampires use witch magic all the time. How else do you think Piscary could look so good? He’s over five hundred years old.”
“No way.” Daniel looked up from wiping a stray spill of lemonade off the bar.
Cormel ambled back to the bar and took the glass Daniel had poured for him. “It’s true, but I agree, highly unusual. Piscary himself is . . . unusual. Most undead live only forty years after their first death. It’s only those who are clever enough to convince new living vampires that they love them and to willingly give them the blood they need who last longer. That’s why Piscary is concerned enough about the decreasing human population to take action when instinct says to keep still, stay in the shadows.” He took a sip of the lemonade, eyes lingering on the ice. “I tell him not to worry, that balance will find itself, but he has no soul, so he cannot believe it on faith.”
“You don’t just take it? Blood, I mean?” Daniel asked, and Orchid gasped, clearly embarrassed by his question. Cormel, though, didn’t seem to mind.
“Not for a long time,” he said. “It gets you noticed and there’s no need. There’re enough living vampires to meet demands.” His eyes went to the bar. “Or there were. The undead won’t take blood from the ill or young.” Cormel looked behind him at the couches and chairs around the long oval coffee table. “Are you going to wake him or let Ulbrine do it?”
“Go on, wake up the lunker,” Orchid encouraged. “I want to see his face when he finds himself in a vampire’s basement.”
Agreeing, Trisk broke the sleep charm with a whispered word of Latin.
Kal snorted awake, his hand immediately going to his face to judge how long he’d been asleep by the thick bristles. Unlike Daniel, he’d gone two days without seeing a razor, and his infant beard made him look surprisingly . . . dashing. Daniel cleared his throat, and Kal’s gaze jerked from the high ceiling, stone walls, and thick carpet to the bar where they stood. Trisk’s eyes narrowed at his sudden flash of hatred directed at her. Smug, she raised her glass and took a noisy slurp, knowing he had to be parched.
“Where am I?” he rasped, a hand going to his throat as he coughed.
Orchid zipped to him, coming to a short stop that sent a gray dust spilling over him from momentum. “Cincinnati,” she said tightly. “Can’t you smell the chocolate in the chili?”
Trisk’s smile became even more self-satisfied when Kal tugged at the thin band around his wrist, frowning when he realized he couldn’t do magic. “Nice,” he said, then went still, evaluating Rynn Cormel as the man crossed the room and set a full glass in front of him.
“I’m Rynn Cormel,” he said as Kal reached for the lemonade and downed it, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You’re in Piscary’s living room. Sa’han Ulbrine is in the next room over.” Cormel took a step back, his disgust showing in the curve of his lips. “You may want to brush your hair. You’ll be giving your account soon. Such as it is.”
Kal came up for air, gasping for breath. “They won’t believe Trisk over me,” he said as he set the glass down. Cormel pointedly moved it to a coaster. “A pixy and a . . .”
“A what?” Trisk said, warming, but it was obvious. A dark elf. Second-class citizen.
“Yeah?” Orchid darted in, wings clattering in outrage when Cormel reached out, caught her foot, and pulled her to safety. “Well, you’re troll turds, Kalamack. Troll turds on a stick!”
But the truth of it was, he was right, and Trisk found little comfort in Orchid’s outburst.
“It was her tomato, his virus,” Kal said as Cormel sat across from him, one leg atop the other knee. “You really think I’d upset the balance intentionally? She’s framing me for her ineptitude.”
Trisk’s grip on her glass tightened, and Daniel took it out of her hand.