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“And I told you he’d want to talk to you,” Lola growled. Everything about her voice and stance made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t going anywhere until she got what she wanted.
Those dark eyes darted to Rafe, silently assessing.
“I can make it worth your while,” Rafe added.
There was a brief wheezing noise coming from the vampire behind the door and it took Rafe a moment to realize that he was laughing. “I’m sure you believe that.” But he stepped out of the doorway and opened the door just enough that they could squeeze through.
To Rafe’s surprise, the godawful smells largely dissipated when he stepped into the studio apartment. The air was a little cleaner here, a little lighter. He glanced around the area to find a small lamp resting on the floor, its thin yellow light pushing against the darkness. The three windows appeared to be boarded up and covered with old bits of fabric. A makeshift bed was in one corner. And all along the walls were stacks and stacks of books. Mostly paperbacks, they all looked heavily worn and well-read. Marcus would have approved.
“Edgar, this is—”
“A Varik,” Edgar said, interrupting Lola’s introduction. When he finished locking the door, he shuffled over to the bed and sat on the blankets.
Rafe narrowed his eyes in the darkness, taking in Edgar’s appearance. He looked as if he was maybe in his late twenties or early thirties. His face was smooth, but his long brown hair hung down in front of his eyes, working to obscure his face and his expressions. Not easy to read at all. But judging by his own personal power signature hanging in the air, Edgar didn’t feel as if he was much more than a century. If he’d lived here for more than fifty years, Rafe was beginning to think that he might just have been born here as a human. He possibly even had something from his old life tying him here. It would certainly explain his reluctance to leave.
“Rafe Varik, to be specific,” Rafe said, flashing a somewhat wry smile. “We aren’t all interchangeable.”
“Nearly so,” Edgar muttered. “You’re a clan.”
“At least I’m not the Ministry.”
Edgar snorted. “That’s just a different sort of trouble. But still trouble.”
Rafe couldn’t really argue that point. “I was hoping we could help each other out. A little tit for tat. You scratch my back and…”
“And I learn to be grateful you’re not turning me in to the Ministry or simply killing me where I live.”
Rafe sighed and looked over his shoulder at Lola. She was leaning against the wall next to the door, her arms loosely crossed over her chest. “Where do so many vampires get this bloodthirsty, kill-or-be-killed attitude?”
Her lips twitched for just a second as if she couldn’t quite catch the smile before it broke free. But it was enough. He got her. Her dark eyes narrowed into a warning glare, but Rafe wasn’t buying it. Lola loved to play the heavy, to keep this persona of being an immoveable badass force. And she was in every way, but she also had a brilliant smile and a lyrical laugh. Rafe loved surprising that smile or laugh out of her.
Throwing a wink in her direction, Rafe turned his attention to Edgar, who was looking at him like he’d lost his fucking mind. Rafe wiped his own amusement from his features. “No, I’m not going to kill you. Nor am I going to turn you in to the Ministry. This is about cooperating so that we both get ahead. Not a threat.”
“So if I tell you to fuck off?”
Rafe shrugged his shoulder. “I leave. We don’t speak again.”
Edgar took a deep breath and opened his mouth, but Rafe raised his hand, stopping the words he knew the vampire was about to say in his throat.
“But before you point me to the door, take an extra second to think this through. I’m only looking for information. That’s pretty easy and painless for you.” Rafe dropped his hand to his side and bent at the waist so that his face was just over Edgar’s. The vampire shifted on his pallet, sliding a few inches to put a little more space between him and Rafe. “If you tell me to fuck off now, you won’t be able to come to me for help later. Just think about it. A vampire on the outside who owes you a favor. Not exactly a horrible thing to have in your pocket,” Rafe finished, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. He straightened, his smirk in place again.
Relief had him unclenching his jaw when it seemed that Edgar was at least considering his proposal. Of course, offering some unknown vampire a favor could so easily come back and bite him in the ass. Wouldn’t that just thrill Marcus? His older brother would probably throttle him if he found out what Rafe was doing.
