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The call came in to the firehouse late last night, sire. There was an explosion. Whole friggin' warehouse went up like a Roman candle. No saving it, according to the guys who responded to the call. Initial reports say there appears to have been a gas leak-- With a snarl, Marek jabbed the End button, cutting off his human servant's useless report.
There was no way in hell the Crimson lab was destroyed by chance or faulty utilities. This bit of infuriating news had the Order written all over it. The only thing that surprised him was that it had taken this long for his brother Lucan and the warriors who fought alongside him to make their move on the place. But then, Marek had been keeping them busy fighting Rogues in the streets since last summer.
Which was exactly where he wanted the Order's focus to remain.
Hold them off with one hand so the other could do the real work unnoticed and undisturbed.
It was the reason he'd come to Boston in the first place. The reason this particular city was experiencing an increased Rogue problem. All just part of his plan to create havoc while he pursued a bigger prize. If he could take out the warriors in the process, so much the better, but keeping them distracted would serve him just as well. Once his true goal was achieved, even the Order would be powerless against him.
And as much as the loss of the Crimson lab infuriated him, the even greater irritation was the fact that one of his other Minions had failed to report in as instructed. Marek was waiting on information--vital information--and his patience was thin even in the best of situations.
It didn't bode well that his Minion was late. The human he'd recruited for this particular job was volatile and arrogant, but he was also reliable. All Minions were. Drained to within a bare inch of life, the human mind slaves were under the complete control of the vampire who made them. Only the most powerful among the vampire race could create Minions, and Breed law had long prohibited the practice as barbaric.
Marek scoffed with contempt at the self- imposed, bureaucratic castration of his kind.
Just one more example of why the vampire realm was overdue for change. They needed strong new leadership to usher in a new age.
The new age that would belong to him.
Chapter Seven
He had pissed her off, probably hurt her, and even though an apology perched at the tip of his tongue most of the day, Tegan held it back. He had nothing to be sorry about, after all. He didn't owe the female anything, least of all explanations or excuses for why he came off like the callous bastard everyone knew him to be.
And he wasn't about to give so much as a second's consideration to her request that he help her bring her psychic gift to heel. She'd surprised him with the suggestion. The idea that any female, particularly a sheltered Darkhaven widow like her, would think to put herself in his care for any reason was beyond his comprehension. As if he could be trusted for something like that.
Yeah. Not fucking likely.
Elise made it easy for him to avoid the issue. In the hours since he'd shut her down, she hadn't uttered another word to him. She busied herself around the apartment, making up the futon, washing the breakfast dishes, dusting the bookshelves, going thirty minutes on the treadmill, and generally keeping as far away from him as seemed possible in the cramped quarters. He'd heard her in the shower a while ago and had allowed himself a few minutes' sleep where he sat on the floor, but the water was off now and he was awake, listening to Elise getting dressed behind the closed door. She came out in blue jeans and a hooded Harvard sweatshirt that fell halfway down her thighs. Her short blond hair was towel-dried and as shiny as gold, setting off the pale lavender of her eyes.
Eyes that slid to him in a chilly glare as she went to the closet in the hallway and pulled a white down vest off a hanger. She bent into the closet and took out a pair of tan suede boots.
What are you doing? Tegan asked her as she silently suited up for the outdoors.
I have to go out. She closed the closet door and zipped up the thick vest. You probably noticed my refrigerator is practically empty. I'm hungry. I need to eat, and I need to pick up a few things.
Tegan stood up, aware that he was scowling. The trance won't hold if you leave, you know.
Then I'll just have to try to manage without it.
Elise coolly walked over to the counter and picked up the MP3 player that lay there. She tucked the slim black case into the front pocket of her jeans, then threaded the earbuds under her sweatshirt and let them dangle down the front of her chest. She didn't pick up the blade that had been left on the counter from her Minion hunting of the night before, and Tegan didn't detect that she had any other weapons on her person either.
She wouldn't look at him as she pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head. I don't know how long I'll be. If you leave before I get back, I'd appreciate it if you locked up. I have my keys.
Damn it. She might be hungry like she said, but he could tell by the rigid line of her spine that the female had a point to prove here.
Elise, he said, moving toward her as she reached for the apartment door. If he wanted to stop her, all it would take was a thought. He knew it, and by the look on her face as she turned to look at him now, so did she. I know you're angry about what I said earlier, but it's the truth. You're in no shape to go on like this.
When he took another step, concluding he might as well tell her that he'd decided to turn her over to the Darkhaven for her own safety, she closed her hand around the doorknob and sharply twisted it open.
She couldn't have chosen a more effective weapon against him.
Bright afternoon sunlight streamed in from the vestibule and hall, driving Tegan back with a hiss. He leaped out of the path of the searing daylight, and from under the shielding arm he held up over his eyes, he watched as Elise's pointed stare held him and she calmly strode out, closing the door behind her.
Elise took her time walking to the corner market and shopping for a few basic groceries. With a small bag of items in hand, she strolled up the sidewalk, away from her neighborhood block. The chill air was bracing against her cheeks, but she needed the cold to help clear her head.
Tegan had been right about his trance wearing off once she was gone from her apartment. Beneath the audial grate of electric guitars and screaming rock lyrics pouring into her ears from Camden's iPod, she could feel the hum of voices, the acid growl of human corruption and abuse that was her constant companion since she'd embarked on this dark journey beyond the sanctuary of the Darkhavens.
She had to admit, Tegan's psychic intervention had been a welcome gift. Even though he'd infuriated her--insulted her--the hours she'd spent cocooned within the trance he'd put her under had been so very needed. The break had given her a chance to think, to focus, and in her mind's calm, under the spray of a long, hot shower, she remembered a specific detail about the Minion she'd hunted yesterday.
