Bloodlines (Demons of Oblivion) Page 5

  “Well, this is a dull bunch,” a gesture to the crowd, “isn’t it? A party of witches and I don’t think they have a single spell among them that would liven things up. Have you tried the wine?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “You’re best not to—even that was subpar. There are, however, some cinnamon squares on the dessert table that I highly recommend.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “James Andrew Lauder,” he introduced himself. He looked at me with some sort of expectation, as if I should recognize the name. I wasn’t familiar with it, and I didn’t know if I should pretend to be.

  I opted for cluelessness. “Should that mean something to me?” Faking knowledge would probably land me in a difficult situation at some point and I wanted the evening to run as smoothly as possible.

  “No, I suppose not.” His face softened, relaxing. Maybe he was well-known to the fellow guests and was relieved that I wasn’t with preconceived ideas about him.

  “I’m terribly sorry.” I tried to will some colour into my cheeks, faking a blush, but it didn’t work. Hope my tone is convincing—Christ, apologizing is difficult. “I’ve been traveling a lot and I haven’t been in these circles for a while.”

  “I completely understand—it’s unimportant, anyhow, all the ‘Who belongs to what coven’ that goes on at these sorts of things. O’Connor’s annual Look at How Much Money I Have gatherings serve no other purpose but to bolster his conviction that he’s better than the rest of us. I’m sure none of that matters to a beauty like you though, Miss...?”

  “Helene Walker.”

  “Ah.” He smiled, nodded, and unfortunately didn’t look as confused as O’Connor had. “Would that be the Walker coven in Florida?”

  Damn—where did that kid say they came from?

  “South Africa,” I corrected him and my smile didn’t falter once. If he started asking too many questions, though, I feared I wouldn’t be able to answer them for long. Then I’d have to lead him away and kill him, and I hate having to stash a body on someone else’s turf. “I don’t spend much time there—I’m in Europe, mainly. I’m distantly related by marriage only.” So don’t ask to see any parlor tricks.

  “I do hope not by yours,” he said with a grin.

  Smooth. I liked that. And I didn’t think for a second that a wedding ring would stop him.

  “Care to dance, Ms. Walker?”

  I glimpsed the clock from the corner of my eye. I still had some time to kill. Why the hell not? “Certainly.”

  Only a few other couples danced and all of them were near the string quartet, so that’s where we headed. I had a surprisingly good view of the rest of the room from my position. The four inches my high heels added to my height really helped with that.

  I surveyed the partygoers over James’ shoulder. Across the room, the elder O’Connor was speaking with several people. Spread out around him, no more than ten feet away, were three sets of two guards. They followed him as he moved from guest to guest, shifting fluidly like water, and every few minutes each would confirm all was well by speaking into the small black communication device pinned to the sleeves of their jackets.

  Jeez, it’s like they don’t trust O’Connor’s guests or something. Imagine that.

  With the looks the rest of the guests gave our host, it wouldn’t have surprised me if the party turned into a Tarantino movie right then and there; Mish’s parents definitely weren’t the only ones who wanted him dead. If I’d cared about witchy politics in the least, I probably could’ve gotten something out of James. But no, I didn’t give a damn.

  Across the room a plain black door was tucked into the wall; it opened and in walked Nathan O’Connor. The son. His hair was a bit shorter than it had been in the picture Mishka gave me, but I had no doubt it was the same man. The straight, hard-edged features could’ve made him ugly but somehow combined to create one pleasing face. Like magic. Though dressed in a black suit and black shirt, he had forgone the tie, and didn’t look pleased to be there: that lovely face was fused in a scowl. While James was cute, Nathan was drop-dead, head turning gorgeous. Scowly, but I could deal with that. Brooding looks bad on me—snarky and fun tends to bring out my eyes more—but I can take it in small doses in a guy.

  Perhaps I ought to try the seduction act after all. In the name of a job well done, of course.

  Nathan walked through the crowd without giving a second look to anyone and didn’t pause even when hailed by those who apparently knew him. He stopped near his father and spoke to one of the guards. If I focused enough, I would be able to drown out everyone else and hear what he was saying...

  “Helene?” James said, and I realized he had been talking to me while I watched my two targets.

  Stupid boy. I hate it when they talk without permission. “Yes?”

  “I asked you where you just came from.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t follow.” I tore my eyes from the O’Connors to look at him.

  “You said you’ve been in Europe. Where was the last place you visited?”

  “Oh...Spain.” With dismay, I noticed we were turning to the music and within moments my back was to Nathan and O’Connor Sr.

  “Really? I haven’t been there in ages. How did you enjoy it?”

  Goddamn it all, the last time I was in Spain was...oh, Christ...the nineteenth century. Why did I have to say Spain?

  “It was interesting,” I replied casually. Just a little war happening, if my memory is accurate.

  “You must have been there for the running of the bulls. Quite barbaric, is it not?”

  “Indeed.” By the time we had turned around again, neither of the O’Connors were anywhere to be seen. Damn!

  “Was there a big group of animal activists protesting in the nude as well?”

  “Uh huh.” If both of them were gone—and a few of Sean’s bodyguards—I would have really liked to know what was going on.

  “So do you want to get out of here?” James asked.

  “I’m sorry—what?” I said, annoyed that I had lost sight of the two men I planned to kill.

  “O’Connor has a lovely home here,” he said, raising a brow suggestively. “Perhaps we could take a tour? Just the two of us?”

  Deep breath. Stop being irritated and look at this new opportunity. I took one look at his lopsided grin and smiled, genuinely. The other guests wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, and seeing the mansion firsthand would really come in handy in a hurry. Plus, James? Totally hot. And if it got boring, I could have a snack.

  More importantly, it would be easier to sneak around the house if I could pretend I was a ditzy chick looking for a room with a playboy.

  “Why not?” I gestured toward the door. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter Six

  Decapitation is No Laughing Matter

  We managed to avoid running into any security, and by the time we reached the second floor, I had young Mr. Lauder partially undressed. I was glad there were no cameras monitoring the hallways, else I might end up in the latest internet porno video. That isn’t something a vampire assassin who wishes to keep a low profile wants for herself.

  “You are over eighteen, right?” he mumbled as I yanked his shirt loose from his pants.

  Honey, you have no idea. “Like way over.” I kissed him hungrily and pushed his head back so I could follow his throat with my lips. My mouth hovered there over his pulse, the gentle thrum like hummingbird wings against my tongue. Heat suffused my cheeks and gums ached as the change started, little pinpricks giving the telltale sign my fangs were growing...

  I forced the change back. Later...I’d have just a taste later...

  I came back to his lips and my head swirled as his tongue swept past mine, tasting vaguely of cinnamon. His body was warm—so much so, that I imagined I felt cold in comparison, even though I had fed only days ago. I craved that warmth...knowing it, being a part of it.

  He didn’t seem to notice any difference in my body temperatu
re though. Or, if he did, he didn’t give a damn. His fingers ran up my arms, over my shoulders, to my neck, and through my hair...

  The lock picks!

  I grabbed his wrists and guided his hands back to my shoulders.

  “Don’t touch the hair,” I advised him.

  Okay, so I was getting a little distracted. I had considered seducing Nathan and I ended up with James. Well...all right, James was doing some seducing of his own. I guess it was a mutual seduction.

  “There should be some rooms around here.” He started trying doorknobs as we stumbled down the hall.

  “You’re sure we should be taking advantage of our host’s hospitality like this?” I tore off his jacket, which I think lessened the believability of my concern.

  We fell against a door and it flew open under our weight as he turned the knob.

  “He should have locked the doors,” he said with a grin, and kicked the door shut once we were in the room.

  He took me in his arms, lifted me off the ground, and carried me blindly in the dark. We tumbled onto the bed—

  And I froze.

  “What’s—” he began, but I slammed my hand over his mouth, wincing as I hoped the force wasn’t enough to decapitate him. It would be really messy—I had done that once before. Well...twice.

  He tried to speak again, but I hissed for him to be quiet.

  My “Spidey Sense” was tingling. Sure, my senses were vampire-y, but “Spidey” just sounded better. Whatever the sense was called, something was definitely tingling, and it had little to do with the attractive man undressing me.

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway. James moved my hand away and we slowly sat up to listen.

  Another set of footfalls followed. Heavy, thumping. Male. A pair of low voices rumbled. If I listened closely—

  “Why would she come when she knows how you feel about her?” one of the men demanded.

  “I told you she would be welcome, yet she didn’t have the decency to show. That is your problem, not mine...”

  A door slammed, and that was the end of the conversation.

  Who “she” was had me curious. Could that have been the O’Connors? Who else would be wandering around the upper level of the house? Besides guests getting naked, of course.

  The interruption was enough to remind me why I was there in the first place. I had to quickly rob and murder a couple of warlocks. No pretending otherwise. But here was James, all rumpled and adorable...

  When faced with a choice between a really cute guy and money—and you’ve got three hundred years of perspective—you remember what’s truly important in life.

  I hopped off James and started for the door. Attractive men always end up aging poorly anyway.

  “You know, now that I think about it, maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I said. “I really am sorry—”

  “It’s quite all right,” he assured me as he followed. “I understand completely. We are his guests, after all.”

  “Exactly,” I agreed, glad that he wouldn’t push further. If he didn’t take “Sorry, but no,” as an answer, I would have to kill him, and that would be a shame.

  I eased open the door and held back, listening. No sound of anyone in the hallway, and as I stuck my head out to look, I didn’t see people either.

  “All clear?” he asked, and I turned to see his state of dress had basically returned to what it was prior to our reaching the upstairs.

  “Looks to be.” I slid through the doorway first; James followed. We crept down the corridor, the burgundy carpet runner along the floor muffling my heels. I tried to lag behind him so I could slip into another room and remain upstairs while the party ended, but to my dismay, James stayed at my side. Ugh. I hated clingy.

  “You know, I think I’d like to stop in the powder room.” So go away. “There must be one around here somewhere.”

  “Would you like me to help you find—”

  “No, thank you. I’m sure I can manage. You go on back downstairs, and perhaps we can finish this up after the party.” I smiled as sweetly as I could and prayed he would just go away so I could start stealing.

  “Yes, I’ll definitely look for you, darling.” He leaned over to kiss me once more.

  Perspective, Zara, perspective... I turned my head, dodging his kiss so he only managed a peck, and then I turned in the opposite direction of the main staircase. One step, two step, three step... I glanced back. He was gone.

  I took a few minutes to gather my thoughts. So where the hell was I? Probably the row of bedrooms and private family quarters.

  So there should be an official office, study, and library around here somewhere. I doubted I would find O’Connor’s safe, but there would probably be several other items of value.

  I skipped the office and went straight for the study. I kept the lights off as to avoid anyone spotting me from the outside, instead relying on my sharp, vampire night vision. It certainly came in handy sometimes. Or at least the times I couldn’t manage to sneak in a penlight in my cleavage.

  Once I had the two nylon bags out and unfolded, I rifled through the shelves, taking the marble, platinum, gold, and jewel encrusted pieces that adorned the place. I didn’t do art collecting or any of that crap—had no talent for spotting those kinds of valuables—but I could usually tell a cheap knockoff from the real thing. Expensive shit was usually uglier than fuck, so I snatched the hideous pieces that would fit in my bags. With the room bare of anything of significant value that was small enough to carry, I pulled the picks and tension wrench from my hair and went to work on the desk drawers and locked cabinets.

  I slung the first full pack onto my back by the thin—but sturdy—straps attached to it, and exited the room. Six rooms down the hall and... I paused at the sixth door at the back of the house and tried the knob.

  Locked.

  I got out my picks again, and just as I was sliding the tension wrench into place, voices sounded at the other end of the hallway.

  Shit. I bolted toward the next door and slipped inside before whoever was coming could see me.

  “What are you doing?”

  The hard voice sent a fresh chill wiggling along my spine. I turned to see Sean O’Connor himself standing by his office desk, file folder poised in his hand. Behind him, his wall safe lay wide open. I grinned. Two birds, one really strong, fast, deadly stone. Sweet.

  “Can you believe I got completely lost?” I giggled. “You should probably, like, hand maps out at the door or something.”

  “You aren’t supposed to be up here.” His voice was smooth and cold; it might have scared another person into backing out of the room immediately. Not me, however.

  “I know, it’s not very polite of me,” I admitted. “But, see, there’s this really big stack of bonds and cash and stuff in that safe behind you, and I would very much like to have it. There’s a Porsche I’ve been eyeing for the past few months, and that bit of extra cash there would definitely be a big help.”

  “I don’t think so,” O’Connor replied with a glare.

  “No? You’re sure?”

  He reached over and slammed the safe door shut.

  “Damn. I guess I’ll just have to crack it open after I’ve killed you.”

  “Several guards are on their way up,” he warned.

  My eyes lit up. “Really? Several? More money for me, I suppose.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Zara Lain. Expert thief and assassin extraordinaire, at your service. Well, I’m not really at your service. You see, I’ll be killing you now.”

  “No, I don’t believe that you will.”

  I rocked on my feet, muscles tensing. My strappy sandals were cute and all but I probably should’ve slipped them off in the other room; stilettos look hot but even awesome vampire chicks have trouble fighting in them.

  I made note of the exits in my peripheral vision. Besides the one behind me, there was one other—a door to his left. I was turned around some, but it led to a bedroom if my bluepri
nts were correct. And if that was his safe behind him, this was his office, and the bedroom would be his too.

  He could’ve run for it. Most humans would and I prepped to dart for the door to intercept him.

  Instead he muttered a few words of a spell.

  The huge, wingback chair beside him lifted off the ground.

  Telekinesis spells. Great.

  Dark blue velvet and cherry wood flew over the desk, spinning once, and then shot toward me at an alarming speed.

  With one punch, I smashed it in two; the pieces fell on either side of me. I flexed my fingers and blood curled around my knuckles, wounds already healing.

  The next incantation hurled books, framed photos, and every other small item from around the room at me. He’d run out of stuff eventually, but I had to move fast. I dodged what I could, raced across the room toward him.

  A heavy, four drawer filing cabinet met me head on, crashing into my chest and nicking my chin; it threw me back against the far wall. The lock picks, still in one hand, scattered across the floor, and the crack behind me suggested a few of the stolen valuables in my pack hadn’t survived.

  Either that or it was one of my ribs, but I’d probably have felt that.

  The steel cabinet came barreling toward me once more. I rolled across the floor, barely missing its path when it rammed into the wall and embedded itself into the door and part of the drywall.

  O’Connor was pretty feisty for such an old guy, but there were only so many things he could throw at me. I leapt to my feet and dove for him.

  He tossed me back again, this time with sheer force of magic. Goddamn fucking telekinesis spells—

  Something tightened around my throat.

  I reached for my neck, fingers clawing—realized it was my own hair strangling me. That really didn’t concern me at first, as I didn’t require oxygen, but after a few moments of it constricting, O’Connor’s intentions became clear. He meant to remove my lovely head completely.

  And unlike a knife wound in the gut, that was one sure way of killing a vampire.