The Collector stopped. “I will not continue to ignore your temper, child. Do not push me for I am in a most foul mood.”
“As am I.” Aphrodite’s eyes bled to black. She lifted her hand as if reaching for something in front of her. “I see your fear. I can almost taste it.” She closed her fist. “Are you afraid of me, Collector? Or of your schemes unraveling?”
Aphrodite’s power surged through the room. It burst from her like an alpha-pulse, crashing over the vampires present and feeling oh so familiar. It called to me. Called to my energy. But no, my first impression was wrong. The power was nothing like an alpha-pulse. The energy filling the room didn’t resonate of Firth. It was all vampire. She’s a mezmer.
And so was I.
I felt my pupils expand and knew my eyes turned vampblack.
I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it. My ability rose to the surface, answering her surge of energy.
Where a moment before it had looked like Aphrodite gestured in empty air, I now saw the thin yellow strand of emotion that had trailed in the Collector’s wake. Aphrodite tightened her grip on the thread, and her power filled the room. The sickly yellow line grew thicker, knotted around the Collector’s torso.
Fear.
I knew it. I could almost taste the sourness of it. Aphrodite threw more power into the strand, and the Collector sagged, the fear constricting like a giant serpent.
“Yield to me,” Aphrodite commanded, binding the words, her will, with the tendril.
“You’re a fool.” The Collector’s voice caught on the edge of panic, feeding the fear around her, but her eyes went wide, wild. And vampire black.
A glimmer of yellow circled Aphrodite, her own fear rising to the surface. But, she didn’t release the Collector’s strand.
The air turned thick with power. Vampires backed away, yellow fear dripping like sweat from their bodies. Nathanial tugged my shoulders, but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away. I held my breath. Watching.
Aphrodite screamed. A black tendril of rage reached for the Collector, fueling Aphrodite’s power.
It wasn’t enough.
“To your knees,” the Collector commanded, her voice soft but full of steel.
Aphrodite’s struggle splashed in a dozen colors around her.
Her muscles locked, her teeth gritting as she fought the command.
She lost.
Her knees collapsed beneath her. Darkness spilled from her, until I couldn’t see her blond hair beneath it. The tendril of fear slipped from her fingers and shrank, vanishing.
Aphrodite’s hands sank to the floor by her knees. Her head hung downward, her eyes on the thick carpet.
“Good. Now, stay like that. Edlin, Alion,” the Collector said, turning to the twins. “Compile a list of vampires suitable to take over as the new Master of Demur.” Then, without another word, the Collector stormed out of the room.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Stunned silence followed in the Collector’s wake. Aphrodite remained pressed to the floor, stuck, unable to disobey. A duel of wills. And she’d lost.
Her remaining council looked around, clearly uncertain where they fell. The master of their city had just been dethroned. Will they scatter, or climb over their fallen? None seemed certain as they milled about. Several excused themselves. The only thing all the vamps appeared to agree on was that none would help Aphrodite.
Nathanial’s arm slid around my shoulders, tugging me toward one corner. I hesitated at his touch but let him lead me out of the center of the room. The need to move, to pace pressed on me. Made my skin itch.
Maybe I can just… I froze, realizing I was looking for the easiest way out. I didn’t need to pace. Damn, Avin’s call.
Wrapping my arms around my chest, I leaned on the wall next to Nathanial and concentrated on being still. If I could ignore the burning need to move, maybe he’d call back later—like next lifetime. Yeah, and maybe I’m a Labrador. If I didn’t respond to his urge to move, he’d send pain. I knew he would. I could already feel small pinches of fire, like a dozen burning ants crawled over my arms. It was only a matter of time before his patience waned.
I rocked from my heels to my toes, looking around the room, searching for a distraction. The Twins sat on the love seat, reading a newspaper. They were close enough—and my eyesight was good enough—that I could read the headlines from where I was standing. Unfortunately, they were sharing the sports section. Basketball scores couldn’t hold my attention. My gaze moved on.
The rest of the newspaper sat on the coffee table in front of the twins. The angle was awkward, but I could just make out the headline Morgan Heir Found Slain.
Oh no. I pushed off the wall. I wasn’t sure how many heirs Demur boasted, but I’d met a Morgan last night. Snatching the paper off the coffee table, I stared at the vaguely familiar face smiling from the photograph dominating the front page.
Justin Morgan.
I skimmed the article, dread growing in my stomach with each word. Morgan was last seen leaving a symphony with a young woman in her early twenties with tri-colored hair. Crap.
Authorities were searching for any further information, and a hefty reward was being offered for any tips that led to the arrest of any persons involved in Morgan’s death.
The article continued on another page, and I flipped to it.
The second page included more information about the man, his family, and his life. No details on his death. I closed the paper and folded it. Morgan’s face smiled up at me from above the fold.
You were alive when you ran from that alley.
So what happened after that?
I tossed the paper on the table. The desire to move was nearly a tangible force around me. And not only because of Avin’s summoning now. I wrapped my arms over my chest and forced my legs still, my feet planted.
I was so intent on keeping myself together, I barely noticed when a pair of small hands picked up the discarded newspaper.
Elizabeth made a soft sound in her throat. “Wasn’t this the man you left the gala with?”
Her face was earnest, but her tone betrayed the fact the question was fake. She knew damn well that I’d left with Morgan.
The twins, arguably the highest-ranking vampires in the room now that the Collector and the Traveler were gone, and with Aphrodite prostrate under a dominance command, took the paper from Elizabeth. They scanned the article, and then looked up. Four brown eyes evaluated me.
“What do you think?” Edlin or maybe it was Alion—I didn’t know which—asked.
The question wasn’t directed toward me.
His brother shrugged. “Early twenties with tri-colored hair? I say we confine Kita to her room until the Collector can determine her guilt.”
Crap. And now I was accused of murder.
* * * *
I paced the narrow area between the bed and the French doors, my fingers rubbing my bare arms. Avin’s call was growing worse, but I had plenty else to concentrate on. How did Morgan die?
Would Avin have tracked him after I left? But why would he? He couldn’t use the body, and if Justin had been “found slain” there was definitely a body.
But what’s the likelihood he’s a random victim and I just happened to have the bad luck of being the last person seen with him while he was alive? I had a black cat’s luck, but really, this latest bombshell was too much. And there are too many bodies.
The General’s head showing up on a silver platter proved that whoever had been killing in Haven had traveled to Demur with us. And I know someone with plenty of venom and a nice sharp sword. The question was, could I prove Akane was behind the killings? And does she have help?
Luna had been drained. That indicated a vampire was involved. I frowned, picking up my pace. I needed out of this room. A closer look—and sniff—of the General’s head would be useful. Maybe I’d find something that would prove who’d killed him. Hell, too bad I couldn’t call in Bobby, or better yet Degan. With his nose, Degan probably could find the General’s body. According to the guards, the General’s powers revolved around healing. He was supposed to be nearly indestructible unless he was dismembered and his parts scattered. Maybe if we could locate his body and get his head back on, he could tell us what happened to him. Not a lot we could do while he was just a head.
I stopped.
I did know someone who could make a head talk. Avin. Of course, I still owed him for the last skull he’d animated—and I had no intention of paying him. He wasn’t likely to help me out of the goodness of his dead, non-beating heart.
I paced faster. The Collector was on edge over the murders. What would she give to find the murderer? Would she grant Nathanial and me our freedom? Would she give him Demur? Would he even want that? At least it would solve our Tatius issue. But can he hold a city?
I had no idea.
I glanced at him. While I couldn’t stay still, Nathanial had gone to near statue mode. He sat in the armchair in the corner, his nose in a book. He didn’t look up as I studied him.
Actually, he hadn’t looked at me since we’d reached the room.
I should have been thankful, I suppose. He wasn’t pushing me. He was giving me space. But I knew, from being in his thoughts, he was afraid I was going to run.
And I didn’t know what to tell him.
Not at all. I didn’t even know what I felt. And right now, I was too anxious to figure it out.
A large portion of that anxiety was Avin’s spell, I knew that, but the knowledge didn’t make it any easier to ignore.
Instead it pissed me off, made me want to bust my way through the wall, or fight the vamps for my freedom. Not that either was an acceptable option.
Something crashed in the bathroom, followed by a familiar yelp. I froze. In what felt like slow motion, I turned toward the door and my guards. They were staring at me, having obviously heard the commotion. I hitched my shoulders and flashed them a sheepish smile. They glanced at each other, and Ronco shook his head before they both turned back around. Thank the moon.
I didn’t run across the room, not quite, at least. I forced myself to slow before I reached the bathroom.