Stitching the Talisman (Kali James Book 3), page 16
His lips curved. “You surprised me wandering into my domain like a lamb to the slaughter.”
I stiffened.
“If not for your bodyguard, we may have chatted sooner.”
I wondered if he had been inside the house, watching us through the first-floor window just as he had watched my grandmother all those years ago.
“I decided it better to bide my time so we could have a one-on-one chat.” Seeing my dawning understanding that—somehow—he had been watching and waiting for the opportunity to take me, his smile widened. “I have eyes and ears everywhere, you know.” He leaned closer. “Even at the Compound.”
I thought back to the camera in the room where I interviewed Naomi and wondered if Aleksei was the one who told him. Even though I didn’t trust Aleksei, I didn’t want to think he worked for this man. More likely, one of the vamps who had been in the room where I questioned Naomi tipped Ratcliff off.
I ignored his last proclamation, unwilling to stroke his ego. “And here we are.” I reached inside my purse for the photos, but Ratcliff stopped me with a sharp shake of his head. “Not here.”
When I’d gotten in the car, I’d hoped to have our chat while driving around the block. Obviously, that had been wishful thinking. The longer we drove, the more my heart raced and my breathing shallowed. Before the panic could overtake me, soft wings stirred against my breast. My skin warmed where my tattoo was etched, which I found oddly comforting. The magic swelled within me, the tattoo calling to it. Whatever residual magic existed in the tattoo bound the crow and me together, and it lent me strength. My senses were sharper than normal, bringing me sights and sounds from distances beyond those of a human. I silently gave thanks for sketchy tattoo artists and magical ink, even if I didn’t understand how it worked.
I had no doubt Craig would find a way to neutralize the threat to Riley and come for me. But it would take him awhile to find me and even longer to get past the horde of vampires someone like Ratcliff surrounded himself with. For now, I was on my own.
According to Meira, I would one day be able to control vampires. While I could sometimes break a vampire compulsion and occasionally locate the human soul within a vampire, so far, that was as close as I got. As I sat across from Ratcliff, I wondered if my new tattoo might give me the power boost I needed. Because there was no time like the present to take it for a test run, I snapped my focus to the spiritual plane and searched for the soul that Ratcliff ruthlessly repressed. Spotting the barest glimpse of a human soul coiled inside him, I reached for it, ready to hold on to it like a puppet string. Before I could make contact, a barrier slammed into place, locking me out.
“Are you really so arrogant you think you can control a master vampire?” His laugh was throaty and good natured. His eyes told a different story.
The car slowed to a stop, and I looked out my window. My grandmother’s photos hadn’t done the master vampire’s home justice. In person, it was more beautiful for the worn edges, the crumbling stone steps, and the note of decay it wore like a warning. The car stopped mere feet from the back entrance. Here, there were no prying eyes. While I’d been nervous crammed in the backseat with Ratcliff, the idea of stepping foot in his home amplified my fear.
The driver opened my door and extended a hand to help me out like a gentleman. I found it difficult to reconcile the veneer of politeness vampires seemed to embrace with the violence and darkness residing within them. I ignored his hand and climbed out on my own.
Ratcliff got out behind me, his eyes blown red and the compulsion rolling off his tongue before I could brace for it. “Come,” he demanded.
I fought against his hold. Unfortunately, by the time I broke free, we were already inside.
Wallace Ratcliff led me to his front parlor like a Victorian spinster. “Welcome to my home.” He stood far too close to me for my comfort.
I quickly assessed the threats in the room. Two vampires behind me and one very dangerous master vampire next to me. Using my budding necromancer skills was out. While I was confident I could yank the souls out of the two vampires at my back, I’d already tried and failed to control Ratcliff. And three against one wouldn’t be good odds even for a skilled supernatural fighter. While I was physically stronger than I had been a year ago, I wouldn’t be winning cage matches against vampires any time soon. There would be no fighting my way out of this one. I hated being weak in a world dominated by the strong.
Ratcliff watched with amusement as I catalogued potential escape routes. “Why is it you came looking for me, Ms. James?”
I reached into my purse for the photographs and held up the one of his house. “My grandmother took this photo almost ten years ago. Do you remember her?”
He didn’t glance at the photo. “Who is your grandmother?”
“Dottie Barron,” I said.
“I have no recollection of anyone by that name.”
I dug in my wallet until I found the old photo I carried of my grandmother, Claire, and me. As I held it up for Ratcliff’s inspection, I watched him carefully for signs of recognition, but he was impassive. I pointed to my grandmother. “Do you remember seeing this woman?”
“She hardly looks like the kind of woman I associate with.” It wasn’t a denial as much as a dodge. He returned his gaze to me, but after his earlier compulsion, I made sure to look anywhere but his eyes.
I flipped through the stack of photos, stopping on the closeup of Claire’s killer. “Who is this man?”
Even if Ratcliff was telling the truth about not knowing my grandmother, his gaze lingered too long on the man’s face for him to be a stranger. “Did you really come here to show me your photo collection?”
“I need to know his name.”
“I’ll answer your question if you answer mine,” he challenged.
“Deal. What’s your question?”
“You’re quite the unusual necromancer, Ms. James. I have it on good authority you have a remarkable skill set.”
I weighed which response was less likely to get me killed and went with the truth. “So I am told.”
“Rumor has it you briefly hosted a powerful demon before somehow managing to expel him from your body. Is that true?” Ratcliff’s voice was rife with skepticism.
“It’s true.” I lifted the photo of the man’s face again, putting it in Ratcliff’s line of sight. “Now I’ve answered the question, so it’s your turn. Who is this man?”
“He’s no one of consequence,” Ratcliff said.
“He is to me.”
“And why would a guest in my home ten years ago be of interest to a woman like you?” he asked.
“He killed my sister.”
Ratcliff tsked. “Such messy business.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, the tinge of pain a distraction from the urge to attack him. “I’d like his name.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you, there.” He brushed it off as if it were an inconsequential thing.
Another vampire walked into the room, interrupting us before I could press further. “I’m tired of waiting.” She didn’t specify what exactly she was waiting for, but she ran her tongue across the tip of her fang when she caught me looking.
She was as tall as the master vampire and reed thin, but unlike her master, there was nothing angelic about her. If not for her flushed cheeks, rabid smile, and eyes that hinted insanity, she might have passed for pretty. However, I found it impossible to see beyond the crazed predator circling me.
The vampire stepped behind me and tilted her head, so she was inches from my throat. Although the urge to step away was strong, I didn’t move. Everything with a vampire was a head game. I held my ground.
“Kenzie, would you escort our guest to the dining room?”
There were a lot of ways I would have liked to spend the next hour—almost all of them resulting in Ratcliff losing his head—but a dinner party wasn’t among them. “I’m not hungry.”
His smile was predatory. “Oh, but I am.”
My heart raced, as he’d probably intended. Kenzie stared at the pulse in my neck as if hypnotized. Before I could react, she leaned down and swiped her tongue up the side of my throat. I jumped and put some distance between us, wiping my neck with the collar of my shirt. “Gross. What is wrong with you?”
She clapped her hands in my face. “Run along, then. You don’t want to be late.” She glided to the other side of the room, opening a set of pocket doors to reveal a formal dining room.
When I didn’t immediately follow, it earned me a jab to the kidney from one of the vampires behind me.
“We can continue our conversation over dinner,” Ratcliff said.
I didn’t believe he had any intention of giving me the name I came here for, but outnumbered as I was, I didn’t have much choice. Because the last thing I wanted to do was turn my back on a master vampire, I edged toward Kenzie without letting him out of my sight. Ratcliff seemed to find me endlessly amusing.
I didn’t get a good view of the formal dining room until I was poised at the entrance. A long wooden table stretched the expanse of the large room. At least a dozen chairs around it were occupied. I was guessing they were all vamps. In the time I’d been in the house, I hadn’t heard a sound to indicate this room was anything but empty. Even as I stepped inside, the room was unnaturally silent. The vampires’ stillness was so complete, it was as if they were carved of wood rather than born flesh and blood. As one, a dozen pair of red-ringed eyes turned to look at me. Kenzie skipped to an empty seat. When she sat, her face blanked, and her body mirrored the stillness of the others.
I took an involuntary step back, but Ratcliff stood behind me blocking my exit. He cupped a hand beneath my elbow and propelled me toward the only remaining seat. When we reached the head of the table, he forced me into the chair.
The table was set for a feast, laden with fine China, polished silver, and crystal goblets. In the center of each place setting, a crimson napkin was folded to resemble a lotus flower. However, there was no trace of food or wine anywhere, and no scent of cooking hung in the air. Near the head of the table was a single bone-handled knife, the kind more likely to be used to slice through a human vein than to cut up a steak.
The master vampire placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. With his free hand, he reached around me for the nearest goblet and raised it in the air. “Soon, we will break our fast together. But first, if you will all humor me, I have some questions for our guest.”
No one moved. It was like sitting at a table of creepy-ass dolls, their blank faces inspiring more terror than bared fangs ever could. To avoid the unnerving stares of the vampires seated around me, I kept my gaze fixed on a divot in the wall. Slightly larger than a fist, I wondered if the divot had come from a head slamming against the wall.
Ratcliff leaned into my chair, his voice close to my ear when he spoke. “How is it possible, Ms. James, that you expelled a demon?”
I shrugged, gauging the distance to the bone-handled knife. “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully.
“And Zepar, no less,” he marveled. “May I see his mark?”
“Why?” I asked suspiciously.
“Call it curiosity, if you will.”
Feeling the stirring of wings on my skin, I brushed my shirt aside. “His mark is beneath this tattoo.”
Ratcliff stepped in front of me, examining the crows far longer than I would have preferred. When he looked up, his eyes were wary—not the reaction I’d expected at all.
“What are you going to do with me?”
“That’s a good question.” He tapped a finger against the crystal goblet he still held. “I’d planned to cut your throat, tap your vein, and then toast to eliminating the threat to our continued survival with a glass of your blood.”
I’d hardly categorize the possibility I could one day compel vampires as a threat, but Ratcliff was serious. The crow began to stir, the connection between my magic and that of my tattoo flared to life. Whatever this magic was, my fear slid away, and in its place settled a cold determination to become the threat he feared.
I went for the knife, but Ratcliff anticipated my move. He forced my hand flat and embedded the knife between my fingers, my hand pinned like a butterfly to his table. I hissed in pain.
He kept his hand on top of the knife. “Now, I think I will keep you for a while, lest you prove useful.”
The tattoo pumped me full of adrenaline until the knife in my hand felt no worse than a paper cut. I smiled at him, meeting his gaze. He tried to compel me, but nothing happened. He took a step back, letting go of the knife. I smiled wider, grasped the handle of the knife and yanked it from my hand.
Before I had time to bury it in his eye, the sound of glass breaking drew my attention. It was the only warning before figures in head-to-toe black surrounded the table, a familiar face the last to join us. Aleksei leaned against the door frame, still dressed in his tailored suit.
At the sight of Aleksei, my magic receded, the crows settling back into flat ink against my skin. The pain now radiating from the stab wound had me clutching my hand and gasping.
Ratcliff stepped closer to Aleksei. “You dare too much.” Ratcliff’s fangs dropped from his gums as he hissed the warning.
Kenzie tipped her chair back, forcing the man behind her to step back to avoid the crash. She latched onto his thigh in an instant, grinning around the blood pouring from the wound. The man swung the baton, connecting with the back of her head, but she held fast.
When he raised it for another blow, Ratcliff snapped, “Enough.” The man stilled his hand for a second, and Kenzie grudgingly removed her fangs from the leg she had been gnawing on.
Throughout all of it, Aleksei appeared unconcerned. “We’ve come for the girl.”
“On what authority?” Ratcliff demanded.
I scanned behind him, expecting Craig to be there, but there was no sign of him.
“She is under the protection of the Enclave and is not to be touched.”
The angelic mask Ratcliff wore slipped, the demon visible in his rage. “Since when?” he ground out, eyeing me like a rare steak.
“Since Zepar tried to possess her.” Aleksei sounded bored.
No one was more shocked by that pronouncement than me. How could I have been under some kind of protection order for over a month and not known it?
Before Ratcliff could question him further, Aleksei brushed a piece of lint off his sleeve. “That’s all you need to know, Ratcliff. Anything else is above my pay grade.”
Ratcliff slammed his goblet on the table, shattering the crystal, then stormed out of the room.
Aleksei looked at me and snapped his fingers. “Come.”
I reared my head back. “Are you serious?” Even if he had just saved my ass, I didn’t appreciate being called to heel like a pet dog.
Aleksei turned for the door. “We should leave before he decides against graciously accepting my authority on the matter.”
Unwilling to leave any of my blood at Ratcliff’s table, I wiped the bloody knife on my pant leg and tossed it on the table. On shaky legs, I followed Aleksei Volkov out of the vampire’s domain before Ratcliff had a change of heart and decided to put me back on the menu.
CHAPTER 18
Jackassery must be genetic because Aleksei refused to answer even the most basic questions on the drive to the airport. It was a long drive though, and I continued firing questions at him, hoping to wear him down. I never did.
When we arrived, he deposited me curbside with a business card tucked into my purse and a cryptic message that Craig would be back to collect me, like I was a forgotten piece of luggage. It was petty, but I flipped off his car as it merged into traffic.
Before I had a chance to text Riley and Craig to let them know I was here, I spotted Craig walking toward me. Worry lined his face, and as soon as he reached me, he scanned me from head to toe, checking for injuries. He paused at the white gauze Aleksei had wrapped around my injured hand.
Aleksei had assured me there wouldn’t be any permanent damage, even if it did hurt like a sonofabitch. “I’m fine.”
“That makes one of us,” Craig said.
Most men I knew made a big production out of their anger—all bluster and aggressive body language. Craig wore his anger like armor. And from the rigid way he held himself as he unwrapped my hand, he was madder than I’d ever seen him.
“Stab wound.” There was no trace of sympathy in his pronouncement.
I tried to make light of it. “Nothing a couple painkillers won’t solve.”
“We need to go.”
I turned toward the airport terminal, but Craig’s hand on my arm stopped me. “We’ll be flying without the plane.”
It wouldn’t be the first time he’d taken me up in the sky, but flying from Romania to KC? I followed him as he hailed a taxi. “Where are Riley and Volkov?”
“We thought it best to get the plane out of Bucharest.” Craig opened the door for me. “And you and I need to have a conversation about what just happened.”
I climbed into the back of the taxi. “You’re flying us the whole way home?” How is that even possible?
Craig slid in beside me and gave the driver directions before answering. “Not quite. I’ll get us to the private airfield where Max had the plane land.”
The taxi dropped us outside of the city, which meant the trip cost a ridiculous sum. By the time the taillights disappeared, it was almost dusk.
Craig turned to me. “We’ll wait for the cover of night to leave.” He wouldn’t look at me as he headed for some flat ground near a grove of trees. “Sit.”
I sank to the ground without argument, resting my back against one of the trees. He lowered himself to the ground across from me, bracing against another tree. I started to tell him what happened, but he cut me off with a look. I waited, not sure what to say anyway.
Craig studied my face, his eyes dipping back down to my hand. “Why did you get in that car?”
