Midnight Labyrinth: An Elemental Legacy Novel Page 5

  “She was upset.”

  “Ben.” Chloe put her arm around him and steered him toward the front doors. “She would have made sure you had it if she was interested. Stop. She ditched you. It happens.”

  “Not to me.”

  Chloe laughed. “Well, it looks like I was present for yet another first.”

  Ben pouted. “This one wasn’t as fun as the other firsts.”

  “Speak for yourself, Romeo.”

  “Hey!”

  Chloe kept walking. “Just drive me home, Ben. I’m dead on my feet. Plus, if I get in too late, Tom will have a fit.”

  “Hmmm.” Ben took Chloe’s hand and escorted her to the door, thoughts of Emilie, the Labyrinth paintings, and Nazis mixing with a sneaking suspicion in his gut that something about Chloe and Tom’s relationship was very, very wrong.

  4

  She hovered behind the water tank on the building across the alley, hiding in the shadows as she watched him. The crystal-blue pool glowed in the darkness, and sleek modern furniture surrounded it. There was a bar and a pool house on the roof, and music poured from discreet speakers placed around the pool. It was the perfect setup for a party, but Gavin Wallace was only entertaining one human woman.

  Entertaining might have been too strong a word.

  Gavin was bored. He carried the look of a vampire who’d been alive long enough to try everything he’d always thought he wanted in his mortal life and found eternity wanting. The only thing particularly admirable about him in Tenzin’s eyes was that Gavin was Scottish and cursed with great imagination and vigor. He was also conventionally handsome and very self-assured. She imagined human women were probably attracted to him even without the use of amnis to lure them.

  But in Tenzin’s eyes, he was an adolescent. He was a wind vampire like her, but he’d only started flying a few years before. She knew nothing about his origins, nor was she interested. She was stalking Gavin for one reason only: he was a friend of Benjamin’s.

  She flew closer, enjoying the cool night air above the sweltering concrete gorges of the city. Tenzin didn’t care for cities, but she’d come to terms with New York. Unlike Los Angeles, New York was vertical. It was possible to fly above human notice in Manhattan. In a single leap, she could vault over traffic and the noise of modernity and be in the clouds. In minutes, she could be over the ocean.

  Yes, New York suited her much better than Los Angeles.

  She landed in the shadow of the pool house and allowed her amnis to spread, infusing the air with her scent and presence.

  Gavin’s hand paused kneading the woman’s hips and his eyes lit with interest. “Leave,” he said quietly.

  The human woman was incredulous. “What?”

  Gavin moved her off his lap and stood, zipping his trousers and tossing her a towel. “Leave.” He watched while she wrapped the towel around herself. “You’re amusing, but there’s something I need to attend to. Veronica will call a car for you downstairs.”

  The woman pouted, and Tenzin wondered if she’d had one of the modern surgeries to enlarge her lips. Modern masks were endlessly fascinating. Cosmetics had reached new levels of sophistication, and body modification was accomplished so subtly that most times Tenzin could hardly detect it.

  Humans had always modified their appearance; vampires could not. Tenzin had no idea how old she was in mortal or immortal years, but to most people, she probably appeared to be in her late teens or perhaps her early twenties. Her friend Beatrice told her Tenzin’s age depended on her hair. Longer hair made her younger-looking. Shorter hair made her older.

  Fascinating.

  The woman with the enlarged lips was delaying her departure from Gavin’s roof. She stomped around dramatically, angling for his attention. It didn’t matter; he’d spotted Tenzin in the shadows and was staring at her, his hands hanging casually in his pockets.

  She could feel the tension coming from him.

  The human finally departed the roof with some parting shot about how Gavin was missing something.

  Ridiculous. The human hadn’t made any particular impression on Tenzin. She doubted Gavin would miss her. He was an adolescent, still seeking stimulation by pushing boundaries and seeking experience. Of course, if he was going to survive past his next century without walking into the sun, he’d have to adjust his perspective.

  “What are you doing here?” Gavin said.

  “Watching you.” Tenzin walked out of the shadows, and Gavin’s amnis spiked the air. She paused in her approach. “You don’t currently have anything to fear from me.”

  “Currently being the operative word. Hello, Tenzin.”

  “As long as you have no plans to betray or take advantage of any of my people, we have no quarrel.”

  “Your people?”

  “Benjamin. Beatrice. Giovanni. My sire.” There were various secondary connections springing from those four primary loyalties, but naming all of them could get complicated.

  “Three of those people, I consider friends. The other is a vampire so ancient the gods probably bow to him. So no, I have no plans to betray or take advantage of your people.”

  “Excellent.” Tenzin sat on one of the lounge chairs. “Then we have no quarrel.”

  Gavin sat across from her, elbows casually braced on his knees as he considered Tenzin. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Then we come back to my original question: Why are you here?”

  “Ben is pouting.”

  Gavin blinked. “He… What?”

  “He’s pouting. I think it has to do with a woman he met when he went out with Chloe the other night.”

  Gavin held up a hand. “Stop there. He met a woman when he went out with Chloe? Who’s Chloe? Do you mean Novia?”

  “No, he met Chloe when he went out with Novia.”

  Gavin shook his head. “How a single human manages to charm so many mortal and immortal women, I’ll never understand.”

  “It’s Ben,” Tenzin said. “Women like him because he likes women.”

  Gavin said, “I like women.”

  “And some women like you.” Tenzin toed the panties the human woman had forgotten toward Gavin. “But not for the same reasons. What are you complaining about?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “So Ben met a woman when he was out with another woman who he met when he was out with yet another woman. Why is this my business?”

  Tenzin cocked her head. “Do you not know Chloe?”

  “Should I?”

  “Weren’t you and Ben friends when he was younger? Chloe was his girlfriend in school.”

  Gavin leaned forward. “Tenzin, when Ben was sixteen, I was interested in him because he was disarmingly mature, an excellent fighter, and his uncle was an assassin who owed me a favor. I saw his potential and enjoyed corrupting him to piss Giovanni off. I wasn’t interested in who his girlfriend was at school.”

  “Huh.” Tenzin shrugged. “Neither was I. I didn’t remember Chloe until he reminded me. He’s brooding.”

  “Ben is brooding over Chloe?”

  “No, over Emilie.”

  Gavin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not even going to feign understanding.”

  “You need to call him and meet him for a drink,” Tenzin said. “Drink alcohol together and… bond.”

  “Bond?” Gavin said.

  “I saw someone reference this on a daytime television show.”

  Gavin opened his mouth. Closed it. Finally he said, “Tenzin, are you arranging playdates for Ben? I don’t think he’d appreciate that.”

  “No. I’m telling you—who claim to be his friend—that there is something wrong with him.”

  “And?”

  Tenzin did not understand why Gavin was being willfully obtuse. “He is brooding. Do you understand?”

  “I understand that, but why don’t you…” He sat up straight. “He won’t tell you why he’s upset?”

  “Of course not,” Tenzin said. �
�If he’d tell me why he’s brooding, why would I come here and talk to you? I don’t have any interest in you.”

  “I consider that an accomplishment.” Gavin reached for a glass on a side table. It smelled like whisky. “I’ll call him and ask him to help me with something at the pub next week.”

  “You need his help at the pub?”

  “No,” Gavin said. “But I have a cock, Tenzin. I’m not going to call Ben and tell him we need to cry into our drinks together. He’ll come to help me, and I’ll find out why he’s ‘brooding,’ as you say.”

  Tenzin smiled. “Excellent. You’re far more clever than I thought you were.”

  Gavin said nothing, but his eyes didn’t appear friendly.

  “You’re helping one of my people,” Tenzin said. “So I’ll offer you advice. You should listen to it, because I’m older and wiser than you.”

  Gavin said nothing, but his eyes went from hostile to blank.

  “This life you’re living—with the rich houses and numerous women, the driving ambition to make money—it is not sustainable for eternity. You’ll die,” Tenzin said. “I would estimate within the next twenty years.”

  His eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re unhappy. Unless you look for some kind of meaning in this life beyond yourself, you will die. And you’ll die by your own hand.”

  He was silent, and he didn’t look away from her. Tenzin could see his mental battle. Gavin didn’t want to believe her, but he did. She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know already.

  “And what do you suggest?” he asked quietly. “If I want to survive.”

  “Two things. Don’t be afraid to die,” Tenzin said. “I’ve died many times. Tried on lives and abandoned them. Died again. Lived again.”

  “You’re telling me if I want to live, I need to die?”

  “You’ll understand when you let yourself think about it. The second thing is people. You need to find your people.”

  “Humans? I have humans.”

  Tenzin shrugged. “Humans. Vampires. People. Find the ones worth living for.”

  Gavin raised the glass to his lips. “Your advice is noted.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He couldn’t stop the low chuckle. “You’re a legend for a reason, Tenzin.”

  “I know.” She stood and jumped into the night sky. Gavin would meet with Ben. Then maybe Ben would stop brooding.

  Ben walked into the Bat and Barrel at two a.m. on a Sunday night. The bar had closed at one, and he saw Gavin behind the bar, polishing glasses in his shirtsleeves. Ben went in and sat down across from him, watching as Gavin set two tumblers on the glass shelves behind him, then turned to a battered wooden case at the end of the bar.

  He pulled two cut glass tumblers from the case. They weren’t anything like the fine crystal glasses Gavin’s customers were served. These were scratched, and Ben knew there was a chip in the lip of one.

  These were Gavin’s own, and he didn’t pull them out except for friends.

  Without a word, the Scotsman pulled a label-less bottle from the cabinet beneath the bar. “How’ve you been?” he asked, pouring two fingers in each glass. “Water?”

  “Please.”

  “Sparkling or still?”

  “Still and cold.”

  “As you like.” Gavin brought a small carafe to the bar, along with Ben’s drink, before he turned and took his own. “Cheers.” He held out his glass to Ben.

  “Cheers.” Ben added a touch of water and tasted. “It’s good.”

  “It’s bloody perfect,” Gavin said. “It’s not good.”

  “Whose is it?”

  “Mine.”

  Ben raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you’d bought a distillery.”

  Gavin shrugged. “Had to find the right opportunity. This was the right one.”

  “Where—”

  “Scotland. Other than that? None of your business.” Gavin smiled. “Enjoy.”

  “Thanks.” Ben tasted the whisky again. It was bloody perfect. He suspected it was an island whisky, but he wasn’t expert enough to say with assurance. “So what did you need help with?”

  “Nothing.” Gavin set down his glass. “Or something.”

  “That’s… specific.”

  Gavin watched him, and Ben could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. He liked Gavin. Trusted him to a certain extent. But the man was conniving. He was a thief and a con. He manipulated people as if they were pieces on a game board. Maybe Ben should have disliked him for those reasons, but he didn’t. He understood Gavin.

  “There was something I needed your help with, but it’s been taken care of,” Gavin said. “Now there’s something else for which your particular skills might be very useful.”

  Ben sipped his drink. “Which is?”

  “Keeping bloody Tenzin off my back and uninterested in me.”

  Ben set his glass down. “Explain.”

  “She thinks you’re brooding and wants me to find the reason,” Gavin said. “I could stalk you or use amnis to comb through your brain—”

  “Not if you want to continue being my friend,” Ben muttered.

  “Noted,” Gavin said. “Which is why I’m simply asking what’s got your knickers in a twist.” He finished his whisky and turned to grab the bottle. “Damn, this is excellent.”

  “My knickers aren’t twisted, but thanks for asking after them.” Ben was tempted to hold out his glass, but if he drank too quickly, Gavin wouldn’t need to use amnis to get him talking. Ben could be a chatty drunk.

  “Wrong,” Gavin said. “She said you’re brooding, and I can see it all over you.” He waved a hand. “You won’t stop thinking about it until you talk to someone, and you don’t want to talk to Tenzin because it has to do with a woman. Or women.”

  Ben narrowed his eyes. “How do you know—”

  “You talk to Tenzin about everything,” Gavin said. “Except for women.” He leaned on the bar. “You can think about why that is on your own time, but for right now, talk to Old Uncle Gav and tell him what the trouble is.”

  Ben shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “You were a much better liar when you were young,” Gavin said. “You’re getting soft.”

  “I didn’t trust you when I was young.”

  “You shouldn’t trust me now.” Gavin took a sip of scotch. “Much. I have my limits.”

  “Which apparently don’t include intruding on a friend’s privacy.”

  Gavin grinned. “Right you are. Now, what’s the name Tenzin mentioned? Was it Chloe?”

  Ben’s mind went into overdrive. “What do you know about Chloe?” Had he mentioned her to Gavin before? Chloe knew nothing about the supernatural elements of his life. She’d met his uncle and aunt—she’d even met Tenzin on numerous occasions—but she had no idea what vampires were. Ben was very, very careful about the boundaries he’d erected. Gavin should not have known about Chloe.

  “Listen, Gavin—”

  “Chloe was your girlfriend in school, eh? You trying to win her back?”

  “It’s not like that. We parted as friends. We're still friends. She’s got a boyfriend now.”

  Gavin’s keen eyes must have picked up on Ben’s misgivings. “You don’t like the boyfriend. If it’s not a question of jealousy, then there must be something wrong with him.”

  Ben flicked a finger over his lower lip and considered Gavin. Gavin wasn’t Tenzin, but he was resourceful. However, if he involved Gavin, Chloe would be exposed to the immortal world.

  The Scot was a friend, but he was also a strategic thinker. Gavin didn’t have a sire that Ben knew of. He had pubs all over the world. He had property in every major city, and he’d acquired it quickly. The vampire survived the way he did because of carefully constructed and leveraged alliances and deals. Gavin, at the end of the day, was a deal maker. His words, not Ben’s.

  “If I tell you,” Ben said, “I want a promise that you wo
n’t tell anyone about Chloe. She’s not a part of our world.”

  Gavin shook his head. “Not the way it works.”

  “It is for her,” Ben said.

  “No, it’s not,” Gavin said. “I think you forget you’re not a vampire sometimes. You don't have an aegis. You canna put people under your protection. That’s not the way it works.”

  And Tenzin wouldn’t do it. Ben didn’t even want to ask. Tenzin had her people, but she hadn’t used a formal aegis since her last human assistant had died. If she needed formal protection for someone, she used her sire’s aegis. To put someone under her own aegis implied a level of intimacy and responsibility that Tenzin wasn’t willing to give to any but a very, very few.

  “You’re still under your uncle,” Gavin said carefully. “Any deal you make with a vampire is in that context. But this girl—”

  “She’s mine,” Ben said. “She’s my friend. I don’t care if that doesn’t hold weight with the O’Briens or even my uncle. You need to know that Chloe is my friend. If I tell you about her and any harm comes to her because of a vampire, I will consider it a personal betrayal.”

  Gavin paused, his glass halfway to his mouth. Then he carefully nodded and said, “Fine.”

  They moved to the tall wingback chairs in the corner by the gas fireplace. There was a trunk between them, serving as a coffee table, and Ben set his drink down.

  “At first, it was subtle things. Chloe’s always been a very affectionate person. She’s a hugger. She doesn’t hug anymore. Not like she used to.”

  “People change.”

  “There are bruises,” Ben said. “She brushes them off, but I know what they are.”

  Gavin’s nostrils flared. “The boyfriend?”

  “I think it has to be. If it was a stranger who hurt her, I’m sure she’d report it. But a boyfriend?” Ben shook his head. “She’s loyal to a fault and doesn’t like asking anyone for help. She’s also struggling with money. I think he pays most of the bills. He does something in finance, and she’s a dancer. She doesn’t make much, even with a second job. And her parents have cut her off because they don’t approve of her life here.”

  Gavin frowned. “She’s a dancer? Exotic?”