Suzanne McLeod - The Cold Kiss of Death

I did the mental maths: he’d accepted the Gift at seventeen, probably one of the last before the Parliamentary Bill changed the age of consent to twenty-one. Whatever vamps look like when they accept the Gift, that’s how they stay for the rest of their lives—a prospect that makes all the wannabes head straight to the gym. Looking too young had fast become a problem for some of the centuries-old vamps who wanted a slice of the celebrity cake but didn’t look old enough to buy a drink, and the market for toyboys, even ones with fangs, isn’t all that healthy. I briefly wondered if Bobby regretted taking the Gift when he did, or even taking it at all. Still, not my concern.

‘I shouldn’t worry,’ I said, and tucked my hands back in my pockets to stop myself scratching and stared at the lifts, willing Grace to put in an appearance.

‘I’m still working at the Blue Heart,’ Bobby said, breaking the silence and I turned to look at him as he carried on, ‘Albie, the new boss, lets me come and see Dad before work, then I come back for a couple of hours before dawn, once the club’s shut. Albie’s not bad; he’s not into all the power crap and fucking stupid memory games like He is.’

He was Declan, Bobby’s master and head of the Red Shamrock blood family. Declan had a nasty vamp trick of stealing memories, then giving the memories back piecemeal—something he did at random with his vamps for his own sadistic amusement. He’d made Bobby forget his girlfriend was dead at one point, not something that Bobby looked like he was going to be forgiving anytime soon.

Bobby gave me a defiant look. ‘I’ve moved out of the Bloody Shamrock.’

‘Oh, right.’ I wasn’t entirely sure what I was meant to say. ‘I couldn’t stand being there any more, not after what happened. ’ He started to pace along the visitor’s chairs. ‘Not when that bitch Fiona still thinks it’s okay to crawl all over me when Declan’s not around. It’s her fault Dad’s in here.’

Fiona was the paranoid clairvoyant who’d tried to kill me; she was also Declan’s human ‘business manager’ a.k.a. daytime flunky and girlfriend all rolled into one.

‘I’ve been thinking about asking to move to another blood family.’ He stopped pacing and stood in the middle of the hallway. ‘You know, petition the High Table for a different master. What do you think?’

I frowned, puzzled. Why was he asking me? ‘I don’t know, Bobby. I’ve heard you can do that, but I’m probably not the best person to ask.’

‘I’ve checked around, on the quiet.’ His expression turned anxious. ‘I don’t want Declan finding out; he’d make sure it never happened. I need to get another master to agree to take me before I petition the High Table—that way, if I’m accepted straight away, Declan can’t object—or at least, he can, and then he gets some sort of compensation, but he can’t stop me going.’

‘Sounds like you need to talk to the other master vamps, then,’ I said, checking the lifts again.

‘Of course, Albie would be my first choice,’ Bobby carried on, ‘but he’s already told everyone that he’s not interested in taking on anyone else’s vamps. He’s not even going to sponsor anyone for the Gift! He says he’s got too much on his plate already with taking over the Blue Heart.’

I suddenly realised I was scratching my neck; I forced myself to stop, wondering how long Grace was going to be. Maybe Hari would find me some G-Zav if I asked nicely ... or desperately ...

‘Thing is,’ Bobby brushed a hand over his hair, fingers hesitating at the silver circlet, ‘I never even get a chance to talk to any of the other masters. If I’m not here, I have to be at the Blue Heart. They sell tickets with fifteen-minute time slots, like I’m on a production line or something. I have to bite them one after the other, and the other vamps are all jealous, saying that I should be in vampire heaven or something, but I end up using so much energy making each bite feel great that half the time I don’t even get a decent meal and I’m still hungry at the end of the night.’

‘Well, don’t start looking at me,’ I said, feeling vaguely sorry for him, but a little worried that all his chat was the equivalent of him inviting me out to dinner—vampire style.

‘I can’t, can I?’ He moved to stand in front of me and a sullen look settled on his face. ‘The bastard ordered me not to, remember?’

Oh yeah, Declan did have his plus points at times. Forbidding all the vamps under his control from sinking their fangs in me was one of them. Of course, that still left Declan and a lot of other suckers out there who had no such inhibitions.

‘Good, just so we’re clear on that,’ I said, my voice calmer than I felt.

‘But there is something I wanted to ask you.’ His expression turned hopeful. ‘I was wondering if you could speak to your master for me, y’know, put in a good word, see if she’d consider having me.’

‘I don’t have a master,’ I said, baffled.

He frowned. ‘But everyone’s talking about you and Rosa.’

Rosa: the vamp whose body I’d been magically borrowing whenever I used my Disguise spell. Damn. Malik had mentioned something about that; the vamps all considered me her property now. ‘Rosa isn’t my master,’ I said slowly. ‘She’s something else—and don’t ask me to explain, it’s way too complicated.’

‘Okay,’ he agreed, obviously not interested in an explanation anyway. ‘But if you could tell her I’ll do anything, whatever she wants—I mean, I’ve heard the sort of things she’s into, and I’m fine with whatever.’ He lifted his cuffed hands and grinned, flashing fangs as he leaned closer. ‘See, I’m getting a bit of practise in already! But seriously, I’d do anything to get away from that bitch Fiona.’

I held my hands up, needing him to back off a bit. ‘Look, I can’t—’

‘No!’ He grabbed my hands, lifting them to his mouth. ‘ Please . I know I can’t influence your mind, but whatever you want, whatever you and Rosa want, I’ll do.’ His lips chilled my knuckles and the handcuffs chinked like heavy chains in my ears. I stared transfixed at where our hands joined. Around me the peach-coloured waiting area disappeared and in its place was a large square room lit by hundreds of thick creamy church candles, walls hung with rich burgundy drapes and stone-flagged floor sloping down to a grate in one corner, a river of blood streaming ...

For a stunned moment I wondered where I was, then the memory crashed into me.

... I grasped the chain joined to his manacled wrists tighter and jerked my arm back. The force yanked him off his knees and his body crashed onto the hard floor. I pulled the chain, dragging him screaming and spitting across the blood-slicked stone flags until he lay shaking at my feet. I smiled down at him, seeing only the youth of his body, cusped on that edge between adolescence and adulthood, ignoring the centuries that lurked in the darkness of his eyes.

‘What did you call me, cara?’ I asked, my voice full of silk and seduction.

‘Bitch, you’re a fucking sadistic bitch,’ he sneered up at me, lips curled back, his fangs stained red with my blood.

I threw back my head and laughed, delighted. ‘Such sweet words, my lover.’ I flicked my wrist and a gun-shot crack sliced through my laughter as the metal-tipped whip flayed another blood-thin line across his naked stomach.

He screamed again, high-pitched, his spine arching with the edge of pleasure the pain brought him. Then grabbing the chain that joined us, he pulled me down, forcing me onto my knees next to him. ‘I promise you, on my honour,’ he snarled, ‘I will break the bones in your body, bitch. And then I will fuck you senseless.’