Clean Sweep (Innkeeper Chronicles, #1)(47)

"We could lure it onto the inn grounds."

"It won't work," I said.

"What makes you so sure, my lady?" Arland asked.

"I spoke to it."

The vampire stared at me. I'd seen this precise expression on Sean's face before.

"When was this?" Arland asked quietly.

"When Sean brought Lord Soren in. I felt a disturbance, went outside, and saw it on the lamppost. We had a conversation."

"And you didn't feel the need to tell me?" Arland asked.

"No."

Sean already knew --he'd seen the dahaka running away. But since the vampires hadn't been forthcoming with information, I'd kept it to myself.

Arland opened his mouth, but no words came out. Some sort of monumental struggle seemed to take place. Finally some words emerged. "That was extremely unwise."

"Not telling me your purpose on this planet was even more so."

Sean smiled his handsome-devil smile.

Arland considered it. "Very well. That I deserved."

Sean looked at me. "I've been meaning to ask you, what did it want?"

"Lord Soren."

Sean frowned. "Why?"

"Bonus," Caldenia murmured.

We looked at her. She waved her hand with an elegant flourish. "Ignore me."

"The dahaka struck me as smart and vicious. It holds us in complete contempt --it called me meat. But it didn't attack and none of its stalkers made a serious effort to rush the inn. It knows what I am, and it's very careful not to enter the grounds."

"Could you restrain it if it did?" Arland asked.

"On the grounds, possibly. In the house, definitely. But it's not likely to let itself be lured to the inn."

Arland rocked back and exhaled, venting frustration. "There has to be a way to trap it. With all due respect, you are just an innkeeper, my lady. You have no experience with hunting prey."

Okay, then. Glad we decided to clear that up.

"Perhaps we could flush him out," Arland said.

"Not without attracting attention," Sean said. "Attention is the last thing we need."

"Agreed." The vampire bared his fangs.

They stared at each other, then looked at me.

I shrugged. "I'm not a mighty hunter. I'm just a Southern belle who stays home, bakes cookies, and possibly serves mighty hunters iced tea if they happen to drop by."

Arland blinked.

"You broke it, you fix it," Sean said.

The vampire leaned forward and focused on me. His eyes turned warm, and a charming, self-deprecating smile lit his face.

Wow.

"I didn't choose my words tactfully, my lady. I'm only a man, after all, and a solider, unskilled in the way of polite society. I've dedicated myself to the service of my House. My business is that of blood and slaughter, and I haven't been fortunate enough to be refined by a woman's gentle touch."

Sean coughed into his fist. One of the coughs sounded suspiciously like "bullshit."

"I ask humbly for your forgiveness. I neither deserve nor expect it and therefore appeal only to your compassion. Should I be fortunate enough to be forgiven, I promise to never repeat my transgression."

Unfortunately for Arland, I had encountered a few vampires before. "A vampire of a different House once told me something very similar. He even knelt on one knee while he said it."

"Did you forgive him?" Arland hit me with another smile. Vampire smiles should really be outlawed.

"While I was busy thinking it over, he leapt at me and tried to break my neck with his teeth, so no." I'd been fifteen years old at the time and it was an excellent lesson in vampire manners. Despite their beautiful faces, their religion, their ceremonies, their charm, vampires were predators. If you forgot it even for a second, you risked your life, because they always remembered.

Arland opened his mouth.

"I'm not upset with you, my lord. I just have no ideas on how to trap the dahaka. Or how to kill it."

"May I have some tea?" Caldenia asked.

"Of course." I went in the kitchen and took her favorite mug from the cabinet.

"Would a high-power rifle do it?" Sean asked.

"What sort of rifle?" Arland asked.

"Stealth Recon Scout," Sean said.

"Does it fire a metal projectile?"

"Yes."

"How fast?"

"Fast enough to kill a man from two thousand yards away."

"I don't believe so." Arland grimaced. "The dahaka is likely to have magnetic disrupters in addition to armor, helmet, and an extremely thick skull."

I brought a cup of Lemon Zinger to Caldenia. She accepted it with a nod.

"We could try an armor-piercing round," Sean said.

"If I may." Caldenia stirred her tea. "You're asking the wrong questions."

"And what would be the right question, Your Grace?" Arland asked.

"Have any of you ever hired an assassin?" Caldenia raised her teacup to her lips, holding it with her long fingers. Her nails, manicured and carefully shaped, still resembled claws.

"No," Arland said.

Sean shook his head.

"A messy business. If you do hire one for something sensitive, then you have to have him killed, and then you have to get someone else to kill the killer... It's like dominoes. There is no end to it." Caldenia shrugged. "A good assassin always keeps insurance. Some sort of token, some evidence that will permit him to threaten his employer should he find himself in danger of being eliminated, which aforementioned employer, if he is smart, should definitely attempt."