Lothaire (Immortals After Dark #12)(35)

No thoughts, no dreams. Is he in the grip of death?

Gods, to have his own mind at rest like this? Might be worth dying. He delved deeper, but all was quiet.

There’d be no thoughts of Webb anytime soon, and Lothaire couldn’t scratch at all the scars in Chase’s mind to search for a specific memory. He might as well try to navigate his own. At least he knew where the black holes were, the quicksand traps and points of no return.

He released his hold on Chase, exhaling with frustration. Nothing to show for his trespass, no new information.

His claws bit into his palms. Chto za huy! Must have that ring! Kept from him though it was his.

Thaddeus asked, “Did you find Webb? Anything to help our mission?”

“Our mission? I didn’t see anything to help my aims! You say nothing of this—of anything concerning me—to anyone.”

“Why should I keep secrets from my other friends? Do you mean any of them harm?”

Lothaire didn’t have time to do any of them ill. “I don’t. Not yet,” he added to prevent the rána.

After a hesitation, Thaddeus said, “Okay, I’ll keep it close to the vest. But I need to know how I can get in touch with you. What’s your number?”

Lothaire stared at him. “Number? Why do you want this?”

Thaddeus rolled his eyes. “One more time. Because—we’re—friends. I plan to help you with Webb, and give you some backup against Dorada. They said she’ll be coming for you.”

She is. When last Lothaire had seen her—mummified, hideous to gaze upon—she’d been shrieking, “RIIIIINNNNNGGGGG,” as she hunted him through the Order’s prison, her Wendigo lackeys prowling beside her.

He’d had quite a surprise waiting for them all. . . .

“Lothaire? Hellooo.”

“What?”

“I said, I want to meet the missus.”

Lothaire tensed, slowly craning his head around at the boy. “Missus?”

“They say you’ve got your Bride now.”

“They meaning N?x.” Lothaire bared his fangs, felt them drip on his tongue. Yes, he’d toyed with his enemies, threatening their families, mocking their frenzied reactions while he was ever cold and calculating.

No longer.

Unaware of Lothaire’s rising impulse to do murder, Thaddeus continued, “There are a lot of folks around here talking about the bounty on your lady—”

Before Thaddeus could blink, Lothaire had his hand around the boy’s throat, squeezing. . . . “What’s the bounty? Who posted it?”

Foolish, Lothaire! Why hadn’t he acted uncaring? Why reveal his crazed possessiveness of Saroya?

How smug I was in the past, confident I’d never care about anything enough to reveal a weakness.

Thaddeus bit out, “I don’t know what it is . . . but they said it’s priceless. Don’t know who . . . posted it.”

Priceless? “Someone set hunters on our trail? Then he’s sent me meals to torment. If my deadly Bride doesn’t get to them first.” Lothaire released Thaddeus with a shove that sent him sprawling to the ground.

Between wheezes, the boy said, “I knew you had a lady, then! You made some comments. . . . That’s why you would’ve done anything to get off the island.” He was delighted by this, scrambling to his feet and dusting himself off as if nothing had happened. “That’s the reason you screwed us all over. I knew you weren’t as bad as Regin and N?x and Cara and Emma and—”

“Enough!” The soldiers of the Vertas army—the supposed white hats in the Lore—acted holier-than-thou. Yet they would punish a female who’d never harmed any of them?

Hypocrites in league.

Have to turn her into an immortal as soon as possible. Saroya had to be able to defend herself, to trace in escape if necessary.

“Well, then, what is she?” the boy pressed. “Not a vampire, ’cause Regin told me there were no female ones left. Maybe she’s a demoness or a witch?”

Can’t think . . . can’t think. Why this interest from Thaddeus? “Did they plant you here, to get information from me?”

“No, of course not!”

Even if Lothaire kept Saroya behind a boundary, nothing in the Lore was foolproof. Panic tightened his chest.

Return. Never leave her unguarded again. To Thaddeus he grated, “You forget you ever knew me, boy.” Then he disappeared.





13


When Lothaire returned to the apartment, he found Elizabeth just setting out from her room.

Against his orders.

She’d removed all that makeup; though Lothaire was loath to admit it, he found it an improvement. She’d also changed into jeans that lovingly outlined her pert ass—a fact that offset the worst of his anger.

Going exploring, are we? When he imagined her little mortal brain struggling to process her new environment, he decided to shadow her, making himself invisible so he could study her reactions.

When she entered the first unlit bedroom and the lights came on automatically, she spun in a circle, demanding, “Who’s there?” Then she stepped out of the room. The lights clicked off. “Oh.”

In the living room, she pressed a button for the TV. When it rose from a console, she went wide-eyed.