Tall, Silent & Lethal (Pyte/Sentinel #4)(18)

No one bothered asking why the Masters wanted to get their hands on Pytes. They all knew, had feared this happening for years. They wanted to create an army of faster, stronger vampires and they needed Pytes to do that. Some would kill for a chance at true immortality and would do anything and everything to get their hands on a Pyte with the hopes that they would be turned into a Pyte as well, but most of them would be content with just having a Pyte under their control.

It was something that they could never allow to happen.

“What are the Council’s plans for them?” Kale demanded.

“Right now?” Eric asked, before shaking his head. “We have none. Our only plan right now is to remove every Pyte from the Masters grasp that we can before it’s too late.”

“Are you going to force them to work for the Council?” Caine asked, taking his mate’s other hand into his as he prayed that the Council wasn’t going to try to do something so monumentally stupid as to try and force a Pyte to work for them.

“No, but if they want to fight, we won’t stop them,” Eric said and God help him, but Caine wanted to believe him.

“What’s the reward for bringing in Pytes?” Kale, always the mercenary, asked.

“Ten million dollars a piece,” Eric said, not missing a beat.

“Twenty,” Kale said, his intense gaze never leaving Eric as the man turned to glare at him. “And this mission is under my control.”

“Agreed,” Eric said softly, letting everyone in the room know just how far the Council was willing to go to stop the Masters from winning.

Kale Quinn was a vicious bastard and they’d just given him free reign over the Sentinels.

Chapter 7

Townson, MA

One week later…..

Cloe ducked her head to hide her smile as Christofer glared at her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him rubbing his arm. One would think that after a week he’d learn to control his mouth, but sadly he hadn’t. At least it was providing her with endless hours of entertainment.

For the past week they’d seemed to be in a competition. Well, he seemed to think that they were at least. Christofer had taken it upon himself to try and take over her job. She had to admit that it was really interesting to watch him try. Every morning she got up to find the kitchen a mess and a cursing Christofer trying to make breakfast for his sister.

She would hide her smile as she quickly put together breakfast and allowed Marta to choose between the two. For some reason Marta always picked her breakfast over Christofer’s burnt and somewhat distorted versions. Same thing happened at lunch and dinner. Sometimes he would simply give up when he saw her at the stove and storm off to the barn for a few hours. Every time he lost his patience, which was pretty much every time that he saw her, he would say the two words that would guarantee him a sore spot. It was like a compulsion with him now.

Cloe would do something like the laundry before he could and he would get pissed when Marta thanked her. Those two little words were always followed by the thump of Marta’s cane and a few choice words from Christofer as he glared accusingly at her. About five days ago she’d stopped counting how many times she’d been fired. She was pretty sure it was up to two hundred and fifty, give or take a few cane swats.

“I can see you smiling,” he bit out.

She simply shrugged as she focused on her blueberry muffin.

“Fucking tattle tale,” he muttered followed by, “Ow!”

Cloe smiled sweetly as she looked over at him, holding up the plate of muffins she'd made and with an innocent expression asked, “Muffin?”

He glared first at her and then at the plate of muffins before his eyes shot to the burnt French toast that he'd tried to make. He opened his mouth and she knew what was coming.

“Don’t even think about it, Christofer,” Marta said. “My arm is starting to get sore from tapping you.”

“Good! Then maybe you’ll stop!”

For a moment, Marta looked thoughtful while she broke off a chunk of muffin and made a show of eating it. Christofer’s eyes narrowed on the action before he glared accusingly at Cloe.

“No, I don’t think that I will,” Marta said before she focused back on her paper.

Christofer mumbled something under his breath while he stared at her. Cloe sighed as she picked up the muffin plate and brought it to the counter, knowing he wouldn’t eat any of it. He never did. According to Marta, he was on a special protein diet. She didn’t question it since she knew what a bitch a metabolic disorder could be on a person.

“Cloe, could you please give me a ride into town this morning? I would like to spend most of the day at the Senior Center.”

Cloe smiled. For the last four days Marta had spent her mornings at the Senior Center. She suspected that a certain Mr. Goodfellow had something to do with it, but she wasn’t going to say anything, mostly because of the man sulking at the table.

“Sure, I can do that on my way to the hardware store,” Cloe said, immediately regretting the slip when Christofer’s head snapped back in her direction.

“Why are you going to the hardware store?” Christofer demanded.

Marta of course answered. Cloe was willing to bet the woman was enjoying thumbing her nose up at her brother.

“She’s picking up the supplies to paint the house.”