"This is your idea of comfortable? What's a little cramped to you, the seventh ring of hell?"
Bones didn't flinch at my scalding tone. He considered the manacled and bloodied form welded to the wall in front of us.
"He's not being injured, just restrained. The blood on him is no doubt just from last night. While he might have preferred a soft bed and a nice neck to sip from, it's hardly grievous torment considering what he's done."
This was said in a clear, biting tone that would have been easily overheard by anyone eavesdropping. I resisted the urge to demand Tate be taken down. After all, there was still a real betrayer on the loose, and we didn't know who it was.
"You're the luckiest son of a bitch in the world."
It was muttered with nothing less than hatred from Tate. His eyes were pure emerald as they blazed at Bones.
Bones laughed. "You know, mate, when I woke up this morning with her sleeping in my arms, I did indeed feel very lucky."
Tate cursed him, straining against his clamps.
Ian chuckled and clapped a hand across Bones's back. He'd been the guard last night.
"Bloke's scorched you up one side and down the other since you came back, Crispin. I've had a right enjoyable time listening to it. Ah, Rodney, is it your turn now? Good, I'm knackered."
"Thank you, Ian, take your rest. I'll speak to you later."
Although Ian didn't make the top two, or even three, Bones put him high on the list of the remaining people who he didn't think tried to kill him. I thought Ian was capable of it, but Bones disagreed. Since Tate was a liability to whomever really did it, we had to have reliable guards on him.
The area cleared of everyone but Rodney, Bones, Tate, and me. We were underground in a sealed section with just one way in or out. This would be our only chance to talk, because afterward, it wouldn't seem plausible. But now, it made sense that I'd want to confront Bones's Judas.
"How could you do it, Tate?" I asked. Sound traveled well with that echoing hallway leading to this room, so whispering would have been too obvious.
"I hate him, but it wasn't me," Tate replied.
I withdrew a small notepad and pen from under my sweater. Tate watched warily. I nodded to Rodney, who unshackled one of his arms from its clamp. Letting him all the way out would have made too much noise, and Bones was still being cautious. He didn't want Tate loose around me, not trusting if he'd rather see me dead than with him. He still thought Tate was guilty no matter how I disagreed.
I quickly scrawled some words onto the paper and held it up for Tate to see.
I believe you.
Tears came to his eyes. It was all I could do not to hug him and tell him it would be okay. He jerked his head and Rodney brought him the pen, holding the pad up so he could write.
"See, I don't believe you, mate."
Bones said it with no lack of venom, and anyone overhearing would have thought it was him answering Tate's denial to me. Rodney gave a disgusted glance at the page Tate wrote on before he passed it to me.
Love you, Cat
"I don't give a shit what you believe, you sneaky English slut," is what he said to Bones.
Well, we wanted this to sound authentic, I thought ironically.At least that's covered.
"Want to know what I think, dickhead?" Tate went on. "I think you faked your death to send her into a spiral of grief, and then you miraculously reappeared with the guy you hate to blame it all on. You've wanted an excuse to kill me ever since you came back in her life. Got sick of waiting, didn't you?"
I blinked. Tate sure went the other way in coming up with an explanation.
Bones gave a rude snort. "Think I'd hurt her like that just to kill you? Imbecile."
This is not why we're here!I wrote and waved it in front of Bones, forgetting in my agitation that I could just think it at him.
Bones didn't even pause to look. "You're not strong enough for her by half, mate. Faith, conspiring to have me murdered is the most impressive thing you've done. Stick to your story that it wasn't you? Then you're right back in that forgotten place where she'll never notice you. So which are you, a betrayer or a pathetic loser?"
It was a trick question, of course. One answer would have him dead and the other, according to Bones's scathing analogy, emotionally dismissed. There were several points of contention I wanted to argue with him about, but that would wait until later.
Tate glowered at him with even more fury than before, which was saying something. Bones waited with a mocking curl to his lips. I was still scribbling on the notepad when Tate spoke.
"Just let's be clear about one thing-if you kill me, it won't be because I did this. I didn't rat you out to Patra, though thumbs-up to whoever did. If you kill me, it's because you're afraid that if you don't, one day you might watch her walk away with me. So right back at you, Crypt Keeper, what's it gonna be?"
Dark brown eyes that could melt me were flat and icy now.
"I gave you the chance to own up to your deeds with dignity. You refused. Right then, we'll have it your way. You'll stay chained here, no food, no companionship, until hunger and solitude soften you up. We'll see what you have to say again in a month or so. Let him be alone with his deceit and his spinelessness. In the meantime, I'll be enjoying my wife's company."
Bones took my hand. I resisted long enough to hold up the messily written page and have Tate read it as Rodney chained his arm back into place.
Promise I'll find who it is, but if anyone comes in this room but me or Bones, you scream as loud as you can.
"Don't worry, Cat," Tate said, with a touch of humor. "I'll be right here."
When Rodney closed the door behind us, I whirled on Bones.Do you still think it's him? I demanded.
He stared at me with competing emotions across his face, none of them pleasant. Finally, he shook his head.
No.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
OF OUR BAKER'S DOZEN UNDEAD SUSPECTS, we had it narrowed down to four. This was an exceptionally painful process for Bones, since each of them had spent no less than a century with him, and he considered them all close friends. Caesar hadn't suspected Brutus, either, however, and look where that got him. So Bones had to be unmerciful in his evaluations.
Zero was on the list, despite his outward slavish devotion, then Tick Tock, Rattler, and Doc completed our suspects. Vlad he kept as a potential alternate.
While I'd been eating breakfast, Bones had finally called Don to tell him he'd arrived. My uncle asked about Tate, of course, and got a brusque response that he was still unshriveled "for the moment." I could just picture tiny gray hairs being yanked from Don's eyebrow during that conversation. Don loved Tate, but he was also a realist. He knew what would happen if Tate was guilty of this crime. Vampires didn't do probation.
To reinforce Mencheres's description of a slow recovery, Bones moved with notable sluggishness compared to his normal prowling strides. We spent the afternoon on the couch while Mencheres brought him up to speed on what had occurred when he was presumed dead. In brief but unsparing detail, Mencheres described how Patra had crashed the event at the opera house. My mother gave up pretending she wasn't eavesdropping and sat in a nearby chair. When Mencheres was finished, she broke the loaded silence.
"What a real bitch, Catherine. You should kill her."
Bones let out a snort. "I intend to do the honors myself."
And in the meantime, we'd see who here tried to contact Patra to let her know Bones was alive. Don had arranged for tapping of all the phones, and even interceptions of the wireless signals coming out of the house. Computers, text messaging, and anything else aside from homing pigeons were confiscated. Security purposes, Mencheres coolly stated, and no one dared argue with him. When the traitor made his move, he'd have to do it by phone, and then we'd catch him. Now we just had to wait.
"Bones, you are still pale," Mencheres said. "You should feed and get more rest."
"Right." Bones tugged my hand. "Kitten, I want to show you something."
I followed him downstairs to the basement, passing through several rooms I hadn't bothered to explore in the past few days. At least a third of this house was underground, a good vampire and ghoul analogy. What you saw on the surface was only the beginning, much like the species themselves.
Two vampires bowed at the waist before they held the wooden double doors open for us.
Several people, all human, glanced up when we entered what appeared to be an entertainment area. Some of them were on a large sofa watching the plasma TV, others played on one of the four billiard tables, and five looked to be engaged in a game of poker.
"What is this?" I whispered.
Bones's wave encompassed the room. "This is a vampire's version of a kitchen, luv. Caring for humans in exchange for their blood is how many vampire households operate. I wanted you to see it."
"Dibs on the redhead!" a freckled young man called out, coming forward with a grin. "You'll like me, I taste the best."
"You think I'm here tofeed on you?" I gaped when he tilted his head and bared his neck.
Bones chuckled. "He does indeed. Sorry, Neal, but she's not going to bite you, and you don't taste the best," he corrected him before laying a hand on his shoulder. "You'll do, however. Though you should eat fewer onions."
I watched as Neal went to Bones, who sealed his mouth on Neal's neck and bit him like he was a walking cupcake. Less than a minute later he stopped, closing the holes and giving Neal a companionable chuck on the chin.
"Less garlic as well, mate. I've drunk Italian chefs who didn't have such a reek about them."
Neal's smile didn't slip. "Best pizza I've ever had, Whitey, and it was loaded with onions and garlic. Sorry."
Bones gave an amused snort. "Toothbrush, lad. Familiarize yourself with it or you'll never get turned. No, don't get up," as one of the girls rose from the couch. "We're taking a quick walk and then we'll be off."
My mother would pass out if she knew this was underneath her, I thought dazedly.Living snacks, all within biting reach.
"Who are these kids?" I asked low. None of them looked much past their twenties.
Bones led me through another set of rooms. There was a library, computer area, even an underground Jacuzzi. And every few dozen feet there were bedrooms. Some were occupied, some were empty, and a few with closed doors had the unmistakable sounds of sex coming from them.
"Oh, they're from all sorts," he replied. "Some are college students, aspiring artists, runaways from bad homes, street children, or budding apprentices. Neal's one of those. He wants to be a vampire, so he's showing his commitment by being a meal and doing small errands. Whenever you have a group of vampires who live in a large house, you generally have one of these situations."
"Are they all tranced?"
"Blimey, no. They're aware of what keeps them and why. The runaways get homeschooled, a place to live, and an allowance they save for whenever they wish to strike out on their own. For their own safety, though, most of them don't know where they're located or the real names of who keeps them. When they leave, what they do know is wiped from their minds. It's happened this way for millennia, Kitten. A form of feudalism, as I told you before."
"Feudalism?" I stopped near one of the bedrooms with the heavy breathing. "Is that what you call it?"
"This"-Bones nodded at the doorway-"is consensual. While I can't speak for all households, as a rule it's considered very bad form to mesmerize one's food into shagging. If you're a guest and you do such a thing, it's almost cause for death. Now, if the human fancies a tumble, then who's to criticize? It's their choice."
Who's to criticize? Me.Nice, Mencheres. Provide all-you-can-eat meals, in every possible way. Do be sure to feed regularly, Bones, there's a good lad!Asshole.
"You know better, Kitten," Bones said with all seriousness. "It will never happen."
I believed him, even if irrationally I still felt threatened by the easy opportunities available. "Is that why you showed me this? So I wouldn't worry you were trying to conceal something?"
"That's one of several reasons, yes." Bones started to smile. "The main one is behind you, ogling your arse and about to get beaten for it."
"Amigo," a voice said in a wheedling tone. "I haven't seen it for days-"
My whirling to barrel into him cut off the rest of the sentence. Juan returned my hug, crooning in Spanish.
"Mi querida,your husband's back,que bueno."
"Yes, I'm glad he's here as well," I sniffed. "And that you are, too. How do you feel?"
Juan grinned. It was his usual lecherous grin that reminded me crossing over didn't change the essence of the person.
"I feel wonderful, and you are even more beautiful with these new eyes of mine. Look at your skin." He fingered my cheek. "Magnifico."
"That's all the pawing you're allowed, mate."
Bones gave him a light punch, knocking him back a pace. Juan didn't quit grinning.
"I must thank you for many things,amigo, but this most of all. You have made women even more appealing to me, ah, the scent of them. Their heartbeats. And how they taste..." He closed his eyes. "Delicioso."
I swung my gaze to Bones in disbelief. "You've turned him into evenworse of a pig!"
Bones shrugged. "He's just a bit overwhelmed with all the new senses. He'll get used to them. Or get neutered if he forgets himself and even thinks of palming your arse, do you think I'm blind?" He slapped at the hand wandering with feigned innocence near my hip. "Control,amigo. Learn it."