Blood Bond (Anna Strong Chronicles #9)

CHAEL. MY TONE IS GUARDED, CLIPPED. WHAT ARE you doing here?

In his perfectly tailored Armani, a white linen shirt open at the neck and polished brogues, he looks right at home in this French sidewalk cafe. Only his complexion and eyes, dark and exotic, emphasize his mideastern rather than French roots. He is, in fact, the head of the Middle Eastern Vampire Tribe and literally the last man, human or vampire, I would have expected to run into here.

With a snapping of fingers, and flawless French, he bids the waiter to fetch another chair.

Somehow his rudeness appeals to the waiter, who while only a moment ago was grousing at me for dropping a cup, now springs into action to not only grab a chair from another table but hold it out for Chael to slip into.

Irrationally, his imposing presence ratchets my dislike for Chael up another notch.

I asked what you are doing here. I did not invite you to join us.

Frey has my hand under the table. He will not be able to hear what I'm saying-since Chael speaks no English we must communicate telepathically-but he will understand Chael's side of the conversation. He squeezes my hand softly, as if assuring me that he has my back.

Chael, for his part, has taken a leisurely drink from his cup. His eyes flick to Frey. He knows him, from Monument Valley, knows he's a shape-shifter, knows he's my friend, but he neither acknowledges his presence nor bothers to demand he leave us while we talk.

He merely dismisses him entirely by ignoring him and shifting his gaze to peer at me intently over the rim. You still see me as an enemy.

Not an enemy. An annoyance. A rude annoyance. The words resonate in my head like a hiss. Like a mosquito I'm about to swat.

He laughs. Colorful as ever, Anna. But there is a reason I am here. Just as I believe it was fate that you should arrive here, too, at just this moment. When I heard you were coming, I-

A chill touches the back of my neck. We, Frey and I, had only found out about my mother's illness a day ago. No one else knew except David and Tracey. How could you know I was coming to France?

Chael lifts his well-dressed shoulders. You are an important figure to the vampire community. I make it my business to know what you do as I'm sure most of the leaders of the Thirteen Tribes do as well.

You have me followed?

Nothing so pedestrian, he replies, his tone registering disdain that I would think so little of him. I have contacts in all major airports. When your pilot filed his flight plan, I was notified.

Just like that? Anger sends the blood racing. Not for the first time, I want to slap that smug smile off his elegant face. Frey must feel my body tense, because he squeezes my hand again.

I exhale. So why are you here? I won't ask again.

This time, Chael lets the smile fall from his face. He leans toward me. I told you in Monument Valley if you let me go, I would be indebted to you. I intend to honor that pledge. It's why I'm here. To warn you. But first, to help you.

Help me?

Your mother. I know she is very ill. If you should decide to bring her over, to make her one of us, I offer my services to see . . .

My stomach clenches. Don't speak of my mother.

The anger, the challenge in my voice makes Chael blanche. He bobs his head, once.

Fine. Then there is just one thing we need to discuss. Something of utmost importance to the vampire world.

I release a sigh. Chael, melodramatic as ever. I keep my thoughts guarded. Go on.

Have you never wondered why there was no ambassador from Europe in attendance when you were acknowledged as the Chosen One?

Until this very moment, no. I'd never noticed. I was too busy fighting for my life. I meet Chael's eyes. Explain.

He leans back in his chair, cup in hand, legs crossed. The European vampires refuse to join the Council. Have from the beginning. They are among the oldest, some say the first, vampires in existence. They are also the most powerful-at least in their own eyes.

He takes a sip of coffee, wipes at his lips with a napkin. They are well organized and disciplined. And answer to a vampire who calls himself King Steffan.

That brings a snicker to my lips. How like an old-soul vampire to proclaim himself a king. But something in Chael's manner makes me swallow back the sarcasm. His thoughts are dark and his tone concerned. His usual cockiness and arrogance are not in evidence, either. Which, above all else, makes me uneasy. I incline my head in a go-ahead gesture.

There have been rumors circulating lately. Steffan is ready to begin the process that will end human domination over the vampire. He sees the collapse of the European Union and the decline of the United States as a world power as a signal that the time is ripe to put his plan into action.

I pass a hand over my face in frustration. As usual, Chael exercises his penchant for overstatement. Collapse of the EU? Decline of the U.S.? Another scheme to achieve vampire world domination?

I've heard this before. I glare pointedly at Chael. It's a very familiar refrain. And just what is King Steffan's plan?

Chael plunges ahead as if my voice exuded enthusiasm instead of dripping sarcasm. I don't know the details. It's a closely guarded secret among Steffan's inner circle. But what I do know is that if he is to be stopped, it must be now, before he has a chance to rally his supporters. And I understand there are humans who are ready to fall in line with him, too. It's a serious threat.

I throw up my hands. Why would he listen to me if he does not acknowledge the Council? I would have to assume my title as the Chosen One would hold no sway over him.

Chael smiles, but a smile that is cold and just a bit resentful. True. But you have proven yourself a mighty arbiter. After all, you convinced the Thirteen Tribes to turn down my plan.

Ah, for the first time a bit of the old Chael shines through. Which makes me wonder again why you've come to me. Steffan sounds like someone you would want to join forces with.

Chael and I have both been carefully guarding our thoughts, letting only what we wish the other to know to come through. Now he lets down the barrier completely, allowing me to feel as well as hear the sincerity of his words.

I am indebted to you. You could have taken my life in Monument Valley. You did not. For that, I owe you allegiance. I do not think Steffan is the kind of vampire to be allowed to risk our very existence in his attempt to overthrow our human brethren. You are the strongest vampire. If you cannot reason with him, you have only one alternative.

I raise my eyebrows, guessing what is to come next but wanting to hear Chael say it anyway.

You must kill him.

I sit back in my chair. Chael, you sly dog. You are either the best actor in the world, or you've managed to find a way to cloak your real feelings. I don't buy for one moment that you'd prefer Steffan's death over mine.

Chael shrugs, shakes his head. I don't know what I can do to convince you of my sincerity. I can only report to you what I know. It's up to you to decide if the threat merits your attention.

Shit. Along with everything going on in my life, my mother's illness, the upcoming nuptials, I now have one more thing to worry about? Chael knows I can't let this threat go. At least until I've met Steffan and can assess the situation myself. All this I keep hidden from Chael until I open my thoughts to say with a reluctant sigh, Can you arrange a meeting?

Yes. I will do so. How do I get in touch with you?

Is that relief I hear ring through, or satisfaction?

I give him my cell number. I will be busy for the next couple of days. Try to set up the meeting for Thursday evening. Can you do that?

Chael nods and pushes up from the table. I will be in touch.

And then he is gone, melting back into the throng on the sidewalk as subtly and artfully as he appeared.

Frey releases a long breath. "Do you believe him?"

But I have something else I want to say before I talk about Chael. I lean over. "Thank you. For being here. For putting up with this crap. You know it's not going to get any better. No matter where we go we might run into Chael or one of his counterparts."

"Comes with the territory," he replies matter-of-factly. "I knew you were the Chosen One from the beginning. It's part of the package."

I take his hand and press it to my lips. "Some package." Then I sit back. "As far as I can tell, Chael was perfectly sincere in what he said. As for the rest of it, I won't know about Steffan until we're face-to-face."

"You won't be alone," Frey says. His jaw tightens. "I will be with you when you meet him."

I look away. That may not be possible, for Frey's own protection, but it's also not something I want to argue about now. In fact, I don't want to argue about anything. Nor do I want to think about Chael. I have two days before I hear from Chael about a meeting. I motion to the waiter for the check.

"Let's get back," I say, gathering the shopping bags. "I want to spend as much time as possible with my folks and the kids. I don't want to think about Chael or this King Steffan or anything remotely connected with vampires. I want only to think about you and our wedding. Happy things."

Frey's brow furrows. "Nice dodge. But I mean it, Anna. I want to be with you when you meet him. We're a team now. In everything."

Then Frey is distracted by the waiter arriving with our check. I watch as he presses some bills into the waiter's hand.

It would be nice to think we could be partners in everything. I know it's not possible. Just as Chael pointedly ignored Frey, didn't even acknowledge his presence, I have a feeling this King Steffan would be no less disrespectful. The attitude of most vampires is that we are the top of the supernatural hierarchy and every other creature not only falls far below, but is expendable. I would never risk Frey's life.

Frey is backing away from the waiter. Evidently my transgression in breaking a cup is forgotten because we're now being assaulted by an effusive stream of mercis that follow us all the way down the sidewalk.

Either that or somehow our association with the exquisitely dressed Chael has raised his estimation of this casually clad American couple up a notch.