The Den of Shadows Quartet - Amelia Atwater-Rhodes [41]
“Her,” Aubrey corrected. “No, I didn’t kill her.”
He didn’t know quite why he hadn’t killed Jessica. It would not have been difficult, and the death would not have created much of a stir, after a few whispered words into the minds of Anne Allodola and Ash Night’s business associates.
“I hope Risika isn’t a bad loser when it comes to bets,” Jager commented. “She assumed you’d kill the author.”
“She would,” Aubrey answered dryly. What would Jessica think, he wondered, if she knew there were bets being made about her potential death?
“May I ask why you didn’t kill her?” Jager said, not disguising his curiosity.
Aubrey wondered about the answer himself. The phrase “she’s beautiful” came to mind, and of course it was true. Jessica seemed almost to embody the graceful perfection of a vampire. But Aubrey had never before hesitated to kill someone because she was attractive.
More than her physical appearance, Jessica had a rare aura of strength about her. Aubrey remembered Ash Night’s describing him as having the same kind of aura while he had been human, but he had seen it in very few others. Risika had been one of the exceptions; that strength had drawn Aubrey to her before she had ever caught Ather’s eye. Now Jessica was another.
“Is the question too difficult?” Jager asked, his tone patronizing.
Aubrey resorted to the simplest answer. “I wasn’t in the mood.”
Jager accepted the explanation, and the two vampires sat awhile in companionable silence.
Suddenly the fiery Fala appeared in front of them.
“I see you’ve returned from your little game in the sunlight,” she purred at Aubrey. Her voice was like poisoned chocolate, deceptively smooth and sweet. As she brushed by Jager, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
Fala was Jager’s first fledgling. Born in Egypt, she had naturally dark skin that had paled little in the almost five thousand years she’d been a vampire. Her black hair was pulled back from her face by bloodred combs, but that was the only bit of color in her otherwise black outfit.
“I suppose you’ve met Night,” Fala spat, as if the name was not one to be mentioned in polite society. “Is she quite dead, I hope? Even better, is she writhing in pain somewhere?”
“She’s alive,” Aubrey answered, not in the mood to exchange sadistic banter with Fala.
“Mind if I kill her for you?” Fala asked casually as she walked behind the bar and poured herself a drink from Aubrey’s bottle. “This is good,” she commented, holding the bottle up to the red light, which did not help to illuminate its contents. “Anyone know what it is?”
She emptied the rest of the liquid into her glass, then threw the unlabeled bottle over her shoulder. The bottle shattered, and several people at the tables turned at the sound. One human stood up and brushed glass off her jeans, but she didn’t seem upset. Breaking glass was hardly an unusual occurrence at Las Noches.
Fala sighed luxuriously as she turned back to Aubrey and Jager. “I love the sound of breaking glass. Now, about Ash —”
“No, you can’t kill her for me,” Aubrey interrupted.
“You’re going to stop me?” she asked, her voice going lower, slightly menacing.
“I have more of a quarrel with her than you do,” he answered coldly, not bothering to explain the statement.
“Unless she has drawn blood, Aubrey, you have nothing,” Fala snapped back, stalking closer to him.
Fala was referring to one of the few standing rules of their kind: blood claim. Humans, unless they lived in New Mayhem, were free prey of any vampire. However, if a human drew the blood of a vampire, that human could only be hunted by the vampire who had been harmed. Had Jessica attacked Aubrey and somehow made him bleed, Fala would have been unable to hurt Jessica without Aubrey’s permission.
“She hasn’t, and she never will,” he answered.
“You wouldn’t admit to being wounded by a human even if you had been,” Fala scoffed. She finished her drink and threw the glass over her shoulder. “But I suppose you wouldn’t be in such a good mood if you’d lost another fight.”
She said nothing more.