Night Unbound(9)

He snorted. “C’est ridicule!”
“You always sing drinking songs when you don’t want me to read your thoughts. What are you hiding?”
“Nothing. By the way, Jenna asked me to invite you to breakfast.”
“You’re changing the subject. And thank you, but no. You’re newlyweds. You need your privacy.”
He laughed. “The world’s most mischievous Second resides beneath our roof, along with Jenna’s son. Privacy isn’t a possibility. And we aren’t newlyweds any longer.”
“Pish posh. You’re immortal. The two of you will be newlyweds for at least a century.”
His brow furrowed. “You aren’t avoiding us because—”
She held up a hand and turned her head, listening.
Richart glanced around, face alert. His mental singing ceased. What is it? Though he wasn’t telepathic himself and couldn’t speak directly into others’ minds the way she could, he knew she would pick up on his thoughts.
She shook her head. Vampires. But . . . something is off.
What?
Four are your typical vampire fare, thoughts a maelstrom of violence and glee over their most recent kills.
And the fifth?
Both could smell them now.
The fifth vamp feigns insanity, but is lucid.
Did he band together with the others for safety’s sake?
She shook her head. He wants something from them.
What?
I don’t know. But he intends to kill the others once he obtains it.
The vampires were almost upon them now.
Keep listening, Richart said. See what you can learn from the poser.
Should we try to recruit him?
Let’s see what his game is first. For all we know, he may be another Bastien or Dennis, looking to raise a damned vampire army to eradicate us.
Just what we need.
This late on a weeknight, few moved about UNCG. Campus security performed occasional sweeps. But professors had long since left. Every once in a while a stray student, driven by either insomnia or stress, walked the campus grounds. But those were few and far between.
Nevertheless, Lisette and Richart waited to confront the vampires until they were in a relatively isolated area, distanced from student housing, in order to reduce the chances of mortals getting caught in the crossfire . . . or witnessing the battle and posting video on the Internet.
I see what you mean, Richart thought. It’s the large one who’s built like a lumberjack, right?
Yes.
The other vampires were a slovenly mess, no longer concerned with personal hygiene. Garbed in jeans and T-shirts with various and assorted smart-ass quips splashed across the fronts, the vampires could easily pass for students if one disregarded the bloodstains on their clothing, as well as the fangs and glowing eyes. The latter gave away the vamps’ recent kill as much as the stains and their thoughts did.
Any heightened emotion—anger, excitement, lust, jealousy—made the eyes of both vampires and immortals glow. Which was one of the many reasons immortals had to be careful when they took mortal lovers. Glowing eyes weren’t easy to hide.
Of course, that wouldn’t be a problem with Zach. His own eyes glowed a beautiful gold, so if she took him as a—
She swore.
Why the hell couldn’t she stop thinking about him?
What about the others? Richart queried mentally. Do we take time to chat, or shall we simply attack?
Attack. They aren’t worth saving. The thoughts of those turned her stomach, the screams of their victims still echoing through their minds like a favorite tune.
The lost causes walked in pairs. Two swaggered in front, wondering aloud if they should seek new victims to torment. The other two scuffed along behind them and agreed, eager for another kill. The fifth brought up the rear.
The gaze that one directed at the others whenever they weren’t looking held contempt. He thought them beneath him. Lesser creatures to be used and discarded.
Richart might be right. This might be the next vampire who intended to declare himself king. (Thank you, Bastien, for putting the idea of such uprisings into their heads.) Perhaps, like Dennis, this one intended to make lowlives like these his whipping boys.
While Bastien had ruled his vampire army with an iron thumb, he had only used violence to keep the maddest of them in line when they’d strayed and had earned the devotion of his followers by giving them hope. Dennis, Bastien’s successor of sorts, had used violence . . . just because. The vampires who had followed him had done so not because they thought he could help them and cure them, but because they had feared he would rip them to shreds if they didn’t.
Again Lisette’s gaze went to the fifth vampire.
Yes, this one reminded her strongly of Dennis. Already, he imagined tearing his companions apart.
She nodded to her brother.
Richart vanished and reappeared directly behind the first two vamps.