Night's Honour(69)
Xavier swore. If the council had to reconvene to pass such a motion, it would be another damning piece of evidence against Julian’s effectiveness.
“I’m Sisyphus, Xavier,” Julian growled. “I’m a Vampyre Sisyphus stuck in hell, damned to push the same fucking rock up the same hill for all eternity. One of these days I’m going to separate Justine’s head from her shoulders.”
He took a deep breath and said, “The thing is, this tricky situation I’ve got . . . Julian, it can’t wait.”
Silence spooled out between them. “Okay,” Julian said. “We’ll just have to fucking deal with all of it. What do you need? What’s going on?”
“We shouldn’t discuss it over the phone,” Xavier told him. “We need to talk about it in person.”
A short silence. He knew what Julian was thinking. He almost never asked for assistance with anything, and the fact that he thought they needed to meet in person brought home the urgency of his request.
Julian asked, “When are you coming?”
“Half an hour, tops,” Xavier replied.
“Find me when you get here.” Julian disconnected without a good-bye.
Xavier tucked his phone into his pocket.
Malphas, on the hunt for Tess. Justine, in residence at Evenfall.
This night kept getting better and better.
* * *
In her room, Tess changed into jeans and an old cable-knit, soft heather sweater. She stuffed other clothes into a gray canvas carry-on—another pair of jeans, two more sweaters, a couple of T-shirts, the flat black shoes she had worn at the Vampyre’s Ball, toiletries, underwear and her hairbrush.
She barely noticed what she grabbed. None of her old street clothes fit right any longer. They all hung a bit loose on her frame.
It wasn’t like it mattered what she looked like anyway. Nobody cared, least of all herself. She wasn’t going to pause to put on makeup or a nice outfit for a confrontation with Malphas.
A confrontation with Malphas. The words echoed in her head. Her hands were shaking, while her mind raced in circles like a panicked jackrabbit.
Trust me, Xavier had said. And he was right. He had earned it.
She didn’t even know what had happened, or when, but something fundamental had changed. Like the continuous stream of decisions and actions that had brought her to this place, maybe what had happened wasn’t one single thing but a series of events that culminated into something far different from anything she could have imagined.
She had seen Xavier angry more than once. They had talked, argued, even laughed together. And when she had broken down to confess everything about Eathan and his father, instead of losing his temper or attacking her for possibly endangering people on the estate, he had pulled her into his arms and held her.
He had moved so far beyond the term “monster” in her mind, he might actually be the finest man she had ever met.
Trust me, he had said, and the look in his eyes had been . . . vulnerable. It had mattered to him that she did. He was usually so poised, so self-contained, the expression had jolted her out of her old habits and mind-set.
She zipped up her bag. For a moment, she simply stood and looked around her plain, peaceful room. She said in the empty air, “I think we’re going on a fool’s errand.”
Wherever that was.
But he had said trust me, so she would. He had connections, an entire network of people—creatures—that she could know nothing about, and centuries’ more knowledge and experience. That had to count for something. It should count for a lot.
Honestly, she didn’t know if that was a reasonable assessment, or if she was falling prey to a fool’s hope too.
She slipped on her jean jacket, slung her bag onto her shoulder, turned off the light and left the room.
As she neared the front door, she met Diego. He wore a black leather jacket and had a bag slung over his shoulder too. She stopped. “Where are you going?”
He shrugged. “I assume I’m going the same place you are, chica.”
“God, I hope not,” she muttered. “I wouldn’t wish where I’m going on my worst enemy.”
He grinned and opened the door. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
They walked outside together. Across the lawn, she saw Xavier standing by his Lexus, clearly waiting for them.
She and Diego approached, and when they neared, Xavier said to Diego, “Please drive.”
“Sure thing.” Diego slipped into the driver’s seat, while she and Xavier climbed into the back.
The interior smelled of expensive leather and the faint scent of a masculine aftershave that she recognized as Xavier’s. Instead of tensing with nerves, she found herself relaxing. She was beginning to associate his scent with comfort and safety.