Eye of the Beholder Page 4

  “And what did you think?” he asked.

  I nodded, my mouth dry. “It was great. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  He grinned again and held out the sword to me. “This is one of the better replicas I have commissioned this century.”

  I took the sword reverently and peered at it closely. The others wandered away and a few of the men were boasting that they could do the same. Most of the women merely humored them before rolling their eyes behind their backs.

  “Is it based on the zhanmadao?” I asked.

  Approval lit his features. “Yes, it is.”

  “Who—”

  “Cassius, if you keep that up, you’ll never be rid of me.” Lindsey almost threw herself on him again, slapping her palms against bare flesh. His features went stony and the duchess took my arm again.

  “Let us see to my gems.”

  Frustration churned as I handed back the sword. I wanted to know more about who’d forged this sword and see if they were still alive. I’d loved to pick their brain. Cassius reached out and our fingers bumped as he took hold of the grip.

  His touch was like a flame, singeing me, despite his skin being cool. He flickered his gaze over my face before nodding and holding the sword at his side. I let the duchess pull me away as Lindsey continued to fawn. At least Cassius didn’t look receptive, merely resigned. But what did I care about his relationship with others? Such things didn’t affect me at all.

  Even in my head, that thought rang false.

  “Do not be discouraged, mon cher. Cassius is only a passing fancy for Lindsey and she will move on shortly. I am certain he wants your friendship.”

  I cleared my throat as we headed inside and up to her parlor. “It doesn’t matter.”

  She stared at me pointedly and said nothing.

  Once we entered the parlor, I pulled out a chair at the table glittering with cut gems waiting to be made into jewelry. I waited for her to sit before taking my own seat.

  “Where would you like to start, Your Grace?”

  Chapter Three

  Later that week I stepped into Nicole’s shop in broad daylight. She looked over and raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, look who it is. Odd to see you out in the morning. At least I can stop worrying that the bloodsuckers had changed you.”

  I snorted and ran my hand over my hair. “I’m waiting for a shipment but I thought I’d check on that jacket I commissioned.”

  Nicole was my personal tailor since I required secret pockets and compartments in all my clothing items. Mostly for weapons and such considering the dangerous creatures I encountered on a nightly basis. She might have been retired from her job manufacturing body armor for the US army but she’d set up a nice little business to equip civilians with the same protection.

  “I finished it about an hour ago.” She disappeared into the back, and I scanned the small shop front. It was deceptively modest, especially for LA, and the average person would overlook her building. Just as she wanted. Like me, she received commissions through word-of-mouth and contacts.

  “Here we are.” She returned and held out a nicely folded black leather jacket. The color was deep enough to make her own dark skin seem lighter. It had lightweight body armor inside the lining. I tried it on, turning to one of the mirrors. She stepped up behind me and fussed a bit before stepping back and nodding.

  “Perfect.”

  I smiled, stroking the sleeves and loving the scent. “You never fail to impress me. Your work is flawless.”

  “Damn right it is.”

  “I’ll send the rest of the payment within the hour.”

  She patted my shoulder. It was only due to our years’ long relationship that she trusted me to pay in such a way. Her trust was as limited as my own.

  Then she met my gaze in the mirror. “I should warn you that I’ve been hearing some rumblings.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “The ghouls are making noises. Guess there’s some internal squabble and it’s spilling into the streets.”

  “Fuck,” I said. Ghouls had a tight grip on the drug trade and human trafficking, as well as hired hits. Too bad the slayers didn’t focus on them. From what Dain had told me, slayers were personally insulted that creatures such as vampires, werewolves, and ghouls existed at all and they swore oaths to see them all dead. Certainly there were other creatures of the night, such as trolls and kitsune and others, but their numbers were small and they kept to themselves.

  She nodded. “So watch your back. It’s not a secret who you work for and they might come at you to get to the duchess. Hell, that goes for the slayers too.”

  Nicole only took commissions from humans, including slayers, but she held no animosity toward creatures of the night. She just found it more conducive to her wellbeing to stay away from my usual clientele. She was smarter than I was, apparently.

  “I’ll keep all that in mind.”

  “You do that.”

  I left and slowly walked back to my motorcycle a few blocks down. Finding parking in LA was the equivalent to finding the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. On impulse I pulled out my phone and reread the text conversations I’d had with Cassius over the last several nights. He’d started to randomly text me the night after the sword dance and only seemed to grow bolder when I kept responding.

  The duchess said he wanted my friendship. Why? What did I have to offer to someone like him? At times I felt like a clinger-on, not too different from Lindsey. That thought made me grimace. I really needed to stop fanboying over the poor guy.

  He’d texted, Why do humans think the louder the car, the bigger the dick?

  I’d texted back. I suspect it was similar in your day to who had the bigger horse, sword, or farm, right?

  You’re not wrong.

  Then, a few hours later, Why would people choose to wear heels that look like torture devices?

  Every culture has its standards of beauty, much of it painful. Don’t tell me Rome didn’t have the same.

  He hadn’t responded to that one.

  Then the next night, I don’t understand the point of reality TV. Is it an elaborate joke I am missing?

  Says the guy who enjoyed gladiatorial games.

  I received an emoji face with its tongue sticking out for my wit.

  The gloss of this town hides a rotting core, doesn’t it?

  Much like Rome before she fell, right?

  Ouch.

  I snorted again at his response. Every subsequent comment had sent me into a fit of giggles upon first reading them, and I was still desperately happy no one had witnessed them. I reached my motorcycle, still confused but amused that he’d decided to send me all his random observations of my city.

  I got propositioned by a prostitute just now. She was a he. Imagine my surprise.

  Don’t tell me you didn’t have such folks in Rome.

  Oh, we had plenty. Still surprising though.

  Missing Italy yet?

  No.

  Why not? You do nothing but complain.

  The States have one important thing Italy doesn’t.

  What?

  A certain blacksmith named after one of my gods.

  I knew I turned crimson once again and stuffed my phone back into my pocket. He’d texted that just a few hours ago before dawn. I hadn’t responded. I told myself not to read too much into it. He was charming, sure. But was he sincere? I shook my head and put on my helmet before starting my bike.

  It didn’t matter. Whatever he was, it didn’t matter.

  I pulled into traffic, wishing I could believe my own lie.

  That afternoon my shipment for the materials for Cassius’s sword finally arrived. But first I had to finish my commission for Her Grace. I’d managed a quick nap before closing myself off in my workshop and setting an emerald in a circle of gold. My mind wandered to the gladius I would forge. Cassius and I had negotiated on the contract, and he’d given me free reign to customize as I saw fit. I wanted to do a bit mo
re research before I started. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how I looked at it—I needed to get to know Cassius a bit more. Sure, I knew he’d been a solider but during what time? I suspected he’d been born after the Republic fell since most of his knowledge of battles came from after Augustus took over. But that was a large swath of time.

  Just as I knew the duchess’s tastes and could predict what she wanted without her telling me, I needed the same familiarity with Cassius. My heart jumped at the thought.

  I’d put him on raincheck every time he’d asked for drinks the last few nights and now it was my turn to offer. I sat back and flexed my fingers. Jewelry-making was delicate work. I stood and stretched before turning off the New Age music crooning in the background.

  I grabbed my phone and checked the time. Seven. Good. Time for me to eat.

  I had to wait until ten to make sure the sun was completely down and hope he was at least stirring. If nothing else, I could leave a message. On the third ring he answered.

  “Good night. Are you doing well?”

  I smiled. He sounded rather upbeat. “I’m fine. Listen, I’m still brainstorming about the sword, and I wondered if we could meet up? Before I customize I need to, you know, get to know the owner.”

  There was silence for a moment before he chuckled. “Oh, I see. I’m only good for information not for a social meeting.”

  I cringed despite his clear amusement. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Are you sure?” His mirth was suddenly gone.

  I swallowed hard. At least to myself, I could admit that I wanted to know him simply to know him. “I’m sure. I’d like to have drinks with you. When are you available?”

  More silence I couldn’t interpret.

  “I have coven duties tonight. Perhaps tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good. Thank you. Maybe around midnight?”

  “That’s fine. The club?”

  “Yes. See you then.”

  “Have a good night, Vulcan.”

  “Uh, you too.”

  We hung up and I didn’t like the jumpy feeling caused by him saying my name. Was he disappointed that he thought I only wanted him for information? Okay, I kinda did but that wasn’t the only reason. But what kind of fool would I have to be, to be friends with a vampire? I wasn’t friends with the duchess... well, except... oh, hell.

  I sat on my couch and glared at the wall. Dain’s warning repeated in my head.

  What did Cassius want from me? Just friendship like the duchess said or more? My blood? Why did it feel like the duchess was pushing us together? I never knew her to be a matchmaker. Then again, maybe she was tired of my freelancing and wanted me for a thrall. Since she didn’t appeal to me, she got a handsome walking and talking history book to do the job. Was that what was going on?

  It was possible and yet it didn’t feel right. The duchess had always treated me with respect and affection and never made hints or did any actions to indicate she wanted me for a thrall. And Cassius wasn’t even a part of her coven. He was her guest. Why would he want to get mixed up in such a situation?

  Dain’s last words seared me.

  “You’re only stupid if you think the gifts don’t have strings attached. Remember our number one rule: our loyalty can’t be bought. We’re free agents, Vulcan. The vamps don’t own us, and neither do the wolves. Our services can be purchased, but not our lives.”

  So where were the strings?

  Grunting in frustration, I grabbed my keys and locked up my house and workshop before charging out on my motorcycle. I needed to clear my head. It was stupid to get twisted up by one freaking bloodsucker.

  I had good instincts and they were telling me both Cassius and the duchess were on the level. But sentiment could make us stupid.

  I guess tomorrow night I’d figure out one way or another if there were strings.

  Chapter Four

  The time of our date arrived—wait, no. Meeting. It was just a meeting between friendly acquaintances. Yeah, even I didn’t buy that.

  I shook my head. Cassius lurked in my mind more often than I wanted. It was annoying, and yet at the same time exciting. I’d never had a crush before. Relationships weren’t my thing. Hell, intimacy, wasn’t my thing. Sex never interested me until now. Until Cassius in all his drool-worthy glory. I was twenty-six and untouched. I didn’t exactly have suitors lining up, and considering the beings I hung out with, I was better off unclaimed. I was wonderfully independent, and I was going to stay that way, damn it.

  The club was downtown and packed as usual. It was called La Rose Écorchée, which was French for “The Flayed Rose.” Most people simply called it La Rose for short. Her Grace owned it, proving her sense of humor. She’d named it after a 1970s French horror movie.

  I was VIP and could skip the long lines, much to the annoyance and anger of everyone waiting. Vamps and humans alike glared at me, but I simply breezed through after showing my pass to the bouncer at the door. I was certain many of the clubgoers didn’t know there were real vamps in the crowd and were simply looking for the thrill of the infamous club. It certainly had a reputation for odd happenings and weird “stage shows” that were often uppity vamps getting into fights and then being kicked out. When blood flowed, everything was chalked up to giving the customers a thrill. Humans saw what they wanted to see and were talented at talking themselves out of reality. Much to the benefit of the paranormal community.

  I wove through the crowds, making sure my new jacket was properly zipped. Pickpockets were always a problem. Despite the modern times, many vamps still wore clothes from or inspired by their birth era. Flappers comingled with frontiersman and Scots in full kilt, showing off their tartans. Mortals were peppered through the crowd, many thralls, many wannabe thralls, and others naïvely flirting in a den of predators.

  Some patrons hailed me, and I waved back as I made my way determinedly up to the bar. Jessie, the bartender, and one of the humans in the know about the paranormal, smiled when I approached.

  “Two shots?” he said.

  “Read my mind.”

  “It’s what you always order.”

  I wasn’t going to apologize for being a creature of habit. I always had two shots of Jameson, freshly imported from Ireland, and that was it.

  I hopped on a stool and glanced over the crowd. Rainbow lights swung around at regular intervals, penetrating the mostly dark club. The fog machine was in full swing, obscuring certain pockets from view. It hid some of the more vampy activities so the humans not in the know could remain blissfully ignorant. There were three levels circling the dancefloor that dominated the center of the massive building. The stage rose up on one side, the vamp DJ keeping things hopping with modern club music. I enjoyed the mix of old and modern. It always amused me to see vamps throw out hip-hop moves with a graceful elegance no mortal could pull off.

  There were even vamp drag queens. No joke. I usually kept my distance since most of their flamboyant personalities were too much for me. I did enjoy watching them from afar, though, and admired the way they could shimmy in those tight dresses and ankle-breaker heels. They got a lot of attention from humans and vamps alike—as they should—and it was a guarantee that at least once a night one of them would take the mic and lip sync to a song.

  My shots arrived, and I gulped them in quick succession. They were the only drink I allowed myself. I had to keep my wits sharp in such a place. I noticed a few wolves, the unique way the light reflected off their eyes giving them away. La Rose was a sort of neutral territory. Any altercations between vamps and wolves would get both kicked out and possibly banned.

  “I appreciate promptness.”

  I smiled as he approached. “What a coincidence. So do I.”

  He grinned, and I noticed he was garbed in dark blue instead of black. It complemented his eyes. I suspected he had a personal tailor like me; most vamps did. Only the more recently made ones with less than a decade under their belts actually shopped in stores.

&
nbsp; The architecture of the club allowed the music to be sufficiently loud on the dancefloor but a bit muted elsewhere, so we didn’t have to shout at each other to be heard.

  “Thanks for meeting me,” I said.

  “I was beginning to wonder if I’d offended you somehow.”

  I shook my head. “What would give you that idea?”

  He merely shrugged and ordered a vodka. I considered him a moment as Jesse fetched his drink and put it on the counter.

  “Maybe you’re too used to folks bowing and scraping to realize other people have lives.”

  He choked slightly as he tried to take a sip. He cleared his throat and turned toward me, leaning his elbow against the bar. “Is that what you think? That I’m an egotistical tyrant that demands servitude of everyone I meet?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “No. I wouldn’t go that far. But you might be a tad entitled.”

  He blinked before he laughed. He shook his head and regarded me with incredulity. “Do you honestly find it so unbelievable that someone would desire your company?”

  “Is it so unbelievable that you might want my company because I fanboyed when we met?” I didn’t know why I was trying to antagonize the guy but I really needed to see his reactions to my words.

  He laughed harder. “Fanboy.” He sent me an unmistakably affectionate look before sipping his vodka. “Let us be clear, Vulcan. I don’t play games. I don’t have ulterior motives. I would like you to take my words at face value. I enjoy your company and would like to see more of you. I don’t know how long I shall be in the States and prefer to make as many friends as I can. As the duchess continues to point out to me, it isn’t healthy for me to be alone.”

  Something dark moved over his expression before it settled, and he gave me a small smile.

  “I don’t think it is healthy for you to be alone either.”

  “I’m not. Not really.”

  “Hmmm.”

  I fidgeted slightly on my stool and briefly looked around the club, digesting his words.