He didn't even try to deny it. Expressionless, maddeningly stoic, he broke contact with her and stood in silent contemplation as she backed away from him, more wounded than she cared to let him see.
Lesson number one, he murmured coldly. Don't count on me for anything. I will only let you down. He was a prick and a bastard, but it would have been less than honest of him to let Elise think any differently. Leaving her looking at him from across the small apartment, her gaze stung and despising, Tegan headed out into the hallway to make his escape.
Maybe he should feel guilty for treating her so roughly but he frankly didn't need the hassle. And she was far better off looking to someone else for whatever she needed. He hoped to hell she would.
With the book held against him under his coat, Tegan's pace was brisk as he walked out into the dark night. Curiosity made him cut along a side street, then up onto the one that would take him past the FedEx store. Elise's description of the Minion and all that had transpired there had been informative, but part of him wondered if he'd find out anything more if he went by and questioned the clerk himself.
Not a hundred feet from the place, he realized he wasn't the only one interested in checking things out, and he'd gotten there too late.
Tegan smelled fresh spilled blood. A lot of it. The store was dark inside, but Tegan could see the motionless body of a clerk lying behind the counter. The Rogues had already been there. On a closed-circuit monitor in the corner, a single frame from a video feed was frozen onscreen. It was a blurry but recognizable shot of Elise, caught in mid-motion, the package in her hands.
Damn it.
And right about now, the Rogues who'd been there were no doubt scouring the area looking for her.
Tegan turned around and hauled ass back to her apartment building, using all the preternatural speed at his disposal. He banged on her door, cursing the blare of music likely drowning him out.
Elise! Open the door.
He was just about to throw the locks and barge inside when he heard her on the other side. She opened the door only a crack, glaring at him. Before she could tell him to fuck off like he deserved, he pushed her back inside with the bulk of his body and slammed the door shut.
Get your coat and boots. Now.
What?
Do it!
She flinched at his barked command, but she held her ground. If you think I'm going to let you send me back--
Rogues, Elise. He saw no reason to pretty the situation up for her. They just killed the clerk at the FedEx store. Now they're looking for you. We don't have much time. Get your things.
She blanched white at the news, but blinked at him like she didn't quite trust him--which made good sense, since he'd given her no reason to think she could. Especially after what he did to her not a few minutes ago.
I have to get you out of here, he told her when she hesitated another second. Now.
She nodded, grave acceptance in the pale amethyst of her eyes. Okay.
It took her no time to grab a wool coat and shove her feet into a pair of boots. On her way to the door with him, she suddenly doubled back. Wait. I'm going to need a weapon.
Tegan took two strides in and caught her by the wrist. I'll protect you. Come on.
They hurried out of the apartment--only to find a Rogue peering through the glass of the building entrance, its feral eyes glowing amber as it locked on to them in the narrow hallway. It curled back bloodstained lips and snarled something over its thick shoulder, no doubt calling in reinforcements from the street.
Oh, my God, Elise gasped. Tegan--
Get back inside. He pushed the book he was carrying into her hands and shoved her back toward her apartment. Stay in there until I come for you. Bolt the door.>Screams carried into the drawing room of an opulent Berkshires estate, the howls of anguish emanating down from a windowed attic room on the third floor of the manor house. The chamber boasted a wraparound wall of windows with unobstructed views of the wooded valley below.
No doubt the scenery was breathtaking, bathed in the day's last searing rays of sunlight.
The vampire being held upstairs by Minion guards certainly sounded impressed. He'd been treated to a front row seat of the UV spectacle for the past twenty-seven minutes and counting. More screams poured down the central staircase, agony giving way to the weariness of sobs.
With a bored sigh, Marek rose from a fine Louis XVI wing chair and crossed the room to the double doors of his dimly lit private suite. Other than the attic interrogation room, the rest of the mansion's windows were shaded for the day by sun-blocking electronic blinds.
Marek moved freely into the hall outside and summoned one of his Minion attendants who waited to serve him. At Marek's nod, the human dashed up the staircase to instruct the others that their Master was on the way and to ensure the windows were covered for his arrival.
It took only a moment for the captive vampire's bleating to dry up. Marek climbed the wide marble steps, up and around to the second floor, then up and around again, to the smaller flight of stairs that rose to the attic. As he progressed, fury kindled to life in him again.
This was only one of several frustratingly exhaustive interrogations of the vampire in his custody the past couple of weeks. Torture was amusing, but rarely effective.