“Where is Zack?” I said. My fingers tingled with the unfocused magic that I’d pulled from my chi. The line was out of reach, and I had one, maybe two good pops. Landon knew it, and as the stray strands of my hair began to float, he edged away, hiding his fear behind a haughty sneer.
“Yes, that is the smell of her.” Constance’s gaze traveled over me, lingering at my ring, and I made a fist of my hand. “An odd sort of tang, isn’t it?” she said conversationally to Pike. “I wonder if it shows in her blood.”
Eyes narrowed, I shoved everything I could back into my chi, where it burned and bubbled. “I’m told it does not,” I said.
“Pity.” She smiled, eyes pupil black, sharp canines showing. “Someone take a picture of her for my album.”
Excuse me? I thought, lips pressing together as a man dutifully raised his phone and took a shot. But their thinly veiled threats fell flat. I’d heard it too many times. It might have been better if I had been afraid as Pike seemed to shudder—trying to tamp down his hunger. Seeing it, a fond smile crossed Constance’s face.
Pike took a slow breath, and, with a force of will that probably hurt, he shoved his instincts down and his eyes returned to almost normal. He stepped forward, glancing at Jenks’s warning wing snap as he took my arm and leaned in close. Sensation spilled down my entire side. To tease him now might set him off, and that would do neither of us any good.
“Behave, witch,” Pike said, and a slip of breath spilled from me. “Don’t fuck this up for me.” He let go and turned to Constance. His back was to me, but he was close enough to intervene if necessary. Not that I was going to assault the new CEO of the I.S. in her tower.
“Rache.”
Jenks hovered, the draft from his wing setting off my scar. “Can you park it somewhere else?” I muttered, and he made a frustrated noise.
“Stuff your libido for five minutes and check out the woman in the back,” he said, and I followed his gaze, my stiff smile dissolving. “Maybe Constance likes her meals on the go,” he added, but it wasn’t funny.
The pale, empty-eyed woman half hung in the grip of two attendants, both stone-faced as they supported her like male dancers supporting a ballerina—not really there, not to be seen. My gaze shifted to Constance and back again. Yep, it was the same low-cut, high-slit dress, looking even more wrong as someone had cut discreet slits to allow for her more ample figure. Same overabundance of cheap jewelry, same shoes, too, minus the lift to keep her closer to Constance’s height. The woman was wearing a wig, the relaxed dark curls askew to show blond hair beneath. Red rouge and garish red lipstick gave her an ugly color, and thick, fake eyelashes almost hid her dull stare. Badly mismatched makeup covered a bruised jawbone. There were no new visible bite marks, but someone had been at her. She looked too out of it for it to be otherwise.
I had heard of the ugliness that went on behind closed doors, seen it firsthand and through Ivy. But this was different. It was as if Constance had made her current favorite into a doll, dragging her along for emotional security. It was the kind of wrong that makes you recoil even as you stare—as if finding the sense behind it was the only way to come to terms with it. But there was no sense. At least, not if you were sane. I couldn’t help but wonder if the woman had been randomly selected or had petitioned for the “honor” of being Constance’s latest drain. Either way, I was betting she hadn’t expected . . . this.
“Constance,” Pike said, and my attention flicked to him. “This is the witch Rachel Morgan, formally the scion in waiting to Ivy Tamwood.”
“It’s demon, actually,” I said, and the bevy of vamps behind her stirred and whispered. “Or witch-born demon if you like.”
Constance stiffened. Pike’s jaw clenched as she pushed past him, her hand outstretched as if she wanted me to kiss it. “You are shorter than I expected.”
Jenks’s wings rasped in warning, but I was way ahead of him. “Not even a handshake,” I said, not caring if my smile looked insincere, and Constance’s hand dropped. Behind her, two more people fled as the scent of fear thickened. It wasn’t from Constance. No, it was from her entourage, all of them afraid she might start a bloodbath in the lower floors of the I.S.
Constance’s smile never wavered as the spicy tang of vampire incense grew stronger, demanding I flee and give her something to chase. “You were abandoned by the last of the Tamwoods,” the small, powerful woman said, red nails playing about the gold and silver strands as she moved to block my view of her doll. “She should have known better than to try to take a witch. They can’t be turned. No matter how pretty. You were no scion. You were a toy.”
If she touches my hair, I’m smacking her, I thought. She was trying to make me feel inferior. Being abandoned was the worst thing that could happen to a living vampire; sometimes it resulted in a long, slow, humiliating decline, but more often it was a quick death at the hands of another undead, given as a gift. “She didn’t abandon me,” I said as the pheromones lifted through me, demanding I do something, anything. But I stood still, and I could tell it irritated the hell out of her. “And I was never her scion. I was something far more dangerous. Still am.”
“Oh?” Constance came closer, and I didn’t move as Edden pulled Nash back and the woman began a slow, unnerving circle around me. Pike was wire-tight, and two more of her entourage slipped away. “Tell me,” she said from behind me, and the hair on my neck pricked. “What’s more dangerous than a blood toy wanting to be more?”
I turned to face her, my pulse pounding. She was really short—and I was not going to underestimate her. “I’m her friend.” I paused to let her figure that one out. A friend was an equal. “Enjoying the view of the river?” I said, trying to get in a dig. “I’m told that Piscary’s quarters were originally hollowed out from under a barn.”
“Mmmm.” She finished her circuit beside Pike, smiling to show me her long, deadly teeth. “That might account for the dampness.” She turned to her entourage. “Joni, love, aren’t we tired of the damp? It does so make our hair misbehave.”
The woman shuddered at her name, head hanging and black wig trembling until one of her handlers adroitly lifted her chin, his finger taking on a smear of makeup. Her eyes never focused as her red lips parted in a mindless haze.
“Tink’s titties, she’s totally gone,” Jenks said as he hovered by my shoulder, and behind me, I heard Edden’s quick intake of breath. I didn’t think he’d seen her until just then.
“Joni agrees.” Constance turned to me. Again her hand came out, her multiple rings reminding me of Hodin. “Accept my authority. The city is unsettled. You can end it.”
Is she certifiable, or is it a show to keep her people in line? I wondered as I looked from Joni to Pike. But he had closed down, absolutely nothing on his face. Her entourage, too, had quietly ignored the exchange. Only Landon looked uncomfortable, skulking at the back of the group as more of her followers began to slip away.