IT TAKES LESS than an hour for Benny to break. Usually I’d get involved, but the way Frangelico tortures his own is too much for me. I’ve given plenty of beatings-taken them too-but Frangelico uses both emotional torment and physical pain that’s beyond what I can stand. Plus his dungeon is full of medieval torture devices-actually from the Middle Ages. Fucking creepy. Benny thinks so, too, because he spills everything about the coup against Frangelico and all the players involved. Pretty much all of Frangelico’s sired were planning to overthrow him. When he finds that out, Frangelico drops all pretense about caring for Benny, and gets really cruel.
I almost pity the vampire victim. But then Benny screams something out about “Augustine’s fox.”
“What was that?” I lean closer to Benny’s face. No need to look down his body at what Frangelico’s doing.
“Augustine has a pet. He said you took her. He said he needed her back.”
“Did he say why?”
Benny shakes his head frantically.
“What about the one-eyed vampire,” I ask. “How is he involved?”
“He wanted the fox back too. The experiment is over, they said, but they still wanted the fox back. Something about hiding evidence.”
“Experiment? What experiment?”
Frangelico does something and Benny screams. “I don’t know! They don’t tell me everything.”
I nod to Frangelico and he makes Benny scream some more, but we don’t get anything else about the one-eyed vampire. Just the location of their secret club-behind the basement door where I cornered Benny.
Finally, Frangelico announces that we’ve gotten enough for tonight.
“Join me for a drink?” he invites. As he leaves, he caresses Benny’s limp hand. “I’ll be back for you later.” At Benny’s whimper, we leave.
“I gotta go,” I tell Frangelico after we’ve washed up. The king’s shirt is covered in Benny’s blood, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He washes his hands and inspects his nails as if he spent the last hour getting a fucking manicure.
“In a minute,” Frangelico says.
“Now,” I growl. Every second here gives the vampires a chance to clear out of their club.
“I promise to make it worth your while.”
Okay then. I follow the king into his living room.
“What are you going to do with your sired?” I ask. The king ignores me, going to the bar and pouring two glasses of whiskey. I accept mine but don’t drink.
Frangelico drinks his in one gulp and pours another. Is he trying to get drunk? Do vampires even get drunk? Shit, I don’t have time to play drinking games.
Before I can bow out, Frangelico murmurs, almost to himself.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to sire a vampire? What’s involved?”
I shrug. “Blood exchange.”
“Yes. A careful, constant feeding. The number of exchanges varies. Too many and you weaken the victim. Too few and the virus doesn’t take hold. Oh yes,” he takes my shock for interest. “Vampirism is a virus. After all the exchanges are done to ensure the victim is primed enough to accept the virus, it’s time for the final step. The sire kills them. The heart must stop and the victim must die. Only then can the virus take over. It takes heart’s blood. The deepest, richest, and most deadly blood of all. The victim spills their heart’s blood, the sire replaces it.
“It’s excruciating,” he whispers, studying the color of his drink. “Waiting by your youngling’s side, not knowing if they will rise again. If you snuffed their life out before its time.
“Of all the sins on my head, the deaths of my children are why I am damned. But damnation is a small price to pay to avoid the long penance: eternal life.” He sets down the glass with a clink. Again, he’s murmuring so softly I wonder if it’s meant for my ears. “I will live forever, alone.”
Lucius Frangelico, all-powerful king of the vampires, is lonely.
Enough of this. I’m not his therapist. I drain my glass and set it down on the bar with a clink.
“I’m going after the one-eyed vampire,” I say. “I need blood. Lots of it.”
Without another word Lucius goes to his bar and draws out a small cooler.
“Here,” he says. I take the cooler’s handle but he doesn’t let go. “This is more than I’ve ever given you. Use it wisely. Drinking all of this could-”
“Kill me, yeah, yeah. I know.”
He raises a brow and I realize I just mocked a vampire king. After a second he smiles and I relax.
“I was going to say ‘bring a person back from the dead’. That’s another use of vampire blood-did you know? Vampire blood-the most healing substance on earth.” He picks up his glass and murmurs to the liquid, “The humans would hunt and breed us, if they knew.”
I wait until he’s finished swallowing before saying, “One more thing…”
“Yes?”
“The shifters who borrowed money from you. To place on me during the fight.”
“Yes? What about them?”
Fuck. How do I say this? “They’re…they’re my friends.”
The vampire king grins broader. It is not a pretty sight. “And you’re telling me this because…”
“Because I like my friends.” It better not get back to the Stooges that I said any of this. “I’d be very upset,” I enunciate carefully, “if any of them got hurt.”
“Ah. I see.” The vampire laughs. “You’ve been hanging out with vampires too long. Learning the art of the subtle threat.” He bends to the mini fridge and fills his drink with ice while I grit my teeth. I’m this close to saying a stake isn’t so subtle when he shrugs.
“I have no interest in killing any of my debtors. You can’t squeeze blood from a stone. Or a dead shifter.” He gives me one of his chilling smiles. “If they cannot repay me, they will simply owe me a favor.”
I suppress a shudder. The Stooges might be better off dead. “Got it.”
“I wish you well on your hunt.”