Page 101 of Vampire's Choice
A pang hit her mid-chest. “Is Charlie with her?”
“Yes.”
She suppressed the immediate urge to go to Clara. In this moment, that wasn’t her job. “Any new information come out of it you can share?”
“It still revolves around the Trad vampires. New variables have entered the vision.”
He wouldn’t tell her anything above her pay grade. A moment later, she wished this had been one of those times. “She saw Lady Lyssa…and signs of a death connected to her. It was not clear what kind of death.”
At Ruth’s curious look, he elaborated. “There can be a physical death or a metaphorical one.”
Like the death of a queen’s reign. Which, in Lyssa’s case, could result in a lot of physical deaths. Most vampires knew her strength, her stabilizing power as Council head, kept restless vampire factions and other potential opponents contained. The potential enemies of the current status quo were limitless.
Marcellus confirmed her sobering thoughts. “It could herald a far wider conflict in the vampire world. Which would impact the human one.”
“How about the angels?”
Marcellus shook his head. “We stand apart from conflicts the Fates and Goddess deem should be left to the decisions of others.”
“So if the vampire world tears itself apart, you’ll do nothing?” She tried, unsuccessfully, to pose it as a neutral question.
“You have many influential players. It is not our fight.”
In theory, she understood. She could tell it didn’t necessarily sit well with him, either, though.
“It is often recommended that angels stay detached from the worlds and peoples we protect so we don’t get overly involved,” he added.
“A personal relationship with one of those people screws mightily with that,” she observed.
“Yes.”
“But it’s not prohibited.”
“No. Not usually. The Goddess respects free will and the evolution and growth it can support. No matter how painful those processes can be.”
“Freedom’s never easy,” Ruth said. “My father has had to fight a lot of battles on the political front to keep his sanctuary operating the way he wants to run it. Some days he says physical combat would be less exhausting.”
Marcellus nodded. Seeing he might need a distraction, she chose a different direction. "Marcellus, what do you eat?"
He blinked those solidly dark eyes. “Manna is what sustains angel kind.”
“Have you ever offered any to Merc?”
"Yes.” Marcellus’s lips quirked. “He did not like the taste."
"Has he ever tried eating it right before he feeds the way his incubus side prefers?"
Marcellus raised a brow. “Not to my knowledge.” He shifted his gaze to her right. “Am I correct?”
“Yes.”
She turned to Merc. It had to be intentional, his ability to full-on sneak up on her, since other times she could close her eyes and feel how close he was.
His wings were pulled in close around his shoulders, enhancing the black. He wore his security garb, black jeans and short sleeved shirt with the embroidered security logo. Black shoes with thick soles. Marcellus was in his usual Legion wear.
When last she’d seen Merc, in his faded jeans and bare feet, she’d realized why each man looked more comfortable in his preferred garb. Marcellus’s square cut jaw and formal stance smacked of military command. Merc was the rogue anti-hero, with the stubbled jaw and devil-screw-it look.
Two different styles of eye candy.