Page 8 of Pursued
“Or Slayers, Inc.,” I added.
Rafe’s eyes met mine. Not all slayers were human. In fact, dhampirs made the best slayers. We were almost as strong and fast as vampires, and had a vampire’s enhanced senses.
Father’s smartphone buzzed. He glanced at it and stilled.
“What?” I asked.
He wordlessly turned the screen toward me and Rafe.
One down.
Beneath the message was a photo of Zaq, his wrists in silver cuffs attached to a dirty concrete wall. He stared defiantly at the camera, his T-shirt ripped, a scruffy beard covering his cheeks and jaws.
I zeroed in on the bruise blooming on the side of his neck. In the center were two tell-tale puncture wounds. Some S.O.B. had fed from him without bothering to heal the wound.
“It was sent on his own phone,” Father said.
My nostrils flared. Scarlet hazed my vision, and my fangs slid out. For a few moments, I was pure predator.
Beside me, Rafe snarled, “Those thrice-damned bastards.” I didn’t have to look at him to know his vampire was dominant right now, too.
My father’s gaze locked on mine. He wasn’t calm—far from it—but the icy rage I saw brought me back to myself.
I had to stay in control. Zaq’s life might depend on it.
I drew a slow breath, retracted my fangs. “You’ll trace the message.”
“For what good it will do. They’ve probably destroyed the phone already.” But he opened the door, handed the phone to Tomas. “I want to know who sent this, and from where. Highest priority.”
The big blond lieutenant glanced at the screen. His bushy brows climbed. “Right away.”
“And Tomas? This has to be kept a secret. No one else can know.”
The lieutenant gave a curt nod and closed the door again.
I eyed my father. “Tell me something,” I asked, tight-lipped. “When did you first suspect Zaq had gone missing?”
“Early yesterday morning. He was supposed to check in as soon as he landed in New York.”
“So you’ve known for thirty-some hours that something’s wrong.”
Father’s spine straightened. His black eyes narrowed in a look that would’ve sent his minions running for cover.
I stared back. It was an old argument between us. He was supposed to be grooming me to take his place as the Kral Primus, yet I was continually left out of the loop on important developments.
Beside me, Rafe shifted uneasily.
“Iknewnothing,” Father bit out in cold, precise phrases. “In fact, I believed that this was another of your brother’s stunts, or that he was indulging in his tendency to play white knight for humans.”
I heaved a breath. “Fair enough.”
“But,” he admitted, “perhaps that was a mistake. I’ve heard rumors of a coup attempt.”
Yet another thing my father hadn’t bothered to tell me. “Who?” I demanded.
“I don’t know.” He sank into the big black armchair behind his desk. “The rumors are just that. Nothing concrete. Whispers in the fucking night.”
He slammed a fist onto the desktop, rattling a box of Cuban cigars and toppling the sole family photo, the one taken at Mardi Gras back when me and Zaq were teenagers.