Hands of Flame. C.E. Murphy

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СКАЧАТЬ who were bound to night, not vampires. Daisani had been standing in an office full of sunlight the first time she met him, all swarthy smiles and a charisma that made his middling looks handsome. His teeth were unnervingly flat, no hint of too-long canines or a mouthful of razor-sharp ivory weapons. The dragon had pointy teeth, but the vampire, no. Neither garlic nor silver crosses held him off, nor did he require an invitation to pass a threshold. Alban had pointed out, prosaically, that Daisani would certainly die if someone thrust a wooden stake into his heart, but then again, so would anything else.

      If she’d not seen the impossible speed Daisani could move with, if she’d not been given a gift of his blood to help her heal, she would never have believed he was anything other than what he appeared: a slight man with a great deal of personal wealth and business acumen. That, more than anything, made her not want to bargain with him.

      Margrit tightened her hug, then let herself go forcefully, driving herself forward with the motion. As if she’d summoned him with the action, a security guard approached her. “Sorry, miss, but there’s no loitering here. You’ll have to move along.”

      Genuine astonishment rose up as laughter. “Are you serious? This is a sightseeing stop. ‘Oh, yeah, that’s where Eliseo Daisani lives. He’s supposed to be worth forty billion now, you know?’ How do you get tourists to stop loitering?”

      The guard gave her a tight smile and gestured her away. “Like this.”

      Margrit held her ground as the guard stepped into her personal space. “Eliseo’s my boss. I need to see him.” She tried sidestepping the guard and found herself caught in a dance with him.

      Visibly exasperated, he stepped back, language turning formal, as though he repeated a well-rehearsed line. “I’m sure if Mr. Daisani is your employer, you’ll find a more appropriate opportunity to speak with him.”

      It struck Margrit that using Daisani’s first name—though she’d been invited to—probably put her in league with starstruck stalkers, not a properly subordinate employee. She grimaced, then stepped back with her hands lifted in acquiescence. The guard stood his ground until she’d headed well down the block, only returning to his rounds after Margrit disappeared around a corner and peeked back. She counted to thirty, then, grateful he hadn’t waited to see if she’d return, put on a burst of speed and bolted back to face the doorman.

      “Wait,” she said as he reached for his radio. “I know I sound like a stalker, and I don’t have an appointment, but my name is Margrit Knight. I’m Mr. Daisani’s new personal assistant, and this really is an emergency. Could you please ring up to his apartment and at least tell him I’m here?”

      “Miss,” the doorman said more patiently than the guard had, “it’s a quarter to seven in the morning. Even if—”

      “Is it that late?” Margrit shot a look toward the horizon, cursing her lack of cell phone and therefore lack of timepiece. “Never mind. I’ll try to catch him at the office.”

      “That won’t be necessary, Miss Knight.” Eliseo Daisani opened one of the lobby’s glass doors himself, putting a stricken look on the doorman’s face. “You may join me in the Town Car, if you wish.” He gestured to the street, then fastidiously brushed a speck of lint off his overcoat. The coat, like everything Margrit had seen Daisani in, looked unbelievably expensive, the wool appearing so soft she had to stop herself from reaching out to touch it. Its cut added to his height; Daisani was taller than Margrit, but only just.

      She shook off her fascination with his coat and glanced toward the car. “Does it have privacy glass?”

      Daisani’s eyebrows, then his voice, rose. “Edward, could you have the limousine brought around, please?” The driver, who’d stood at attention beside the car, actually clicked his heels together in response before climbing in and driving away. Daisani smiled, then turned to the still-stricken doorman. “Miss Knight is to be admitted at any time she desires. Don’t look so pale, Diego. I hadn’t left instructions. You weren’t to know. Margrit, will you require a ride home? I trust you’re not going to work in that attire.”

      “A ride home would be great.” Margrit thinned her lips, staring between Daisani and the street. “I think. I don’t know if I’m going to work.”

      “For reasons pertaining to your arrival here this morning, I trust.” Daisani nodded as a limousine pulled up, a different driver leaping out to hold the door. Bemused, Margrit preceded Daisani into the car, waiting until the doors and glass partition were closed before slumping in the leather seats. Daisani opened a miniature refrigerator and withdrew a bottle of water, eyebrows lifted in question.

      “Yes, please.” Margrit sat up to accept and Daisani deftly poured two crystal glasses full, handing one to her and keeping the other for himself. The car pulled into traffic with a soft jolt of acceleration, then slowed again immediately. “Good thing we’re not in a hurry. It’d be faster to walk.”

      “One of the tribulations of city living. Now, tell me what brings you to my doorstep so early in the morning, Margrit.”

      “I have a problem, and—”

      Daisani chortled, then waved off her look of surprise. “Forgive me. It’s just that it was only a few weeks ago I said something very similar to you.”

      “You said I had a prob—” Margrit broke off again, recognizing his point, and Daisani’s smile broadened.

      “And you assured me it was I who had a problem, not you.”

      Margrit muttered, “A lot’s changed since then,” earning another delighted chuckle. She glowered out the tinted window, trying once more to think of someone else with the necessary resources to rescue two day-frozen gargoyles, and came up, again, with no other solution. “I need help,” she said to the windows, then transferred her gaze back to Daisani. “But I’m reluctant to tell you why until I’ve already established I’ll maintain control over the situation.”

      “As opposed to?”

      “You deciding you can get mileage out of it and using it to your own advantage.”

      Daisani’s eyes half lidded in curiosity. “Suggesting it’s a scenario from which I could benefit.”

      “Maybe. Probably,” Margrit amended. “On the other hand, if it’s not dealt with immediately, it’s got the potential to be very bad for all of you. It behooves you to give me control.”

      “And in exchange you will give me what, Margrit? Your employment with me begins Monday, so that’s no longer an enticement you can bargain with. I doubt very much you intend to offer up the delectable Miss Dugan—Ah.” The last sound was one of smug laughter as Margrit’s heartbeat accelerated. She clamped down on the reaction, doing her best to inhale both deeply and discreetly. Daisani had admired Margrit’s housemate too many times already, and his choice of words reminded her that the man she sat with was not a man at all. Humanity lay as a veneer over a true form she’d never seen. In the one rendering she’d seen, vampires had been depicted as manlike, but Margrit doubted Daisani’s other form was so familiar and reassuring.

      “My friends aren’t any part of this, Eliseo.” The coldness in her own voice surprised her, its strength sounding as though she might somehow be able to prevent Daisani from dragging Cameron into the world Margrit had become a part of. Daisani’s mouth quirked, recognition of and interest in Margrit’s implacability. “I’ll leave it an open-ended favor if I have to, but no way are you involving Cameron or Cole in СКАЧАТЬ