Chapter Two
Six days to Christmas
If Ryan had hoped to make a clean getaway, he was shit out of luck. He came out of the elevator to find Piers Lamont leaning against the wall opposite, arms folded across his chest. Obviously, he was lying in wait for Ryan, looking like some sort of rock star with his streaky blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, his long leather coat, and designer sunglasses.
Poser.
“I do not need a goddamned babysitter,” Ryan snapped before Piers could bring up the subject again. Christ, after months of his every move being watched, he just wanted some alone time. Was that too much to ask for?
He shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked away, making a beeline for the smoky glass doors that led out onto the main street. He’d only gone a couple of steps when his skin prickled between his shoulder blades. Gritting his teeth, he came to a halt and swung around to glare at Piers. “And will you stop fucking watching me like I’m some sort of time bomb?”
“You know you’re not supposed to leave the building alone,” Piers said, his tone so reasonable it put Ryan’s teeth on edge. “Anyway,” he continued, “it’s the company Christmas party. I thought you might like to join me.”
The actual Order was staffed mainly by vampires, with a few other supernatural beings. But the same building housed a legitimate company, SA International, which acted as the Order’s interface with the human world. The company employed a large number of humans—most of whom knew nothing of the true nature of their employer or the existence of the Order. Ryan had zero interest in attending their Christmas party. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No. It’s time to get yourself in the festive spirit, my friend.”
Never going to happen.
What a crappy time of year. Always had been, and that was unlikely to change now.
But he was guessing this was some sort of test, to see how he managed in a crowd of happy people. To see if listening to “Jingle Bells” one more time made him spontaneously fucking combust.
He scowled, ran his hand through his hair, and finally heaved a huge, exaggerated sigh. If he was going to explode, perhaps it was better to find out now. “Lead on,” he muttered, then shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and followed Piers across the marble reception area of the SA building, to a set of big double doors that led to the main meeting room.
Inside, the room had been decorated for the party, with thousands of silver lights that made his eyes hurt. It was packed with people, mostly humans, all in party wear. And dammit, fucking “Jingle Bells” was playing.
Ugh.
“Who’s a grumpy vampire,” Piers said, nudging him farther into the room. “It’s supposed to be the season of goodwill. Where’s your happy face?”
Fucking vampire.
Just because Piers was happy, he expected everyone else to be as well. Not that Ryan was unhappy. He just wasn’t wandering around with an inane grin on his face as Piers would have obviously liked.
He breathed in the mingled scents of food, flowers, perfumes, and sweat, and beneath those, the sweet lure of warm blood. For a moment, his gums ached, but he pushed the feelings away with ease. These people weren’t food, they were co-workers.
Glancing up, he found Piers watching him expectantly. “What?” he growled.
Three years ago, he’d come to work for the Order—as a human liaison for the newly formed Committee for the Integration of Mankind and…well, everything else. With the existence of modern day technology, the Order had come to realize it was only a matter of time before humanity became aware that monsters were actually real. And they’d decided that they’d prefer that to happen under their control.
Everything had been going fine until twelve months ago. He’d been planning to spend Christmas with his sister and nephew. He hadn’t spent any time with them since he’d come to work for the Order—it was against the rules. But Sally had called him and asked if they could meet. She’d sounded…worried, and he hadn’t been able to deny her. His sister had done her best for him after their mother had left when Ryan was only eight, and he owed her. So he’d argued for a special dispensation.
It had been a waste of time. The visit had never happened, because he’d been attacked and mortally wounded by a pack of werewolves. He should have died. Except his friends from the Order had gotten to him in time, and Piers had changed him into a vampire instead.
He was grateful he wasn’t dead. But still, it was all a little fucked up.
Apparently, under normal circumstances, a vampire would never change someone who’d been bitten by a werewolf. It was totally against the rules. Because people who are attacked by werewolves and don’t die, turn into…werewolves. Which meant he had the potential to be a werewolf and a vampire. A fucking furry bloodsucker. It didn’t bear thinking about. So he tried not to. But because the combination had never been seen before, and there was nothing to compare him to, it made everyone a little jumpy.
He was like some deep, dark secret locked in the cellar…literally, in fact, for the first six months. It was only recently that they’d trusted him enough to allow him back to work and only under strict observation. The rest of the committee was taking turns watching him. Waiting for something bad to happen. Except now they were all going away for the Christmas holidays. And they weren’t happy about leaving him alone.
He blew out his breath and eased the tension from his muscles. “I understand,” he said. “You don’t trust me. None of you do. But it’s driving me goddamn crazy.”
“We can’t afford anything to go wrong right now,” Piers said. “We’re at a delicate stage in the negotiations.”
Piers’ soothing tone made Ryan’s hackles rise. He didn’t want to be soothed. “I get it. The last thing we need right now is any weird supernatural shit going down. But honest, I’m in control.”
Piers looked him up and down, his eyes narrowed as though he could see inside him. “Maybe. But you see, that’s part of the problem. You’re only a year old. The fact is, you shouldn’t be in control. Nowhere near it. You should be going through the blood-crazed-ripping-peoples’-throats-out-and-draining-them-dry period right now.”
“Sorry.” He tried for sarcasm, but Piers clearly wasn’t impressed. He tried again. “Would it make you any happier if I ate someone? Kiss them under the mistletoe perhaps. Lull them into a false sense of security and then tear their throats out. Prove what a well-adjusted little vampire I am.”
It was a measure of how fucked up Ryan’s life was that Piers seriously considered the question. “It might,” he said. “But then there’s the fact that you aren’t just a vampire.”
Yeah, that was the crux of the matter. No one knew quite what to expect of him.
Fucking werewolves.
If he closed his eyes, he saw feral eyes, fangs, felt the slash of claws. Inside him something stirred, warmth where there had only been cold for so long. He opened his eyes, dismissing the sensation. He was not going there. If he was in denial, so be it.
Up until now, he hadn’t shifted. General consensus was that since vampires were stronger, his vampire side must be subduing his werewolf side. And if he had any say in it, that was the way things were going to stay. He quite liked being a vampire. It was sort of cool. He was super strong, might get to live forever, and given time, he’d be able to go into peoples’ minds and control them, as well as other stuff he was only just learning about. But no way did he want to turn furry once a month. Or have anything to do with those asshole werewolves.
Piers shook his head and sighed. “I’m going to have to cancel my trip. Roz will be disappointed, but with everyone else away, I can’t risk leaving you alone.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Nope.”
“Roz really wants this trip. She told me.”
“She wants you alive more.”
He smirked. “I thought I was already dead.”
“Believe me, you could be deader. And you know what would happen then?”
“Nope.” But he was sure he was going to find out.
“I would get a whole lot of grief from Roz.”
Roz was Piers’ wife and Ryan’s friend. He and Roz went way back. Back to when he’d worked for the Metropolitan police and she’d come to him with information about a missing person that she couldn’t have possibly known. But then, Roz was a witch. They’d been friends ever since and she’d helped him on other cases after that first one. It was due to Roz that he’d gotten mixed up with the Order in the first place and ended up working for Piers. He didn’t hold it against her—most of the time.
“I’ll be good. I won’t leave the building. I—”
“I suppose we could lock you in the holding cells for the holidays. But that will hardly put you in the festive spirit.”
A shudder ran through him at the thought of being confined in a small cell. He’d become slightly claustrophobic over the last few months. It was a good thing no one expected him to sleep in a coffin.
At that moment, someone came up and whispered in Piers’ ear. A thoughtful expression entered his eyes. “Really? Tell her I’ll be right there.” He turned back to Ryan. “I’ve got to go see someone. Stay here. Mingle. Suck on a candy cane.”
As Piers walked away, Ryan snagged a passing waiter. “Whisky,” he said. They were playing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” now.
Jesus.
“Make that a bottle.”