"Of course it wasn't. Haven't you been listening to anything we've told you? You're a Venator, and not just any Venator, but the daughter of Max Denton. Your lineage is not simply impressive, but stellar. The moment you savior who carries the deepest taintc something were identified as a Venator, you became the most dangerous person in the world to Nicholas and Count Alvisi. You're the heir to Il Gardella. They want you dead-or, worse, they want you under their control. "
The wounds in Macey's neck still throbbed, but that discomfort was nothing compared to the awful, ugly sensation growing inside her.
What have I done?
"What did you mean I was almost marked by Nicholas Iscariot?" she asked, half curious, half wanting to change the subject. She needed to grieve for Chelle. She would grieve for her; she would cry and rage for her. . . but not here, not with Chas. Not now.
She glanced down at the meal he'd made. He had been amazingly kind and considerate-such a contrast to his normal self, and so surprising in light of his barely concealed anger with her. Oh, yes, she could see how livid he was.
"Like Lilith the Dark did to Max Pesaro. " When she looked blankly at him, his expression turned to irritation. "You need to bone up on your history. Suffice to say, the few vampires closest to Lucifer are more powerful than that of the minions they control. Nicholas Iscariot, whom you met tonight, and Count Alvisi are two of the fewer than half a dozen of that inner circle of Lucifer
's-and they're both in Chicago, for some damned reason. Probably because of you as much as Vioget, now that I think about it. They might want his rings, but they're also most certainly interested in you. "
Macey blanched and her insides swished ominously, but Chas didn't seem to notice. He continued his history lecture. "Iscariot in particular is close to Luce because of his relation to Judas. If they should mark you-which is an intentional process that is reserved for only select victims-it happens when they're in the process of feeding on you. The way I understand it, there is a special something-some essence, some intoxicant-released from their saliva that seeps into your blood and, for lack of a better term, it hooks or connects you to them. You remain mortal, but tied to them irrevocably. Your wounds never fully heal-unlike normal vampire bites. "
Macey felt lightheaded and reached to touch the four raised marks on her neck. "Am I marked?"
"I'm certain I interrupted in time. But Wayren will be able to tell for sure-and perhaps Vioget. But I warn you-don't allow him to see you like that. "
"Like what?"
"Bloody. " His unfriendly eyes pierced her. "He'd be on you in a moment. The blood, and the fact that you're the spitting image of your great-great-grandmother. "
A deep, hot shiver caught her by surprise. He'd be on you in a moment. That golden, bronzy body, those elegant hands and sensual mouth-then she went cold. And nauseated. "You mean. . . he'd. . . feed on me?"
Chas gave a sharp, bitter laugh as if he'd followed her train of thought. "Yes. And then his soul would be lost forever. "
Macey might still be missing large chunks of information about the undead, but this she understood. Or thought she did. "He's been a vampire for over a hundred years, and he's never fed?"
"Not on a mortal. He drinks of course, but with the stockyards here, there's an ample supply of fresh blood. " Chas's expression focused pointedly on her. "Which is why it was so vital that you accepted your calling. He needs you-or believes he does-to save his soul. Or something of that nature. Vioget isn't known for sharing information. "
"So because he's never fed on a mortal, his soul can still be saved. "
"Or so we believe. Once an undead feeds on a person, violating their very life, the vampire is damned to belong to Lucifer for eternity. "
All that wasn't in The Venators, at least as far as she'd read. Macey drew in a long, deep, ragged breath. What have I done? What am I going to do?
Chas pulled a dark bottle from beneath the sink. It was labeled "vinegar," but as soon as he opened it, she smelled spirits. Without commentary, he set two finger-high glasses on the counter between them and filled both-one nearly to the top and the other halfway.
"Take your pick. "
Instead of reaching for either, Macey pulled her hand back. "I don't thinp.
Chapter TWELVE
~ A Dark Spiral ~
The inside herI to investigatestale scent of death mingled with an unfamiliar, pungent aroma that smelled like a chemical lab. Bare bulbs cast cold white light in an already sterile room.
Macey held her breath then looked down at the still, gray-faced figure on the table. The glimmer of hope she'd held onto since waking this morning in Chas's flat burst like a soap bubble. Grief stabbed her hard in the belly.
"Yes," she said more steadily than she'd thought possible. "I can identify her. That's Chelle-Michelle Chautier. "
"Thank you, Miss Denton. " The morgue attendant swiftly pulled the white sheet back up to cover Chelle's face. He had been kind enough to keep the rest of the ravaged body hidden, but it didn't matter. Macey had already seen the horror. "I'm sorry you had to do this, but we thank you for your assistance. "
She turned away, filled with nausea and emptiness. It had been a small hope, but there had been a chance that she'd only thought it was Chelle in the back seat of Nicholas Iscariot's auto. A trick of the light, a reasonable mistake due to the shock and uncertainty of the environment.
Or maybe Chelle wasn't actually dead, just. . . wounded. Perhaps there was hope for her.