On Midnight Wings

Laughing once more, Loki shook his freshly-barbered head—Time for a change. Do you happen to have a barber on board, as well?—his red locks cupping his skull and curving against his temples in a rakish cut that reminded Mauvais of long-ago highwaymen and Romantic poets.

Now there’s a dangerous combination, he mused.

“Vampire bloodlines mean nothing,” Loki said, once his musical laughter had ended. “Less than nothing. Only Dante’s Fallen bloodline matters.”

Giovanni stiffened. His sea scent, deep and stormy, intensified. When he opened his mouth for what would no doubt be a scathing—and disastrous—rebuttal, Mauvais gave the Italian’s shoulder a warning squeeze.

<Calm yourself,> Mauvais chastised, <and keep quiet. I shall handle this.>

Giovanni snapped his mouth shut. He glanced away, jaw tight, hazel irises slashed with red. <Then do so. But quickly. Before he actually finds Dante Baptiste.>

Offering Loki an apologetic smile, Mauvais said, “No one is playing games. Not now, anyway,” he amended smoothly. “I truly believe waiting a few weeks for things to cool down, to give Dante time to return, would be wisest.”

Loki regarded Mauvais with shrewd, golden eyes. “And once Dante does, what glib lie will slip from your tongue then, hmm? That by the time you realized Dante had returned, he’d already departed for a tour of Europe? Or will I need to snatch the truth from another member of your household?”

“That was unfortunate,” Mauvais admitted ruefully.

But it had allowed him the opportunity to slip a tracking chip onto the back of Loki’s torc while he’d been distracted questioning Rafe. If the immortal should catch wind of Dante’s whereabouts first, Mauvais intended to follow.

Although stunned by Dante’s little coming out announcement, Mauvais had also been pleased to realize that his suspicions about the defiant marmot had been correct.

True Blood and Fallen. And utterly invaluable to the vampire race.

And with that realization, Mauvais’s long-held desire to have one of the Fallen standing at his side transmuted into a desire to have Dante standing at his side instead, an alchemical bit of magic—not lead into gold, but gold into diamonds—crafted by equal parts ambition, practicality, and a deep-rooted instinct for survival.

We are stagnating. Our Bloodline diluted, tainted. Dante’s blood will renew us. Inject much-needed chaos into our ordered existence.

Convincing the young True Blood to overlook the fact that Mauvais had ordered his home burned to the ground, resulting in the death of a household member, could prove to be a bit of a challenge, however.

A challenge, oui. But not impossible. Not with the future of our race hanging in the balance.

“It would ease our minds if we knew what you intended for the Nightbringer’s son,” Mauvais said. “True Bloods have become increasingly rare, and we’re quite loath to lose one because his father is involved in some kind of blood feud with you. Surely you can understand our concern.”

A slow smile curved Loki’s lips. “I mean this Dante no harm. In fact, I hope to become indispensable to him. The most intimate of friends.”

Mauvais found himself oddly unsettled by the fallen angel’s reassuring words. The tension radiating from Giovanni’s tightly strung body suggested he’d also found the words less than comforting.

Giovanni confirmed this by sending: <He’s lying.>

Mauvais sighed. <Of course he’s lying.>

“A noble gesture, given your animosity toward his father,” Mauvais said to Loki, with an acknowledging nod.

“Indeed,” Loki murmured, his attention now fixed on the crowd. “Interesting mix of individuals. What manner of creaw . . . creature is this Dante?”

Wondering what word Loki had intended to use before changing it to creature, Mauvais followed the fallen angel’s line of sight. The swelling crowd was mostly composed of vampires—the majority of them out of town strangers; they glided like pale sharks amongst the mortals. Usually it was the other way around, Dante’s and Inferno’s mortal fans choking the sidewalk in leather and velvet and fishnet and musk.

“He’s a rare beauty,” Mauvais mused. “Riveting. But he’s also a defiant prick and a true pain in the ass. Disrespectful, sarcastic, a catalyst for chaos.”

Loki chuckled. “I like him already.”