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He got out of his chair and came around the desk to offer me his small well-formed hand. He was four feet tall, not an inch more. His handshake was firm and much stronger than he looked. A brief squeeze, and I could feel the strength in his small frame. He didn’t look musclebound, but that easy strength was there, in his face, hand, stance.
He was small, but he didn’t think it was a defect. I liked that. I felt the same way.
He gave a close-lipped smile and sat back down in his big chair. Inger brought a chair from the corner and put it facing the desk. I took the chair. Inger remained standing by the now-closed door. He was definitely at attention. He respected the man in the chair. I was willing to like him. That was a first for me. I’m more likely to instantly mistrust than like someone.
I realized that I was smiling. I felt warm and comfortable facing him, like he was a favorite and trusted uncle. I frowned at him; what the hell was happening to me?
“What’s going on?” I said.
He smiled, his eyes sparkling warmly at me. “Whatever do you mean, Ms. Blake?”
His voice was soft, low, rich, like cream in coffee. You could almost taste it. A comforting warmth to your ears. I only knew one other voice that could do similar things.
I stared at the thin band of sunlight only inches from Oliver’s arm. It was broad daylight. He couldn’t be. Could he?
I stared at his very alive face. There was no trace of that otherness that vampires gave off. And yet, his voice, this warm cosy feeling, none of it was natural. I’d never liked and trusted anyone instantly. I wasn’t about to start now.
“You’re good,” I said. “Very good.”
“Whatever do you mean, Ms. Blake?” You could have cuddled into the warm fuzziness of his voice like a favorite blanket.
“Stop it.”
He looked quizzically at me, as if confused. The act was perfect, and I realized why; it wasn’t an act. I’d been around ancient vampires, but never one that had been able to pass for human, not like this. You could have taken him anywhere and no one would have known. Well, almost no one.
“Believe me, Ms. Blake, I’m not trying to do anything.”
I swallowed hard. Was that true? Was he so damn powerful that the mind tricks and the voice were automatic? No; if Jean-Claude could control it, this thing could, too.
“Cut the mind tricks, and curb the voice, okay? If you want to talk business, talk, but cut the games.”
His smile widened, still not enough to show fangs. After a few hundred years, you must get really good at smiling like that.
He laughed then; it was wonderful, like warm water falling from a great height. You could have jumped into it and bathed, and felt good.
“Stop it, stop it!”
Fangs flashed as he finished chuckling at me. “It isn’t the vampire marks that allowed you to see through my, as you call them, games. It is natural talent, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “Most animators have it.”
“But not to the degree you do, Ms. Blake. You have power, too. It crawls along my skin. You are a necromancer.”
I started to deny it, but stopped. Lying to something like this was useless. He was older than anything I’d ever dreamed of, older than any nightmare I’d ever had. But he didn’t make my bones ache; he felt good, better than Jean-Claude, better than anything.
“I could be a necromancer. I choose not to be.”
“No, Ms. Blake, the dead respond to you, all the dead. Even I feel the pull.”
“You mean I have a sort of power over vampires, too?”
“If you could learn to harness your talents, Ms. Blake, yes, you have a certain power over all the dead, in their many guises.”
I wanted to ask how to do that, but stopped myself. A master vampire wasn’t likely to help me gain power over his followers. “You’re taunting me.”
“I assure you, Ms. Blake, that I am very serious. It is your potential power that has drawn the Master of the City to you. He wants to control that emerging power, for fear it will be turned against him.”
“How do you know that?”
“I can taste him through the marks he has laid upon you.”
I just stared at him. He could taste Jean-Claude. Shit.
“What do you want from me?”
“Very direct; I like that. Human lives are too short to waste in trivialities.”
Was that a threat? Staring into his smiling face, I couldn’t tell. His eyes were still sparkling, and I was still feeling very warm and fuzzy towards him. Eye contact. I knew better than that. I stared at the top of his desk and felt better, or worse. I could be scared now.
“Inger said you had a plan for taking out the Master of the City. What is it?” I spoke staring at his desk. My skin crawled with the desire to look up. To meet his eyes, to let the warmth and comfort wash over me. Make all the decisions easy.
I shook my head. “Stay out of my mind or this interview is over.”
He laughed again, warm and real. It raised goose bumps on my arms. “You really are good. I haven’t met a human in centuries that rivaled you. A necromancer; do you realize how rare that talent is?”
Really I didn’t, but I said, “Yes.”
“Lies, Ms. Blake, to me, please don’t bother.”
“We’re not here to talk about me. Either state your plan or I’m leaving.”
“I am the plan, Ms. Blake. You can feel my powers, the ebb and flow of more centuries than your little master has ever dreamed of. I am older than time itself.”
That I didn’t believe, but I let it go. He was old enough; I wasn’t going to argue with him, not if I could help it.
“Give me your master and I will free you of his marks.”
I glanced up, then quickly down. He was still smiling at me, but the smile didn’t look real anymore. It was an act like everything else. It was just a very good act.
“If you can taste my master in the marks, can’t you just find him yourself?”
“I can taste his power, judge how worthy a foe he would be, but not his name and not where he lies; that is hidden.” His voice was very serious now, not trying to trick me. Or at least I didn’t think it was; maybe that was a trick, too.
“What do you want from me?”
“His name and his daytime resting place.”
“I don’t know the daytime resting place.” I was glad it was the truth, because he would smell a lie.
“Then his name, give me his name.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I wish to be Master of the City, Ms. Blake.”
“Why?”
“So many questions. Is it not enough that I would free you from his power?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Why should you care about what happens to the other vampires?”
“I don’t, but before I hand you the power to control every vampire in the immediate area, I’d like to know what you intend to do with all that power.”
He laughed again. This time it was just a laugh. He was trying.
“You are the most stubborn human I have met in a very long time. I like stubborn people; they get things done.”
“Answer my question.”
“I think it is wrong to have vampires as legal citizens. I wish to put things back as they were.”
“Why should you want vampires to be hunted again?”
“They are too powerful to be allowed to spread unchecked. They will take over the human race much quicker through legislation and voting rights than they ever could through violence.”
I remembered the Church of Eternal Life, the fastest-growing denomination in the country. “Say you’re right; how would you stop it?”
“By forbidding the vampires to vote, or take part in any legislation.”
“There are other master vampires in town.”
“You mean Malcolm, the head of the Church of Eternal Life.”
“Yes.”
“I have observed him. He will not be able to continue his one-man crusade to make vampires legitimate. I shall forbid it and dismantle his church. Surely you see the church as the larger danger, as I do.”
I did, but I hated agreeing with an ancient master vampire. It seemed wrong somehow.