dead Prime’s Seal tattooed on their bodies. Fanatics aren’t usually the smartest of criminals; they’re bound to slip up.”
“Yes, and how many humans will die before we stop them?” Had he been a more emotional creature he might have kicked something; irritation was prickling through his mind like the thorns of a particularly nasty cactus.
“Is this anger because of the insurgents, or is it guilt at killing that fool back there?”
He stopped and shot her an irritable look. “Stop being so goddamned insightful.”
She shrugged. “That’s what you pay me for. In the absence of a Queen, it’s my job to question as much as support. I learned everything I know watching you in California.”
In that, she hit the nail squarely on the head: the absence of a Queen. Primes were powerful, yes, and had many arcane abilities the average vampire did not. He was faster, stronger, and had sharper senses, among other things. He had been born telekinetic, a rare gift even among vampires that was extremely useful when it came to, say, interrogation; his telepathy was decent as long as he had some sort of connection to the subject.
A Queen, however, would have different skills; they were tuned into the heart, and read people as easily as words. A Queen could have opened Rico’s mind and lifted the truth out of him without hurting him at all, and then Rico could have been executed painlessly, instead of slobbering and spasming with his screams still echoing in David’s ears.
He didn’t have a problem with killing, in theory. He’d been a killer for 340 years. Doing away with his own kind, however, had gotten harder and harder since he’d come here. It was starting to feel like infanticide, no matter how richly deserved.
“You know,” Faith said, bringing him back to the moment, “Deven once told me years ago that Primes aren’t meant to be alone. Your power becomes debilitating if it’s not shared.”
“That’s easy for him to say,” David retorted with a shake of his head. “He only ruled alone for six months before Jonathan came along.”
“Lucky him.”
David started to respond, but he felt eyes on him, and lifted his gaze up from the gardens to the main building of the Haven itself.
There, in the second-floor window adjacent to his suite, Miranda stood staring out at the night, or rather, down at him; the firelight from her room caught the loose strands of her jewel-red hair, and in her white T-shirt with her pale skin she looked almost spectral, perhaps even angelic.
When she saw him, she smiled a little, then looked away as if embarrassed. Even at this distance he could see the faint touch of pink to her cheeks.
He might have read more into it, except that as long as he was shielding her he could pick up her outermost thoughts, and he knew she hadn’t meant to stare. Movement below her window had captured her attention as she looked out at the forest.
A second later she glanced down again, probably feeling his eyes on her this time, and he inclined his head toward her in greeting. She gave a small wave and disappeared.
Faith was holding back a grin. “So, how is our guest?”
“I plan to start teaching her to shield tomorrow,” he said, though he hadn’t been planning any such thing until now.
“Is she strong enough already?”
“No way to tell until she tries.”
She kept her tone professional, though he could tell she was trying not to laugh as she said, “You’re in need of a Queen yourself . . . perhaps you’ve developed a taste for madwoman redhead?”
“Don’t be disgusting,” he replied mildly.
“I’m only joking,” Faith said, becoming serious. “Besides, after what she’s been through, I doubt she’ll be interested in that sort of thing any time soon, even with somebody like you skulking around.”
He smiled at the compliment, such as it was. “The best thing we can do for her is get her well enough to go back to her life.”
A drop fell on his arm; the rain
“Yes, and how many humans will die before we stop them?” Had he been a more emotional creature he might have kicked something; irritation was prickling through his mind like the thorns of a particularly nasty cactus.
“Is this anger because of the insurgents, or is it guilt at killing that fool back there?”
He stopped and shot her an irritable look. “Stop being so goddamned insightful.”
She shrugged. “That’s what you pay me for. In the absence of a Queen, it’s my job to question as much as support. I learned everything I know watching you in California.”
In that, she hit the nail squarely on the head: the absence of a Queen. Primes were powerful, yes, and had many arcane abilities the average vampire did not. He was faster, stronger, and had sharper senses, among other things. He had been born telekinetic, a rare gift even among vampires that was extremely useful when it came to, say, interrogation; his telepathy was decent as long as he had some sort of connection to the subject.
A Queen, however, would have different skills; they were tuned into the heart, and read people as easily as words. A Queen could have opened Rico’s mind and lifted the truth out of him without hurting him at all, and then Rico could have been executed painlessly, instead of slobbering and spasming with his screams still echoing in David’s ears.
He didn’t have a problem with killing, in theory. He’d been a killer for 340 years. Doing away with his own kind, however, had gotten harder and harder since he’d come here. It was starting to feel like infanticide, no matter how richly deserved.
“You know,” Faith said, bringing him back to the moment, “Deven once told me years ago that Primes aren’t meant to be alone. Your power becomes debilitating if it’s not shared.”
“That’s easy for him to say,” David retorted with a shake of his head. “He only ruled alone for six months before Jonathan came along.”
“Lucky him.”
David started to respond, but he felt eyes on him, and lifted his gaze up from the gardens to the main building of the Haven itself.
There, in the second-floor window adjacent to his suite, Miranda stood staring out at the night, or rather, down at him; the firelight from her room caught the loose strands of her jewel-red hair, and in her white T-shirt with her pale skin she looked almost spectral, perhaps even angelic.
When she saw him, she smiled a little, then looked away as if embarrassed. Even at this distance he could see the faint touch of pink to her cheeks.
He might have read more into it, except that as long as he was shielding her he could pick up her outermost thoughts, and he knew she hadn’t meant to stare. Movement below her window had captured her attention as she looked out at the forest.
A second later she glanced down again, probably feeling his eyes on her this time, and he inclined his head toward her in greeting. She gave a small wave and disappeared.
Faith was holding back a grin. “So, how is our guest?”
“I plan to start teaching her to shield tomorrow,” he said, though he hadn’t been planning any such thing until now.
“Is she strong enough already?”
“No way to tell until she tries.”
She kept her tone professional, though he could tell she was trying not to laugh as she said, “You’re in need of a Queen yourself . . . perhaps you’ve developed a taste for madwoman redhead?”
“Don’t be disgusting,” he replied mildly.
“I’m only joking,” Faith said, becoming serious. “Besides, after what she’s been through, I doubt she’ll be interested in that sort of thing any time soon, even with somebody like you skulking around.”
He smiled at the compliment, such as it was. “The best thing we can do for her is get her well enough to go back to her life.”
A drop fell on his arm; the rain
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