The Scarlet Deep
Page 27
Not once.
“I know he did,” Anne said quietly. “It’s not like I could forget.”
When she had finally told Murphy, years after their mating, the influence she could sometimes effect on other immortals by manipulating amnis, Murphy had assured her of his secrecy. Had sworn the knowledge would be safe with him. And then he’d asked her—not even a year later—to use it on a rival.
Not even a year.
It had been an astounding violation of her trust, and Murphy hadn’t even comprehended why she’d been so offended.
Mary had been livid.
“I have never trusted that man,” Mary said. “I didn’t know you still had feelings for him, and I don’t want to—”
“I’ll be fine,” Anne said. “I can handle it.”
“I don’t doubt you, but…”
She felt her fangs fall. “The fact that you said ‘but’ tells me you doubt me entirely.”
“Drop it,” Mary said abruptly. “Forget the summit. Go home. Or come to Belfast. They can do without me. Without us. I’ll write Father and have him explain it to Terrance Ramsay.”
“No. I’m staying.”
“Why?”
“I don’t like the politics. Can’t stand all the secrets and intrigue. But this is important. Unless they can find out who’s shipping Elixir, they have no chance of eliminating it.”
“It’s not going to be eliminated,” Mary said. “This is all an exercise in futility. Pandora’s box is open, and more than one vampire has a death wish. Don’t your textbooks say something about that? If there’s a market for Elixir, someone will make it. The damn formula is probably on the Internet by now.”
Anne threw up her hands. “So why send me at all?”
“I don’t like people trying to sneak into my territory,” her sister said. “I suppose you’re right. Stay, then. Someone is making a power grab, and I won’t have others being proactive while I bat away on the defense. Offense is a far better plan. Besides, you said you had shopping to do.”
Anne closed her eyes and let her head hit the back of her chair. Trust Mary to change her mind at least four times in the space of a single argument.
“What should I share?” Anne asked. “So far, they’ve been giving me all the information and I’ve only shared a little.”
“I trust you. Share what needs to be shared and no more. You don’t have political experience, but you’re smarter than most of them and you’re perceptive as hell. People tell you things, even without your influence. Use that when you get to London.”
“I will.”
“And send your notes of the meeting with Robert when he gets there. I’m sending him directly to Carwyn’s home. He should be there tomorrow night. Notes in his hand and no one else’s.”
Robert was Mary’s personal courier and the most frightening little human Anne had ever met. He had dead eyes, but he was utterly loyal to her sister.
“Did you translate them yet?”
Anne eyed the stack of paper she had yet to start on. “Not yet. I’ll do it when we get off the phone.”
“Caution, sister.”
“You call it caution, I call it paranoia with disturbing hints of narcissism.”
Their sire was old. So old that the language of his human years had died long ago. Only he and his two daughters spoke it anymore, making it the easiest way for them to communicate privately. A keen linguist well versed in early Celtic dialects might be able to decipher some of it, but it would take months of study.
“You’ll see Father in London,” Mary said.
“I’m sure I will.”
“That’s the other reason I’m sending you. Terry will want to appease the old man.”
Anne pursed her lips. “Should I be offended that I’m the token political daughter here?”
“No,” Mary said. “If you were the token political daughter, Father would have mated you to the priest years ago. Don’t think he didn’t consider it.”
“I feel so loved.”
“Maybe you don’t feel loved enough,” Mary said wryly. “That’s probably why you’re so cross.”
Anne banged her head softly against the wall. “Did I mention that I hate you?”
“Not in the past five minutes.”
“I do. I really, really do.”
Chapter Seven
MURPHY STEPPED INTO HIS OFFICE whistling, only to find an unexpected—though not unwelcome—intrusion.
“Mr. Garvey,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
Andrew Garvey shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to swallow his obvious nerves. Humans didn’t always register their reaction to the predators vampires were, but Garvey was no clueless human. He knew why his pulse sped; he just battled past the urge to run. Murphy had to respect that.
“I, uh, I told Tom I had some news for you, and he wanted me to come to the office with it. Tell you myself.”
“Fair enough.” Murphy frowned. “Is Tom here?”
“He went out to fetch something. Said he’d be back in a moment.”
Murphy motioned to one of the chairs near the couch in his office. “Have a seat then. We’ll wait until he comes back.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He took a seat himself, trying to put the man at ease.
“I know he did,” Anne said quietly. “It’s not like I could forget.”
When she had finally told Murphy, years after their mating, the influence she could sometimes effect on other immortals by manipulating amnis, Murphy had assured her of his secrecy. Had sworn the knowledge would be safe with him. And then he’d asked her—not even a year later—to use it on a rival.
Not even a year.
It had been an astounding violation of her trust, and Murphy hadn’t even comprehended why she’d been so offended.
Mary had been livid.
“I have never trusted that man,” Mary said. “I didn’t know you still had feelings for him, and I don’t want to—”
“I’ll be fine,” Anne said. “I can handle it.”
“I don’t doubt you, but…”
She felt her fangs fall. “The fact that you said ‘but’ tells me you doubt me entirely.”
“Drop it,” Mary said abruptly. “Forget the summit. Go home. Or come to Belfast. They can do without me. Without us. I’ll write Father and have him explain it to Terrance Ramsay.”
“No. I’m staying.”
“Why?”
“I don’t like the politics. Can’t stand all the secrets and intrigue. But this is important. Unless they can find out who’s shipping Elixir, they have no chance of eliminating it.”
“It’s not going to be eliminated,” Mary said. “This is all an exercise in futility. Pandora’s box is open, and more than one vampire has a death wish. Don’t your textbooks say something about that? If there’s a market for Elixir, someone will make it. The damn formula is probably on the Internet by now.”
Anne threw up her hands. “So why send me at all?”
“I don’t like people trying to sneak into my territory,” her sister said. “I suppose you’re right. Stay, then. Someone is making a power grab, and I won’t have others being proactive while I bat away on the defense. Offense is a far better plan. Besides, you said you had shopping to do.”
Anne closed her eyes and let her head hit the back of her chair. Trust Mary to change her mind at least four times in the space of a single argument.
“What should I share?” Anne asked. “So far, they’ve been giving me all the information and I’ve only shared a little.”
“I trust you. Share what needs to be shared and no more. You don’t have political experience, but you’re smarter than most of them and you’re perceptive as hell. People tell you things, even without your influence. Use that when you get to London.”
“I will.”
“And send your notes of the meeting with Robert when he gets there. I’m sending him directly to Carwyn’s home. He should be there tomorrow night. Notes in his hand and no one else’s.”
Robert was Mary’s personal courier and the most frightening little human Anne had ever met. He had dead eyes, but he was utterly loyal to her sister.
“Did you translate them yet?”
Anne eyed the stack of paper she had yet to start on. “Not yet. I’ll do it when we get off the phone.”
“Caution, sister.”
“You call it caution, I call it paranoia with disturbing hints of narcissism.”
Their sire was old. So old that the language of his human years had died long ago. Only he and his two daughters spoke it anymore, making it the easiest way for them to communicate privately. A keen linguist well versed in early Celtic dialects might be able to decipher some of it, but it would take months of study.
“You’ll see Father in London,” Mary said.
“I’m sure I will.”
“That’s the other reason I’m sending you. Terry will want to appease the old man.”
Anne pursed her lips. “Should I be offended that I’m the token political daughter here?”
“No,” Mary said. “If you were the token political daughter, Father would have mated you to the priest years ago. Don’t think he didn’t consider it.”
“I feel so loved.”
“Maybe you don’t feel loved enough,” Mary said wryly. “That’s probably why you’re so cross.”
Anne banged her head softly against the wall. “Did I mention that I hate you?”
“Not in the past five minutes.”
“I do. I really, really do.”
Chapter Seven
MURPHY STEPPED INTO HIS OFFICE whistling, only to find an unexpected—though not unwelcome—intrusion.
“Mr. Garvey,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
Andrew Garvey shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to swallow his obvious nerves. Humans didn’t always register their reaction to the predators vampires were, but Garvey was no clueless human. He knew why his pulse sped; he just battled past the urge to run. Murphy had to respect that.
“I, uh, I told Tom I had some news for you, and he wanted me to come to the office with it. Tell you myself.”
“Fair enough.” Murphy frowned. “Is Tom here?”
“He went out to fetch something. Said he’d be back in a moment.”
Murphy motioned to one of the chairs near the couch in his office. “Have a seat then. We’ll wait until he comes back.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He took a seat himself, trying to put the man at ease.
