Page 22 of Vampire so Virtuous
Antoine tapped two fingers to his temple, then flicked them outward in a casual salute.Thank you, Minh. He owed the upstart for the wake-up call.
Still, no matter how disillusioned the old Antoine had been, Minh must know he stood no chance.
Antoine narrowed his eyes, considering the implications.
Minh must have a backer. Or be setting a trap. There was no other way he could hope to win.
Could his sire be involved?
That made an uncomfortable amount of sense. And yet, Antoine had heard nothing of visiting vampires.
But then you wouldn’t have, would you? You’ve had your head up your ass.
Well, he couldn’t fix the past, but it was high time he focused on the present.
He had to assume Minh was coming after him, and that somehow he had a way of mitigating the two-century gap in power. Anything else was foolish, and vampires didn’t live long if they were foolish.
How long did he have? Minh wouldn’t be pushing in if he wasn’t ready to act.
Regardless, it still made nosense. What could Minh do? Antoine played no political games, had no businesses or ventures to undermine. His wealth wasn’t vulnerable—assets spread far and wide—for it was easy to makemoney with a two-hundred-year investment plan. The only thing Minh could do was kill him, and for that, he lacked both the power and the support of the Code.
Antoine frowned, wondering what he was overlooking. Minh must know something he didn’t, but what?
One thing was certain: Antoine needed to recruit thralls, more was the pity. He couldn’t be everywhere at once. Minh had his own, and they were likely already embedded in his territory, waiting to stir trouble.
Killing vampires was forbidden by the Code. Thralls, however, were fair game. Expected, even. Disposable fodder.
Which was why Antoine hated using them.
But first, he had to find the woman.
She’d been in his thoughts ever since he first tasted her; now the catalyst for his newfound motivation.
Not bad, from one taste. Her potency was greater than he’d realized.
Perhaps she was still nearby. Chattel rarely strayed far from their habitats. Most lived and died within a few miles of where they were born, no matter how vast the world.
He should’ve marked her when he had the chance. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
The area wasn’t dense with office buildings; it was mostly apartments, restaurants, shops, a gym or two. If she’d been here once, it was plausible she lived close.
Still, the alleyway was empty, and there was no point sitting idle. She’d come in from the end, so it was time to see where she might’ve come from. He was familiar with the area; it was his territory, after all. He knew what he would find: a run-down parking lot and a street of shops, selling everything from carpets and furnishings to cannabis oil. She hadn’t been shopping at the latter. Her blood didn’t taste of anything added.
There was a gym, a couple of beauty salons, the numerous coffee shops that seemed to plague Boston, a few restaurants.
In short, too many options.
The gym was a possibility; she certainly had the figure for it. But beyond that, she could’ve come from anywhere.
Still, it was a place to start.
Antoine dropped down to the sidewalk and let his cloak of shadows diffuse, drifting away like mist. When mingling with chattel, most vampires used a glamour to color their skin and change their eyes, but Antoine wore his almost constantly, preferring not to see pale skin or red eyes. Instead, hefavored a pale blue; it suited his European ethnicity, and besides, it had been the color of his eyes before Belle turned him. Or so he thought. It was hard to remember exactly; it had been so long, but the shade seemed to suit him well enough.
After so long on the rooftops, it felt strangely limiting to walk at ground level, unable to see far and without the readiness of a swooping descent. Most vampires walked around like chattel; he didn’t know how they could bear it. But then, his ability to fly—or at least leap with enthusiasm—was part of his bloodline. Perhaps that was why Minh was so irritated Antoine preferred rooftops. Climbing up must ruin his loafers.
The gym turned out to be poorly equipped and mostly empty. A possibility, perhaps, but a remote one. He turned, looking out across the road, seeing all the ways she could’ve walked to this point. He shook his head; he knew it was a waste of time. Yet still, futile though it may be, at least he had an objective for once, and it was such a rare feeling it filled him with excitement and energy.
With a leap, he crossed the road, pulling shadows about himself again, and went to explore the spiderweb of possibilities across this Boston locale.
