He led her to a huge office, with a whole wall lined with file cabinets. She nodded to them. “Are those your father’s records?”
He glanced back. “As a matter of fact, they are.” He smiled. “Let me explain to you how this works.” He motioned for her to take a seat in the straight-backed chair in front of the big oak desk.
“Why don’t you sweeten the deal first and let me peek at my cousin’s and uncle’s files?”
He propped his butt on the side of his desk and chuckled. “You are a bit obstinate. But I have several clients who actually prefer a little spunk in their servants.”
He had no idea how much spunk she had.
“Sit,” he ordered.
She debated whether doing as he said would win her anything, then decided to try. She lowered herself into the chair. Her elbow touched something sticky. Glancing down, she noted the duct tape hanging from the arm of the chair as if someone had been confined there.
Trying not to show any emotion, especially any trace of the fear that curled up inside her chest, she faced him again.
“Now what?” she asked. Her gaze shifted behind the man to where about six rolls of duct tape sat on top of the file cabinet. Taping people up must be his thing.
He stood up, reached into his desk, and handed her a piece of paper. “The contract is simple. You agree to work for two years, exclusively for the person I assign as your guardian. Your title and the type of work required of you will depend upon your guardian’s … needs.”
The way he said “needs” made her skin crawl. “And if I don’t like the work?”
“If you choose not to complete the tasks that are assigned to you, your guardian will try to persuade you otherwise.”
“Persuade? As in beat me?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Your guardian is much like your parent. If you follow the rules, there should be no reason for punishment.”
Yeah, she believed that.
“I’m sure having been recently turned, you know the hardships of securing food. Have you killed yet?”
He said it coldly, as if to get a reaction from her. She decided not to answer and let him assume the worst.
“So you have. You need help, Miss…?”
“Tsang,” she answered.
“Asian?” he asked, studying her as if she didn’t fit that bill.
“Half.” The word tasted bad on her tongue.
“Many of my clients like Asian.”
She was sure he didn’t mean for the sleaze to leak out of his voice, but it did. She tightened her hands until her fingernails cut into her palms.
“For their loyalty of course,” he added.
Oh, she was loyal all right. And right now her loyalties were on taking this guy’s ass down.
“Statistics prove that without help, you will kill ten people within six months. It’s not your fault, you simply can’t help yourself. Of course, that is if you make it six months. You see, other supernaturals exist, like werewolves. They make finding and killing fresh turns a sport.”
Della knew most of what he said was bullshit, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she hadn’t had Chan, if she hadn’t found Shadow Falls, if she might have bought into all his lies. And how many new vampires were right now servants to this creep and his clients? The thought turned her stomach.
He pulled a pen out from his pocket and handed it to her. “All I need is for you to sign on the dotted line and then we’ll see about finding those files you’d like and preparing your burial service.”
When she didn’t immediately start scribbling her name, he continued, “Believe me, if your parents knew what you are, they would be grateful that you have chosen to fake your own death so they don’t have to see you like this.”
She glanced down at the paper, trying to figure out when to put a stop to this nonsense. “Two years seems like an awful long time.”
“It’s nothing. As a matter of fact, I’ve been doing this at my other funeral home for years. There are many servants who choose not to leave their guardians. Once you learn to meet their expectations, it’s easy to live the life your keeper has set out for you. You get food and care. It’s not a bad life.”
And I bet slave owners said the same thing in the eighteen hundreds. She shook her head. “I hate to bother you, but I think I might like to see those files before making up my mind.”
The hand of the brute standing behind her fell to her shoulder. “Let’s not upset Mr. Anthony. He’s not a pleasant man when he’s annoyed.” He started to squeeze, hard, then harder. The pain became almost unbearable.
“Is that really necessary?” Della asked through gritted teeth, trying not to look relieved when his grip lessened. She glanced back at Mr. Anthony, who reached for the duct tape.
She’d heard that duct tape was good for everything, but would it really hold a vampire? She didn’t want to test it.
She dropped her pen. “Oops.” She leaned down, and whispered to Kylie, “I think I can handle this on my own.”
“What did you say?” Mr. Anthony asked.
When Della rose to her feet, the brute behind her grabbed her arm. She didn’t hesitate, turning, and with everything she had, she buried the pen into his forearm. He roared.
Mr. Anthony, roll of tape in hand, lunged across the desk. As he started to unroll the tape, Della buried her shoe in his face. He fell back against the desk. She grinned with pride. Or she did until the door swung open and three more hulky-looking vampires stormed in.
“Now it gets interesting,” Della seethed.
Kylie appeared, standing in front of them in all her glory. Everything about her glowed with power. Her hair, her eyes, even her skin. She grabbed one big guy, and using him like bowling ball, she knocked down the other two goons.
But one of them popped right back up, his eyes green with fury and his fangs lengthened.
Della was about to move in to help her take down this brute when Mr. Anthony recovered from his foot-to-the-face incident and leapt at her.
She ducked as his fist came at her jaw, and at the same time honored him with another well-placed kick to his ribs.
Kylie bounced around the room, kicking, hitting, and outshining the two other vampires. Della continued to take on Mr. Anthony.
“What the hell are you?” one of the thugs fighting Kylie screamed out.
“Your worst nightmare,” Kylie bit out.
“Look what I found,” the goon who still had a pen buried in his arm yelled out.