Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

Targeted . “And you’ve reviewed so many from your trailer in Appalachia?”
    “Funny thing about Appalachia jokes—unlike all other jokes , they just never get old.”
    He raised a brow. “It’s an accounting of blood debts from Loreans.”
    “There are so many entries.”
    He inclined his head. Everything to serve his Endgame. “This represents thousands of years of . . . accounting.” Again and again, he’d used his ability to predict others’ moves, ensuring he was always in the right place at the right time to exact blood vows.
    If Nïx was the queen of foresight, then Lothaire was the king of insight .
    White queen versus black king. He recalled his last encounter with the soothsayer, on that prison island. He’d told her, “Until our next match.” But she’d answered, “There won’t be a next match, vampire.”
    What did she mean?
    “Explain to me how it works,” Elizabeth said, drawing him from his thoughts.
    “If an immortal is in dire straits, I’ll agree to help him, but only for a price. Then I’ll make him vow to do anything I want. The saying make a deal with the devil comes from me.” If he sounded proud, well . . .
    I am.
    “So that’s why you seemed interested when I offered a bargain.”
    “Just so.” Again he was finding it easy to speak with her, as if the words were pulled from him, as if he’d waited all his life to reveal these things.
    I must have needed a confidante, one who could never tell my secrets. Most legendary men do.
    “But you do help others?”
    “So perhaps I’m not completely evil?” He gave a humorless laugh. “Most of the time I’m the one who manipulates creatures into desperate positions. For instance, I’ll fatally wound a loved one, then offer to save her.”
    “Those targeted names are in for one hell of a surprise, huh?”
    Elizabeth was cleverer than he’d initially deemed her. “Precisely.”
    He dragged his gaze from the pages to her face, inspecting it as he might a painting he’d found superficially appealing only to discover layers, nuances.
    He shook his head hard. No, if Saroya were at the fore, he’d be feeling this desire, this fascination even, for her alone.
    “What do you usually demand of them?”
    “I don’t often collect on these.” His debtors always assumed he’d demand their firstborn. Like I’m fucking Rumpelstiltskin? What would Lothaire do with countless squalling babes? Raise them in a kennel? “But when I make my move to take my thrones, their accounts will come due.”
    And the world will quake.
    His lips curled as he reviewed some of the newest entries: two royal members of the Lykae Clan MacRieve; the sea god Nereus; Loa the voodoo priestess; Gamboa the demonic drug lord; Rydstrom Woede, king of the rage demons.
    “All that work to get those thrones?”
    “Yes. Anything for them.” He’d fought side by side with a Valkyrie he hated when all he’d wanted to do was exact revenge on her. He’d aligned with various demonarchies, convincing some that he was the devil incarnate, dedicated to leading them back to hell.
    He’d sworn fealty to a vampire king—one who’d sat upon Lothaire’s own throne.
    “If your kingdoms are so important, then why’d you lose them in the first place?”
    “I couldn’t expect you to understand the political machinations of vampires.”
    She tilted her head at him. “None of your debtors ever welsh?”
    “Vows to the Lore are unbreakable.”
    “Then I’m surprised they don’t just try to kill you.”
    “Oh, they do, constantly,” he said. “And now they’ll be coming afteryou, thinking to trade you for their debt or to cash in on a bounty. Then, of course, there are the retribution seekers, bent on avenging whatever murders I’ve committed.” He leveled his gaze on her. “I’ve committed
many.”
    She didn’t look away. In fact, he got the uncanny impression that she was studying him .
    The insect wants to understand the magnifying glass.
    “Is that why you’re called the Enemy of Old?”
    “Partly. Also because I show up like a plague every couple of centuries, killing masses of beings before disappearing.” Sometimes disappearing involuntarily.
    “There’s an actual bounty on my head?”
    When Lothaire found out who’d posted it, blood would run. “My Bride would already be target number one in the Lore. Now thousands will fight for the reward—and they’ll believe that you are mine. They’ll be using oracles to track your movements.