Laws of the Blood 2: Partners Read Free

go and didn’t want to go there.
    “On so many levels,” she murmured, noticed that she held the key to her apartment in her hand, and wondered why.
    Char focused her attention and realized that she was staring at the dark, blank wood of a door and that she was home, at least in the physical sense. She shook her head, annoyed at being so out of it tonight. It was a good thing no one had attempted to assault her on her evening ramblings, or they would have ended up a tasty, wholesome snack before she’d been able to stop herself. Thinking of people as snack food showed how undone she was by Istvan’s appearance once more in her orderly, quiet life. Not that she’d actually gotten a look at his appearance, per se, not this time, but the dhamphir ’s taking an interest in her was no more welcome this time than the other times she’d communicated with him. Been communicated at by him? Yes, that said it much better. The last time he’d talked to her, he’d told her he didn’t think she was up to acting as an Enforcer yet, and she’dreadily agreed. Now it seemed he had changed his mind.
    Of course, she had to go out into the world sometime and prove her mettle. She knew that, but she had enjoyed her two quiet years doing research and compiling data on subjects relating to the strigoi. It was useful, important work that she’d taken far beyond the strict parameters she’d begun with. Highly classified, as well. In fact, she strongly suspected only she and Istvan knew about it, that it was his idea. They would both be in big trouble with the Strigoi Council if they—whoever they were—ever found out about it. In fact, she suspected one of the reasons Istvan wanted the information was so that he could find the Council. But why he wanted to do that since he was their voice and hand, at least in North America, Char quite firmly refused to think about.
    Besides, she didn’t like the idea of leaving town so close to the holidays. She had an invitation from Marguerite’s nest for Thanksgiving. She didn’t get invited out often. And then there was Hanukkah, Christmas, and Blessing of the Knives coming up. “Maybe I can put off killing Haven at least until after Blessing Day.”
    With that thought in mind, Char unlocked the door and went into her dark apartment. Of course, she needed a better excuse than multicultural merrymaking if she was going to put off carrying out a direct order from the Strigoi Council.
    Char had barely turned on the living room light and taken off her old blue raincoat when she realized someone was about to knock on the door. A tight knot formed in her stomach, and her hands balled nervously into fists. Natural shyness warred with predator instincts, and theresult was that her diamond-sharp claws pierced bloody indentations in the tough skin of her palms. The knock sounded, low and fast and frantic.
    “Coming,” Char called to the vampire in the hall. She snatched a tissue from the box on the coffee table and wiped her hands, then stuffed the Kleenex in her pants pocket before turning the handle. The tiny cuts were already healed, her claws safely retracted, but the scent of blood lingered on the air. Not such a bad thing, she told herself, in the home of a hunter. She was still blushing when she opened the door. A woman stood outside, a thin, pale wraith of a woman. At least that was the impression Char had at first sight. The woman was actually short, matronly, and comfortably plump, but Char could tell that the stranger’s spirit was worn thin with worry. “Yes?” she said to the other vampire.
    The woman looked up and down the empty hallway, then pointedly at Char. “May I come in?”
    The legend about vampires having to be invited into human homes was not true. However, no right-thinking vampire would enter another strigoi’s home uninvited. To do so was a gross insult, a breach of territorial rights that led to the sorts of dominance games Enforcers actively discouraged in this modern