Free Running in the Dark by Regan Summers

out.”
    I shook my head. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
    “There’s a chemical component to these breakdowns, and it’s not produced locally. It’s being delivered.”
    “If the packages are large, maybe it’s being sent direct.” It took me a moment to get my brain back on track. “Not everybody uses couriers if they aren’t concerned with anonymity or safety. The parcel-delivery companies charge a shit-ton extra for it, but they do deliver to vampires. It wouldn’t even have to be a legit business or home. Runners don’t usually handle anything bigger than we can carry. In case, you know, we actually have to run with it. You’re sure it’s sizable amounts?”
    “We’ve seized a couple of decent stashes. It seems unlikely it’s coming in one vial at a time.” His fingers lingered on the ragged scar on my left arm. Maybe that was what the vampire with them at Vega’s, the one who’d scurried out with a large box, was doing. Confiscating. I opened my mouth to ask, and then froze at his next words. “Christ, I’m late. Come, you should meet Soraya. I invited her in.”
    Oh, yeah. Her. Technically this was his house, so he could invite anybody he wanted in. And she didn’t have access to me anywhere else. His invitation was specific to him and his spaces.
    I didn’t like the sound of that either.
    She stood in front of the door leading to the tunnel, hands clasped behind her back, her beautiful face utterly blank. Creepy as shit.
    “Syd, this is Soraya, my vassal. Sora, Sydney.”
    His vassal. Some vampires lost their makers by force, and if they didn’t want to follow the vampire who bested the head honcho, they could pledge to another. A vassal was a symbiote, bound to loyalty but also guaranteed protection. It was a mutual agreement, and a vampire almost never took another under his protection unless he got something in return. She walked toward us with smooth, sure strides, and terrible ideas of what she had to offer filled my mind.
    “It is my pleasure to meet you, mistress.” She had a strong, clipped accent, and the way she said “mistress” was more formal than I’d have been able to pull off if I’d put in a year at charm school. She barely touched my hand when she shook it, but there was something familiar in the rattle of her energy. It was like a scent triggering an old memory. I’d have bet dollars to doughnuts she’d been following me.
    “Oh, please,” I said, feigning the fuck out of friendliness, “Sydney is fine. And it’s really great to meet you too, Soraya.” She nodded, her eyes already focused over my head. On Malcolm. I was a duty discharged, and one she didn’t seem particularly pleased to have performed. Statuesque vampire warrior vassal in nice clothes disses little human in faded cotton. Awesome.
    Malcolm’s hand slid up the back of my neck and he kissed my temple. “She’ll be able to teach you. Start with the basics, Sora. Try not to let her get carried away.”
    “I don’t get carried away.” And I didn’t just sound like a spoiled child.
    “I’ll be in Valparaiso through tomorrow, back the following night. You know how to reach me.” The last was said to her, and Malcolm brushed past before I fully registered what was happening.
    The female remained beside me as Malcolm opened the door to the tunnel. This equation wasn’t right. Not only wasn’t I getting sweaty combat, I was being left in the care of someone who could very well be an enemy. I glanced sidelong at Soraya, who stood motionless against the wall.
    “Well, have a great trip,” I said, turning back to Malcolm as bitterness curdled my tongue. “Give my best to el presidente .”
    “Any special requests?”
    “Yeah, tell him he needs to take care of the pothole issues on the edge of Recoleta.”
    “I’ll see what I can do.” He smiled, his expression full of warmth. It flattened when his gaze moved to Soraya. She nodded, and then he was gone. I leaned back against the wall