Chapter 12

Outing

In the apartment entryway, Echo slipped on a pair of canvas shoes that Ollie had left for him. He glanced at himself in the mirror, seeing the thick collar around his neck. He went to touch it again but stopped himself when he saw Dante’s reflection watching him from behind. Echo felt the weight of his new dagger secure in his pocket, then turned and joined Dante heading out the door.

The hallway was empty as they walked toward the elevator. Neutral tilework covered the floor, and nickel wall sconces threw beams of white light every few feet.

“It’s fashionable to keep thralls on leashes in public,” Dante said as they stopped at the elevator. He pressed the button for down. “I’ve never cared much for appearances. Just stick close to me.”

The shiny doors parted, and Echo followed Dante into the vacant elevator, feeling grudgingly grateful he hadn’t brought a leash. “Yes, Master,” Echo replied. He found he could stand to say it knowing it was all cover for his new mission. Dante would get an obedient thrall, at least in public.

Dante arched a brow, and one corner of his lips quirked.

When the elevator stopped, Echo braced himself. The doors opened to the main level of Sky Castle. Dante exited, and Echo stuck close just as Dante told him. He had to, if he didn’t want to lose Dante in the crowd of supernaturals and humans.

The lobby looked similar to Dante’s apartment, minus the game room. Cold and austere, accented with glass and polished metals. Behind a large reception desk was a waterfall cascading over the letters B-A-U-E-R.

The name of the royal family sent pinpricks into his skin, and Echo looked around as if he’d see the king himself walking about, as unlikely as that was. It brought to the fore Dante’s mission. What would happen to the Bauer Territory once King Luther was dead? Would Prince Abram become king? He was the vampire of Ollie, and if that was anything to judge Abram by, the territory would be in much better hands. Was Dante loyal to Prince Abram?

So many thoughts weighed down Echo’s mind, but he stayed hyper-aware of his surroundings. Dante rent his way through the milling crowd easily. He stood out even among other vamps and supernaturals, and Echo watched as people got out of his way.

Dante walked through the main doors of Sky Castle with Echo right on his heels. Warm air filled Echo’s lungs, and he closed his eyes just for a moment. He’d spent most of his life outside, and freedom felt reachable again with the open sky overhead. Echo took less than a second to take that in before he resumed being Dante’s thrall, following him to the cars parked in Sky Castle’s drive.

The city was vibrant around them, busy and noisy. Echo had been to Houston many times, usually on supply-gathering missions. Since the resistance wasn’t a high-priority concern for the vamps, the rebels could walk the streets in plain view as long as they wore fake collars. Axel used to laugh at how easy infiltration was, but he was angry too—angry that the vampires didn’t take the resistance as the threat it was.

Echo had never minded. Being underestimated was an advantage.

As Dante neared one of the cars, the driver got out and briskly walked around. No collar indicated that the driver was a vamp. He opened the back door.

“Mikhail,” Dante acknowledged, before indicating for Echo to get in first.

Echo did, sliding over to the seat behind the driver. Dante sat next to him. Mikhail shut the door, then walked back around to the driver’s seat.

The vehicle was the luxury kind, not at all like the ones the rebels managed to procure. Cream leather was soft under Echo’s hand, and there was ample legroom between the back seats and front. Mikhail started to roll out of the drive into the city traffic, and the movement was smooth.

“Lord Wentworth is throwing a real fit,” Mikhail said. “Refuses to listen to Liam. Says the merchandise has gone downhill since you took over the business.”

The “merchandise” he referred to was humans, slaves. Echo clenched his fists but kept the rest of himself composed. And it seemed Dante was just as skilled as Echo. His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. It appeared he and this Wentworth were not friends.

“Taking the kid out already?”

It took a moment for Echo to realize Mikhail was talking about him. A vamp might refer to him as slave, thrall, or boy—or any number of demeaning terms—but kid wasn’t typical. Maybe it was a nicer label than the alternatives, but at twenty years old, and having trained all his life to be a killer, he wasn’t a kid. Nor had he ever really been.

“He wanted to tag along,” Dante said. His irritation at Lord what’s-his-name fell away, and he grinned as if Echo’s demand to join him was amusing.

He could go on being amused, or entertained, or whatever while Echo worked, observing and analyzing. He’d wanted to come with Dante to learn everything he could about the vampire.

The car wove through the city streets, and Echo watched out the window, partly to avoid Dante’s intermittent gazing but mostly to memorize the way. The tinted windows kept out the late-morning sun and any curious eyes from seeing in.

“Are you familiar with Houston?” Dante asked. “The city proper, not just my docks.”

“I’m not familiar,” Echo replied, eyes still glued out the window. He wouldn’t give away that the rebels came quite often and knew the city fairly well.

“Were you a runaway or freeborn?”

Echo finally looked at Dante. He hadn’t asked these things when Echo was strung up and whipped, so why ask them now?

Dante shrugged as if reading his thoughts. “Just curious about you.”

He couldn’t really be, Echo told himself. It was information on the resistance that Dante wanted.

“What if I said I was a runaway? Would you return me?”

“No,” Dante said, and it was almost a growl, reverberating right up Echo’s spine. “You’re mine—for now,” he added. “Until I free you, as I promised.”

Echo drummed his fingers on the door armrest, aware of how the rapid beat matched his heart. He turned to glare out the window again rather than reply. If Mikhail found the conversation strange, he didn’t comment. He must be in on the regicide plans.

Before Dante could further interrogate, the car slowed, pulling up in front of a stretching high-rise. Mikhail got out first, edged around, and opened Dante’s door for him. One expensive polished shoe hit the sidewalk first, then the rest of Dante emerged from the vehicle. Echo scooted across the seats to join him.

The building before them was clad in smooth white concrete, and the windows reflected the high sun. Lettered above golden revolving doors was the building’s name. And that was when Echo’s blood turned cold.

He’d known, of course, who owned the Vittori Breeding Facility, but somehow, he hadn’t expected to come here. Out of the multitudes of ports, warehouses, and offices in the Vittori name, Dante had brought him here—the place of Echo’s birth.