The Slaughtered Lamb Bookstore and Bar (Sam Quinn Book 1)

by Seana Kelly

  Blood filled my mouth. I blinked, and the stone passage receded, open air and moonlight taking its place. Clive leaned over me, concern etched on his beautiful face. Reaching up to touch his cheek, to brush my fingers over his perfect brow, I pulled him down, kissing him with all the hope and joy left in my battered heart.

  Twenty-Three

  “Merry Christmas, You Wonderful Old Building and Loan!”

  Soaked and shivering, I had Clive’s lips on mine. My stomach swooped as he picked me up and climbed the rocks with me snug in his arms. I was home! I’d been given another chance at my life. I felt like I should be running through Bedford Falls with George Bailey, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas.

  We passed a couple of his vampires, who looked nauseated by their master kissing me. The old me would have struggled to be put down and then distanced myself as much as possible. Post-Hell Sam threw her arms around Clive’s neck and kissed his cheek.

  Studying me from the corner of his eye, as he made his way down the stairs to the bar, he muttered, “Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here.”

  “I totally had that, though. Just so you know. I was backing my ass out of that vision.” I was so sick of relying on others to save me. I had to figure out how to tear through the visions on my own.

  As we descended the final steps, Dave jogged around the bar to meet us. “Where did you find her?” Dripping water echoed in the deserted room. “And why are you both wet?”

  “Is there still a blanket behind the bar?” Clive lowered me to my feet.

  “Yeah.” Dave retrieved the blanket and handed it to Clive, who shook it out and wrapped it around me. I sat at the closest table, Clive pulling up a chair to sit next to me. Dave dropped onto a barstool, waiting for answers.

  “She was in the ocean, struggling against the tide, walking backward. It looked like she was trying to extricate herself, when I pulled her out.” Clive rubbed my back as he spoke, as though needing to maintain contact.

  “Another vision?” Dave asked.

  Both men looked at me, and I nodded.

  “What about that cuff thing the dragon gave you? I thought that was supposed to protect you.” Dave was seriously pissed off. It was sweet.

  Shoving my arm out from the warm cocoon of the blanket, I showed them my naked wrist. “Snatched. Schuyler, the woman who runs the wicchey shop downtown, has apparently gone to the dark side. She zapped me when I shook her hand. In the struggle to get her the heck off me, she snatched the cuff from my wrist. I didn’t realize it was gone until I was already on my way to Hell.”

  “You went to Hell?” Dave asked. “In your vision?”

  “I don’t know. It felt real, but I suppose it wasn’t.” How would I know?

  “What did it look like?” The intensity in Dave’s voice made me wonder what he knew, or suspected.

  “There was a huge, fire-lit cavern that he said—”

  “Who said?” Dave leaned forward, his arms braced on his thighs.

  “Irdu? I think that was his name.” I turned to Clive. “He was the really good looking one who was playing poker at the demon strip club. Do you remember?”

  Clive nodded, confusion and anger warring in his expression.

  “He said it was the way station and that he was going to take me somewhere else.”

  “Describe the way station,” Dave said.

  “I just did. It was a massive cavern with stalagmites and corpses scattered about. My stairs,” I gestured to the staircase, “they’d turned into a kind of slide. I sped down a chute for what seemed like forever and then I shot out and dropped a couple hundred feet, splatting on the rocky ground. Can I just say—if you get the chance—don’t ever do that. It was more pain than one body should be able to live through. Which I was told I didn’t.

  “He said I was being pathetic, just lying there, that I was dead. I eventually did stand up and accept that I was gone. He led me through tunnels, but when I stopped following, he didn’t care. Said he didn’t want to give me the orientation anyway.”

  “The way station was a cavern lit by fire and you dropped into it?” Dave asked.

  “Yeah.”

  He leaned back against the bar, lost in thought.

  “What?” Clive asked, impatience clear.

  “The way station she described, that is how it looks. Irdu is the name of a local demon. New top dog, actually, as Sitri’s gone missing.”

  I turned to Clive, who met my gaze with grim satisfaction.

  “Did he introduce himself at the Demon’s Lair?” Dave was still talking, missing my reaction to the news that Sitri was no more, that Clive had gotten rid of him.

  “No,” Clive said. “We only spoke with Sitri. We saw the other demons sitting at a card table.”

  “Irdu is an incubus. He’s been in San Francisco for a while now, but he still goes back to do the Welcome-to-Hell duty. It’s a crap job, but everyone has to take a turn.”

  “Wait.” My heart started racing, trying to push Sitri from my thoughts. “Are you saying I really died and went to Hell?”

  Dave looked at me like I was nuts. “Of course not. You were in the ocean, not Hell.”

  “But for those details to be right,” Clive said quietly. “The person trapping Sam in these visions knows who Irdu is and what Hell looks like.”

  Dave nodded, pointing at Clive. “Give the vampire a prize.”

  “So, it is a demon after me?” Pulling the blanket tight and tucking my hands under my arms, I tried to hide the tremors racking my body. I was just cold. That’s all it was.

  “Maybe, but it’s more likely a sorcerer. Demons don’t have the focus needed to put this much effort into a kill. A sorcerer, though, they’d use a demon’s knowledge and power to juice up their spells. I could be wrong, but I think we’re looking for a black wicche who’s tipped over into sorcerer territory,” Dave said.

  “Which, as Sam guessed, is probably where the tortured wolves come in. What do we know about Schuyler?” Clive asked.

  Dave shrugged.

  “Owen said he was going to ask his Mom about her, said he’s known her for a while and the black streaks in her aura were new.” My teeth started to chatter.

  “Dave, can you make Sam some cocoa?” Clive leaned closer, wrapping his arm around me.

  “Thanks. I don’t know if it means anything, but I think I smelled a vampire, a wolf, and possibly a demon in her shop. There were a ton of scents in there, so I could be wrong, but it was like the Tonga Room. The scents were faint, but lingering, like the people had been there earlier in the day. If my nose is right, I have no idea if they were all there at once, or in different combinations.”

  “You’re sure you smelled a vampire?” Clive asked quietly. His voice was at odds with the anger tightening his jaw.

  “It was faint, but I think so.” I took the mug filled with hot chocolate and whipped cream from Dave. “You’re the best.” I took a sip and almost choked. It had to be half Bailey’s. When I looked at him, he grinned and winked.

  “I can stay here tonight,” Dave said. “Keep an eye on things. I ain’t sleeping on that bookstore couch, though. If you want a guard, I’m sleeping on your living room couch.” He warmed my heart with his gruff offer.

  “That won’t be necessary. Sam is coming home with me. A nocturne of vampires should be able to deal with a sorcerer.” He turned to me. “Your wards are not as strong as they once were. It’s not safe for you here. Will you come?”

  The old, pre-Hell me would have begged off, assuring everyone I’d be perfectly fine staying by myself in The Slaughtered Lamb. The new, post-Hell me didn’t want to be alone right now. I nodded and took another gulp of spiked cocoa.

  After throwing stuff in a backpack, I joined Clive in the bar. “Did Dave leave?”

  “Yes. He’s going to ask around—quietly—and see what he can find out. We know part of the equation now. If it’s not Irdu himself, and Dave thinks that’s unlikely, then it is someone he knows, has a relationshi
p with.”

  “Is that safe?” I didn’t want the demon community coming after Dave for informing on them.

  Clive tipped his head, brushing off my worry. “Dave can take care of himself. Now,” he said, looking me over. “I assumed you’d take a shower, change your clothes, and yet here you stand, damp and wrapped in a blanket. Why?”

  “I knew you were waiting. I didn’t want to hang you up. I’m sure you’ve got other important vampy things to do.”

  “You are the only thing on my to-do list, and don’t use that word.” His face was dead serious, but his eyes told another story.

  “Important?” I asked, all innocence.

  He raised one imperious eyebrow. “You know the one I’m referring to.”

  “Things?” God, he was so cute when he was riled up.

  Ignoring that, he looked down at my backpack. “Is this your overnight case?”

  I studied it, as Clive was. The more I looked at the threadbare, decade-old bag, the more embarrassed I felt. “It’s the only one I’ve got. I figured a grocery bag was out.” Maybe this was a bad idea. “Am I confirming vampire prejudice if I show up carrying a beat-to-shit backpack as my suitcase?”

  He picked up my backpack and shouldered it. “I apologize for asking.” Putting his arm around me, he led me to the stairs. “Let’s get you home and in a hot shower.”

  “This is my home.”

  “Of course.”

  Russell and the swank sedan waited for us at the top of the stairs. The other vampires appeared to have scarpered, thankfully. This time, the window between the front and back seats stayed down as Clive and Russell spoke. Most of it was vampire business I didn’t much care about, but then Clive said something about his bedroom.

  “Wait. Aren’t I staying in a guest room?”

  Russell’s eyes snapped to me in the rearview mirror, before his focus returned the road. A moment later, the dividing glass rose, cutting Russell out of the conversation.

  “You can, if you’d prefer. I’d rather you stay with me so I can make sure you’re safe, but I certainly won’t insist on it.” Clive tapped the intercom button on his armrest. “Russell, can you see to it that the blue room adjacent to my own is prepared for Ms. Quinn?”

  “Of course, Sire,” Russell responded.

  “The blue room?” I felt like I was in a Jane Austen novel. She may practice the pianoforte in the blue room. She will be in no one’s way there.

  He shrugged. “There are too many rooms. They need to be identified some way and that one has blue silk on the walls.”

  Russell pulled into the circular drive in front of the mansion. Misgivings set my head to throbbing. The vampires hated me. What was I doing, willingly walking into their home and spending the night? This was not going to end well.

  Clive grabbed my bag, handing it to Russell. The front door opened as we approached. The same butler guy from before bowed with a ‘Liege’ as Clive passed.

  Clive went straight to the stairs but paused on the second step. “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”

  “Uh.” I actually kind of was, but I had no idea if vampires ate. Clive never did when he came into the bar. He just drank a whiskey and left. They probably didn’t have food in the house. “I’m fine.”

  He studied me a moment. “James, could you have a late supper brought up to the blue room for Ms. Quinn?” He didn’t wait for a response before continuing up the staircase. We climbed to the third floor and then turned down a long hall, the walls a saddle brown Italian plaster. Tall windows lined the opposite side, rising up to meet the fifteen-foot ceilings.

  “Aren’t these a problem?”

  Clive turned to me. “Hmm?”

  I pointed. “Windows. Sun. Death.”

  He rolled his eyes, a grin pulling at his lips, as he directed me into the second to the last door in the hall. I gasped. It would have fit in nicely at Pemberley. It was huge, the walls covered in a periwinkle blue silk. The bed was enormous and canopied. The writing desk and nightstands were made of an almost dove gray wood. There was a sitting area near the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the garden.

  I ran to the bed and dove on a fluffy comforter the swirling hues of water. “Look at this!” I reached for the heavy velvet draperies that hung, tied to each of the four posts. Unhooking the curtain on one side of the bed, I slid it closed along a silent rail. The windows and sitting area were blocked from view behind midnight velvet. “I can pretend I’m sleeping at Hogwarts.”

  Clive grinned, watching me. When a knock came at the door, his expression sobered. I slid to the end of the bed, my arm slung around a post, as a man walked in, pushing a cart on which sat a covered plate and a glass of wine. He rolled my dinner to the seating area, transferring the meal to the coffee table.

  “If there’s nothing else, Sire?” The vampire didn’t acknowledge me, didn’t even allow his eyes to momentarily settle on me. I simply didn’t exist.

  Clive shook his head, and the vampire pushing an empty cart left, closing the door behind him.

  I pushed the blue velvet aside and climbed down. Reality was smacking me on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper. I was the wet stray their master had rescued, the one they didn’t want or trust not to soil the carpets.

  Twenty-Four

  Wherein Sam Makes a Shocking Discovery

  There was another knock on the door. This time when Clive opened it, Russell stood in the hall, my backpack in his hand. “Sire,” he said as he passed the bag in. I was struck, painfully, with how that beat-up, ratty, old backpack was me, being passed about, a blemish in this opulence.

  “If our visitors need to speak with me, they can wait until I get Sam settled.” He turned his back as Russell bowed out the door.

  I stared at him aghast and then said, “I thought he was your friend.”

  “Who?”

  I pointed at the door. “Russell.”

  Clive appeared confused by the question, my change in tone. “He’s my second.”

  “You said I could trust him with my life.” Was this a vampire thing? Was aloofness a prerequisite?

  “Yes.” Clive waited for me to get to the point.

  “You turned your back on him as he was bowing to you. I can’t tell if that’s some racist colonial bullshit or some vampire hierarchical bullshit, but either way, it’s rude.”

  Clive looked completely taken aback. “I was rude?”

  “People bow and ‘liege’ all over the place, and you take it as your due and sail right past them. What is that if not superior rudeness?” I picked up the blanket I’d dropped when I’d jumped on the bed and wrapped it around myself. “Maybe that’s why all the vampires I’ve met have been pompous twats. It’s a trickle-down behavior.” The room had lost some of its luster. I missed my Slaughtered Lamb.

  Clive reached out an arm toward me but didn’t make contact. “Come sit down and eat. Afterward, you can have a hot bath.” He gestured across the room. “Whatever toiletries you need should be stocked.” He sat in a chair angled toward the sofa. “Eat while it’s still warm.”

  Sitting, I searched his face, looking for anger or resentment, but there was nothing. It was as though I hadn’t just insulted him.

  Leaning forward, he pulled the dome off the plate. A bowl of French onion soup and a warm, crusty sourdough roll. The fragrance was mouthwatering and set my stomach to rumbling. Clive gave a small, secret smile at the sound.

  “Sorry.”

  Leaning back and making himself comfortable, he asked, “For calling me a racist twat or for being hungry?”

  Taking a bite of the roll, I said, “Being hungry.”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  I took a spoonful of the soup and closed my eyes. It tasted every bit as delicious as it smelled. When I opened my eyes, I found Clive studying me.

  “One of the things I enjoy about spending time with you is that all the old rules no longer apply. The dismissive behavior that offends you so greatly is expected by vamp
ires. We are very much a hierarchical collective.” He appeared lost in thought for a moment. “Perhaps because we came to be in parts of the world where monarchs and oligarchs ruled, we have unconsciously mirrored the power structure. I would guess that if vampires originated in the States, we’d behave quite differently.” His expression softened. “You know, you’re the only one who insults me, and yet I trust you implicitly and enjoy your company. Why is that?”

  Shrugging, I took another spoonful and swallowed. “You’re perverse?”

  He nodded slowly. “Most assuredly.” He glanced around again, as though seeing the room for the first time. “Do you like it?”

  “What’s not to like?” Was he kidding? It was a freaking palace.

  “If you decide you’d prefer something different, it can be altered.” His voice remained calm and neutral, but he seemed honestly concerned that I wouldn’t like his house. “You’re used to a view of the water, so I hoped you’d like this.”

  “I’m only here for one night. It’ll be fine.”

  He made a non-committal sound.

  We sat in companionable silence while I finished eating. Once I was done, Clive stood and beckoned me to follow. He opened the door to the bathroom, allowing me to go first. It was light and airy, white marble floors with walls the barest hint of blue-gray. Sea glass decorated the shower. Inexplicably, a lovely crystal chandelier dropped from the high ceiling and a chaise lounge resided beneath the window.

  “Is that in case showering takes too much out of me, and I need a nap?”

  Clive grinned. “I take no responsibility for the decorating.” He glanced up at the chandelier. “I’ve always found that odd in a toilet, but I don’t really spend a lot of time in these places, so how would I know? Indoor plumbing didn’t exist when I was young, so it all seems strange when I stop to think about it.”

  He scanned the room for something and then opened a cleverly hidden door. “Your closet.”