Devil's Cry

by Shayne Silvers

  At times, I found myself wondering if Renfield wanted to kill Dracula even more than I did, which would be saying something. He also wasn’t a fan of Nero, since my old friend had betrayed me—at least in Renfield’s eyes. Renfield was not a forgiving person, which was ironic, since he was only alive because I had forgiven him.

  Victoria lifted her small purse, shaking her head in amusement. “You ready?” she asked. “Natalie is waiting for us outside with the car.”

  I smiled at her, steepling my fingers as I studied her up and down in silence. I lifted a finger and gestured for her to twirl. She beamed from ear-to-ear and did so, showing off her dress. “Slower,” I said in a firm tone. Her eyes smoldered again as she nodded, and then she twirled much slower for me.

  Because I hadn’t cared about her dress, although it truly was beautiful. She could have been wearing sack cloth and I would have stared in admiration. I wanted to see what lay beneath the wrapping paper. Her body was like a master carving of feminine potential—showing off both the gentle grace and vicious lethality, the natural beauty and the iron spine of confidence that held it all together.

  There was no question that Victoria was gorgeous in the physical sense, but like a stained-glass window, her elegance truly shone when illuminated from within by the fiery light of her soul.

  Beautiful enough to destroy a man without ever lifting a finger.

  She whipped out a sleek compact gun from her purse and kissed the barrel. “For the times when lipstick just won’t do.” She puckered her bright red lips, showing off her lipstick, before shoving the gun back into her purse.

  Deadly enough to destroy a man with a slight squeeze of a finger, too.

  “If I have any say in the matter, I choose the lipstick,” I said, smiling.

  She walked over to my side of the desk and assessed my own light gray suit with an approving hum. Then she bent down and lightly kissed my cheek. “Play your cards right,” she whispered in a smoky tone, “and who knows what might happen?”

  I reached out to grab her, but even with my enhanced speed she managed to slip away, laughing as she fled to the door despite her dress and high heels.

  The Devil followed, licking his lips hungrily.

  For his hunger was great enough to consume the world.

  4

  Natalie had offered to chauffeur us since I had been banned from operating automobiles of any sort; I’d wrecked the car during my first driving lesson with Aristos. Plus, I didn’t have a driver’s license in the event that I got pulled over.

  Natalie and Benjamin were commanding lieutenants in the Crescent, the local pack of werewolves in Manhattan. The Crescent consisted of five sub-groups—one for each of the five boroughs in New York City—and all of those were run by Stevie, the alpha werewolf. He seemed to spend the majority of his time in Manhattan, but he left most of the day-to-day work to Natalie and Benjamin.

  Natalie had been adamant about needing to remain close to me, ultimately choosing to run the pack with Benjamin from the Museum of Natural History. It worked better than their old warehouse, and it put them in constant contact with my executive management team since they were renegotiating various business interests with each other in the new power vacuum that had appeared since I had taken over Dracula’s operations.

  It also let Natalie remain close to me, and she made no secret of wanting to be available in the event that I ever needed to drink some of her blood. The last time I had bitten Natalie, she’d practically collapsed in orgasmic ecstasy—which was not a typical response from a vampire’s bite. Sure, it happened often with werewolves, and sometimes with willing blood donors, but I had never seen such a strong physical reaction. Especially when I hadn’t tried to give her such a sensation, which was usually a requirement.

  The same thing had happened when I had bitten Victoria, but she and I shared ties to Artemis, and there was definite attraction between us, so it made more sense. The only excuse for Natalie’s reaction was that it had been a very long time since I’d last bitten a beautiful woman’s neck, and I might not have been as careful as I’d intended. I might not have shielded her at all.

  Victoria and Natalie got along quite well, but Victoria rarely let Natalie or me out of her sight. It made me feel like I was a raw steak hanging between two ravenous lionesses. And I couldn’t deny that an insistent part of me often gave serious thought to letting both of those lionesses have a go at me, consequences be damned.

  We pulled onto a quiet street of modest two-story homes, far removed from the constant flow of humanity that plagued the rest of the city. For the first time since waking, I felt a slight sense of tranquility in the air. But my mind was having none of it.

  I’d been unable to speak to Nosh without drawing unwanted attention that might connect him to the alleged murderer, so I’d asked Victoria to reach out and request a double date with Nosh and Isabella.

  The entire ride here, I had been chewing over what I wanted to say to him—debating whether to confront him about the DNA results from the police investigation. Even though the evidence had now been destroyed by Dr. Stein’s mysterious associate, it had been all over the news that someone—allegedly the killer—who shared DNA with Nosh had been in the penthouse. Nosh had answered the stream of ensuing questions, demanding to uncover the identity of this supposed relative, but he also brought up the point that there had been no evidence stating exactly how old that DNA had been. For all anyone knew, the mystery relative could have left that DNA behind weeks or months prior. And he’d pulled no punches upon hearing about the evidence being destroyed by a lunatic starting a fire—pointing it out as yet another fault of the police department in this whole fiasco.

  Natalie parked the car on the side of the street and turned around to look at us with a bright smile and a playful gleam in her bright green eyes. Her short bob of blonde hair hugged her jaw line, flaring out in sharp points like wings. “Call me when you’re finished. I know a great little dessert place,” she said as Victoria opened her door and began to climb out.

  Victoria hesitated at the door, smiling interestedly. “Oh? Where?”

  Natalie shifted her attention to give me a smoky look as she lifted two fingers to tap her neck, smiling wickedly. Victoria stared at Natalie for the longest three seconds I’d ever experienced. I couldn’t tell if she was considering partaking in Natalie’s offer or how best to kill the werewolf without getting blood on her white coat. Instead of answering, Victoria simply pulled me from the car and shoved me towards the restaurant, ignoring the sound of Natalie’s laughter as she slammed the door closed.

  We entered the Italian restaurant Victoria had picked to find a young mousy hostess speaking to an older woman—who was draped in a heavy fur coat with golden earrings laden with precious stones hanging from her earlobes as if they were testing how much weight the thin skin could hold. A meek older man stood beside her with slumped shoulders and a submissive, fatalistic aura oozing from every pore of his body. He even smelled cowardly. “What do you mean you don’t have a table available? Do you know who I am?” the woman demanded.

  “My apologies, ma’am. We should have a table available in ten minutes.”

  “In ten minutes, you will no longer have the benefit of my patronage!” she snapped back.

  Victoria rolled her eyes at me and sidled up to the podium. “Excuse me. We have a reservation. I believe the rest of our party are already—”

  “Excuse me, trollop!” the older woman interrupted. “You will wait until I am finished!”

  Victoria slowly turned to face her and openly eyed her up and down with a glare cold enough to cause frostbite. Then she sniffed disdainfully and turned back to the hostess. “I wasn’t aware you allowed service animals in your establishment. How very considerate of you. Unfortunately, I am allergic to the beasts.”

  The hostess blanched and I grinned. The old man glanced up at me with a panicked expression as if begging me to rein her in.

  “Service animal!” the
older woman hissed, her shoulders visibly trembling as she returned the up and down maneuver with a disgusted sneer. “This is a mink coat. A harlot like you would have to live on her back indefinitely to ever earn something so fine.” My humor evaporated, and I grew completely still. I was about two seconds from doing something reckless when Victoria shot me a stern look. I relented, pursing my lips as the old woman stormed away, flicking her mink coat behind her dramatically. “Come along, Harold,” she snapped at the old man.

  He flinched, startled to be addressed by name.

  “What do you say, Harold?” Victoria asked, turning to the old man with a dark grin. “I have it on good authority that you have ten minutes to spare and that I need to do some dirty work in order to afford a nicer coat. Do you know how to be dirty, Harold?” she asked, licking her lips.

  His eyes widened, instinctively assessing Victoria as if entertaining her proposition, and then he immediately flushed a dark purple color as he realized what he’d done.

  “Harold!” the woman snapped, her face flushing a matching purple. He scrambled after her like a whipped dog.

  I burst out laughing, especially at the look on the hostess’ face. Victoria slipped her arm through mine and pulled me up to the podium. “Our table?” she asked sweetly.

  The hostess couldn’t comply fast enough. Luckily, the dining area was through another door, so our confrontation had gone unnoticed by everyone but the hostess. I shot a long look at the old bat’s back, wanting to yank off her coat and flush it down a toilet. Victoria squeezed my arm, shaking her head. “Not worth it,” she murmured. “She’ll get what’s coming to her someday.” I nodded stiffly clenching my jaw as the old woman turned to look at us and noticed the cold look on my face.

  “Oh, isn’t that precious. The pimp was going to defend his whore’s honor,” the woman cackled in a cruel, bitter, carrion crow.

  “And, we’re going to our table,” Nosh said, suddenly appearing at my side and firmly shoving me ahead of him, guiding me through the swinging door that led into the dining area and away from the potential crime scene. I wasn’t sure when he had slipped in or if he had overheard us through the door, but I complied, following him stiffly. “You’re already suspected of two murders, Sorin,” he said softly. “Let’s not draw any further attention to your face.”

  I took a measured breath, nodding. Not because of his words, but because I suddenly visualized the possibility that Nosh might be my son—that he was touching my shoulder and guiding me to our table where we were going to spend a nice peaceful evening together.

  That a son was trying to keep his father out of trouble.

  And I felt a strange, powerful emotion that I didn’t quite know how to process. Victoria seemed to understand and squeezed my arm reassuringly. Although she hadn’t brought it up—knowing how uncomfortable it made me—she was acutely aware of what was on my mind and what I wanted to ask Nosh. She also wanted to let me handle it in a manner of my own choosing rather than prodding me in any specific direction. She knew me well enough, even after only a few weeks, to know that unless Dr. Stein was in the room, no one was going to make me do anything that I didn’t want to do.

  But I could sense the excited anticipation in her touch, as well as the gentle resolve to stand beside me whatever I chose to do. I smiled gratefully at her, nodding. “For the record, I’m buying you a mink coat.”

  Her eyes twinkled devilishly. “Then it looks like I have some dirty work ahead of me.”

  I chuckled, shaking my head. “That was not what I meant.”

  “But I want a really nice coat, not a consolation prize.”

  Nosh gave us a puzzled look before guiding us to a table in a somewhat secluded alcove, granting us a measure of relative privacy from the general hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses and silverware. The restaurant was indeed full, the patrons primarily wearing suits and gowns, and waiters in black suits with white shirts drifted from table to table like graceful swans in a lake, barely causing a ripple as they poured glasses or balanced trays of steaming pasta to set before their guests with subdued murmurs and easy smiles.

  5

  Isabella, the Sister of Mercy I had met at the auction my first night back in the land of the living, was seated at our table, smiling self-consciously. She wore a modest white dress with a high neckline, and she had simple silver rings on each ring finger. Her fiery red hair drew the eye like a moth to a flame.

  I wasn’t entirely sure of the current relationship status between her and Nosh, but I was assuming that he was courting her—or dating her, as unromantic as that sounded to my ears. It was rather strange to see a woman of God interested in courting a shaman, but I had given up on my old-world view having any relevance in current times. My preconceived notions and beliefs resulted in laughter more often than not. I pulled out an empty chair for Victoria and smiled at her. She grinned, and sat down so that I could slide her chair in.

  Isabella watched with an approving smile of her own. I reached out a hand, holding it up before her in a polite unspoken request. She blushed faintly before lifting her hand. I accepted it, gently gripping the first two fingers—careful not to touch the silver ring—and lowered my mouth to kiss the back of my thumb, not wanting to kiss her actual flesh and alarm her. Then I released it and stepped back. “Pleasure to see you again, Isabella.”

  She beamed, nodding back. “Pleasure to see you as well, Sorin.”

  I glanced back at Victoria. “Did I do it right?”

  She was biting back a laugh, but she nodded. “Yes.” She glanced over at Isabella. “We’ve been watching period shows and movies to catch him up on the history he missed.”

  Nosh smiled, shaking his head as he looked up at me. “Although incredibly polite and formal—and perfect for this dinner—that type of greeting isn’t typical for other social occasions. I’m sure Victoria neglected to tell you that part,” he said, chuckling.

  Isabella smacked his shoulder playfully. “You could learn a thing or two from Sorin about how to properly treat a lady.”

  I smiled crookedly, dipping my head as I made my way to my own seat. Her comment had brought to mind the idea of a son needing to learn lessons from his father, sending another icy chill down my spine.

  Victoria and Isabella began speaking in low tones, leaning closer to each other, obviously preferring a bit of privacy. I felt Nosh glancing at me, and I forced myself to remain calm as I tried to figure out how I wanted to bring up the topic of our DNA—or if I should at all.

  I still hadn’t received a call back from Dr. Stein, after all.

  “How is the legal case progressing?” I asked stiffly, not really needing an answer since it was all over the recent news.

  He shrugged. “Slow and painful. To be honest, I don’t really care how it pans out, as long as I am not associated with the crime,” he said, speaking low enough so as not to be accidentally overheard by anyone listening in. “I’ve saved up enough money to live comfortably, but it would look very strange if I didn’t fight it.”

  I nodded, licking my lips. “I was surprised to hear about the evidence being destroyed. Convenient for your case.”

  He nodded slowly, studying me like a hawk. “Yes. I thought so as well. An unexpected gift from an unknown friend, perhaps…” he said, trailing off curiously, as if hoping for me to admit my part in it.

  I shook my head faintly. “It was not me. I would have just enthralled everyone in the building and stolen it with none the wiser.” Part of me wanted to tell him about Dr. Stein taking the initiative to resolve the situation, but I also didn’t want Nosh knowing too much about her recent activities with Nero and Gabriel—not even considering the blood tests she was running.

  He harrumphed softly, nodding. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said, leaning back with a thoughtful frown.

  I felt my pulse accelerating, and finally made the decision to just get it over with. No matter what Dr. Stein discovered, the topic raised many other questions t
hat needed to be answered—like if he had any idea what Mina Harker’s true intentions had been with his parents, the missing pages from the journal, and why he hadn’t seemed even remotely interested in retrieving the journal from me since I’d taken it back from Nero. That had been his entire goal, yet it may as well have not even existed for all he seemed to care. So much depended on Nosh’s responses to my various questions—whether he had known about our possible blood relation or not, and why he was holding so many secrets from me and others. Because if he felt the need to not fully trust me, should I not fully trust him with my own actions? What greater game was he playing and why? He’d woken me up after all, so whatever his motivations were, they included me to some extent, and I wanted to make sure he wasn’t using me as an unwitting pawn.

  If I was wrong, at least it would be out in the open and we could talk about it like two grown men. Possibly like father and son.

  “Nosh, I’ve been meaning to ask you—”

  I cut off, my phone suddenly ringing loudly inside my pocket. I hissed, shoving a hand inside to grab it and check the screen. It was Dr. Stein. I hit the button on the side to silence it, ignoring the glares from other patrons a few tables away. I had forgotten—and didn’t remember how, anyway—to silence the damned thing before coming into the restaurant.

  Nosh was watching me curiously, his eyes flicking from the phone to me. “You were saying?”

  I nodded, taking a calming breath. I opened my mouth and my phone chimed loudly, letting me know I had a text message. I ignored it and it chimed again. Then again. And again.

  Victoria was grimacing, silently urging me to take the call or at least shut off the phone.

  I held up a finger to Nosh, clenching my jaw as I flipped open the phone to read the texts.

  Emergency. Answer me, boy! Then there was a tiny image of a wooden spoon and a yellow sad face that made me wince. Victoria had called the strange hieroglyphs emojis, but I didn’t understand why anyone used them rather than words.