Angel Falls (Cassandra Bick Chronicles Book 3)

by Sinclair, Tracey

  ‘Fuck,’ Cain muttered. ‘So where’s Smith when this is happening? You guys are still partners, right?’

  Jonesy had taken off his gloves when we came in, and now he held up his left hand, a wedding band clearly visible. He smiled properly for the first time.

  ‘Could say that,’ he grinned. Cain looked nonplussed for a moment – I think he wasn’t used to reacting to good news any more – then greeted that with a curt, though obviously pleased, nod.

  ‘Good for you, man. Congratulations.’ That’s right, Cain, go nuts.

  I had a more pressing question.

  ‘Your… partner’s…’

  ‘Husband.’

  ‘…husband’s name is Smith? Are you serious?’

  Cain looked blank at this, but Jonesy looked oddly satisfied that I’d pulled him up on this, making a ‘see, she gets it’ gesture to Cain, which just left him more baffled than ever.

  ‘What? Why is that funny?’ he frowned at me.

  ‘Smith and Jones?’

  ‘I still don’t get it.’

  Laclos, Jonesy and I exchanged glances, while Cain did his ‘bloody humans’ eye roll.

  Jonesy, smiling now, went on. ‘He caught another job. I used to work with a Scottish hunter, usually works out of the States now – might have mentioned her?’

  ‘Uh, yeah,’ Cain nodded, but I noticed he and Laclos shared a weighted look, and my Sense prickled. What was that about?

  ‘There’s some trouble with a couple of wolf packs up in the Highlands – moderniser meets traditionalist, blood on the grass. She was in Scotland for some family stuff, asked us to help out, so we split our resources, and I came here to check out if it was for real.’

  He’d finished his beer, and nodded a thank you when I refreshed the drinks. Both Cain and Laclos looked suddenly very interested in their glasses, but Jonesy didn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with the strangeness of the situation.

  ‘So, that’s my story. You want to explain why we’re all sitting round making merry with the vampire who may have just kicked off a war? And, while you’re at it,’ he nodded to Cain’s arms. ‘How come you look exactly the same as you did when we last met except that you actually have fewer scars? Should I be upgrading my skincare routine?’

  ‘Ah, that would be me,’ Laclos smiled, sounding almost normal, now. ‘The hunter and I had a nasty run in with some werewolves – very likely the same band your husband is investigating, they were a most troublesome bunch – and he was badly injured in my defence. It seemed only fair that I returned the favour with an influx of healing blood. But I am very old, and not given to sharing, so the consequences were a little more… rejuvenating than expected.’ He waved a theatrically dismissive hand in Cain’s direction. ‘I have to say it was a little disappointing that when I finally saw him naked he was almost as unblemished as I am.’ He flashed the shocked-looking human hunter a smile of faux innocence before turning back to Cain. ‘If it’s any consolation, the rest of you more than lived up to my expectations.’

  Cain looked heavenward for a moment, then turned to Jonesy.

  ‘I changed my mind. You can take him,’ he deadpanned, which of course only made Laclos smile all the more. I swear, sometimes I thought they enjoyed this; that the whole mutual antipathy thing was just part of an act. Jonesy, however, looked about as impressed by this supernatural Ant ‘n’ Dec routine as I was.

  ‘OK, so I trust you when you tell me Fabio here isn’t a threat, and I turn down a score that would set up Smith and me on our own private island. What are you going to say to the hunter who comes after me? Or the one after that? Look, I can see you two have… whatever this is. But no offence, if someone’s going to get rich off a dead stranger, I’d really rather it was me.’

  ‘Honestly?’ Cain frowned. ‘I have no idea. But trust me, right now hunters are the least of my worries.’

  And because clearly in my world nobody gets to say something like that and go unpunished, a split second later the window exploded, as if to prove him right.

  ***

  ‘Oh, come on!’ I exclaimed, exasperated, which was probably the least useful reaction ever, as everyone else leapt to their feet, poised for attack. But there was nothing there to fight.

  ***

  The funny thing about a threshold is it holds out against uninvited vampires whether they want to come in or not. So the hapless vampire who’d just been thrown at my newly installed fire escape window with enough force to shatter what I now saw was safety glass into a thousand tiny bugger-up-the-hoover-and-the-cat’s-paws pieces hadn’t been able to cross it, no matter how hard his impact. He smacked into it like he’d hit a brick wall, face compressed against the empty air like the world’s most convincing mime act.

  ‘What the…’ Jonesy stepped forward as I dived to the floor and desperately scooped up Dante, but Cain reached out and pulled his friend back. The threshold might stop a vampire but it wouldn’t stop what killed him, and an instant later a foot of glowing steel sword stabbed through the neck of the flailing vampire, decapitating him instantly. His head plopped to the kitchen floor with a noise that would have been comical had it not been so gross, and he rolled towards me with lifeless eyes. Apparently the threshold only works on living vampires. I let out a squeal of disgust, followed by a yelp as Dante tried to claw his way out of my grip: sod the fact that the floor was now covered in shiny sharp things, there was a fun new toy to play with. He batted, frustrated, at the head as Cain reached down and pulled me up, taking the cat from my arms, since he was more immune to scratches than I was, and the traitorous kitty seemed to always be on his side. Laclos, the least ruffled by events, lifted his boot out of the way as the gory football rolled to his feet, and calmly sipped his blood, though I could Sense he wasn’t as unshaken as he was trying to appear. The rest of us stared, openly astonished, out of the window, but the night beyond held nothing but air.

  ‘Well,’ I turned to Cain with a rueful smile, because I’d recognised that sword, and so had he. ‘Nice to see your wife is back in town.’

  ***

  ‘There’s good news and there’s bad news, I guess,’ Cain said, as he rootled around my cupboards in search of a dustpan and brush. The cat had been safely – if unhappily – stowed in the hallway, and we had a fresh round of drinks, since, frankly, I really needed alcohol. I had stepped back and let him do it: he might not be very domestic when it came to most chores, but he was shit hot on body disposal. And isn’t that what a girl dreams of? Still, I had to admire the way he and Jonesy made short work of boarding up the window (yes, I keep plywood in the flat now for just such occasions – welcome to my world), and I was happy he hadn’t pointed out that if I’d gone with his fully-steel door idea it wouldn’t have been necessary.

  ‘Do enlighten us,’ Laclos smiled. He too was happy just watching, presumably because he generally had minions to do this sort of thing. ‘Though I am disappointed your wife had to kill and run. I would have very much liked to have met her.’

  ‘Yeah, she’d love you.’

  ‘Many do.’

  Ignoring him, Cain turned to me and Jonesy.

  ‘The fact that the bodies are crumbling means they’re over a century old, which means they’re sending older vamps.’

  ‘Which is the…’ I paused, unsure. ‘Bad news?’

  ‘And the good, really, since it means no inconvenient bodies to worry the neighbours.’ He tied up the bin bag full of dead vamp and dumped it by the door, though not able to hide a disconsolate look at yet more DIY. ‘It also means they aren’t creating an army of newbie cannon fodder, like your messenger.’

  This got a puzzled look from Jonesy – I was losing track of who was up to date with what, here, but Laclos gave a laconic shrug.

  ‘At least not yet.’ Because, hey, let’s not allow ourselves even a glimmer of hope here. ‘And let us be pleased that your wife – delightful as I’m sure she is – didn’t just accidentally kill one of my vampires, or indeed any other
harmless undead, who she just happened to encounter. Since I assume you didn’t give her some kind of roster?’

  Shit. I hadn’t thought of that. But then I had another question.

  ‘How is she even here, though? I mean, I get that she has a habit of turning up unannounced around you but honestly, is she just stalking you now? Did you know about this? Is that what being separated supernatural-style means because, I mean, it’s not that I’m not grateful but…’ I trailed off, since I suspected adding ‘that’s a bit fucking weird’ might annoy him.

  ‘Wait… so that was really your wife?’ Jonesy asked, clearly struggling to keep up with this rapid turn of events. We all looked at him, and he scowled, defensively.

  ‘He told me they weren’t together anymore.’

  ‘We weren’t. Then we were, again. For a bit. Now we’re not.’ Cain frowned, embarrassed, then turned to my question. ‘I didn’t know she was here, and I’m pretty sure she’s too busy doing… her thing to stalk me. But it’s not unreasonable that if word got out among the hunters, it got out among other supernaturals, too.’

  ‘So… wait, your wife isn’t human?’ OK, I was really starting to feel for poor Jonesy here. Cain looked pained at this new line of interrogation.

  ‘Long story.’

  ‘Let’s just say that apparently our hunter’s wife retains a proprietary interest in his wellbeing,’ Laclos smiled, affably. ‘It seems that ‘till death do us part’ has a whole different meaning when…’ he stopped, abruptly, at the warning look from Cain, and fumbled into innuendo to cover his near slip. ‘But who can blame her, with such a specimen?’

  Jonesy shot Laclos a look that was almost pure Cain – honestly, they must teach this stuff in Hunter School – and the two hunters exchanged a grimace of sympathy.

  ‘Seriously, how have you not killed him yet?’

  ‘Oh, but he has. Twice this week already, isn’t it, angel?’ Laclos tilted his head, playfully, clearly expecting another glower, but then he let out a yelp of surprise as Cain crossed the room in a split second, kicking the legs of Laclos’ chair out from under him and grabbing him roughly by the throat.

  ‘Cain!’ I yelled, as Jonesy jumped back in shock, and Laclos, now dangling a foot off the ground and being held with an iron grip on his still-healing throat couldn’t hide his alarm, because one look at Cain’s granite expression told him this was no joke.

  ‘Do you remember the terms of our deal, vampire?’ Cain’s voice was deceptively calm, though his knuckles on Laclos’ throat were white. Laclos managed a feeble nod. ‘So you see, don’t you, how these ridiculous flirty inside jokes and this just-for-us bullshit that you find so amusing, and is utterly fucking tedious for everyone else, go very much against that agreement?’

  I could almost feel Laclos forming a retort, but something in Cain’s expression stilled his tongue, and he managed another nod.

  ‘You don’t have many friends left, vampire. Try not to piss off the few people still on your side.’

  With that he dropped him, and Laclos stumbled slightly, thrown off balance by the speed and strength of Cain’s attack. I said nothing, not wanting to inflame the situation further. I could see why Cain was angry – Laclos was deliberately winding him up, and being fairly blasé about a situation he was at least partially responsible for – but Cain’s tendency to overcompensate for his own newfound (and hopefully temporary) weakness by lashing out at anything he saw as a threat wasn’t a happy one. Plus, tempting as it might be, lamping everyone who annoyed you wasn’t exactly a way to live in a civilised society. And he’d made the situation worse – I could see why Laclos calling him ‘angel’ might cause potential trouble in vampire circles, where those old enough and attuned enough to sense Cain’s Otherness might find themselves tipped in the right direction by Laclos’ indiscretion, but it was clear Jonesy had just thought Laclos was being a mouthy vampire trying to push a hunter’s buttons. That he had managed to do so quite so successfully made Jonesy more curious about Cain, not less – he was definitely wearing the expression of a man who planned to ask a lot of questions when they were alone. Whatever this job they’d done, he clearly knew some things about Cain – he knew he was married, for a start, which it took me more than a decade to discover (and even then I only found out because his wife turned up at my office) – but he seemed in the dark about pretty much everything else. I was starting to feel like I needed to draw up some kind of ‘who knows what’ chart to keep everything straight in my head. But Cain, his point made, was now all back to business, perfectly equable even as Laclos petulantly sipped his blood and rubbed pointedly at the skin around his throat, trying to boost his healing.

  ‘Much as I hate to admit it, the vampire has a point. My wife’s operating blind and she’s very much "decapitate now, ask questions later". I suggest Jonesy and I do a perimeter check, make sure there’s no hostiles and I’ll see if I can find her, bring her up to speed.’

  ‘Because, obviously, you don’t have anything simple, like a phone number, because that would of course be far too easy,’ I said, and Cain gave me a helpless shrug. I restrained myself from saying something about Valkyries and mobile phones – I didn’t want to give the game away to Jonesy if Cain wasn’t talking – but from the look on the human hunter’s face, he wasn’t happy to be left in the dark.

  ‘You up for that?’ Cain asked, cheerfully, and Jonesy gave him a slow nod.

  ‘Sure. I expect we have quite a lot to catch up on.’

  Chapter 11

  I waited until they’d gone and were – hopefully – out of earshot then turned, exasperated, to Laclos.

  ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ I demanded. His eyes widened in shock for a second, then his face rearranged itself into its usual placid expression. He held up his mug, meekly.

  ‘May I have a refill?’

  I stomped to the remains of my fridge – my poor fridge! – to get some more blood. I could hardly refuse the man sustenance, no matter how annoying he was being, and I supposed I should be grateful that he didn’t treat my place with the same sense of ownership Cain did, or that would likely lead to yet more tensions. I pulled another bag from the disturbingly large stash crammed into the back of my fridge, and watched him decant it into his mug, grimacing in distaste.

  ‘Why are you winding him up so much? One minute you’re all sincerely apologising and the next you’re pulling this crap on him. It’s not like he’s the easiest going man at the best of times, Laclos, and in case you hadn’t noticed, this is not the best of times!’

  ‘Oh, darling. He’s so tightly wound you could bounce pennies off him. That’s part of the fun.’

  ‘I think you’re the only one having fun here, Laclos. He’s serious about this.’

  ‘I was under the impression he was serious about everything.’

  But seeing my expression – Cain wasn’t the only one not finding the humour in this – Laclos dipped his gaze, looking oddly defeated, and seemed suddenly overly interested in his drink.

  ‘You do seem… better around him, though,’ I ventured, carefully.

  Something I couldn’t read skittered across his face, but when he looked up his features had settled into his usual look of detached amusement.

  ‘I seem to have more… agency around him in terms of impulse control, certainly. Either because his blood… inoculated me, somehow, or simply because now I understand my reaction to him, I am better able to master it. I suspect that’s why the Counsel never seemed to be as bothered by his presence – he knew what he was up against, so could more adeptly hide his reaction.’ He let out a small sigh. ‘Then again, he was better at hiding many things.’

  I ignored that – the Counsel was a scab I had no intention of picking at today, especially with Laclos in this weird mood. But this other was something I was unable to let go.

  ‘So… that’s good, right?’

  Now, though, Laclos looked genuinely entertained, which was never good news.

  ‘Cassandr
a, my darling girl. Are you trying to ask me whether I still want to have sex with your boyfriend?’

  He used the word almost mockingly, knowing my own difficulty in defining mine and Cain’s relationship, and I felt myself colour, because that was, of course, exactly what I was asking him, even if I wasn’t sure why.

  ‘Oh, my love,’ he chuckled. ‘I’m afraid even more so, now that I know what he is, what he is capable of.’ He paused, and for a moment, almost looked serious. ‘You have no idea what it is like, Cassandra, to spend your whole life being careful with your lovers, and therefore how intoxicating the prospect of someone you couldn’t break if you tried.’

  Well, I must have looked exactly how I felt at that, because he reached out and took my hand, his expression kind.

  ‘My dear Cassandra, sometimes I believe you misunderstand our natures as wilfully as he does.’

  I pulled back from him, annoyed.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  He hesitated, choosing his words with care.

  ‘He thinks us monsters, driven by our basest desires – food, power, sex.’

  ‘I’m not entirely sure he’s convinced about the sex, to be honest,’ I muttered, and he laughed.

  ‘Then he really does misunderstand us. But while he thinks us devoid of the gentler feelings, incapable of affection or true romantic attachments… because you do see that we are capable of such things – and that is one of the traits I admire about you – you are blinded to the fact that, to some degree, your lover is correct. We are not pale people with quirky diets, Cassandra. We are predators at the very top of the food chain. You must remember that, until very recently, we found no contradiction in loving someone entirely yet being instrumental in their demise.’