“I told you I—”
“Six hundred feet below the city,” he said.
That stopped her.
“There’s more,” Lazarus continued. “I was able to find out why they didn’t just deliver their hostage to the other group. It seems Benito Carboni, your husband’s uncle, didn’t like the behavior of some of his tenants. A group of young Irish immigrants opened a club and promptly became involved in a string of disappearances. Benito raised the rent, thinking he’d muscle them out of their building, but they were somehow able to pay. They also threatened him, saying he better quit strong-arming them or else. Benito didn’t like that, so he and one of his associates, a guy by the name of Fausto Canelli? Those two, they sent a battalion of thugs over there earlier this week to put a scare into the Irish kids. But when they got to the club, they didn’t find anybody there. So they went into the basement just to make sure they weren’t hiding.”
Ed Danks had a hand on the back of a pool chair, the fingers there tapping restlessly. Glancing that way, Lazarus said, “You know something about this, Mr. Danks?”
Danks shrugged. “You know … I hear things.”
“What did you hear?”
Danks’s color was now so livid he looked like he might combust. “Crazy stuff. The guys went down there and found boxes. Not coffins, like you see in all those films, but big ol’ crates. Dozens of them.”
“Were they full of dirt?” Malcolm asked.
Danks glared at him. “You makin’ fun of me?”
Malcolm raised his hands innocently. “Not at all. I just …” He looked at Lazarus uncomfortably. “I just happen to have some experience with them.”
“With vampires, you mean,” Danks said.
Malcolm averted his eyes, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but where he was.
Gia Carboni donned an incredulous smile. “Vampires? What is this? A joke, right?” She glanced from face to face, but taking in their grave expressions, she laughed wearily. “Come on, guys. Let me in on the punch line. Or get me some more Grey Goose. I’m startin’ to need it.”
Lazarus watched Danks. “Tell her,” Lazarus said.
“The guys went back to their cars,” Danks said in a voice that was both jittery and hushed, “they brought a couple crowbars down to the basement. They came to the first crate and went to work on it. They’d gotten the lid half open when they heard something move inside. They started to get scared, but there was about ten of Carboni’s men there, and you know how guys are around each other, always got to prove how tough they are.” Danks took a deep breath. “So they pry that thing open and this white shape comes flyin’ out at them. They didn’t get a good look at it right away ’cause it moved so fast, but there were enough of Benito’s guys there, they finally wrestled whatever it was to the ground. They said …” Danks trailed off, mopped sweat from his brow. He looked uncomfortable, and Lazarus knew it was more than the humidity of the poolroom that was making him feel that way.
Danks finally continued. “They said it was stronger than three men put together. It had fish-white skin, like an albino or something, only this wasn’t just somebody without pigment, this was a different kind of species. They didn’t use the word ‘vampire’ to each other, but that’s what the guy called it who told me the story. Anyway, it bit a couple of them and scratched up one’s face somethin’ awful. But they finally nailed it with the crowbar enough times that it got sluggish. That’s when they noticed there were noises coming from all over the basement.”
“From the other crates,” Malcolm said.
Danks nodded. “If they weren’t spooked before, that spooked the hell out of them. They made to get out of there, but the creature that’d attacked them, it was gettin’ active again. It knocked a couple of them down, made to bite one in the neck. So Tommy—the one who told me the story—he shot it.” Danks made a gun with his hand, put it to his temple. “Bam, put one right in its head. But after about ten seconds it got up again. So a whole bunch of the guys, they shot their guns at it. Hit it too. But it kept getting back up. Kept coming. Finally, one of the guys, Sig Sullinger, he shoves that crowbar blade right through the thing’s chest.” Danks nodded. “That finally stopped it.”
Gia Carboni rolled her eyes. “This is nuts.”
“It’s true, Gia. Whether you choose to believe it or not. The e-mails I found in Benito Carboni’s system confirmed the incident, as well as the vampires’ threats. The only reason they haven’t moved on Carboni’s family yet is because they wanted to use them to get to me. They knew Benito Carboni would much rather have me dead than alive, and by having Lou and his thugs perform the kidnapping, all the risk would be on the Carboni Gang, while all the rewards would go to the vampires.”
He could see that Gia still found the notion of vampires preposterous, but at least she was listening now. She asked, “Why do these so-called vampires want you?”
Lazarus said slowly. “There was once a terrorist who called herself Lucy Westenra.”
At this, Malcolm gave him a sharp look.
Lazarus smiled at him. “Told you there was a reason I’d been thinking of her so much lately.” He went on. “The extrasensory perception comes and goes, but sometimes … I see faces … have memories I couldn’t possibly have. I seem to climb inside other people’s minds. Or even see the future.”
“The future,” Gia repeated.
He looked at Malcolm. “There’s someone we thought was dead. I was sure was dead. But I was wrong.”
“Lucy Westenra?” Malcolm asked.
“No time to explain now,” Lazarus said, moving away from the pool. “Gia, please get some clothes on and follow us. Mr. Danks, if you’d get one of the cars ready …”
“Hold on a second, Mr. Lazarus,” Danks said. The man was frowning, but his tone was different now, more respectful. “I don’t know what I believe about this …” He rubbed one stubbly cheek. “… you know, about this vampire business. But I do believe you believe it, Mr. Lazarus. And this guy—” He indicated Malcolm. “—he seems to buy into it too. But what I don’t get is why you’re so bent on taking us down there with you. I mean, let’s say all the stuff about bloodsuckers is true. You just takin’ us along for bait? A couple of fresh bodies to distract them while you get your girl out of there?”
Lazarus smiled without humor. “You’re smarter than you look, Mr. Danks. Smarter than people give you credit for, I’d wager. But no, that’s not why I want you to come.”
“Why then?” Gia asked, rising from her lounge and revealing one heck of a body. Her hips were nice and round, the legs toned. Her breasts looked even firmer now, and her tummy was flatter than he would’ve expected. Lazarus sensed Malcolm leering at her and considered telling him to knock it off. There was no guarantee they’d live through the night, and if fantasizing about Lou Carboni’s wife was the way Malcolm wanted to spend the last few hours of his life, that was his business. As for Lazarus …
“This mansion is familiar to you, Gia. You’ve got your pool, your bathing suit, your vodka. You feel like with Danky here you might as well be in some fortified palace. But I’m here to tell you it’s not gonna matter.”
Gia’s face pinched, and she started to protest, but Lazarus stilled her with a look. “The e-mail chain I just accessed led to Benito Carboni’s private account. It contained a threat from an individual referring to himself as Jonathan Harker, though I suspect I know his real name. In it he threatened not only the men who killed the vampire in the club basement, not only the leaders of the clans, but their family members and employees as well.”
Danks looked at him apprehensively. “He said that?”
“You want his exact words?”
Danks gestured noncommittally. “I don’t care. I mean, sure, why not?”
“The e-mail said, ‘We will track down every man, woman, and child associated with the Carboni and Canelli families. We will break into your houses by cover of night. We will slay all of you. We will devour your entrails.
We will make your worst nightmare look tame by comparison. And by dawn, New York will shudder in terror at the hellish masterpiece we have painted with your blood.”
Gia Carboni had gone a sickly olive color. She and Danks exchanged a look.
“You two are no longer safe,” Lazarus said. “Coming with us isn’t safe, but it’s your only chance of living through the night.”
Gia sighed. “I’m convinced. Let me get some clothes on.”
Lazarus nodded. “You have any extra guns lying around here, Danks?”
“Sure.”
“Any blades?”
“Follow me,” Danks said.
Ten minutes later, they were packed inside Lou Carboni’s black Aston Martin. If they were going to their deaths, Lazarus figured, they might as well do it in style.
CHAPTER NINE
* * *
They reached a point directly above Lou Carboni’s cell phone location at just before eight p.m. Danks was uneasy about leaving the Aston Martin unattended in an unfamiliar neighborhood, but Lazarus finally prevailed upon him to break away from the sleek black car. If they needed to make a quick getaway, Lazarus explained, they’d be glad they’d left the Aston Martin nearby.
Glancing back at the car like a soldier being farewelled by his lady love, Danks followed the others into an adjacent alley.
They’d walked for perhaps a minute when Lazarus turned right into another alley that abruptly dead-ended and said, “This where your vampire gal led you?”
Malcolm looked around, blinking as if suddenly awakened from a light doze. “You know, I think it is. Like I told you, it was raining that night, so—”
“—so you can’t be sure, I know. But odds are good this was the place. Which means—” He nodded a few feet ahead of them. “—that this is the manhole cover you displaced to follow Mina into the sewer.”
Lazarus reached down, pried the blunt edge of the manhole cover up with his fingertips, and tossed the steel disc aside. It landed with a frightful clatter that made Malcolm hunch his shoulders in dismay.
Lazarus scarcely noticed. He shifted his shoulders so the aperture would accommodate his body, then dropped through the hole to the squelchy floor. His knees felt good, his body nearly recovered from the punishment he’d endured earlier.
“Gia next,” he called up. “I’ll catch her.”
Gia came tumbling through the hole, surprising Lazarus a little. He figured she’d be reluctant to trust him, but apparently her distrust of him had been left back at the mansion, along with her vodka buzz. She now looked smart and alert, and perhaps—unless he was reading her wrong—a little excited. This adventure, he knew, was far beyond her normal routine. Could it be she’d been craving something like this to break up the monotony of her existence? Lazarus thought so.
“Malcolm,” he said.
Malcolm dropped through, Lazarus catching him and standing him on his feet and out of the way. Danks came last, and though the man was as burly as a Kodiak bear, Lazarus handled him as easily as he would a small child. Danks seemed taken aback by this, maybe even a trifle unmanned. He rotated his shoulders and glanced at Gia, probably to make sure she didn’t think less of him. But he needn’t have worried. Gia was too busy staring at Lazarus to notice Danks anymore.
But Lazarus ignored her lingering stare. Holding out his hand, he said to Gia, “Phone.”
She put it in his hand. He closed his eyes and tracked Lou, the nanites communicating with the phone to first connect to Lou’s and then to Lou’s GPS. No, he thought, pleased. Lou hadn’t moved. Lazarus concentrated hard and instructed the phone’s Internet to access whatever maps of the city’s underground that existed for this part of New York. Here he was disappointed, for he only received a few approximate locations of connecting points between tunnels. Still, it was better than nothing.
When he’d opened his eyes, he saw they’d each switched on a flashlight. He handed the phone back to Gia, brought out his own flashlight.
Gia said, “Why don’t you just call Lou? He could probably tell you how he got down to wherever he is.”
Lazarus started down the tunnel to the nearest point of descent. “For one thing, I don’t want your husband to know we’re coming. Remember, on top of kidnapping Jillian Alcott and endangering her father, Lou’s men murdered several innocent cops and civilians today. We’re not exactly allies.”
Lazarus glanced at Danks, but the big man had averted his eyes.
Lazarus went on, “Secondly, you’re assuming your husband is in a position to talk on the phone.”
“Mr. Carboni is a pretty tough guy,” Danks said. “Why wouldn’t he be able to talk on the phone?”
“Because he’s outnumbered,” Malcolm said.
Danks and Gia glanced at Malcolm in the paltry light of the tunnel.
Looking embarrassed, Malcolm explained, “Mina—the vampire with whom I’ve become … entangled—she made allusion to a legion of immigrants, not a small group. If she’s to be believed, your husband and his coconspirators are badly outmanned and likely being held captive by an army of the undead.”
Lazarus arched an eyebrow at him.
Malcolm grinned bashfully. “It’s the reporter in me.”
They soon reached a fork in the tunnel. Lazarus turned left and soon came to a ladder leading downward.
“This it?” Danks asked.
Malcolm shined his flashlight down the ladder’s length. “It goes forever.”
“Not forever,” Lazarus said, starting the climb down, “but it’ll get us closer to where we need to go.” He paused and glanced up at Danks. “You go last. Be ready. They might have sentries posted to prevent us from getting to their lair.”
Danks tapped the gun handle stored in the front of his trousers. “Will this work on them?”
Lazarus nodded. “If you get them in the heart, it will.”
As the night wore on, Jillian’s hope of rescue grew dimmer and dimmer. She could see Harker’s words working on the three mobsters. Eddie Maza’s face betrayed no emotion, but his continued silence indicated how preoccupied he was. Frankie Canelli cast frequent glances at Lou and Eddie, as if convinced one of them would soon pull a gun on him. It was for this reason that Jillian’s money was on Frankie to betray his comrades first. The guy had no integrity, no hint of loyalty. Anyone who considered a name like “The Snip” a badge of honor was the vilest of scum. Jillian just hoped she’d be there to watch him die.
Lou Carboni had a couple of times attempted to engage her in conversation, as though even in these dire circumstances she might be interested in him and willing to find a quiet place to get to know him better. She felt sorry for his wife.
Meanwhile, the vampires on the stage conversed pleasantly with one another, evidently unaware or unbothered by the blood slicking their faces and the fronts of their shirts. Even with the layer of gore on her chest and chin, the one called Mina Murray remained an alluring sight. Jillian wasn’t often a jealous person, but Mina’s beauty was a bit intimidating. She imagined men and vampires alike would be transfixed by the sight of her; Mina seemed to know it too, seemed to welcome the wolfish male attention her cohorts lavished on her.
The vampire horde milled below them but never strayed far from the stage. They looked ravenous, impatient to be given the word to attack. Several of the subservient vampires communicated in disgruntled whispers and cast repeated glances up at Jillian and the three mobsters. Watching their surly faces, she knew they wouldn’t be put off forever. Sooner or later, they’d acquiesce to their base nature and make a move for them, and when they did she doubted Harker or any of the other vampires onstage could prevent the bloodbath.
They had waited in uneasy silence for over an hour. Then Frankie Canelli, perhaps unable to remain silent any longer or maybe just wanting to put some distance between himself and the two guys he’d earlier considered friends but was now afraid were going to kill him, ambled over to the vampires in thrones and said, “So how does it work?”
They looked at him expressionlessly, with the exception of the female vampire who hadn’t yet been identified. She had a glorious mane of straight black hair and looked to Jillian like some sort of Eastern European. She was slightly darker skinned than the rest, her features a bit more angular.
Frankie saw her looking. “What do you say, sweetness? Why don’t you educate me?”
“About what?” she asked. Her voice was low and carried a strong accent. Romanian? Jillian wondered. Yes, or from somewhere in that part of Europe.
“You know,” Frankie said, grinning. “How to become a vampire, that sort of thing.”
Her eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth. “You want to become a vampire?”
He held up his hands, palms out. “Hey, I didn’t say that. I’m just interested, that’s all. I mean, if worse comes to worst, and it’s either die or become one of you, I’d rather choose the fangs, if you know what I mean.”
The Romanian vampire continued to regard him with that same patient smile, but a couple of the others—Harker, particularly—looked agitated.
The Romanian said, “Most vampire lore is silly. Garlic, stakes, holy water. I even saw a movie where the vampires sparkled. But one of the few things your films get right is the manner in which a new vampire is born.”
Jillian said, “You drink their blood, they drink your blood. Is that right?”
The Romanian vampire bowed her head.
Harker’s face had turned almost red enough to match his fiery hair. “Why would you tell them this? What possible good could come of it?”
She favored him a look that was somehow both pouty and indulgent. “What harm can result? Do you really think we’ve anything to fear from these individuals?”
“It isn’t that,” Harker said impatiently. “It’s the divulgence of our way of life. Our secrets. The less they know of our ways, the better off we’ll be.”
But Frankie ignored him. “So it’s like blood brothers. Or spittin’ on your hands and shakin’ on it. Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”
Bloodshot: Kingdom of Shadows (Kindle Worlds) Page 11
