Vampire Deception- Thieves & Liars

by Eli Grant

  “This is what I want you to steal,” he said as we stared. “The Treaty of Five Races.”

  “I knew it.” I threw my hands up, backing away from the table. “I knew you were fucking insane. You want us to break into Grace Cathedral, one of the primary seats of vampire power in the city, the day before the biggest party the Triumvirate has thrown in thirty god damn years, and steal the magical Declaration of Independence?”

  “No,” Dante said, clearing his throat. “I want you to infiltrate the Cathedral during the party, and steal the magical Geneva Convention.”

  What he expected me to say to that, I don’t know. I looked at Domino instead, gesturing wordlessly at Dante’s obvious insanity in hopes he would be a voice of reason. Domino ran a hand through his hair, making his glamour flicker again, casting his features briefly in stark monochrome.

  “Okay Nick Cage,” he said with a sigh. “I’m gonna need you to walk me through this. I’m assuming you’ve got some kind of plan?”

  “I have more than a plan,” Dante replied. “I have an invitation.”

  He produced an embossed cream envelope from his jacket with a flourish. He must have had some kind of magitech pocket in there to keep so much shit in it without ruining the perfectly tailored silhouette.

  “One of you will be attending the event as the guest of Lord Heuron of House Dianthus,” he explained. “His lordship wishes to have his Host in attendance, but escorting livestock to a formal event would be an unspeakable breach of etiquette, and presumably quite the insult to his lordship’s wife.”

  “Yeah, I bet,” Domino muttered sarcastically while sounds of disgust circled the table. Even Anton paused making pancakes to shake his head. I just ignored the flinch of revulsion and hoped he’d move the conversation along quickly. Something about being reminded of the Hosts in the context of fancy party social faux pas made it worse. Fuck vampires, honestly.

  “Wait, hold up,” Trip cut in. “What’s a Host?”

  “Dude, do you live under a rock?” Mariposa gave Trip a baffled look.

  “Cut him some slack,” Anton said. “The leeches don’t exactly advertise that shit.”

  “Hosts are the vampire’s food supply,” I provided. “Humans they keep like farm animals.”

  “What, like in stables?” Trip’s lip curled in fascinated disgust.

  “Maybe. Nobody’s allowed to see the farms.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Dante said impatiently, rolling his eyes.

  “You tell him then,” I said, crossing my arms. “You’re the expert here. What are the human farms like, Dante?”

  Dante sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “They’re called enclaves, first of all,” he said. “And while they are admittedly...distasteful, they’re a necessary evil. They provide the vampire community a steady supply of blood and new vampires without putting the secrecy of our kind at risk. The enclaves made it possible for the Triumvirate to outlaw hunting mundane humans for all but a select few. They also encourage vampires to remain part of the courts, where they’re manageable and subject to the Triumvirate’s laws.”

  “Yeah, but you’re literally keeping people on farms,” Trip pointed out. “You called them livestock.”

  “A crass pejorative which I used to illustrate the attitudes of the aristocracy towards bringing such a person to an event of this caliber,” Dante countered. “Despite some vampire’s less than egalitarian views towards hosts, they are not livestock and the enclaves are not farms. They’re more like villages, which the hosts are allowed to roam freely, socializing and organizing their own communities. All the hosts needs are provided free of charge, some quite lavishly depending on the wealth of the Elder who owns them. They have private homes, education, entertainment, and only the finest food and medical care to ensure they live long, healthy lives and produce high-quality plasma. In return they are only asked to donate blood once every four to six weeks.”

  “And if they’re pretty enough, they can get sold at auction!” Mariposa added with false cheer.

  Dante huffed.

  “Particularly attractive or talented hosts may be given the opportunity to impress the court at large. If they catch someone’s eye, and that person is of high enough standing in the court, the vampire may take them as a companion.”

  “You mean buy them,” I corrected.

  “There is a fee,” Dante reluctantly conceded. “Compensation for the blood no longer being produced for the court.”

  “Slavery,” Trip concluded. “You’re talking about slavery.”

  “I’m talking about the necessities of vampiric existence,” Dante said with clear exasperation. “A vampire who takes a Host is expected to eventually turn them and become responsible for their introduction to the court.”

  “Expected, but not required,” I pointed out. “They can also just dump them back at the enclave or kill them when they’re bored.”

  “Return them to the enclave, yes,” Dante said sharply. “But never kill. Killing a Host or any mundane human is strictly forbidden and punishable by death or exile from the court. The Triumvirate does not tolerate wanton murder that might reveal the entire community. And furthermore, while we may not be legally required to turn our Hosts, any man who didn’t would be ostracized at court, which can carry a death sentence of its own I remind you. Court politics are deadly business.”

  “That must be so hard for you,” I said, dripping sarcasm.

  “Poor baby!” Mariposa agreed with an exaggerated pout. Whisper mimed crying behind her.

  “Can we please return to the matter at hand?” Dante asked, his expression carefully neutral.

  “Go for it man,” Trip said, shaking his head. “I’m still processing the necessities of vampiric existence.”

  Dante cleared his throat and continued.

  “I graciously offered to arrange for Lord Heuron’s Host to attend as part of my entourage, escorted by a member of my security detail. Unfortunately, Lord Heuron himself will encounter some car trouble and be unable to attend, and thus won’t notice that his Host has had a sudden total change of identity.”

  “And who exactly is going to be playing the Host?” I asked, a pit in my stomach. I was already pretty sure I knew exactly who he was planning to stick with that shitty job.

  “Why you of course,” he said, confirming my fears.

  “No,” I said flatly. “No chance in hell am I pretending to be some leech’s pet blood bag.”

  Dante looked like he’d expected this and just found it tedious.

  “May I remind you Lord Heuron will not be present?” he said. “You will not be expected to fulfill any of a Host’s traditional duties, I assure you. For all intents and purposes you will simply be another guest.”

  As if. A Host in a room full of vampires was no more a guest than a lobster in the tank of a seafood restaurant. Except people didn’t usually hit on the lobsters before eating them.

  “I don’t care,” I said through my teeth, crossing my arms. “Do I look like the kind of person who does fancy parties? Get someone else to do it.”

  “With all due respect, no one else can,” Dante replied. “The arrangement specifies a female Host. The most cursory background check would reveal Miss Mariposa graduated from an occult school. And the lovely Miss Whisper’s glamour would give her away in an instant.”

  “I’ll do it,” Trip volunteered, grinning. “I look great in heels.”

  “I’m certain you do,” Dante said. “But your arrest record disqualifies you, I’m afraid.”

  “Damn.”

  “Furthermore,” Dante went on, “whoever plays the part of the Host will also be the one retrieving the treaty from its case and sneaking it back out through the party. Miss Evie is not only the only one capable of playing the role of Host, she is also the only one with the necessary powers to disrupt the magical security around the treaty’s case and remove it safely.”

  So
that was why he insisted on dragging me into this bullshit. Son of a bloodsucking bitch.

  “What do you say, Eva?” Domino asked, looking at me with that concerned expression on his face. I hated that look. It always felt like he was seeing right through me. “If you’re not down for it, we’ll figure something else out.”

  “We don’t have time—” Dante started to protest, but Domino cut him off.

  “I don’t know how you usually operate,” he said. “But we don’t force people to do shit they don’t want to do around here. You want her to walk into a room full of vampires and pretend to be an edible party favor, she better god damn well be doing it because she chose to.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, despite the sour taste in my mouth. “I’ll do it.”

  “You sure?” he asked, giving me that look again.

  “I said it’s fine,” I repeated, trying not to snap at him. “Dante’s right. We don’t have time. Let’s just get on with it.”

  Domino didn’t look comfortable, but he didn’t argue any further. Dante cleared his throat and continued.

  “The rest of you will find you’ve just been employed as members of the catering and wait staff. The IDs and security badges will be ready by this evening, as will your uniforms. I would have had them prepared for this meeting, but I wanted to be certain of your skill sets before I decided your roles in the plan.”

  “You three will be waiters,” he said, gesturing to Trip, Mariposa and Whisper. “Mr. Domino will be driving the catering van. Mr. Anton will be posing as a sous chef. I do hope you can cook more than pancakes?”

  “Oh, I think I’ll muddle through,” Anton said with a chuckle, not looking up from the stove.

  “Anton’s daddy was a line cook,” Domino explained. “Growing up he spent more time in restaurant kitchens then at school.”

  “My pop worked in some of the finest restaurants in the city,” Anton said proudly. “Till they hired some fancy celebrity head chef. Turned out to be a racist ass vampire who thought wolves were only fit for washing dishes. Pop wouldn’t let them demote him without a fight, so the bloodsucker blackballed him. Only place that would hire him after that was a Waffle House in Hunter’s Point. C’est la vie.”

  He shrugged, flipping another pancake.

  “At any rate,” Dante went on. “You need only cook well enough to not be thrown out of the kitchen. Your job will primarily be to secure our exit once we have the treaty, and to keep an eye on this.”

  ‘This’ turned out to be a slim, unremarkable black case that might have been a fancy clutch.

  “What is it?” I asked, reaching for it. Dante pointedly held it out of my reach. Before I could decide whether to risk punching him, Mariposa smoothly snatched it out of his hand without even leaving her spot by the wall. I could feel the barest tingle of her power, there and gone in an instant, as it wrapped around the object and yanked it through the air towards her. Dante frowned but didn’t object as she turned it over in her hands curiously.

  “It’s enchanted,” she said, raising an eyebrow as Whisper leaned over her shoulder to look as well. “You can barely tell. They either used a really small demon or this is some very pro work.”

  “It’s most definitely the latter.” Dante held out his hand expectantly and Mariposa returned the case, sticking out her tongue at him. “This is how we’ll be removing the treaty from the premises. The magical security net over the cathedral won’t allow any artifact to be taken through it and it would attract too much attention to bring the entire net down. This case will instead cloak the treaty’s magical signature. Neither the security net, nor anyone attempting to scry for the treaty specifically, will be able to see it while it’s in that case. The guest’s belongings will be scanned and searched as they enter. But the caterer’s equipment will be under far less scrutiny. Mr. Anton will bring the case in along with the other tools, then pass it off to one of our waiters at the right moment, who will bring it to Miss Evie in the main hall.”

  He pointed out the route between the kitchens and where the party would be held on a floor plan.

  “Misses Mariposa and Whisper will slip away approximately fifteen minutes before the opening ceremonies begin, while Mr. Trip remains in the ballroom to cover their absence. They will proceed down into the crypt where a maintenance crew will have conveniently left a certain panel exposed, from which you can disable the security around the treaty’s case. Once the ceremony begins and the guests are distracted, Miss Evie will make an excuse to leave her escort and meet Mr. Trip by the Chapel of Grace, here, where the treaty is displayed. Mr. Trip will keep watch and direct any guests away from the area while our lovely Miss Evie deals with the final security measures around the case and retrieves the treaty. By this time, Mr. Domino should have the van waiting just outside the kitchens and Mariposa and Whisper should already have joined him. Once the treaty is secured in the case, Trip and Evie will hurry to the kitchens as directly as possible, where Anton will be waiting to ensure the way out remains clear. You make your exit, bring the treaty to me at the agreed upon location, and we all become very, very rich before sunrise.”

  “You already have a buyer lined up?” Domino assumed.

  “Of course,” Dante scoffed. “I would hardly attempt to steal something like this if I didn’t. Payment is half up front, remainder on delivery. I can have the money in your accounts within the hour, assuming we’re all agreed on the plan?”

  Domino looked around the table expectantly.

  “Last chance to back out guys. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  Mariposa looked at Whisper, who shrugged.

  “Looks solid enough to me,” Mariposa said. “I guess we’re in.”

  “I’m in,” Andre added from the stove.

  “Man, I dunno,” Trip said. “Still sounds crazy as shit to me. But I’m in if you guys are.”

  All eyes turned to me, and I pretended to study the schematic on the table so I wouldn’t have to meet their stares.

  “Your call, Evie,” Domino said. “Can’t do it without you.”

  I thought about calling it all off for a minute. Maybe I could figure something else out. Finally leave San Francisco. Move east maybe, somewhere the rent’s cheaper. I’d find a way to get Aaron to college, one way or another. Or not. But at least we’d stay afloat, stay together. That should matter more than clinging to the city I was born in, or some fancy school, or proving some asshole principle wrong. It should. But it didn’t.

  “Fuck it. I already said I was in.”

  “Alright,” Domino said, straightening up. “Sign the checks Mr. Cage. Let’s do this.”

  “Perfect timing,” Andre said, nudging past him to set two big platters of pancakes on the table. “Breakfast is ready!” I spooned a pile of blueberries on to a pancake and drenched my plate with maple syrup. Domino handed me a cup of strong black coffee.

  Dante ran everyone through a more detailed version of the plan, including the technical details of how Mariposa and Whisper would disable the security. But as I finished my first stack of pancakes Dante checked the time and, like something out of Mary Poppins, pulled a long black umbrella out of the apparently infinite pocket in his stylish blazer.

  “I believe you all can take it from here,” he said, using the end of the umbrella to cautiously peek around the blackout curtains at the town car with the heavily tinted windows idling just outside the trailer. “Text me if you have any other questions. Otherwise, Miss Evie and I will see you this evening.”

  “Wait, what?” I stared, confused, as he offered me his free hand. “Am I going somewhere?”

  “I should think that would be obvious,” he replied, shaking open the umbrella, its canopy complete with foot long drapes. “We need to get you fitted for a dress.”

  chapter

  6

  AS MY MOM USED TO SAY, in for a penny, in for a huge pain in the ass.

  He dragged me up towards Union Square, but d
rove past the tourist-swamped branded boutiques. He’d given the faceless driver up front no more instruction than “go” but the man wordlessly navigated the side streets and crowds of the downtown area towards an unknown but apparently pretty obscure location. I watched through the tinted windows, keeping track of where we were in case this turned bad and I needed to get out.

  We passed near South of Market just briefly enough for me to glimpse the troll barrier—a string of bells in all shapes and sizes hung over the street, tied near the Fae-space transformers on the power lines. The barrier circled almost all of Soma and cut through part of the Tenderloin and the Mission. It wasn’t an official blockade and every once in a while the vampire Elders would make a show of taking sections of it down. But it was always back up within a day. A reminder to all trolls from their neighbors. This far, but no further.

  Finally we pulled into a street just off the Financial District, narrow but clean and clearly wealthy. There were few people about, and the businesses were discrete and mostly boring investment and banking shit. Not something that would attract a lot of Mundie activity. The hair on my arms stood up as we approached a crisply painted line on the street, and then we crossed into Fae-Space.

  A heat-mirage shimmer, and then the light shifted purple.

  “Here we are,” Dante said as the town car pulled over. He stepped out, umbrella over his arm, squinting in the light while he dug his shades out. The UV filtering built into Fae-Space meant vampires, trolls, and light sensitive Fae could operate during the day time, but apparently that didn’t make it any easier on their eyes. Outside the UV shielding of Fae-space, that umbrella and his shades were all that stood between Dante and the world’s worst sunburn. I almost wanted to see that, and not just because it would be satisfying to watch him get a little crispy. It would also be a good way to judge his age. The younger a vampire was, the longer they could tolerate direct sunlight. A freshly turned vampire could be out in the sun for an hour maybe before it killed them, though after thirty minutes they’d probably be in enough pain to be begging for death. An Elder would have severe burns in minutes, and be dead in fifteen. Exposure was the most popular form of suicide among vampires that reached a hundred years or so and realized they couldn’t cut it. It was a slow, painful death but apparently it was less shameful than poisoning yourself with silver or hawthorne. Still, it had to be direct, sustained exposure to kill. They could avoid the worst of it with umbrellas and hats and gloves, though I had to imagine keeping every inch of skin covered during the height of summer had to be damn uncomfortable.