by Flynn, Mac
"Overpriced clothes and some nasty makeup," I replied.
Romero actually cracked a smile. "Never thought I'd live long enough to hear a woman refer to clothes as overpriced."
"Then you need to get out more," I teased.
The grin slipped off his face. "Not allowed to leave the sewers much except during the night, but do you mind if I take a look inside those boxes? Can't be too careful."
"No problem, but why can't you guys leave the sewers?" I asked him while I handed over the boxes to him.
Romero stepped over to an old card table and opened the boxes. "Our appearances would cause a panic," he explained to me.
"So how do you guys handle supernatural crimes above this place?" I wondered.
"We leave that to the humans to flush them down here, and there are werewolves policemen who assist us in doing that," he replied.
I frowned as I recalled the werewolves on Ruthven's payroll. "I don't think the werewolves-"
Quiet, came Vincent's voice inside my head.
I jumped at the sudden intrusion into my thoughts and whipped my head around to glare at him. "Do you mind?"
Be quiet, he ordered me.
"No, and could you please stop doing that? It creeps me out," I demanded.
"Are you all right?" Romero interrupted our one-sided conversation. The concerned expression told me how one-sided it had appeared, what with me glaring at Vincent and he standing impassively by not moving an inch. You couldn't even tell he was staring at me from behind those dark glasses.
I plastered a large, child-scaring grin on my face and silently wishes bodily harm on Vincent. Not enough that I could feel it, but something. Maybe I could buy myself a voodoo doll in one of these stores. "Oh, it's nothing. Sometimes the voices in my head get a little too loud and annoying." I shot Vincent a glare that would have turned any normal man to stone. Unfortunately, he was neither normal nor a man, so he survived.
"I see," Romero replied, though his voice sounded dubious. He handed me back my searched boxes. "Enjoy your stay at the mall."
"Thanks," I grumbled. Vince led the way to the Boo Bar, but I grabbed his arm and stopped him before we went into spook central. "What was the deal with that telepathy stuff?" I asked him.
"The police don't need to know about the werewolves working for Ruthven," he told me.
"Uh, yeah, they do. Romero said those guys were supposed to be good guys, but we know they're not. Why shouldn't we tell him the truth?" I wondered.
"We have no evidence to back up our claims, and the Parasquad would need evidence before they could risk exposing themselves to the world," he replied.
"Then why can't we get some pictures or paw prints over at Third Precinct?" I suggested.
Vincent shook his head. "After our infiltration of the building Ruthven won't be as careless with his security. He'll have set up guards outside who aren't werewolves, and hid his dogs inside the building."
I folded my arms across my chest and frowned at him. "So let me guess. We not tell them about this problem, too, because it's not our problem yet?"
"Precisely."
"We're stacking up a lot of problems that aren't our problems but might be some day," I pointed out.
"When that day comes we will at least know our problems," Vincent countered. He passed by me and into the Boo Bar.
"And what a dam bursting it'll be," I grumbled as I followed him inside.
Chapter 9
We found Mitch sitting comfortably at his usual table and wearing a normal set of dress clothes complete with dinner jacket and black bow tie. He saw us coming and slipped into his 'office' in the rear tunnel, and we followed. Mitch stood off to the side and pulled out a small notebook. "I got what you wanted," he told us. He dangled the notebook in front of Vincent, but when the vampire tried to grab it Mitch pulled it back. "They've let in a lot of new members, so it cost a little more than I expected to get all the dirt on them. I'll need a little more dough to make up for the loss." He held out his hand expecting a large tip. Vincent glanced down at the hand with an impassive expression, then looked up into Mitch's face. Mitch rolled his eyes. "Come on, just a few thousand or so." Vincent said nothing, and Mitch sighed and forked over the notebook. "You're a real ass, you know that?"
"I do," I spoke up. Mitch smiled and bowed his head at me in appreciation.
Meanwhile, Vincent flipped through the notes and stopped on one of the pages. "What do you know about Eric Hargrove?" he asked Mitch.
My eyes widened and I hopped beside Vincent to peer over his shoulder at the book. "Is he on there?" I wondered. Sure enough his name was at the top of one of the pages along with a list of information. There was the date he joined, who vouched for him, and what level he stood in the order hierarchy. There was even a picture of the kid clipped to the page. I spotted a list of quirks such as his being a mamma's boy and a wanna-be player. Everything was there except for his address. That part was blank.
Mitch shrugged. "He's one of the newbies, but I'd call him a little special."
"Special how?" I asked him.
He nodded at the notebook. "Look at who picked him up."
I glanced at the name. "Gabriel Sins," I read aloud. Didn't sound familiar. "What's so special about that?"
Vincent frowned and snapped the notebook shut. "Sins is the leader of the cult," he told me.
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so that means what exactly?"
"It means," Mitch spoke up as he stepped forward, "that this boy must be special, or at least useful. Sins doesn't pick up just anybody for his little club, and who he picks up usually ends up dead."
The color drained from my face. "Dead?" I gulped.
"Yep, dead," Mitch replied. "Don't know why, but usually there's a body part found here and there, but not all of it."
"Wait, if everybody knows that Sins kills people than why hasn't anybody stopped him?" I asked them.
Mitch rolled his eyes. "We're not dealing with some two-bit drug dealer. This Sins guy is serious stuff. If you try to mess with him and what he wants then you end up dead, too."
I glanced up at Vincent. "You said you messed with them a few times. How'd you make it out?"
Mitch snorted. "You're talking to somebody who's already dead. He don't have much to fear."
"What did you learn about the Precinct?" Vincent brought up.
Mitch's playfulness dropped from his face and he leaned back with his lips pursed tightly together. "You must know something even I don't because my sources dug up a connection between the Precinct and your cult."
Vincent raised an eyebrow. "What connection?"
"Seems there's been shipments from the Precinct to one of the warehouses owned by a prominent member of the cult," Mitch told us. "A few days after the shipment arrives there's a big spike in the number of those books out on the streets."
"That must be where the books are going from the river!" I exclaimed.
Vincent glared me into silence, but Mitch was interested. "Yeah, the shipment does comes in from the river." He glanced from me to Vincent, and back to me. "You two care to share your info? I'll give a good discount on my next snitch," he offered.
"Not interested," Vincent replied.
Mitch shrugged and sighed. "Oh well, can't blame a guy for trying to get ahead on the info scene." He glanced at his watch and straightened his jacket. "But if our transaction is finished then I've got some other customers waiting for my special skills. If you'll excuse me." He smiled, bowed to us, and left us in the tunnel.
I have to admit that after that talk my confidence in this mission was a little shaken, and so was I. I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to keep from shivering from fear. It was one thing to deal with the guys at the Third Precinct where I didn't know the full danger, but I knew what the stakes were here. Vincent stuffed the notebook into his jacket and glanced down at me. "Having second thoughts?" he asked me.
I shakily smiled and shrugged. "Maybe?" I squeaked. Vincent stared at me with
an expression with more pity than I'd ever seen in them. I didn't like pity. "What? I can be a little scared."
"Fear is very human," he mused.
I rolled my eyes. "I know, I know, I'm just a weak human, and the weakest link in our wonderful relationship." I nearly jumped out of my skin when he put a heavy hand on my shoulder. His voice was soft, almost too soft for me to hear.
"Tim was frightened the first time," he told me.
My eyes widened. "Really?" I didn't even know Tim knew what fear was.
Vincent chuckled, and I didn't hear the usual sarcasm or teasing in its depths. "He wouldn't admit it, but I could see it in his eyes."
"So what'd you do? Tell him there's worse things than death to fear?" I asked him.
"I told him to stop acting like a scared woman and do the job."
My shoulders slumped and I rolled my eyes. "What encouraging words," I sarcastically quipped.
"Tim said much the same thing, but he performed the job," Vince replied.
I sighed and pursed my lips together. "I suppose you're right. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"
"We could both perish."
"Thanks. That makes me feel so much better."
"You're welcome."
"I hate you."
"So I've heard."
I swept his hand off my shoulder and tucked the boxes beneath my arm. "So what do we do now?" I asked him.
One side of his mouth slipped up into a crooked, evil grin. "Now you infiltrate the cult."
I frowned. "You mean 'we,' don't you? We go together?"
"I mean what I say, and I already said they are familiar with me," Vincent reminded me.
I gulped. "So I really go it alone?"
"Unless you would go back on our commission, and our word to help Mrs. Hargrove," he replied.
My shoulders slumped and I sighed. "Fine, let the espionage begin." I furrowed my brow and tapped my chin. "How does this stuff work, anyway? I mean, how do we start?"
"We already have the proper attire for you, so the next step is to dress the part and ingratiate yourself with a member."
I stuck out my tongue. "So I really have to put this dress on?"
"Yes."
"Fine, but we should have asked for more money," I grumbled.
"It was your fault we didn't earn our usual commission," he reminded me.
"You're just a wealth of good feelings tonight."
"I try."
"Please stop." I glanced at the boxes and then around us at the tunnel. "Please tell me this isn't the changing room."
"Follow me." Vincent led me back through the Boo Bar and into a nearby clothing store. There were all kinds of frightful apparel inside, including goth collars, black and heavy, steel-toed boots, and dresses that would have fit right in with a mourning family. Vincent guided me past the racks of wrecks and to the back where there were a few changing rooms that were hardly cleaner than the tunnels around the mall. He stopped and nodded at them. "Those will work."
I cringed. "Can't we just go-" He stared at me with indifference and impatience, and I sighed. "Fine, just wait here." I slipped into one of the dirty rooms, and cringed at the broken mirror on one wall. It showed a nervous woman who really just wanted to go home and hide under her bed covers. I sighed and dove into the mystery of the box I'd grabbed at the last minute. I pulled off the lid and gazed down at a wine-colored dress. It looked decent, so I took the dress out of its box and held it up to the weak light before the mirror.
The dress was more lingerie than outfit. The fabric was so thin it was almost transparent, and there was a slit along the bottom of one side that traveled all the way up to my hip. I didn't remember trying this on, and suspected buying it was a conspiracy between Vincent and the shop girl he later used as an unwilling blood donor.
"How did you ever get into this life, Liz?" I muttered to myself. My reflection didn't have an answer, so I got to work putting on the dress. It wasn't too hard; there were only two straps to worry about. I couldn't even wear about my bra. The shoes were murder, or would cause one if I had to wear them for very long. There was also a pair of long, red gloves that reached up to my elbows. I thought about ditching those, but remembered they would hide the ring stuck on my finger. I looked at the makeup kit box and shrugged. I had no idea how to apply that stuff, so I had to go au natural
It took me a few minutes to get through the process, and lo and behold when I stepped out Vince was gone. I frowned, took a few cautious steps onto the floor, and glanced over the clothing racks. Nothing. "Vince?" I whispered. "Vince?" Silence. I wondered if he was attacking another shop girl, and if he was I didn't want to be around to take the heat. I grabbed my ordinary clothes and strode out of the store to the mall's main thoroughfare. There were a few other shoppers, and one or two drunks from the Bar. I didn't want to imagine how much they imbibed to get as tipsy as they were when one stumbled into my back.
"Where are you going?" a voice behind me asked.
My clothes and makeup kit clattered to the hard ground, and I spun around to glare at Vincent who stood behind me. "Didn't I tell you a million times not to scare me like that?" I scolded him. I expected a snarky reply, but he continued to stare at me with that intense expression on his face. "What? Is my neckline too low?" I glanced down at myself. The dress was a little risque, but it hid enough assets to tease men.
Vincent snapped out of his hypnosis and coughed. "Not a million," he replied. There was that snarky reply.
I blinked. "Not a million what?" I asked him.
"You haven't told me a million times not to scare you like that," he explained.
I rolled my eyes, stooped down and scooped up my boxes. "Well, I told you a lot, so knock it off. Besides, where the hell have you been? I've been looking all over for you."
Vincent's lips twitched and he turned away. I thought I detected a hint of embarrassment. "I went on an errand."
I leaned in close and narrowed my eyes. "For what?" I persisted.
He frowned, dug into his jacket and pulled out a short, thin, rectangular box covered in red felt. "For something to complete your disguise." He tossed it at me, and again I dropped my makeup kit and old clothes to catch it. I juggled the narrow box for a moment before clasping it between both hands. His action was nonchalant, but his face was tense.
Brimming over with curiosity, I opened the box and gasped when my eyes beheld a beautiful ruby necklace. The glittering white-gold chain glistened against the pale interior felt of the box, and the large rub in the center shone like a thousand lights in the gloomy darkness of the tunnel. I snapped my head up and my mouth flapped like a fish on land. "What-why-how-huh?" I stuttered.
"It finishes your disguise," he repeated.
A wide grin slipped onto my face, and I squealed with joy and jumped at him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pecked a kiss on his place cheek before sliding to the ground. "Thank you so much! It's beautiful, and pretty, and the best present anyone's ever given to me!"
His pale face developed a faint hint of blushing on those white cheeks. "It finishes your disguise, nothing more," he insisted.
I wagged my eyebrows and winked. "Sure it does. I'm sure without it I wouldn't have been able to pass myself off as a rich girl."
"Yes, that's precisely it," he eagerly agreed.
I chuckled, shook my head and tightly but gently gripped the small box in hand. "Well, I still appreciate this really nice addition to my costume, and I suppose it's a good enough excuse for abandoning me in this creepy mall." I glanced down at the present one last time with a small smile on my face before I securely closed the lid and glanced up at Vincent. "So now that I'm all dressed up, what now?"
"We introduce you to a member and you ingratiate yourself with them," he told me.
I frowned at the sexual meaning in his words. "I'm not going all the way with anybody, even for that much money," I refused. Vincent looked me up and down, and I blushed and pulled up my low neckline. "Stop looking at m
e like I'm a blood bag," I ordered him.
"You'll have to tolerate those looks to attach yourself to the arm of one of the members," he pointed out.
I sighed and my shoulders slumped. "This is going to be as much fun as those giants," I muttered.
Chapter 10
Vincent led me back to the car and we drove to the glitziest part of the city. The people who walked the streets wore shoes that cost as much as a down payment on a house, and the jewelery of those going to the theater were worth small, kingly fortunes. The shops rose up from the clean streets in dazzling splendor with their fancy lights flashing and the sidewalks crowded with the affluent on their way to the majestic theaters or out for a fine dinner with starvation-sized servings of fish and vegetables.
Vincent parked the car a half block down from one of the priciest and busiest restaurants. I could see a long line of people waiting to enter, and I wondered how many birthdays they'd celebrated while standing there. Vincent stepped out of the car and I followed suit with all the nervousness of a girl on her first blind date. He moved around to my side of the car and took the necklace box grasped in my hands. I watched him take out the necklace and gently wrap it around my throat. He had a lot of experience with throats and quickly closed the clasp.
I glanced nervously down at myself. "Well, how do I look?" I asked him.
"Too pale," he commented.
I snorted. "Don't you like your woman a little pasty?"
"I prefer mine with blood," he replied. Vincent leaned past me and grabbed the makeup kit from the seat. He then grabbed my arm and guided me into a nearby alley. Even that place was clean, at least for an alley. No puddles, broken crates, or any signs of rats.
He let me go and dug through the various makeup scissors, pincers and other stuff I couldn't recognize that resembled torture devices. I looked around at the alley. "Nice place for a blood drinking." I froze and slapped my hand over my mouth. "I did not mean to suggest that," I mumbled through my fingers.
