“That you can summon anyone you’ve ever bitten, draw them to yourself.”
“I intend to exact my revenge on Annabelle when I return. Using her parents will aid in those efforts. Again, watch Annabelle, but don’t get too close. In about nine years…”
“I know. She’ll become possessed by a familiar, she’ll have special abilities…”
“Just observe from afar, learn what you can about what she can do. I’ll expect a full account on my return.”
I rolled my eyes. “The last thing on your mind before you go to rest for twenty years is the revenge you’re going to get when you awake?”
“When you’ve been a vampire as long as I have… when revenge has driven you for thousands of years… a twenty-year wait in hell is nothing. To me, it feels like my chance is finally on the horizon.”
“I’ll learn what I can,” I said.
Ramon stood beside me, holding the metal spike we’d use to put Nico to rest, to send him to vampire hell. “Give everyone my best,” he said.
“Only you, Ramon, would have friends in hell,” Nico jested.
“I suppose you’ll be able to keep an eye on my brother while you’re there, too,” I said.
“Of course,” Nico replied. “Do not forget, Mercy…”
“I know,” I said. “I’ll remove the stake on November 1, 2019.”
“It mustn’t be a day sooner,” Nico said. “No matter what happens here. You simply cannot attempt to revive me until that date.”
“I understand.”
“Ramon?” Nico asked.
“Of course, Monsieur Nico. Not a moment before. Come what may.”
“Not even if your lives are threatened, understand?”
“We do,” I said, nodding.
“Keep Ramon under control. We don’t want a relapse to his old habits,” Nico said. “But if he does, you know what to do.”
“I’ll do what I can,” I said, trusting that my compulsion would keep Ramon in check. It had worked for some time now, and I presumed I’d be able to keep his murderous tendencies quelled for another two decades without too much difficulty.
“I hope not to see you again, Ramon, until my return.”
“I appreciate the confidence,” Ramon said, smirking.
“I didn’t say I was confident. I said I hoped…”
“You have hopes for me!” Ramon exclaimed. “Even that, I should say, is progress!”
Nico chuckled. “Indeed, it is.” Then, “And Mercy, you still have your wand, do you not?”
I bit my lip. “Yeah, why?”
“If the situation demands it, do not be afraid to use it.”
I nodded. In truth, I was so out of practice I wasn’t sure what I’d do if I picked it up again. But I suppose that’s the reason I held onto it through the years—you never know when a good spell or two might come in handy.
“And please,” Nico said, “make sure my sarcophagus is well sealed, all the entrances are secured as we planned…”
“And the security system is armed,” I said. “I’ve got this, Nico. Don’t sweat it.”
In all Nico’s years as a vampire, he’d never once been staked. I could almost see the fear in his eyes—going to hell isn’t exactly a vacation, even for a vampire. Not to mention, there were hundreds of vampires there he’d staked and burned himself. Vampires who’d become a liability, who couldn’t get their bloodlust under control.
Vampires like Ramon, but those who hadn’t proven themselves useful enough to keep around. Or, to risk bringing back. Many who, quite frankly, wouldn’t be particularly warm and welcoming.
“My apologies, Mercy,” Nico said. “I didn’t anticipate I’d have so much trepidation about this. But alas, it must be done.”
“Look on the bright side,” I said. “Maybe this teeny-pop, boy-band crap will be over with by then, and you’ll get to skip the whole thing.”
“Trust me,” Nico said, “the music scene doesn’t get any better.”
I bit my lip. “Well, that sucks. I’ve still been holding out for a jazz revival here in the Big Easy.”
“Now that’s something to hang your hopes on,” Nico said. “Jazz is a lot like Ramon. No matter how many times it dies, it keeps coming back.”
“Was that a joke at my expense?” Ramon asked.
“Sort of,” I chuckled. “But not a malicious one.”
“All in good fun,” Nico said. “Let’s get this over with.”
I nodded, gripped the iron stake in my hand, and looked into Nico’s eyes one last time. Would my compulsions translate into hell? I didn’t know for sure. But I figured it was worth a go—especially since Nico wouldn’t realize what I was doing. “Remember, Nico. Find my brother and make sure he never wants to leave.” Nico nodded, and I thrust the stake into his chest. He gasped for air, his eyes closed, and his skin turned gray.
I’d have to wait almost twenty years to see him again. That wasn’t long in vampire time, hardly any time at all for one as old as Nico. But I was still young enough that a twenty-year wait was going to try my patience. Of course, it wasn’t the end of the world. I was the Queen Bee now… and I was ready to raise a little hell. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
18
I KNEW MY limits. Keep the kills to a minimum. I didn’t have to use alcohol anymore—I could just compel people to forget, which, I should say, made the hunt easier than ever. Bite… stop drinking before they pass out… command them to think it was all a dream, or better, feed them a bullshit story about their evening.
Ramon was the only one who knew about my abilities. I didn’t know he knew, but apparently he’d figured it out after the third or fourth time my command had effectively prevented him from dismembering anyone.
It was a bittersweet sort of thing for Ramon—he knew mangling human bodies would earn him a trip back to hell, but he also rather enjoyed tearing human limbs from their bodies. He missed the texture of the wound on the severed end. He insisted that without the heart to pump the blood, what remained in the limbs aged just enough in short order that it gave it a unique flavor, a more refined taste, like a fine Merlot.
“Let us find a real scoundrel,” Ramon said. “Someone who deserves it. You’ll see, the taste… c'est délicieux!”
“So much for being trustworthy,” I said. “It’s Nico’s first night gone and we’re planning a homicide.”
“Mais non, ma chérie! Think of it as preparing a fine cuisine.”
I knew I could limit this to a single occasion. I could compel Ramon not to do it again. But still, I had my reservations. It wasn’t the eighteen-nineties anymore. You couldn’t get away with eviscerating a body without people noticing.
And the ways they investigated missing persons and murders these days… I mean, unsolved murder or missing persons cases used to be par for the course. These days, it seemed, few cases went completely unsolved for long. But it seriously felt like I was a girl who’d left home for the first time. I was nineteen when I was turned—I was on the cusp of having that kind of unrestrained freedom for the first time. Then momma fell ill, then my sister. Soon after they died, I did, too… and you know the rest of the story.
For once it felt like I was truly free, truly independent, without a soul in the world—or a soulless vampire, either—to tell me what to do. If I wanted to show my boyfriend a good time, if I wanted to reward him for several years of good behavior, even if it was only on account of my compulsions, I had the right.
“Alright, Ramon. Let’s do it!”
“Are you serious, ma chérie?” Ramon asked, clapping his hands repeatedly. “We must select the finest cut of meat, the perfect scoundrel. That is, if you are in the mood for a spicy cuisine. If you prefer something sweet, might I suggest a young virgin?”
“A scoundrel sounds good to me.” I was willing to give this a try, but I still had my reservations about killing the innocent. Not because they didn’t deserve it—I didn’t have many moral qualms about much—but because when you
ng, innocent people go missing, the authorities’ determination to solve the crime is a bit more resolute than when an undesirable, someone with a record and a bad reputation, ends up dead. If someone had it coming, they had it coming. Not to mention, I’d tasted the innocent before… my brother. And the last thing I wanted was a meal that reminded me of him.
“Now,” I said, “the challenge is finding a good scoundrel.”
Ramon shrugged. “I have an idea. It worked in the past, perchance it will work today. For where there are scoundrels and criminals involved, there’s always someone who wants someone else dead.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting we seek out someone powerful and offer our services… as assassins.”
I rolled my eyes. “You might pass for one, but no one is going to buy the notion that a girl who looks not a day older than nineteen is an accomplished assassin.”
“Who needs convincing?” Ramon asked. “After all, who can resist Mercy?”
“No one,” I said, smirking.
“Then it is a plan?” Ramon asked, excitement in his voice.
“It’s a plan. Now, first thing’s first: we have to find ourselves a crime boss.”
“Simple! We find a drug dealer, compel him to name his supplier. We ask the supplier the same until we find whoever is on top.”
I knew it wouldn’t take long. The advantage of my abilities meant that virtually everyone we encountered had to tell us what we demanded. We started with a young man snorting a line at a club. He gave us his dealer who, in turn, connected us with his supplier, who in turn named another intermediary. Eventually we traced our way to the source—a state senator, of all people.
A part of me wanted to make him the meal; I’d sampled politicians before, and they tended to have good flavor. It also meant he had a lot to lose. Not that we needed an extra motivation to get him on board with our plan—but it meant he had reason enough to have enemies, people he’d want eliminated. It also meant we’d know where to find him.
We’d have to take a short trip to Baton Rouge.
“I don’t see you on Senator Johnson’s appointment list, and besides, it’s too late in the evening. Senator Johnson only takes appointments in the day,” his secretary said after we’d given her two pseudonyms: Fred and Wilma Jetson. They were the first two names that came to mind.
I realize I was merging the first and last names of two completely different cartoon worlds, but it would work. For obvious reason, coming back in the daytime was out of the question. We were fortunate, in fact, to find him working late as it was.
“Look again,” I said, commanding her. “You see us on the list, don’t you?”
“Oh, my apologies, Miss Jetson. I see you right here. Should I inform the senator of your arrival?”
“No,” I said. “Take us to see him immediately.”
“Of course, ma’am. Follow me.”
“What is the meaning of this, Diane?” the senator said as we walked in. “I said no appointments today.”
“You realize that you do have an appointment with us, Senator,” I said.
“Yes, of course I do! Forgive me, I must’ve forgotten about it. Please, sit down. How might I be of assistance?”
After Diane the secretary left, I narrowed my eyes. “Tell us about your… secret and unsavory activities.”
Unable to resist my compulsion, Senator Johnson began to speak. “You must understand, I know she was just an intern. But she had ambition. She wanted it as much as I…”
I raised my hand to stop him.
“I wouldn’t mind hearing the rest of that,” Ramon said.
“That’s not why we’re here,” I said, and looked again into the senator’s eyes. “Tell us about your involvement in the drug trade.”
“Ah yes,” Senator Johnson continued. “It is a quite lucrative and helpful venture. It has not only made me a wealthy man, but it has created a constituency desperate for the sorts of policies I’d propose for the state.”
“I don’t need details,” I said. “Surely you have enemies. People you’d like to see eliminated.”
“But why would I….”
“Tell me who you’d like to have killed. That’s why we’re here. We do not intend to sell you out or turn you in. We simply desire to help you out, to see to it that those you’d like dead end up that way. Give me a name.”
“One-Eyed Clyde,” the senator said.
“And this One-Eyed Clyde has a last name, I presume?”
“He does, but no one uses it. I’ve found it out, though. Clyde Daughtry,” the senator said. “But he only goes by One-Eyed Clyde. He runs a rival gang in the ninth ward. His activities have put a significant dent in my profits.”
“And tell me what you’d like done to him,” I said.
“Killed and removed from the picture. Along with anyone else connected to his gang who might pose me a threat.”
“Consider it done, Senator,” I said as I stood from my chair.
Ramon followed suit. “Thank you for your time.”
The senator nodded, a look of confusion on his face. It was a look I’d often seen when using my compulsion—when people told me things they were shocked to realize they’d admitted. Still, the cat was out of the bag. And we had a meal waiting for us in the ninth ward.
19
“I CAN’T WAIT to taste the senator’s blood,” Ramon said after we left.
“What are you talking about? We’re not hunting the senator.”
“But what he said about the intern…”
“I agree,” I said with a nod. “He’s a dirt bag. He probably deserves it. But he’s also high profile. It’s too risky.”
“It’s not a matter of whether he deserves it,” Ramon said. “A man so vile should be incredibly delicious!”
“Be that as it may, it’s still a risk. And besides, this is a one-time thing. Understood?”
“One time? Keep telling yourself that, ma chérie!”
Locating One-Eyed Clyde wasn’t especially difficult. All we had to do was start asking around the ninth ward—by the expression on people’s faces when we asked, he was clearly not the sort of person one asked around about. But with the aid of compulsion, people talked more openly than they would have under normal circumstances. And truth be told, we probably could have found him without compelling a soul. Who else would drive a blinged-out Rolls Royce in this part of town if they didn’t have a certain power? Only someone who knew that everyone else knew better than to mess with him.
He clearly hadn’t accounted for vampires… no one does.
Ramon kicked in the door to his house.
Two men with guns stood and raised their weapons.
“Drop the guns,” I commanded. I paused, then smirked. “And shoot yourselves in the balls.”
Bang… bang… poor fellas.
“Don’t go anywhere,” I commanded.
The smell of blood immediately stirred my appetite. But they weren’t the ones we were here for. We turned the corner. Another man stood there, a small rifle in his hand. Seeing what had happened to the others, he quickly dropped his weapon and ran.
“Stop,” I commanded.
The man stopped in his tracks.
“Turn toward me.”
He quickly pivoted, the front of his pants soaking wet. I tended to have that effect on people.
“You are going to forget everything you saw here tonight.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the man said, still quaking in his baggy pants and high-top shoes.
“Tell me where Clyde is.”
“Just through that door,” Gangster Mc-Pee-Pee-Pants said, pointing to a dark wooden door at the end of the hall.
“Stay where you’re at,” I demanded as we approached the door.
The door was locked. Again, Ramon kicked it open with ease.
Clyde stood there, a gun in his hand like all the rest.
“Drop the gun, Clyde,” I commanded.
He dropp
ed it on his desk.
“Come to me.”
Clyde was a large man—he wore what I assumed must’ve been a Rolex watch, gold-plated. He had a number of gold chains on his neck, gold caps on his teeth, and all the rest. And of course he had an eyepatch, which clearly accounted for his nickname. Even his patch, it seemed, was lined in diamonds. He looked tough; he was a man of considerable power and influence—but he wasn’t shit compared to me.
“Have you been a bad boy, Clyde? Tell me the truth.”
“Very bad,” Clyde said, his voice quavering.
“Do you know what we are?”
“I have no idea,” Clyde said.
“We are devils, come from hell,” I said. “And we’re here to collect.”
I’d never seen such a tough-looking man shake and sweat so much. The thrill of evoking so much fear in a victim, it was almost as delicious as the meal itself.
“This is going to hurt,” I said. “Do not make a single noise.”
Clyde didn’t respond that time—I hadn’t told him to.
“Darling,” I said, looking at Ramon. I didn’t want to use his name, just in case there was a recording device somewhere. “Care to show me how it’s done?”
“Gladly!” Ramon said as he grabbed Clyde’s arm and twisted it out of its socket… and twisted it again… and again…
Clyde was grimacing in pain, his mouth wide open as if he wanted to scream… but he was compelled. He couldn’t.
Then, with a tug, Ramon ripped the arm from his body. “Ladies first.”
I grinned. “Well thank you, my love.”
I took the severed arm and dug my teeth into the mangled wound. Holy shit… it didn’t take long, but the blood did, indeed, take on a more interesting flavor in a severed limb. It was like a dozen different flavors all mixed together. I swished the blood around in my mouth, appreciating the sensation on my palate before I drank the rest of the blood from the limb as Ramon helped himself to the other arm. The legs were next. By that time his heart had stopped long enough that his torso had acquired the same smorgasbord of tastes.
Ramon was right—this couldn’t just be one time… I had to do it again…
Gates of Eden: Starter Library Page 82
