by Dima Zales
I then run into Felix’s room, wave the bag excitedly, and explain.
“You’re a genius.” Felix bangs himself on the forehead with an audible smack. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Yeah,” Fluffster says mentally. “In the TV shows, they always get DNA by scraping someone’s cheek.”
“I’m going to talk to Vlad,” I say to Felix. “Can you please prepare for a rescue mission in the meanwhile?”
“Sure,” he says.
“Also, as the lowest priority, hire a bike messenger, or something equally fast, to deliver a package I left by the door. It’s got my chicken eggs for Baba Yaga,” I say. “She agreed that we’d be even if she gets my eggs.”
“That will only antagonize her,” Felix says.
“I don’t care,” I say, with perhaps too much forcefulness. More calmly, I add, “Once Yaga gets those eggs, my conscience will be clear.”
A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Because in your devious mind, you will have fulfilled your agreement with her.”
I shrug. “She said we’d be even if I gave her my eggs. It’s not my fault she wasn’t careful with her words.”
“I’ll do as you ask,” Felix says. “And I’ll record the feed from Baba Yaga’s office as she gets your package. I’m sure you’d like to see the look on her face when she opens it.”
“Now you’re getting into the spirit of it,” I say and walk out of the room, with Fluffster tagging along.
“I’m going to leave the front door ajar again,” I tell the domovoi as I match actions to words.
“And if anyone is there, you scream so loudly that Vlad will hear,” Fluffster says.
“Yep,” I reply as I take out my gun.
Am I always going to feel so paranoid about leaving my apartment?
Oh, well.
I step out and sprint for Rose’s door.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I again reach Rose’s apartment without misadventures.
After she lets me in, I tell her and Vlad about my vision and Baba Yaga’s phone call, then hand the bag with the toothbrush over to Vlad and hold my breath in anticipation.
He grabs the bag with the tips of his fingers, as though it were a frog and he were a squeamish Victorian lady. Sniffing the contents, he wrinkles his nose just as the aforementioned lady would, and says, “Yes. I can use this.”
He then turns away, and all I see are a few sparks of silvery energy blocked by his broad shoulders and back.
Did he put that toothbrush in his mouth?
Curiosity is killing me.
“Brooklyn.” He turns on his heel, pulls out his phone, and taps the screen a few times. “Here.” He steps closer and shows me a GPS app.
The pin he dropped on the map is somewhere in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, not far from Costco.
That area is teeming with warehouses, and though some got leased to trendy businesses as part of renovating Industry City, plenty are still decrepit and would make a perfect place to keep one’s victim. Or to run a black site, or shoot a torture porn flick—if you were so inclined.
Of course. That explains the huge room with the high ceilings.
It’s in a warehouse.
“If we take the tunnel, we can be there in fifteen minutes,” Rose says.
“We?” Vlad tosses the toothbrush aside and frowns so deeply that his imposing brow threatens to jump off his face and choke somebody.
“If Sasha goes against Baba Yaga alone, she’s as good as dead,” Rose says, putting her hands on her hips. Her voice is surprisingly calm.
Vlad stares broodily at her.
She stares back, her face unreadable to me—but it must be readable to Vlad because his frown deepens.
“Sasha is like family to me,” Rose says, and this time, there’s a detectable threat in her calm tone.
Vlad seems to deflate at first, then takes a deep breath and through his teeth says, “You are not going.”
Rose takes a step toward her beau. “I thought I made myself—”
“What I meant is, you’re not going because I am,” Vlad says, his voice clipped.
“But—”
“No,” Vlad says. “If you want to help, you can give me a boost.”
“Just a boost?” Rose frowns. “But I want to help more.”
“After the last time, I wouldn’t even ask for a boost, but I know it’s the only way to make sure you don’t go.” He sighs. “This way, you know you’ll be helping a great deal.”
“Fine,” she says testily. “There’s no time to argue. Come here.”
He steps toward her.
She closes the distance, and they sensuously embrace.
I look at Lucifur in confusion. The cat gazes back at me with an expression that seems to say, “We know, vassal. Humans are disgusting, filthy creatures whose behavior is impossible for Our Majesty to comprehend.”
I look back at Vlad and Rose.
Instead of making out with the vampire, Rose is shooting a blush-pink stream of energy at him, and in a moment, her power covers Vlad from head to toe.
He seems to grow a few inches—though it might be a visual illusion.
With a blinding flash, the energy dissipates.
Rose sags in Vlad’s embrace, so he gently picks her up and puts her down on the couch.
“Leave us,” he says, and before I get a chance to say anything, he’s already slashing his wrist with his suddenly extended fangs and putting the bloody result to Rose’s mouth.
Though I swiftly make my way to Rose’s kitchen, it’s not hard for me to figure out what’s going to happen next.
Rose will drink his blood. His heroin-like blood that she compared to sex.
Pushing aside my concerns about her possible (and Ariel’s definite) addiction, I focus on another aspect of what I saw.
Vlad called whatever Rose just did for him “a boost.”
Does that mean she enhanced his vampire powers?
As I ponder that, Vlad enters the kitchen with broody steps.
“Is Rose okay?” I ask swiftly.
“I will not kill any Cognizant as part of this so-called rescue,” Vlad says, his face an emotionless mask.
I blink. “Who said you need to kill anyone? Now, can you please answer my question?”
“Being the Leader of the Enforcers puts other limitations on my conduct,” he continues in that automated way customer service representatives insincerely apologize to irate callers. “If my duties interfere with your goals, you will not raise any objections.”
“Understood,” I say. “What about Rose?”
“If I ask you to jump—”
“I’ll ask how high,” I grit out. “In millimeters. I got it. Can you please just tell me what happened to Rose?”
“I’m fine.” Rose shuffles into the room, holding a cane.
The new paleness of her face and sunken eyes seem to contradict her words.
Then I realize something.
This is what she looks like sometimes, on those bad days that I used to attribute to old age.
Vlad looks her over, frowns, and gives me an accusatory glare. “I want Rose to stay in your apartment,” he says. “Your domovoi will keep her safe.”
“Of course,” I say. “That’s a great idea.”
“If I go, Luci has to come with me,” Rose says weakly.
“Must she?” I wince, recalling how the cat nearly ate Fluffster the one and only time they met in the hallway. “We’ll be back in a few hours at most. Can’t you—”
“If she doesn’t go, I won’t either.” Rose’s chin comes up.
Vlad gives me a look that seems to say, “If Rose doesn’t go, I won’t help.”
“Fine,” I say, eager to start the rescue. “Take her and let’s go.”
Vlad takes the carrier and walks into the living room to get the cat. There are sounds of a struggle, and Lucifur hisses like a rabid cobra a few times, but after a minute, Vlad returns to the kitchen with the cat in
her carrier.
Lucifur looks furious. With a tiger-like pounce, she claws at Vlad’s wrist through the plastic bars.
His skin heals instantly.
“Must be nice to be a vampire,” I mutter under my breath. Then I look at Rose. “Why isn’t Vlad the designated cat washer?” To Vlad, I explain, “Washing her is how I got the scar on my arm that I had to cover up with the Queen of Hearts tattoo.”
Vlad mumbles something unintelligible in reply.
“The poor thing is scared of him.” Rose snatches the carrier from Vlad, and Lucifur instantly calms down. “She likes you much better.”
I look at the cat, wondering how she would behave if she didn’t like me.
The cat gives me her usual baleful glare that seems to say, “Anyone Our Majesty doesn’t like tends to beg for merciful death.”
I shake my head and lead Vlad and Rose to the still-open door of my apartment.
When I enter, Rose walks in, but Vlad stops at the doorway.
I debate inviting him in, but the point is rendered moot when Felix and Fluffster join us by the door.
“Rose, wait,” I start saying, but she opens the carrier and lets her rabid beast out.
Predictably, the first thing the damned cat does is leap toward Fluffster. The look on her face seems to say, “At last. The furry noble feast grown for Our Majesty’s pleasure.”
This encounter, however, unfolds differently from when she met Fluffster in the hallway.
Since everyone watching is Cognizant, the domovoi isn’t bound by the Mandate and doesn’t have to pretend to be a chinchilla. More importantly, he’s on his home turf now.
There’s a mental shriek in my head, and from Rose and Felix’s expression, in their heads too.
For a moment, the horrific monster shape that killed Harper appears where Fluffster stands—only marginally smaller, about the size of a Great Dane.
Lucifur stops her hunt instantly, and the shape disappears.
The cat turns toward Rose with a look that seems to say, “Our Majesty has realized overgrown rats such as this might have cooties.”
And ignoring Fluffster completely, the cat rushes past him to explore the apartment.
There’s a sound of pottery hitting the floor.
Felix cringes and mutters, “I think that was my favorite vase.”
“I’ll get you a new one,” I say. “What’s important is that Vlad figured out where we’re going. And ‘volunteered’ to come with me.”
“Come with us,” Felix says confidently.
I look at him as though he’s about to sprout shoelaces from his nostrils.
“I’m going with you,” he says, slightly less confidently.
I cross my arms. “No, you’re not.”
“Am too.” He mirrors my posture.
“No way.”
“Yes, way.”
“Children,” Rose says. “Time is of the essence.”
“Yeah.” Felix bares his teeth. “What she said, plus you need me.”
“We do?” Vlad asks from the hallway.
“My powers can come in handy,” Felix says defensively. “Also, I bring firepower that only works for me.” He takes out his futuristic musket/blaster.
“You’re not supposed to have that,” Vlad says, frowning.
Felix winces. “Right, sorry. I’ll get rid of it after this. You won’t report me to the Council, right?”
Vlad’s frown deepens. “No. But make sure you do get rid of it.”
“Yes, sir.” Felix salutes smartly.
“Fine, you can come with us,” I say, dubiously studying the Gomorrah gun. “But I’m only agreeing because I don’t want to waste any more time arguing.”
“I prepared these for us.” Felix takes out a dozen headphone earbuds from his pocket and hands one to me.
“We’re not listening to music during the rescue,” I say. “Not even if the songs are really cool.”
“No, silly.” He rolls his eyes. “I turned these into communication devices.” He puts one in his own ear. “Like the Secret Service.”
“Oh.” I take one and say, “Give one to Rose too. She’s staying behind, and Vlad might appreciate being able to stay in touch.”
Felix hands an earbud to Vlad and Rose. “If Rose is staying behind, I have an idea. Be right back.”
He runs to his room, and I use the delay to run into Ariel’s room and get her M9 knife. The weapon fits well in the hidden pocket where I usually conceal the gun, and the gun itself goes into the waistband of my pants—gangsta style.
Coming back, I find Felix holding a tablet, with a small webcam sticking out of his shirt pocket.
He hands similar cams to Vlad and me, and we also attach them to our clothes.
“This”—he gives Rose the tablet—“will let you see what we see.” He throws his magic at both devices, plays with the tablet for a moment, and three video feeds of the room we’re standing in show up on the screen.
“I want an earbud,” Fluffster says mentally.
“Sure.” Felix picks the smallest one and inserts it into the domovoi’s cute ear. “Yours and Rose’s earbuds should be picking up the mics in the web cams in our pockets. Can you hear it?”
“Yes,” Fluffster says. “I hear you twice, in the earbud and in the real world.”
“That’s fine. Once we leave, it’ll only be your ear,” Felix tells him. “Just keep in mind, you won’t be able to speak with us—unless you can do this mental communication thing over long distances.”
“No long distances.” Fluffster’s head droops.
“I’ll work as a go-between,” Rose reassures him. “Now, really, you all better get going.”
“Rose is right,” I say and head for the door.
Vlad is already summoning the elevator, and Felix quickly catches up with us both.
Our silent elevator ride is as comfortable as sleeping on the ceiling, and as soon as the doors open, Vlad strides out into the parking lot without looking back.
“Is it my imagination, or is Vlad acting pissy?” I whisper to Felix as the vampire uses his supernatural speed to put some distance between us.
Instead of saying anything, Felix takes out his phone, types something, and shows it to me. The text says, “Vampires have super hearing.”
“Oops,” I say disingenuously.
“You’ve got to give him a break,” Rose chimes in through the earpiece. “He doesn’t like this situation.”
“She’s right,” Vlad says when we finally catch up with him. Staring at me with his black-hole eyes, he says, “Enforcers aren’t supposed to get entangled with mundane personal disputes between the Cognizant.”
“Right,” I say. “If—or when—Ariel is killed, then you can ‘help’ with a clear conscience.”
Vlad doesn’t reply. Instead, he reaches into his pocket, yanks out a keychain with a bundle of keys, picks a gizmo that looks like a black toy car, and presses it.
A nearby black car that looks just like the toy beeps.
“You drive a Tesla?” Felix enviously asks Vlad. To me, he explains, “This is their top-of-the-line model. It self-drives, though that feature is still slightly limited. It has ultra-high energy efficiency, though—”
“Inside.” Vlad opens the DeLorean-like, upward-moving back door and gestures for me and Felix to get in.
After we promptly obey, Vlad sits behind the wheel, and the electric car glides out of its parking spot.
Sharing yet another unpleasant silence, we drive down the street.
“Why electric?” I ask after we pass the fifth intersection, mostly to see if Vlad is speaking to me.
“Better for the environment,” Rose says in my ear. “Vlad tries to have a low carbon footprint.”
“Oh?” I look at Vlad’s stormy countenance in the rearview mirror, but he ignores my query. “Do you also drink blood exclusively from free-range, grass-fed people?”
Felix chuckles, and though Vlad still doesn’t reply, I think I detect a
hint of amusement in his eyes.
“Longevity and caring about the environment go hand in hand,” Rose explains professorially. “Once you’ve seen your favorite forest disappear, or a favorite species of bear go extinct, or if you’re just observing the islands of plastic accumulating in—”
“We get the picture,” Felix says. “But we still reserve the right to find the idea of a tree-hugging vampire amusing.”
“I wonder if this is what Nero’s obsession with the paperless office is about,” I muse under my breath. Louder, I ask, “How old is Nero?”
“Old,” Vlad and Rose say in unison.
“How old does someone or something have to be for you two to consider it ‘old?’” I’m tempted to ask, but before I get the chance, the car’s high-end speakers start playing a loud tune.
“This is ‘The Future’ by Leonard Cohen,” Felix says over the clamor. “We heard it in that Natural Born Killers movie Ariel made us watch.”
I remember that night. It’s when the gore on the screen made Felix faint. It stands out in my memory because I wanted to wax the middle of Felix’s unibrow while he was passed out. We magnanimously decided to abstain from that prank in the end, though Ariel said, and I quote, “We’re postponing this, pending Felix’s future behavior.”
“Darian,” Vlad says, jolting me back to the present. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“A mere courtesy call,” Darian’s voice says through the car speakers, his British accent extra strong as he ceremoniously enunciates the words. “You’ve never been one of those who doubt the usefulness of seer kind, but I’m still going to remind you how instrumental we can be.”
“You saw a premonition involving me?” Vlad’s tone is skeptical.
“Indeed,” Darian says. “And thus, I decided to impart on you some words of warning and wisdom.”
There’s a long silence. Vlad, like the rest of us, must want to hear said words of alleged wisdom, while Darian is clearly milking the situation for all the theatricality he can squeeze out of it.
Vlad audibly clears his throat.
“Right,” Darian says. “Here goes.” His voice takes on an Obi-Wan-like quality as he says ponderously, “Beware the red light. Use the—”
