"Perry Baker." His voice had the distant quality of someone on a speakerphone. She could hear the tapping of a keyboard. Multitasking.
"It's Holly Carver. Do you know much about demons?"
There was a static-filled pause as he picked up the handset. "Come again?"
"I'm in your Monday-night class."
"I know, I know." She heard the rush of his breath against the mouthpiece. "About the demons?"
"Soul suckers. I need info. Fast. I had one over for lunch. He tried to make me an after-dinner mint."
"No shit?" Papers rattled, the sound of hasty shuffling. "Okay, urn, are you able to come down to my office?"
"Sure. When?"
"Now. Right away. I'll wait. Just get here."
Perry Baker's office was upstairs in the same building where he taught. It was easy to find. It was the only door that campus security had stenciled with a warning sign emblazoned with a wolf. The door was ajar.
Perry sat at a desk heaped with papers, his face lit by a monitor screen. Food cartons from Wily Wolf Specialty Deli filled the garbage can, while a dozen high-caffeine pop cans lined the windowsill in a carefully constructed tower. A bright yellow pennant was thumbtacked to the wall behind him, cheerfully proclaiming Fairview University and Community College's alternative slogan, "FUCC U!"
"Hey," Perry said, standing. "I'm glad you were able to come so fast."
"Thanks for seeing me."
With a wave of his hand he directed her to a ratty visitor's chair. "Sorry," he said. "First-time profs get all the hand-me-downs."
Holly sat, feeling the chair sag under her. The tiny office was hot from the numerous CPUs in operation, and she began to unzip her coat. Relief at finally having someone to talk to warred with a general sense of confusion. "I'm not sure where to begin. There's so much going on, and what happened this afternoon is just part of it."
Perry sat and leaned forward on the desk, playing with a pen. His bare forearms were corded with muscle—lean, not skinny. He studied her, his dark blue eyes serious behind his glasses. "My dad's, um, pack leader. I've probably heard part of this already."
Holly fumbled for a thought, any coherent idea to launch with. "I have this cop friend. I think he infected me with demon cooties."
Perry set the pen down. "Yeah? How did that happen?"
"I think the changelings called up a demon."
Perry sat forward again. "They did it?"
"In the graveyard. I went there today and found the remains of a ritual." Holly fished in her coat pocket. "I found this."
She put the metal object she'd found on the desk. Perry picked it up. "Wow. I've never seen a real one of these. It's an Orpheus token."
"What's it for?"
"The tokens are a vampire thing, but the myth is universal. My people revere Orpheus for his power to calm the wild beasts. There's an obvious appeal there for werebeasts." He met her eyes for a moment, as if monitoring her reaction. "Vampires focus on the other part of his story. Orpheus brought the shade of his wife, Eurydice, out of the halls of death. They believe true love can free a vampire from the need to live on blood. They call it the myth of the Chosen. Some believe they can even have children."
Holly's skin tingled. She knew stranger things were possible. I love him, but he left my bed for someone else. That's not true love.
Perry went on. "As for these tokens, vampires sometimes leave them with their kills. It's a good-luck charm to guide the soul of their victim into death. Belonged to one of the changelings, maybe?"
"Lovely. I wonder if the tokens were part of the ritual because they represented a body count."
"Maybe. I've heard rumors that the police found these with the dead women on campus."
Holly thought of the night she had gone over all this with Alessandro and Mac—the night Mac had fallen ill. "Blood is sometimes used as part of a summoning."
"Tricky stuff. I wouldn't think anyone but a trained sorcerer could pull it off. You'd need a proper spell."
She remembered the figure with the book. Then she remembered that Perry was a sorcerer himself. Did I come to exactly the wrong person? Fear crawled over her arms. "Someone helped them. Who likes the changelings or hates the vampires enough to do that?"
Perry watched her, as if he could sense her anxiety. "Nobody likes changelings."
"Then who hates vampires enough to call up a demon?"
Perry sighed. "The only people I can think of are all human. No one else would be that stupid. Demons… you just don't mess with them."
"Macmillan?" Holly said aloud, but even as she spoke, another dreadful idea was forming. One she wasn't ready to accept.
"Who's Macmillan?"
"The cop with the demon cooties."
Perry frowned. "What about those cooties? What exactly happened? You don't catch demon germs from casual contact, you know."
Holly hesitated, realizing she'd been talking around the problem out of fear. "Mac kissed me. I think he's been Turned into a demon. He said something about the Dark Larceny."
Turning pale, Perry picked up the phone with a convulsive grab.
The sudden motion made Holly start. "Who are you calling?"
"The Dark Larceny? I don't mean to frighten you, but this is serious. There's only one person I can think of who's got the books and stuff to deal with that."
"Who?"
"Hey, Alessandro. It's Perry. Yeah, I've got your friend Holly in my office. Do you know where we can find Queen Omara?"
Chapter 24
Dances with Vampires Club Goth-a-Go-Go didn't sound up Holly's alley, but neither did a visit to the Queen of the Damned. Both were lurching like big-screen zombies on Holly's personal horizon.
The queen had gone underground, literally, beneath the club. DwV was just off campus, in one of the ancient hotels on Johnson Street. The top stories were all fancy brickwork and bay windows. By contrast, the main floor was a slice of hell in bloody neon and strobe lighting. Flashes of light smeared the darkness in time to a bone-jarring beat, leakage from the sensory assault within.
Thudda, thudda, thudda. Greatest hits of the Cro-Magnon era.
Icy wind blew up from the harbor a block away. A line of would-be patrons huddled against the ancient brick of the building, cold and miserable in their fishnet and muscle shirts.
Alessandro was there, waiting for Perry and Holly. She lagged behind as they approached, letting Perry move ahead. Alessandro waited, cutting her an anxious glance. "You phoned me," he said.
"Yeah, I did."
He stood in front of her, blocking her way. "The queen is in hiding. She stayed at my place last night."
"Is that who answered?" Holly let a drop of hurt seep into her words.
"She slept there. That's all that happened."
"Does that matter?"
"It does to me." He took her hand. "Believe me."
"Why did you leave?"
"I had to. Like I had to leave the Flanders house." He lifted her hand to his lips.
Holly shivered, cold and attraction creeping over her. "Perry told you what happened with Mac?"
Alessandro gave a single nod, his eyes flaring as they caught the light. His mouth was a hard line. She suddenly realized he'd said nothing about the fact that Mac had kissed her. He had as much right to be jealous as she did.
She pulled her hand away, feeling small and confused.
"We'll figure out what he's done. Don't worry. It might be nothing." He turned, leading them toward the door. The guardians at the gate, a pair of bouncers the size of SUVs, stopped them as they approached.
"Back of the line," one said. A bullet-headed hulk, he was sporting the latest in all-over tattoos. He looked like the victim of a vicious wallpapering accident.
Perry inclined his head, all charm. "This young lady has business with the queen."
"She said no visitors."
"We have an appointment."
Wallpaper Boy was unimpressed. "Yeah, pizza delivery, right? Or was that ta
ke-out geek cuisine? Get lost, asshole."
Perry opened his mouth to argue, but Alessandro moved forward. "You have shown how faithfully you serve our mistress, human. Now stand aside."
Alessandro's voice held a haughty tone Holly had never heard him use before. Once again his eyes flared amber in the weird, epileptic light. The bouncer seemed to grow soft and squishy, all the aggression leaving his muscles. Holly and Perry exchanged a glance as Wallpaper Boy shuffled aside, his face slack and vacant. Alessandro had ripped away the bouncer's will.
As vampires went, Alessandro had always kept his presence low-key. Holly knew he had power, but up to that moment she'd had no idea how much. Not even a sorcerer could do that without using some sort of tool. He did it with just a look. Her hands grew sticky with nervous sweat. This is going to be an interesting night.
As if on cue, Alessandro turned to Perry, his expression contrite. "I thank you sincerely for your help, but it's best you go now."
Perry stepped back. "Yeah, okay. I getcha."
"What?" said Holly, her nerves spiking. "Aren't you coming?"
Perry thrust his hands into his jacket pockets, bouncing a little to keep warm. "Me wolf. Them vamps. It's a bad time. Too much tension."
She looked back to Alessandro. He wore an unhappy frown. "I don't want to risk an incident."
Perry held his hand to his head, mimicking a phone. "Call me later." He turned and began jogging away from the club, back in the direction of his office.
"Wait a minute!" Holly hugged herself. "If he's not safe, then what am I?"
"Under the protection of the queen. Under my protection." Alessandro cupped her face in his hands. "Trust me. You are safe tonight."
Holly put her hand over his, willing herself to be calm. "I trust you."
He led them through the heavy wooden doors of the dance club. The sound hit Holly like a physical force, and she saw Alessandro cover his ears. It had to be sheer hell for those with superhearing.
The dance floor was packed solid with bodies vibrating with sound and whatever chemicals they had ingested. Holly elbowed her way through, struggling to stay in Alessandro's wake. She kept her eyes focused on his mane of pale hair, fighting the nausea-inducing flicker of the lights. Reaching back, he grabbed her hand. At his touch a thrill of memories from the night before fluttered through her nerves.
At the back of the main dance area was a service door painted with a yellow staff only warning. Two more bouncers stood before it. arms folded across overdeveloped pectorals. Human? Vampire? The lighting was so bad, Holly couldn't tell. Despite the dark, both had eyes hidden by wraparound shades, which must have reduced their vision to an oceanic murk.
Vampire. Alessandro stopped before them, raising his left fist to display one of the many pewter rings he wore. The security men nodded and one opened the door. Who knew vamps had secret decoder rings?
They were halfway down the stairs when Holly's hearing started to return, though she could still feel the vibration of the music through the metal handrail. The air was dank, as if the sea were an inch from the concrete walls. At the bottom Alessandro waited until she reached his side.
"When we are in the presence of the queen, do not speak unless she addresses you," he said. There was grim tension in his voice, as if he were waiting in the chair for a root canal. "This is not a formal court, but there will be other vampires present."
"Can I raise my hand for attention if someone tries to bite me?" Holly asked, trying for humor.
Alessandro looked at her with heat in his eyes, possessive and urgent. "I will not allow that to happen."
That old-time caveman philosophy had never sounded so good. "Promise?"
He laid his hand over his heart and smiled faintly. "I don't share well."
More bouncers waited outside a cheap bead curtain that separated the basement storage from the area Omara was using. They stood aside as Alessandro approached. Holly followed him past the guards, listening to the beads clack and swish behind them. They had come through three layers of security, and she was growing fretful about getting back out.
Two steps led down to a large semifinished room, obviously chosen for safety more than style. It was the last place anyone would expect to find a queen. The walls were bare concrete, the ceiling a network of pipes and beams. A balding indoor-outdoor carpet in orange paisley covered the floor. Rather than overhead lighting, candles ringed the room, stuck in tin cans and jars. The only concession to comfort was a collection of lumpy, overstuffed chairs and couches ringing the room. It was, in a word, awful.
And scary. Vampires were everywhere: sitting, standing, slouching against the unfinished walls. A quick count tallied at least thirty, all young-looking, all dressed for dancing at the club upstairs. The room hummed with a vibe both melancholy and wired, manic and depressive all at once—the essence of vamp. A few heads turned as they entered, eyes flaring with a catlike glow. Feeling suddenly tender and juicy, Holly wished she knew an invisibility spell.
At the head of the carpet, a female vampire rose from a faux-leather recliner. So this is Queen Omara. Holly tried to guess the queen's age or even her ancestry, but failed.
"My queen." Alessandro dropped to one knee, bowing his head. "I have brought our guest."
Conversation ceased, the other vampires turning their pale faces to watch. The queen's glance flickered over Holly like a physical pressure. Omara wore a long, pleated tunic of gold-painted silk, her feet bare except for intricate henna tracery. As Alessandro rose, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Her lips parted as she looked up into his face, and Holly saw the dainty tips of her fangs.
The queen turned to Holly. Lifting one hennaed forefinger, she placed it between Holly's eyes. "Kneel when I approach you, human. I am Omara, the Queen of Night Predators."
Her will suspended, Holly sank to the floor.
"Greetings, little witch," she said, leaving the finger between Holly's eyes. "I wonder, shall I be your friend or your foe? Your friend, I hope."
Holly tried to speak, but her tongue was suddenly too dry.
"Forgive the accommodations, but a place so very hidden allows us to make our plans undisturbed. You catch us at an unfortunate time." Omara withdrew her finger. "I need your help. Together, perhaps we can defeat this demon."
Omara bent over until their noses nearly touched. "If I help you, will you help me?"
Alessandro stiffened, but the queen raised a hand to silence him. The room seemed empty, the other vampires still as paintings. Holly could hear the hiss as one of the cheap candles flared and sputtered, filling the air with a whiff of oily smoke.
Holly sucked in a reluctant breath. "I know what happened to Elaine Carver. I know she died in your fight against Geneva. I'd still rather go down fighting than have her do to me what she did to Mac. I think we can do business."
She felt the brush of Alessandro's fingers in her hair. She glanced up to see the cool look Omara gave him. The queen was possessive, but of what? Alessandro's affections? Or did she want a pet witch all to herself?
Alessandro's hand stayed on her head, marking his claim while she remained on her knees. She was grateful for his protection, but the whole subservience-and-domination thing was wearing thin. Her knees hurt from the hard floor.
Ignoring Alessandro, Omara brushed the hair from Holly's forehead. It was more than a physical touch. She could feel the queen's power inside her mind, flickering like the brush of an insect's wings.
"Interesting," said Omara. "Still, it must be done."
"What?" Alessandro asked.
Omara studied Holly, her expression grave. "Geneva, through her servant, has infected you with her touch. There is only one way to combat the Dark Larceny. Fight fire with fire."
That didn't sound good. "What do you mean?"
"You cannot eliminate the infection, but you can counter it with something equally strong."
"How?"
"A vampire must claim you. Mark you."
There was a babble of comment in the room.
"No!" cried Alessandro, silencing every other voice. "I will not permit it."
Holly's stomach clenched from her tailbone clear to her throat. Venom could addict, but a vampire's mark was stronger. It made the victim a vampire's slave. So not going there.
She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Aren't there antipossession spells?"
Omara gave a slight shake of her head. "No, my little witch. There is no one who knows more demon magic than I, and this is my solution."
"There has to be another way," Alessandro growled.
"The poison already eats at your soul, little witch. Do you really want to risk the wait? I can sense that your powers are already compromised. The natural immunities of a witch are present, but they cannot act at full strength."
"What are you saying?" Holly breathed, her veins turning to lead. Kneeling made her feel small, like a child. Helpless. That was probably the point.
"A mortal would already be feeling the effects. I would say that, at most, you have a day or two of resistance left. No more. Then you will become hungry, like your policeman friend."
"No!" Holly got to her feet, staggering in her haste.
Alessandro caught her. "This is wrong! There must be other ways."
"Would you lose her to the demons, Caravelli?" Omara snapped. "She would have no choice then but to work against us."
"But if we mark her, she loses her freedom of will."
Holly turned in his arms, searching out his eyes. The spectators whispered, their words sibilant, like the last dry, dead leaves of November. She tried to push the heat of their interest from her mind. This wasn't a moment to be shy.
"Would I have more freedom if you took me?" she asked. "More than the Dark Larceny?"
"Yes," said Omara. "And you could still fight the demons."
"I won't do it," said Alessandro.
Omara waved a hand. "Then I will mark her with my own bite. That or she is executed. I can't let Geneva have a Carver witch as her weapon."
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