Samantha Watkins: Chronicles of an Extraordinary Ordinary Life (Samantha Watkins Series Book 1)

by Aurélie Venem

  He wasn’t able to stop his smile before it appeared, and that delighted me.

  Finally, I spotted our man.

  “Over there.”

  Bobby the Eel was in a booth waiting for us, smile on his face.

  “Truly, Miss Jones, every time we meet, you make me realize how better it is to be your friend than your enemy,” he said as we sat down.

  “You won’t want to be the enemy of my friends here either.”

  His smile disappeared in seeing the hard and closed faces of my vampires. Their aura of power and danger must have made him want to run and hide. But this eel had some courage, for if he was afraid of my two friends, he didn’t show it.

  “We have something to discuss, I believe.”

  We might as well get to the heart of the matter. Finding me more comforting than my neighbors, Bobby thought it preferable to address me directly.

  “Yeah. Who’s that one?” he asked, tilting his chin toward François.

  “Contract killer,” I lied quickly to stop him from getting too curious. It seemed to work; Bobby shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

  “I see. Well, I have news about our matter.”

  “You found them?”

  “The Chinese, no.”

  So why make us come out? He saw that his answer didn’t satisfy us at all, so he hurried to add, “My guys came across a sleazy type who’d had too much to drink at The Underground. He was boasting about being a fence for Chinese mafia shot callers.”

  Our interest was piqued, so we leaned forward to hear more.

  “Continue.”

  Thrilled at having gotten our attention, the Eel puffed up his chest like a peacock in a mating ritual.

  “No one believed him because he was drunk as a skunk, but my guys buttered him up by buying him a few rounds. He told them that the Chinese yakuza had approached him to ask where they could find druggies and dropouts that no one would miss.”

  I decided not to correct him on the nationality of the yakuza. Other than that, the biker’s information coincided with all the elements that we’d been able to glean from Kiro. But then, why had healthy and socially stable people been taken as well? Suddenly, the answer came to me in a flash, and I couldn’t keep it from Phoenix. He felt my urgency and looked at me, confused, but I couldn’t say anything because of Bobby the Eel.

  “Does that mean something to you?” Phoenix ventured.

  “What else?” I interrupted, directing my question at Bobby.

  “This guy and his friends told them about squats, bridges, and other places where the homeless take shelter.”

  Phoenix spoke up. “Did he say if he had to meet with these men again?”

  Bobby kept us in an intolerable suspense for several seconds.

  “Yes.”

  The tension that was overwhelming me started to affect my colleagues, who, I could sense, were regaining hope.

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow night. He has to give them more places to look. They’re meeting in the industrial zone, near the sugar storage warehouses at two in the morning. There’s a squat not far from there.”

  Incredible. No one in Phoenix’s entire information network, not even Kaiko and Ichimi, had been able to get the least sign of the traffickers. For weeks we’d failed in our own desperate attempts in the clubs in east Kerington. But here was Bobby the Eel, insignificant upstart gangster, and he’d made huge strides in our investigation.

  I hoped that we would finally have enough information to shed some light on the trafficking and stop it so the Greats wouldn’t intervene and Phoenix would be safe.

  “My guys and me, we’ll come with you to corner these bastards.”

  Bobby the Eel’s voice jolted me out of my thoughts. He wanted to come with us and dance with danger, but all he would receive in return was getting disemboweled along with his friends. I didn’t need to give my veto because Phoenix did it for me, and very convincingly.

  “I admit that you have done your part of the work very efficiently, but for the rest of this matter, you are not at all up for confronting these people, so I advise you to not get involved. Your aid has been invaluable to us, and I will be sure to think of you if we need help again in the future . . .” My boss leaned slightly closer to the Eel and lowered his voice to a threatening murmur. “But if you disregard my recommendation and your presence tomorrow derails our plan of attack, I promise you that the fate I will reserve for you will make these junkie kidnappers look like choirboys. That is how much I will make you suffer before finishing you.”

  Bobby backed away, shrinking into his chair. He looked to me for help, or some indication that Phoenix was joking, but seeing my closed expression left him no doubt: if he dared to show his face the following night, he would regret ever being born.

  “OK. I’ll drop it. I hope you get those scumbags. If you need me, you know how to find me.”

  The exchange was over, and we stood up. Phoenix discreetly slid a thick envelope full of money toward Bobby the Eel, who shoved it into his black leather jacket. As I went to follow my friends, I reconsidered and turned back to Bobby.

  “Thank you for your efficiency. We won’t forget it,” I said, extending my hand.

  “It’ll always be a pleasure to do business with you.”

  I was treated to a wink and a flirtatious smile before I rejoined my friends.

  We breathed a lot better after we exited. The air outside was clear of smoke, and more importantly, we had a new lead, which gave us hope for our shared future.

  “I know why they’re not just taking drug addicts and homeless people,” I blurted out, barely settled in the car.

  “Please enlighten us,” Phoenix responded, amused by my restlessness.

  “When I saw your blood supply, I knew that you had preferences for certain types. Am I wrong?”

  Silence. I could continue.

  “When you drink someone’s blood, do you taste particular flavors that make you like or hate it?”

  “Well, not all blood types have the same texture, or the same quality,” François said.

  “If you drank the blood of an old homeless man, you would be satisfied, but wouldn’t you have preferred to taste younger, purer blood of someone who didn’t drink or take drugs?”

  There was another silence, during which François and Phoenix must have grasped the full implications of my reasoning.

  “A luxury range,” said Phoenix.

  “Bingo!” I exclaimed. “They sell the blood of marginalized people at a discount and get rich on selling the blood of healthy people.”

  “The ramifications of this kind of trafficking must extend to multiple countries, especially those where the population does not have the same health conditions as here. The blood must sell at high cost in foreign countries. That is why my informants did not know anything about it.”

  “We need to trace it back and root out of the brains of this operation,” said François.

  He and Phoenix launched into planning attacks, each one more ludicrous than the previous, during the entire return trip to Scarborough. As for me, I didn’t take part in their debate, for an idea had started to take seed in my head, a very dangerous idea I had to think about, one that I would have to fight to convince my boss to go through with . . .

  I waited until we got back to the manor and settled into the parlor, each of us with a refreshing beverage, to share my plan with my companions.

  I plucked up courage and said, “I’ve found a solution . . . We need to infiltrate them.”

  Phoenix and François looked at me without understanding.

  “They must certainly know my face, and as for François, they will never accept a stranger on their team. They will suspect something,” my boss corrected.

  I stared at them pointedly, not daring to speak, and what I was hoping would happen did: François raised his eyebrows as he realized what I was suggesting.

  “I do not think she is talking about you or me.”

 
“But then who are you . . .” Phoenix stopped in the middle of his sentence, the light finally going on in his head, and he stood up quickly. “Out of the question!” he said.

  “Think about it. It’s our best chance to discover the identity of their leaders. Besides, I won’t be in any danger if you’re there to look after me.”

  I didn’t have a particular desire to risk my life by letting myself get voluntarily kidnapped, but I knew that this plan had a chance of working. In any case, it was better than if my friends rushed in. Besides, our lives were on hold until the Greats made their decision, so we shouldn’t be standing around asking questions.

  “I made you a promise.”

  He’d sworn to never hurt me again, not to stop me from risking any danger. I’d made my choice.

  “And I ask that you honor that promise by respecting my wishes.”

  That was a low blow, but this wasn’t the time to hesitate—he had to agree. Fenced in by my answer, Phoenix was angry. He didn’t want me to serve as bait, but by rejecting my idea, he would betray his promise. Defeated, he sat down again and groaned.

  “Very well, since you insist. But at the slightest sign of danger, I am coming to get you.”

  “No.”

  “What?” He almost choked with rage.

  “I don’t want you to turn up and ruin everything at the smallest sign of danger. Except in case of my imminent death, I forbid you from interfering. Discovering who is behind all this is more important than my safety.”

  Phoenix remained silent.

  “Your logic is like a vampire’s,” François said, complimenting me.

  “You are foolish,” corrected my boss.

  “I’m practical and determined, and at least I have a plan that has more chance of working than yours. I’m going to bed to be ready for tomorrow. Good night.”

  Thanks to my new abilities, I could hear Phoenix even as I was walking up the stairs.

  “In all my five hundred years, I have never met a woman who drove me up the wall as much as that one does. I do not know how she does it, but she always manages to shut me up, and that is just insufferable.”

  François’s low laugh resounded all the way to my ears even though I’d already arrived at my door. Before getting to bed, though, I lost some of my confidence thinking about the considerable risk I was taking, and I’d even asked for it. I’d come close to death several times, but this time, death could catch up with me for good. I had repeated nightmares while I slept, and I woke up each time in a cold sweat, more and more terrified by the madness I was about to mix myself up in.

  The next day, before sunset, I started to seriously consider whether it had been a bad idea. To pass the time, I wandered up and down the hallways of the manor after doing my work. In the office on the ground floor, I found my survey of the dozens of disappearances throughout the county and came across the photo of Melanie Aubry.

  The flashback to her death took me by surprise, and the horror of her fate crushed my heart. I didn’t know why that young woman had touched me more than the other victims in the warehouse that day, but she had marked me irrevocably. Looking at her face in the photo and remembering her courage restored my determination. Whatever happened, I would not let her murder go unpunished. Heath and the other scumbags mixed up in this vile trafficking were going to pay . . .

  I began prepping for my role as a homeless, miserable drug addict with no hope of ever being reintegrated into society. I put on an old T-shirt, a pair of jogging pants, and a jacket, all of which I’d brought from my parents’ house. I used to wear these things when I was in high school, and they still fit. In fact, they were loose, since they were from my I’m-fat-and-I-refuse-to-look-in-a-mirror phase, and therefore practical for hiding something in my bra.

  I went out into the garden and scrubbed them with dirt to look dirtier and shabbier, matching my character. For even more realism, I smudged my face and tangled up my hair; the result wasn’t pretty. I couldn’t help think about how some people lived every day in grime and poverty.

  Evening arrived, and the knot that had formed in my stomach wouldn’t let me eat anything. My nervousness reached its height when Phoenix and François showed up, but I managed to hide it. They stopped in their tracks when they saw how I was dressed.

  “Very good,” François said appreciatively.

  Phoenix didn’t say anything, but that didn’t bother me; I knew he was worried about me.

  “I hope they fall for it,” I said.

  “You do not have to do this.”

  No longer mute and still visibly against the whole idea, my boss was again trying to convince me to change my mind. I turned to François instead and asked, “Is he always in a foul mood when he wakes up? Or can he not understand these simple words?” I stared at Phoenix. “It’s my choice!”

  “What if they see you are a fraud? Have you considered Heath—he knows you.”

  “We’re not even sure if the Chinese will lead us to him. But even if that’s the case, dressed like this, how is he going to recognize me? Besides, thanks to your blood, I’m stronger than before.”

  “It will not be enough,” he hissed.

  “I know! Stop acting like a worried mama hen and have some confidence in me.”

  My outburst left him speechless. I thought that no one in five hundred years had ever called him, a bloodthirsty vampire, “a worried mama hen,” but he deserved it. Anyway, it completely entertained François, who was trying to stifle a laugh by clasping his hand over his mouth.

  “You are the most stubborn and aggravating human woman I have ever met,” Phoenix yelled.

  “That may be, but without me, you’ll bore yourself to death. For a second time.”

  I’d silenced him once again, which triggered renewed mirth from our French friend. I’d only told the truth. I could at least be proud of that; between my idiotic remarks, my blushing cheeks, and my natural awkwardness, Phoenix must have laughed more during the past few months with me than the past fifty years. He’d said it himself. He grumbled between his teeth something intelligible, but I caught the last word, “. . . pigheaded!”

  In response, I crossed my arms and stared at him with an air of superiority. War weary, he sighed and threw in the towel.

  “Fine . . . I yield.”

  I suddenly felt much lighter. Or at least I had until he said, “We have to put together an extraction plan for Sam, before she is drained of blood, that is . . .”

  Gulp.

  We spent several hours working out the details: our arrival, the observation point, our weapons, and my extraction. We knew that the kidnappers would have to close to the sugar warehouses around two in the morning, and we had to get there ahead of them.

  We arrived there around one. François had taken the wheel so Phoenix could scout ahead from above, checking to see if our enemies were in the neighborhood. We hid the car around a dark corner and waited for Phoenix to return.

  I must say that when François muttered “here he is” while looking up at the sky and I followed his gaze, I was impressed by the silhouette flying in our direction. His suit jacket seemed to flap in the wind, and even at a distance, we could see the wind in his hair. His arms were alongside his body, not overhead like Superman’s.

  As he descended, I kept my eyes riveted on him, not able to tear myself away from this extraordinary spectacle. Even if he weren’t a vampire, like in the books, the henchman of Evil, you could say he was an angel coming down from heaven . . .

  When he landed, perfectly upright, in front of us, I had some difficulty recovering my breath and I tried to look elsewhere . . . François watched me with a smile.

  Finally, my boss approached. “The way is clear. The squat is behind that warehouse.”

  “How did you find it?” I asked, curious.

  “There is a strong concentration of beating hearts over there, even though the place should be deserted.”

  “How many?” François asked.

  “A dozen o
r so, I would say.”

  “Because you can differentiate and count them?” I was stupefied by the sensitivity of vampire hearing. It was one thing to hear even a whisper from three hundred feet away, but to know the number of humans in one place by their heartbeats? That stunned me.

  “Are you ready?”

  Phoenix put on his usual impenetrable mask, thus barring my access to his thoughts.

  I nodded.

  “They are in a little run-down shed. With all the holes in the roof, we will not have any problem seeing what happens and getting you out of there if it goes badly.”

  “Fine, but don’t forget, as long as they’re not doing anything to me, don’t intervene. With a little luck, they’ll bring me straight to their leaders.”

  “Be careful.”

  After taking a deep breath, I turned in the direction Phoenix indicated, and went to the squat where murderers were readying for action.

  When I entered the old warehouse and faced the spectacle in front of me, I had a moment in which I nearly changed my mind.

  The place was dismal. A few candles flickering faintly were the only source of light. A couple was in the middle of . . . well, better say it . . . making out. The young man sitting on the remains of a floral sofa couldn’t have been older than twenty-three, and his companion, who had to be one or two years younger than him, was straddling him in nothing but a very short leather skirt and a bra. They didn’t give a damn about doing that in front of everyone. Gross.

  Though it hardly mattered. Everyone else looked completely out of it, collapsed on old chairs or even the ground. On the low table in front of the two exhibitionists, there were razor blades coated in a white powder that I assumed was cocaine.

  “Hey, you, grubby girl! Where you come from?”

  In theory, those rude words, spoken hoarsely, had been directed at me. Their source was a tall black man, roughly forty years old, but he could have passed for eighty. He held a crack pipe in his hand.

  “Carly gave me this address. I need a place to stay for the night.”

  Saying that I’d come here by word of mouth seemed like a good idea. This guy couldn’t possibly know all the people who showed up here every now and then.