I looked at the pile of dust and felt…nothing. Roberto had been the special vampire in charge of the Guyana facility. He’d directed my torture and now he was dead. I should have been doing backflips. But I had more work to do. Maybe that was the problem.
My fight with Roberto had been short, but also violent and loud. I needed to get out of here before some well-meaning busybody neighbor called the cops. I took one last look around the room. Taylor’s eyes were still open, staring without seeing at the ceiling. I shook my head.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
An electronic beeping sounded from the pile of Roberto’s soiled clothing. I poked through the dusty silk and found a cell phone. The screen said the caller was Unknown. I flipped it open and said, “Hello?”
There was someone on the other end of the line. I heard him breathing. For a moment, we stood in silence. Then he hung up.
I frowned and stared at the phone. “That was weird.”
I was out of Taylor’s apartment, about a dozen steps from the stairwell door when it opened. A tall, thin, well-dressed man stood in the shadowy doorway. He looked at me for a long moment until an ironic smile split his face. He stepped onto the carpeted hall and nodded politely. I’d never seen him outside of a dark warehouse in a desolate section of Brooklyn, but I instantly recognized Ambassador Flavian.
Before I made a conscious choice to do it, the knife was in my hand and I was crossing the hall. I grabbed Flavian by the lapel and forced him back into the stairs. I pushed my knife against his throat. He let me manhandle him, which should have surprised me, but I was too keyed up with adrenaline and aggression to notice.
I slammed the door with the heel of a boot and scowled at the vampire. He raised his hands and continued to smile. I was so close I could have counted the pores in his nose.
“I am having a monumentally bad day,” I snarled. “And it’s mostly been because of you and your people. So what don’t you give me a good reason not to puncture your Adam’s apple?”
He shrugged as casually as if we were discussing the weather. “Because you don’t want to do that.”
“No? Why’s that?”
“Because I have some information that you might find very interesting.”
“Such as?”
“To begin with, I know a few things about the artifact you’re seeking—the Gauntlet of Greckhite.” He leaned forward like a teen girl passing on a juicy bit of gossip. “And, perhaps more intriguingly, not only can I give you the identity of the traitor in your order, I can assist you in apprehending him.”
I hesitated. If Flavian was telling the truth, I could use his help in taking the guy who was a real threat to the city. Maybe he knew where Loretta was hiding. But…he was a vampire. By default that meant he was a liar.
“Why should I trust you?”
“I would’t, were I in your shoes,” he said. “But what choice do you have?”
I pushed the knife even harder into his throat. It was so sharp, his skin so thin, that it took very little pressure to break the skin. Drops of black blood welled up on the skin. “Do better than that.”
He shook his head. “How about this: Because I need you as much as you need the information in my possession. I know you don’t believe me, but I’m not your enemy. I am not interested in destroying, or subjugating, the human race. It is possible for our two peoples to coexist in an equitable peace. There is a man who is a dreadful threat to that goal. I expect that I can’t stop him. But you can. You, Captain Carver, are in a unique position to remove that threat.”
“Enemy of my enemy, huh?”
He sighed. “If you insist on thinking of it in those terms, then yes. The enemy of your enemy is your friend.”
“Or at least a temporary ally,” I said. “So tell me.”
“First I’d like you to sheathe your blade.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I put the knife away. I half-expected the vampire to go for my throat, but it didn’t happen. Instead, Flavian nodded respectfully and turned around. “Follow me, please.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “You have some things to tell me.”
“Yes, Captain, and I will. But not here. There are elements to this story that a voice other than mine will tell better.”
He continued down the stairs, seeming in no hurry, but he moved fast. In a few heartbeats, he was out of sight.
This is a trap, I thought. Right? It had to be. Why else would this important vampire want to help me? Especially when you considered that I’d insulted him publicly. He expected me to believe that he was taking a sabbatical from being a monster and was auditioning for the role of wise, old man?
The weird thing was, I believed him. Maybe it was desperation, the pathetic attempts of a man caught in the current of a raging river, but, for the first time, I thought this vampire was telling me the truth. I needed to take the chance. I still had the knife, if nothing else. If Flavian turned out to be a better liar than I expected, I could at least take the son of a bitch with me.
“What the hell?” I said, and I followed Flavian down the stairs.
A man—a human, man—stood on the sidewalk, dressed in a black suit and sunglasses. He held an umbrella over Flavian’s head as he escorted the ambassador through the sunny streets and into the back of a limousine.
The windows of the long black car were tinted so that no sunlight got in. There was a small battery-powered lamp in the center console, which Flavian flicked on. The man in the suit got into the front, which was separated from our cabin by soundproof glass, and started to drive.
This wasn’t the first time that I’d ridden in a car that had been custom-fitted for vampire transport, so I was prepared for the way it felt like riding in a tin can, but it was still unpleasant and claustrophobic. Flavian flicked idly though a magazine, never once raising his eyes to meet mine. I stared at the opaque window and tried to see if I could spontaneously develop X-ray vision.
We were’t driving very long before the limo pulled over to the side of the road. The door opened and the man with umbrella was back, blocking the sun. Flavian climbed out of the car, staying within the safety provided by the umbrella.
We were somewhere in midtown, even if I didn’t recognize the exact street.. I followed the vampire and his human retainer into a high-rise office building. Once we were in the lobby, the man in the suit spun with military precision and stared out at the early afternoon traffic. Flavian and I crossed the polished floor of the lobby, got in the elevator and, rode it in a silence that was rapidly becoming uncomfortable.
When we reached the top floor, Flavian led the way through a small, empty reception area. The ambassador pulled a single key out of the pocket of his jacket and opened the door next to the desk.
Without a word, he entered the room. I followed.
The room looked like the penthouse that it was. Leather couches and chairs were artfully arranged the room with careful attention to feng shui. There were huge, black curtains hanging over the windows along the back wall. An orb of blue light hung from the ceiling, in the place which would normally hold a chandelier.
A man, who’d been sitting on a couch, stood up when we came in. I recognized him immediately. It was Craig, the vampire that was supposed to be imprisoned in the pyramid trap.
Chapter 26
The shorter, fatter vampire rose from his seat, his eyes flickering from Flavian to me and back. He had on a new pair of glasses. The thick lenses made him look like an owl as he stared. My mouth dropped open in astonishment. What the hell? This guy was supposed to be locked in an inescapable prison. So what was he doing here, in a penthouse apartment?
Flavian put himself between me and Craig. Smart move, because I was about one twitch from driving my knife through the vampire’s bespectacled eye. I was confused and angry. My usual response to these particular emotions was violence.
“Captain Carver,” Flavian said, “this is an associate of mine. As you are my guest here, I must ask that you
treat him with respect.”
“I know exactly who he is,” I growled. “He’s the guy that put two of my people in the hospital. He’s the guy that kept me locked in a garage. He was working for Roberto.”
“No, he wasn’t,” Flavian said. “He was working for me.”
I finally pulled my glare away from the trembling Craig. “What?”
“He was—and is—gathering information for me in the elders’ camp.”
“Oh,” I said. “What?”
“He’s been reporting to me about the activities of the elders’ agents in this city. I imagine I knew about your capture even before your friends at the Round Table did.”
“You’re spying on the elders?” I asked. “Why?”
“We are at war, Captain. Surely an experienced warrior like yourself recognizes the value of current and up-to-date information intelligence on the enemy.”
“But they’re not your enemy.”
“Aren’t they?” Flavian shook his head in a way that was both patronizing and pitying. “I’ve told you several times already: I do not wish to oversee the destruction of humankind. I oppose any activities that would result in that tragedy. As such, what would I be if I allowed Elder Sangre and his cronies to run rampant?” He smiled, a creepy, toothy expression. “A monster, wouldn’t you say?”
I looked at Craig. “So you just let Roberto and his friends march into the office. Seems like a weird way to prevent the destruction of the human race.”
“T-t-there was nothing I could do,” he stammered. “The ambassador’s primary order was to be sure that I wasn’t discovered. If I did anything to stop the attack, Bobby would have been suspicious.”
“And he did,” Flavian said, “allow your friends to pursue him back to your location.”
“He did?”
“The attack was already such a disaster,” Craig said, “which I was happy about, by the way—I figured there was no sense in keeping you. That was another one of my orders: get you released as soon as possible.”
“Well, thanks for that,” I snarled. But then I paused. Craig, whether I liked it or not, had saved my life and set me free. I put my knife away. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “You’re welcome.”
I looked back at Flavian. “But that doesn’t explain how he’s here. He’s supposed to be locked up underneath my office.”
The ambassador looked serenely at the ceiling. “All in good time, Captain, I assure you. All will be made clear.”
The blue light overhead flowed brighter and a wave of energy pulsed from inside it. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. The light cast weird shadows in the ornately furnished room. They wavered as if emanating from a flickering campfire, but the blue light itself was steady and still. It bounced off of the curtains, making me feel like a shark in an aquarium. Flavian and Craig had to be feeling the same way. They may have been dressed up as civilized people, but they were predators. It had to be driving them just as crazy as it was me being in this cage.
“This is my safe house,” Flavian said. “As you know, I’m a very powerful individual. So powerful that psychics and mages employed by your order will sometimes try to eavesdrop on my conversations from afar. Usually I’m able to block them out, but you know what they say: There’s always someone better than you are. The light in this room makes it impossible for those sorcerers to hear what is said.”
I frowned. “I thought you weren’t working against the Round Table.”
“I’m not, but that has not always been the case. The subtext was clear: And it may not always be the case. Maybe I was projecting that last part, but I needed to remember that Flavian was dangerous. We had a mutual enemy and a common interest. Other than that…well, that was a problem for another day.
The ambassador watched me for a moment. “Shall we begin?”
“Why not?” I said.
“Before we start,” the ambassador said, “I’d like to remind all of us to take care to whom and where you speak of this meeting. This room is shielded from prying eyes and ears, but it is important to remember that in order for this partnership to be effective, it must remain secret.”
I nodded. “Got it. But you need to remember that this isn’t a partnership. I’m only here because I need to find and destroy this Gauntlet and take out the traitor. When we’re done with that, we’re not gonna roast marshmallows in your backyard.”
Flavian’s eyes were cool and dispassionate. “Very well. Shall we call this a temporary alliance?”
“Call it whatever you want,” I said. “As long as everyone knows what it is.”
“Very well. Please have a seat, Captain. If only to assure me that I’ve made the right choice in trusting you.”
I frowned, but he had a point. If I’d been trying to make a pact with someone and he refused to sit, it’d make me suspicious, to say the least. Most likely, I’d think he was planning some sort of double-cross. Though it made my skin crawl and my soul itch, I sat down on the edge of the couch cushions.
Flavian’s eyes reflected blue light. “Welcome to the brotherhood of darkness.”
I shot out of my seat as if someone had lit a stove.
The ambassador laughed. “I was only jesting, Captain. I apologize—please sit.”
I sat back down, taking deep, slow breaths. I brushed the hilt of my knife. You know. Just to make a point.
“Alright,” I said. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Why, the best way to save your people from themselves, of course.”
“What are you talking about? There may be a traitor in the Table, but the main threat’s coming from your people.”
“Are you sure about that?” Flavian gave me a maddeningly knowing look before turning to Craig. “Now, my friend, would you be so kind as to tell Captain Carver the story that you told me?”
Craig swallowed nervously and licked his lips. He told me a story. By the time he was done, I was questioning everything I’d ever done. My entire life. Everything I thought I stood for. When he was done, I was literally shaking with rage. I was angrier than I’d ever been in my life.
Chapter 27
An hour after sundown I was crouched in the front seat of a van. I was covered, head to toe, with a moldy-smelling, moth-eaten blanket. The van was parked in a dark alley in a neighborhood of the Bronx where only a third of the streetlights worked. The rest flickered dangerously, constantly threatening to join their compatriots in darkness. Craig sat on the hood, a lit cigarette dangling in his fingertips. Occasionally, he’d take a drag, filling his lungs with dark smoke. Some habits die hard, I guess—some even survive death. Like me, he was dressed all in black, his stomach straining the seams of his shirt. There was a duffel bag on the dirty ground near his feet. Every once in a while he’d give the bag a soft kick, as if reassuring himself that it was still there.
There was a familiar excitement pumping through my veins. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, but before I joined the Round Table, I’d been a member of a group of amateur vampire hunters. We’d been crude, but our tactics had been the same as the ones that Craig and I were now using: hide out in an alley, wait for the target to show himself, and strike. It was amazing I’d lived long enough for Bill to find me.
The night was cold—far colder than it had been even the last few nights. Old Man Winter was making his annual last stand, and it made me shiver under the thin blanker.
The old cliché about New York is that she never sleeps. In my experience that’s true about every major city in the world. There’s always some sort of nightlife in an urban center, even if it isn’t all human. This alley, though, was the closest I’d ever seen to a still night in a city. The city may not have been asleep, but this neighborhood was definitely resting her eyes. No one was in sight. No televisions flickered in windows. I didn’t know where the people had gone, and I didn’t really care. The fewer witnesses the better.
I missed my sword. There hadn’t been time to go back to the office so I cou
ld retrieve it. The knife in my hand was nearly as effective, and it was easier to conceal, but I missed the comforting weight of the magic in the sword. I also held in my hand a brick that I’d pried from the foundation of a nearby building.
I was silent and still. I knew how to wait in ambush. We’d been in position for half an hour now, and I was starting to get anxious. He was out there, somewhere. The target. Watching the alley, sizing Craig up, waiting until he was sure it was safe before he showed himself. I prayed that no stray bit of moonlight would pierce the windshield and give me away. If the target saw someone lying in wait, he’d bolt, and we’d lose our chance. Especially if he recognized me.
A man appeared at the end of the alley. Tall, broad-shouldered. With each step he took, I could see the sword under his long dark coat. He reached the van and leaned against the hood.
“Cold night, huh?” He had a deep, rumbling voice.
“I guess,” Craig said.
“You people don’t really feel cold, do ya?” He nodded at the duffel. “That it?”
Craig nodded.
“Mind if I take a look?”
I held my breath and put my hand on the door handle. Then I froze, possum-like, to be sure the target hadn’t detect the subtle shift under my weight. I was in luck. He was so focused on the bag that he didn’t notice anything.
The target set the bag on the hood, unzipped it, and took out a package that was wrapped in the morning’s edition of the Times. He frowned as he unwrapped the paper. The target’s finger scraped against the object within. He let out a small grunt of pain, as if he’d been stung by a wasp.
I closed my eyes tight, a second before a flash of light erupted from the opened package on the hood. It looked like the headlights of an oncoming train. The insides of my eyelids lit up, bright white, as the rushing wave burst from within the package.
As quickly as it had come, the light faded, leaving the alley as dark and abandoned as ever. The target lay on the ground, clutching at his eyes and screaming in pain and anger.
I jumped out of the van, landing hard on the trash-strewn ground. I held my knife in one hand and the brick in the other. The target lay on his back. His eyelids fluttered, struggling to open. The device that Flavian had provided had seen to that. I wasn’t sure what was in the charm, but it had worked like…well, like a charm. I’d have to ask May what could do something like render somebody blind with as little as a touch.
Dave Carver (Book 1): Thicker Than Blood Page 18
