She fixed her brilliant green eyes on me, smiled, and held out her hand as I came up.
“Good evening, Rachella,” I said, kissing her knuckles lightly, “you look stunning.”
She did. Her auburn was hair piled atop her head. Tiny gold shorts stretched tight across her hips. The matching gold lamé jacket was unbuttoned so low a slight breeze would expose her upper torso completely. Unfortunately, no gust obliged. Spiked gold boots punctuated her shapely legs.
“Thank you, Mr. Montero. It is a pleasure to see you again.” Her voice was cordial, but there was hunger in her eyes. “I suppose you are here to meet Aliena.”
“Yes.”
“She’s sitting with Marcus. They look very natural together.”
“I’m sure they do.”
She stepped close to me, reached up, ran a hand through my hair, pressed her tall body against mine. I rested my hands lightly on her hips as she leaned toward my throat. With an effort, I kept my muscles relaxed.
“Your blood restores itself almost instantly, does it not?” she said, breathing cool air into my ear.
“Yes.” The chill of her skin radiated through my clothes. She delicately pressed her hips against me. In spite of my resolve, I felt myself responding.
“Then you could have many companions,” she murmured, brushing her lips along my neck, sending delirious pangs down my spine. I was certain she would not drink from me without my permission. That did not mean she wouldn’t exercise her considerable supernatural charms to seduce me. “After all, Aliena can be a bit prudish, I have heard.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” I said, my voice husky.
“I don’t believe you.” She kissed my earlobe with icy lips. “I would let you do anything you wanted with me if you would let me have a drink.” Her otherworldly voice painted darkly sensual images in my head. “I know you find me attractive, Sebastian. I can feel you against me.” She dragged sharp fingernails through the hair on the back of my head and along my neck, her heavy-lidded expression full of carnal promise. “Have you ever made love to a vampire?”
Through a haze of desire, I managed to say, “That is hardly a proper question from a lady to a gentleman.”
She gave me an incendiary leer. “I thought not. I promise you an unforgettable experience.”
Of that I was certain. Her long fingers continued to caress the nape of my neck.
“Two of my friends want you, too,” she whispered. “We’ve talked about it.”
“Talked about what?” I said, knowing the answer.
“How we’d all like to have you together. Sandra and Phoebe said they’ll drink before we come to you so their bodies are warm.” Her hand slipped down my back and pulled me close. “I’ll stay cold. That way, when we’re all over you in bed, you’ll know which mouth is mine.”
If I thought about what she was offering me, even pictured how such a night might begin, I was lost.
Rachella finally released me and stepped back. “You don’t know what you just passed up.”
“My darling Rachella,” I said with explosive relief, impulsively kissing her on the cheek, “I believe you are right.”
My reaction surprised a laugh out of her, and she fixed me with that look—the same assessing gaze I had seen on Tasha Watanabe’s face. I realized I had only made the sultry vampire desire me more.
She tugged the sides of her tiny jacket, looking down at her body, a move calculated to make me look, too. I did. I reminded myself that I loved Aliena very much.
“Shall I escort you inside?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you.” Now that she had stepped away, the waves of sensual energy she projected dimmed, leaving me with an echo of regret.
She took my arm.
It was necessary to look on the bright side of the situation. Being escorted into 49 by another beautiful woman would enhance my prestige with the other vampires and reinforce the fact that I was untouchable.
Which proves that even after seven centuries, I could still make the stupidest mistakes when it came to women.
I should have been thinking about only one other vampire.
Thirty-Three
Friday, December 24, 12:17 a.m.
The dry, earthy smell of 49 filled my nostrils as Rachella led me inside. The cavernous room was set up the same as always, with tiered seating arranged around the four sides of the boxing ring, the entire scene illuminated by high-intensity, battery-powered construction lamps.
Heads turned toward me as the vampires detected my presence. Many bared their fangs.
It is always nice to know one is welcome and appreciated.
Aliena and Marcus were sitting in the front line of seats to our left, ringside. We walked all the way to the end of the tier and turned into the aisle along the front row. The program was between bouts.
Hundreds of vampires stared down at me, uncomfortably close. I looked casually at one of them, a young woman sitting in the second row. I kept my face expressionless, but when she bared her fangs at me, ice floes formed in my gut. I was food to her. That was all. She did not care what sort of man I was.
It is disconcerting to look into the eyes of the predator.
The fighter standing on our side of the ring was a pale girl with bright red hair. Tattoos covered her exposed skin. She turned so that her opponent could not see her face and casually bared her fangs at me, her jaw lengthening, her eyes twin fires.
Rachella giggled. “You are popular with the ladies, aren’t you?” Putting her lips close to my ear, she whispered, “That makes me soooo hot for you, Sebastian.”
Aliena’s face was blank as she watched us approach. She had taken off her leather motorcycle jacket and looked achingly sexy in her tight white T-shirt and blue jeans.
Rachella released my arm. “Remember my promise, Sebastian,” she said, but she didn’t look at me when she said it—she looked at Aliena.
It was at that moment I realized my mistake.
Aliena gave me a frosty glare. Embracing her did not seem advisable. And although I felt bad about it, in the back of my mind, I longed to turn and see what Rachella looked like from behind in those shorts.
I nodded to Marcus, smiled at Aliena—she did not smile in return—and turned to the ring as the bell sounded for the next match.
The emcee stepped into the ring with the two fighters. He was the same announcer as always, a little black vampire with gray-and-white hair that stuck up half a meter, wearing the same baggy tuxedo that was apparently his favorite. Or his only.
The boxers wore small gloves that left the fingers exposed, and no shoes, in what was apparently to be a mixed martial arts event. The mortal girl did not know just how mixed the action would be.
“A battle between the centuries!” The crowd cheered. “In the red corner, wearing the crimson trunks with scarlet trim, fighting for the Dark Ages, is Clarissa ‘Man-Eater’ von Bueller!” The pale vampire held her arms up. She was average height, and as I had seen before, every exposed part of her, including the sections of her legs visible below the long red trunks, was covered in tattoos.
“And her opponent, fighting out of the blue corner, wearing the white trunks with blue trim, defending the LA Nation, is Juanita ‘Bad Mama’ Vasquez!” Boos and hisses rang out. Juanita was a tough-looking Hispanic woman in her mid-twenties, tall, with solid legs and broad shoulders.
The introductions concluded, the emcee ducked through the ropes. The bell sounded, and the fighters began circling each other cautiously.
We sat. The vampire to my right was a young man wearing black leather and dark Ray-Bans. When I nodded at him, he licked his lips meaningfully. Feeling much better now that I had established that rapport, I turned to Aliena. I tried to take her hand, but she drew it away.
“Please,” I said. “I was just about to call you and have you bring me in when she walked out and offered to take me. I did not want to be unfriendly. You know I have no interest in Rachella.”
The noise around us incre
ased as the fighters exchanged their first blows.
Aliena turned her dark eyes on me. “It hurt me to see her holding your arm like that. I am not used to feeling that way.”
“I did not mean to hurt you, my darling,” I said. “I would never hurt you.” I reached over and took her hand. This time she did not pull away. I held it in mine, enjoying its coolness.
Marcus sat on the other side of Aliena. He looked across at me.
“Aliena told me you had an encounter with our serial killer,” he said.
“Yes.” We had to shout over the noise of the crowd.
“He did things that indicated he had powerful skills?”
“Very powerful, with the ability to move matter from a distance.”
“But he did not . . . shoot lightning or display abilities as I described those other men as having?”
“No, nothing like that, thank goodness. However, there is something almost as disconcerting . . .” I told them about the spirit attack.
“They were invisible?” Aliena asked.
“When I was passing out, I thought I could see them, but until then, I couldn’t see what was attacking me.”
“But you say you thought they were killing you,” Marcus said.
“That’s what it felt like. I can’t explain it. It did not feel as though only my body were dying. I’ve felt that many times before.”
He glanced down at Aliena’s lap, seeing our clasped hands.
Aliena said, “It could be a matter of time before he has all of his powers. If he needs to sacrifice three virgins, he may not acquire the full scope until he completes the cycle.”
“Which will probably be sometime today,” I added.
“There is still something missing,” Marcus said. “The key.”
“Yes.” As Reed had stated, in order for the murders to give Kanga the abilities I had seen, he had to possess a powerful magical object. “He must have it.”
“But where?” Aliena asked. “Can we get it away from him?”
“He would have it securely hidden,” I said. “Either way, we need to know more about it and see if we can find more information on the final ritual. Which reminds me of your dream,” I said to Marcus.
“Yes.”
“Must he access the Akashic Records to finalize his powers? Is that what your dream means?”
“It is possible.”
“He would not have his magical powers in the ether,” I said.
“No.”
The crowd roared. We turned to look. Clarissa had Juanita by the ankles and began floating around with her, occasionally dipping her into the spectators and allowing them to rip a drink from the terrified woman. Juanita screamed and twisted, trying to punch the vampires in the crowd. One man grabbed her gloved hand and pulled. Clarissa obliged and stopped, hovering above him. The vampire bared his fangs at Juanita, and she screamed in fright before he bit into her wrist. She punched him on the back of the head with her other hand, yelling hysterically. The crowd roared its approval of her defiance. That did not stop the man from taking a long drink.
Finally Clarissa tugged and floated to another part of the crowd, where she dipped Juanita low enough for the onlookers to attack her on both sides. Juanita’s body did a spasmodic, jittery dance as a dozen vampires struck at her head, shoulders, arms, and legs. Her movements became sluggish. Then they stopped.
To Marcus and Aliena, I said, “That’s enough of the fights for me.”
Aliena pouted. Clarissa floated over us with Juanita’s lifeless body. Aliena reached up and ran a finger along one blood-soaked arm, as the other vampires around us were doing, then licked it contemplatively, like an epicure sampling an entrée’s sauce.
“If you are sure this man will strike again today,” Marcus said, “we need to pursue him immediately.”
“I agree.”
“You have his address?”
I gave it to him.
We stood. I reached down and hauled Aliena to her feet.
“I’m coming,” she said. I helped her into her motorcycle jacket.
“Please wait for me to get there,” I said to Marcus. He could fly to Kanga’s place in moments. “We go in together.”
“Together,” he said. “And then we kill him and take the key.”
Aliena decided to ride with me rather than fly ahead with Marcus. The Bird still had all four wheels when we left 49, for which I was thankful.
“Is that a juju doll?” Aliena asked as she strapped on her seat belt.
“Yes.”
She took the figure by its feet and inspected it closely. “Exquisite craftsmanship. Geoff?”
“Yes. He sends his regards.”
“He’s sweet.”
Thirty minutes later, I pulled to the curb in front of the address on Lindley Avenue and cut the engine. We waited in the car, holding hands, listening to the tick of the motor as it cooled. It was 1:27 a.m.
I checked the mirrors, surveying the street. A wide thoroughfare, Lindley remained quiet at this early hour.
“If he acquires the same abilities as the men Marcus spoke of, would he try to rule the world?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” It seemed an important question, with Kanga so close to accomplishing his task. “Eventually, perhaps. For the time being, though, I think he enjoys murdering young girls.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Her hand squeezed mine painfully. “He loves the personal contact, the intimacy of being alone with his victim during the last moments of her life. He may be addicted to it.”
“Let’s see if we can help him kick the habit.”
We stepped out of the car. I reached behind the seat, pulled out three of the amulets Bey had given me and a pair of disposable gloves, put them in my jacket pocket. Aliena and I walked quickly to the front door, which stood in shadow. Marcus had apparently been one of those shadows, for suddenly he stood among us.
“All is quiet,” he said. “There is a back door that looks like it will be easy to open.”
“Okay.”
“But I think you may be wrong about this address.”
“Why?”
“It does not feel as though anyone is here.”
Preston and I had thought that possible. Finding Kanga had been too easy.
“The best way to know is to have a look,” I said, pulling on the gloves. Marcus and Aliena did not need them. Their skin was too dry to leave prints, and even if they could leave them, they would not match anything on file. That was important, because LAPD would be all over this place in a few hours.
It was a small house, with a scrap of front lawn. Marcus led us to the backyard. The paint on this side of the building showed signs of peeling, the window screens had rips in them, and there were weeds growing out of the cracks in the cement walkway.
“Before we go in,” I said, “a friend provided me with protective amulets . . . one for each of us.” I pulled out the black onyx charms.
Marcus took one, and so did Aliena.
I thought back to how Kanga had handled me at Madame Leoni’s. It was not just the magic that had impressed me—it was the easy manner with which he controlled it and the confident way he had pressed his assault. These amulets would not offer any protection against such an attack, but they might deflect other charms and would protect against evil spirits.
Aliena slipped the necklace over her head. I wished she were not here. Just in case it went bad.
Live music and laughter drifted from a neighboring home. Friends clustering together for a night of holiday cheer. And here were we, two vampires and an immortal, preparing to kill one of the local residents—a confirmed conjurer better known as the Voodoo Killer.
Marcus had been right about the small side door. It was old, and constant exposure to the Southern California climate had warped it away from the frame. I gave a slight push above the handle, and it popped open.
The three of us entered the dim living room. Light filtered through the windows at the front of the house
. I pulled my gun and thumbed the safety off as Aliena walked through the living room and into the kitchen. She emerged, shook her head.
Marcus had gone through the door leading off the living room, and now he came out. The three of us moved quietly past the front door and into the hallway that led to the bedrooms. There was a door on either side at the far end.
Light issued from the door on the left.
Marcus was in the lead, I was second, and Aliena was in the rear.
Our plan was simple: if we found Kanga, I would start shooting, and they would attack from opposite sides. If they could distract him for even a moment, one bullet to the head would put him down, sorcerer or not. If Aliena or Marcus got to him first, the problem was no longer mine, and Kanga would die in a lingering, horrific manner.
Marcus turned the knob. In the blink of an eye, he and Aliena were inside, standing on opposite ends of the room. I followed, holding my gun at shoulder level. I stumbled and looked down. At my feet was a springy, queen-size mattress.
Placed along the walls, side by side, were more of them, lashed together with canvas straps. They covered the floor. Where the mattresses fell short of the walls, pillows were stuffed in the crevices. Kanga had only left enough space to allow the door to open.
This was his quiet room, where he came when he traveled on the astral plane.
The three of us returned to the hallway. One door left. Aliena grasped the handle, and we burst in.
A bedroom, with a bed, a closet, a nightstand, and a dresser.
No Kanga.
A television stood on the dresser, a DVD player atop it. Both units had green lights glowing in their power buttons, and the word “PAUSE” burned in the upper left corner of the TV. The remote lay in front of me. I picked it up and pressed the Play button. Kanga came onscreen.
“Ah, Mr. Montero, you have found my little house.” He smiled, leaning back on the couch in the living room with his legs crossed, sipping from a bottle of water. “I trust you have come without your detective friend Mr. Hamilton. Or does he know your little secret? I would guess not. In fact, I am certain there are few who know the truth about you.”
He grinned like a man who had discovered buried treasure. “You can imagine my surprise when I saw you on television this evening. You must be a remarkable being, to survive my attack, and that of the messengers I sent to your home later. How did you escape them? Remarkable what young girls can do when properly motivated, isn’t it?”
To Kill a Sorcerer Page 21
