by Helen Harper
‘He’s not here.’
I smile. ‘Really? Then whose limousine is parked round the back? The one with the rather distinctive number plate?’ I frown as if trying to recall, then snap my fingers. ‘MAG1X. That’s it.’
Her mouth tightens. ‘Which Family are you from?’
I look her in the eyes. ‘I’m not with a Family.’
The only indication that she’s surprised is the slight furrow that appears on her forehead. She looks me up and down. ‘So you’re the one. I thought you’d be taller.’
It’s my turn to be startled. Outside of the five Families, no one is supposed to know about my defection; the announcement isn’t taking place until next week. The thought that Magix has somehow penetrated the inner workings of the Families is disturbing.
‘We know more than you think, Ms Blackman.’
Somehow I doubt that. I raise my chin. ‘I need to meet with Mr Connell in private. Right now.’
‘To what does the meeting pertain?’
‘That’s between me and him. But he’ll want to hear what I’ve got to say.’
She gazes at me thoughtfully. ‘I can allow that.’
‘Ms Swanson, I don’t think that’s a very good idea,’ the first guard interrupts.
She throws him such a quashing look that I’m impressed. I could learn something from this woman. ‘It’s the perfect opportunity to field test our latest item. If you’re going to enter, Ms Blackman, we need to take precautions.’ She holds up a set of handcuffs. They appear simple enough but I can sense the magic clinging to them. The fact that she brought them with her, however, suggests she was prepared to let me to enter all along.
I’m wary but prepared to submit to her demands. ‘No problem,’ I state confidently.
Swanson jerks her head and the two guards walk forward, neither of them looking happy. They take the handcuffs and I hold out my wrists helpfully. The guards snap them on, the slightest tremor visible in their hands as they do so.
The second the cold metal touches my skin, I feel it. I touch my fangs with my tongue again and realise that I can no longer make them grow. I try to lift my hands but my movements feel slow and sluggish. Swanson watches me carefully.
‘How do you feel?’ she inquires. I give her a dirty look. She claps her hands together. ‘Excellent! Our spell techs promised they’d work but it’s not easy to find test subjects.’
I find my voice. ‘What the hell are these?’
‘Vampire inhibitors.’ She holds up a hand. ‘I know, I know, the name isn’t very catchy. We’ve been toying with the idea of calling them Bloodguzzler Bonds. Or perhaps something more generic, to promote more of a sense of safety and well-being. What do you think of “Protectors”?’
‘Why?’
She laughs. ‘Because they’ll protect humans from nasty vampires, of course. Now we know they work, we can put them into mass production almost immediately. They’ll fly off the shelves.’ She gives me a wink. ‘Thanks to the current climate of fear.’
Bloody hell. I stare at her wide-eyed. There’s been little in the past to restrain vampires. The thought of what these things could do if they land in the hands of the Families’ enemies is terrifying.
‘Don’t look so worried, Ms Blackman. After all,’ she smiles, ‘people still have to get close enough to put them on to their would-be vampire attackers.’
Until the Magix techs work out a way to make the spell attach itself to a weapon as well as to restraints, I think to myself. It’s probably only a matter of time. Assuming that is, they’ve not already managed it.
‘How did you make these?’ I ask. I need to find out as much as I can about them so I can pass on the information to the Families.
Swanson laughs. ‘Oh, they’ve taken years of development. We don’t let any products onto the street until we are convinced of their efficacy. Usually we spend considerable time trialling them, often on ourselves and own employees. Of course, it’s harder with products that target vampires. There aren’t any bloodguzzlers working here.’ She arches an eyebrow in my direction. ‘Mr O’Connell urged us to find suitable test subjects. He wants to make the world a safer place for everyone. He’s a true idealist.’
I swallow my nausea at her fawning tone. She moves away from the entrance and gestures me inside. I can still move but I feel as if I have a ton of bricks weighing me down. Flanked by the two guards, I shuffle forward. Despite Swanson’s words, I doubt I’m the first vampire these bloody things have been tried on but I’m damned if I’m going to let anyone see just how much they affect me.
It takes us a long time to reach the lifts. Swanson swipes her card while I stare at the lift doors. One side is painted with a huge black-magic symbol, while the other side is emblazoned with a white-magic sign. They look incongruous together.
The doors open and Swanson walks into the lift. The guards are taking no chances: they grip my arms in case the spell on the cuffs fails. If the magic starts to fade, I could probably take them out in about three seconds flat but I play the role of meek little vampire and don’t react. I sense that, given the chance, guard number one would be more than happy to slap me around for a few hours.
We finally emerge on the top floor where the carpets are deep and expensive and the walls are filled with familiar looking pieces of art. Profits must be high. Then again, it’s no wonder when the company is so adept at putting the competition out of business.
I’m dropped on a stylish but remarkably uncomfortable sofa in the waiting area. A large television screen flickers into life. At first I think it’s showing an art-house film, then I realise it’s not a film at all but the CCTV footage of me inside Fingertips and Frolics. It starts with my first foray, with Frolic moving towards me. I’m thankful there’s no sound and the camera is positioned in such a way that our lips can’t be read. The people here already know too much about me as it is; I don’t need them to realise how desperate I am to find a cure for vampirism. Even if they knew where to find one, it would give them too strong a hold over me.
The screen flips to my illegal entry into the now-empty store. My movements are tracked, up to the point where my face looms into the camera and is distorted by its proximity. Then the screen goes dark as I successfully cover the lens with the disposable coffee cup. Watching myself is uncomfortable.
‘We’ve had some issues with the proprietor of that shop,’ a deep voice says. There’s no rancour in his tone. If anything, he sounds pleased by the fact that Magix is important enough to have ‘issues’ with other magic businesses.
I try to stand up but I’m foiled by whatever it is the cuffs are doing to my system. Their effect seems to be growing stronger.
‘Stay seated.’ The man smiles. ‘I understand how overpowering the spell can be.’
‘Mr O’Connell?’ I ask.
He sits opposite me. ‘Indeed.’ He puts his palms together as if in prayer and gazes at me speculatively. ‘Are you working for this woman? Frolic?’
I consider my answer. ‘Let’s just say I’m doing her a small favour.’
‘You know, it’s not our fault her business had to shut down.’
‘Really?’ I say, disbelief in my voice.
‘It’s true. Internet sales, the recent recession, consumer habits.’ He shrugs. ‘Many factors are responsible. Not to mention her own poor management. I feel for her, though. How is she doing?’ He seems eager for information about her.
‘Fine,’ I answer shortly. ‘Did you kill her husband?’ I keep my tone free from accusation but I watch his reaction carefully.
‘Is he dead?’ There’s the oddest flicker of amusement in his eyes. ‘Goodness, no. Whatever gave you that idea?’ I can’t tell whether he’s lying or not. He leans towards me. ‘Is that why you’re here?’
I shake my head. ‘No. I’m here for a little quid pro quo.’
I can tell I’ve piqued his interest although he tries to keep his expression bland. ‘Go on.’
‘One of your spells is ab
out to be compromised.’
I leave my words hanging in the air, eventually forcing him to fill the silence. His eyes shift. ‘Which one?’
‘Give me fifteen minutes’ full access to your files on Frolic and I’ll tell you.’
He looks at me as if I’ve suddenly sprouted green horns. ‘Absolutely not.’
I shrug. ‘It’s your funeral. I hope you have decent liability insurance.’
O’Connell’s face twists. ‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’
‘You don’t.’ My gaze is open.
‘Does Frolic know you’re doing this?’
I smile and cock my head. ‘She asked me to get the files for her. She didn’t give me any pointers as to how to go about it.’
‘She doesn’t know you’re here, talking directly to me?’
‘No.’
A muscle jerks in his cheek. ‘So why are you doing this? Why not break in and steal the files?’
‘I’ll be honest with you, I’ve not had much success in that area lately. But while I don’t like you, Mr O’Connell, and I don’t like Magix, I have no desire to see thousands of people suffer thanks to corporate espionage.’
‘What makes you think we won’t find the compromised spell now that we know about it?’
‘Go ahead,’ I say softly. ‘Be my guest. Try and find it on your own.’ I link my fingers together, giving the impression that I’m relaxed and uncaring. ‘How many spelled items do you sell, by the way?’
He frowns. ‘Our files are electronic. I’m not giving you access to our system.’
‘I can assure, Mr O’Connell, I’m no computer genius. You can stand over my shoulder and watch if you wish.’
‘For all I know you could send a virus to attack our entire system.’
‘I don’t have the knowhow.’
‘Perhaps not. But you may have others at your disposal who do.’
I think of Rogu3. I’m glad I didn’t involve him in this. ‘Those are my terms.’
He mulls it over. ‘No. It’s too dangerous. I’ll print out the files for you.’
‘How do I know you’ll give me full disclosure?’
He smiles. ‘You don’t.’
I sense that this is far as I’m going to get with him. I give an almost imperceptible nod. ‘Okay then. Give me the files and I’ll tell you where to look for the duff spell.’
O’Connell rises. I watch him vanish into a nearby office. This might actually work. I close my eyes for a moment. Something brushes past my cheek. I jump, snapping my eyes open. When I see who it is, I let out a quiet snarl.
‘Bloodguzzler,’ whispers the security guard.
‘What do you want?’
He reaches out stubby fingers and trails them down my cheek. I flinch and try to move away but my energy has been sapped to the point where my efforts are feeble. The guard fingers a loose curl.
‘Your boss is right over there,’ I tell him.
The guard’s eyes gleam. ‘He won’t mind.’
I have the horrible feeling he’s probably right. ‘You like your women tied up and helpless? Does that make you feel like a man?’ I taunt.
He ignores me. ‘I always wanted to fuck a vampire.’ He forces his index finger inside my mouth while his other hand travels to my breast and squeezes it painfully. ‘I’ve heard the turning makes your pussy tight, like a virgin’s.’
I open my mouth a little more and bite down as hard as I can on his finger. He screams like a stuck pig. ‘I might not have the use of my fangs, you prick,’ I spit, ‘but I can still bite.’
He pulls back a hand to punch me in the face. I prepare myself for the pain but O’Connell appears from behind and grabs his fist. ‘She’s only in those cuffs while she’s in our building. The moment she steps outside she’ll be free,’ he says to the guard. ‘Unless you want to spend the rest of your life hiding behind these four walls, I suggest you rethink your actions.’
The guard sags. ‘Yes sir,’ he mumbles. He stumbles away.
O’Connell bows. ‘I apologise. That shouldn’t have happened.’
I’m spitting fire. ‘Some great company this is. Is sexual assault always on the menu?’
‘I’ll have him removed immediately.’ From the expression in his eyes, he’s not just talking about giving the guard the sack.
‘And people worry about vampires,’ I hiss.
‘Don’t be so naïve, Ms Blackman. We humans may lack your physical superiority but we can be far more dangerous.’
Despite my revulsion, I pull the shreds of my dignity together. ‘I’m not a fucking monster. Fire him and hand him over to the police so they can make sure he doesn’t try this kind of thing on anyone else.’
O’Connell purses his lips. ‘If that’s what you want.’
I want to rip the guard’s throat out and watch him bleed to death. That’s the reason why victims should never be responsible for doling out punishment. Unable to trust myself, I glare at O’Connell.
He nods. ‘So be it.’ He tosses a manila folder into my lap. ‘Here are your files.’ There’s a glimmer of satisfaction in his face. ‘I’ve added in a little something extra, just for you.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask warily.
‘We don’t just keep files on wannabe witches, Ms Blackman. There’s a sample in there of what else we have on offer. Information can be a valuable currency. If you wish for more, come and visit us again.’
‘You’re not giving it away for free.’
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘This taster, so to speak, is gratis. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement if you want more.’
‘Unlikely.’ I struggle to my feet, just avoiding toppling over.
‘Never say never. You were recruited by Montserrat, were you not?’
I look him directly in the eyes. I’ve had enough of this place. ‘You have a new line coming out.’ I look down at the handcuffs. ‘Other than your vampire inhibitors that is. Something to do with glamour spells?’
‘Yes. They’re more popular with men than women these days. Everyone wants to look,’ he pauses as if searching for the right word, ‘buff.’
‘There is going to be a problem with it,’ I say.
‘What’s the problem?’
‘Frolic has the ingredients. She’s trying to recruit someone to break in and subvert one of them.’
‘Thank you,’ O’Connell says, after a long moment. ‘Ms Swanson?’ he calls over my shoulder.
She moves up soundlessly. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘Free Ms Blackman. I believe she can be trusted to make her own way out.’
She passes a wand across my wrists and the cuffs unclasp and fall to the carpet. I rub my wrists. The sensation is rather like when X did his mind-sucking thing. I stretch my limbs and flex them carefully. There seem to be no side-effects; once the cuffs are removed, recovery is instantaneous.
‘Thank you,’ I mutter.
‘Please deliver a message to Frolic from me. Tell her that this is for the best. Her obsession with her little shop was unhealthy. She’s free now. She can do whatever she wants.’
‘What if she wants is to destroy you.’
He looks away. ‘She probably does,’ he says softly. ‘I’m not – we’re not – the bad guys, however. We’re making the world a safer place.’ There’s an appeal in his expression. ‘A better place.’
‘You’re making me feel all warm and fuzzy.’ I give him a false smile then, without another glance, turn and walk back to the lift. The guard who assaulted me is standing there, visibly shaking. I knee him swiftly in the groin. He screams in pain and collapses. Then I leave.
Chapter Sixteen: Tattoo Tales
I’m still trembling when I pull up several streets away. The anger I feel at the guard’s actions is almost overwhelming. I rub furiously at my cheek where he touched me. I’m a goddamn vampire – how does he treat human women? I make a note to check up on whether O’Connell makes good on his promise to hand the guard over to the polic
e. If he doesn’t, this won’t be our only encounter. I calm down as best as I can, then walk into the twenty-four hour newsagents on the corner and use their photocopier to make a copy of the files on Frolic.
While I wait, I flick through the extra papers that O’Connell gave me. I stare in shock at the top sheet: it appears to be a printout of the Montserrat accounts. Not only am I aghast that anyone could access such information, let alone a dodgy place like Magix, but I’m stunned by the figures. The Montserrat Family has close to nine hundred million pounds in its coffers. I knew they are rich but that amount is staggering. If Magix chooses to release this information to the rest of the world, it’s hardly going to appease the masses.
Deciding not to look through the rest of the Montserrat papers, I roll them up and stuff them inside my leather jacket. I’ll pass them to Michael later and he can decide what to do; it’s not really my call. I buy an envelope and stamps, and mail the copy of Frolic’s files to my grandfather’s house. A little insurance never hurts.
Five minutes later, I paste a smile on my face and stroll into Belgrave police station. ‘Hi!’ I say cheerily. ‘Is Simon in?’
I receive a shocked look.
‘Yes,’ I say, without missing a beat, ‘I’m a vampire. I’m looking for Simon. I’m helping him with some inquiries.’ Well, technically he’s helping me, but what’s a misplaced pronoun or two?
‘Simon Beauvoit or Simon Raval?’
Bugger it. ‘The good-looking one.’ I wink, keeping my fingers crossed that I’m right. ‘In his forties perhaps?’
The sergeant glares at me suspiciously. Unfortunately for me he knows how to do his job properly. ‘Sergeant Raval or Inspector Beauvoit?’
I have a fifty-fifty shot. I take a stab in the dark and guess. ‘Sergeant Raval.’
‘I’ll see if he’s available. What’s your name?’
‘Bo Blackman.’
His head jerks. ‘Blackman?’
‘That’s what I said.’
His eyes narrow but he doesn’t comment on my lack of a Family name. I’m getting a bit tired of this routine. Maybe I should just abbreviate my name to Bo. If it works for Madonna and Prince, why can’t it work for me?
