by David Lee
“Would someone get me a drink?” asked Oliver. “Rooting out spies is thirsty business, don’t you think?”
All the Vampires except Jason sprang to the bar, eager to show their allegiance.
“Nice to have you back,” leaning close, the ever-bitchy Jason purred. “It has been boring, but that’s about to change I think.”
CHAPTER 17
Perhaps, “Why don’t we grab a bite and talk, I’ve heard some stuff at the station,” casual, a working dinner, or maybe, “I’m starving, I need something to eat,” completely separated from any suggestion of them, make it totally about him. He’d scouted spots within walking distance of her place and settled on a couple that seemed appropriate for a casual bite to eat. Nothing expensive that screamed special occasion, and not standing on the sidewalk in the rain eating dollar tacos, either. She might appreciate a casual hike up Madison to the food truck, although he didn’t think she was a food truck foodie, if there were such people.
Perhaps he could make up some bullshit about a case he was on and how he needed to follow a target to Canlis, and why didn’t she go with him as cover and he could observe the suspect and they could talk, kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. That plan appealed to his sense of danger, except he was pretty sure she was better at bullshit than he was, even if he was a cop, and once she figured it out she might think it was a deliberate lie instead of a darling subterfuge and get really pissed off.
Who knew Vampires could walk all over the city and enjoyed grinding up and down the hills? So far, whenever he’d been with her they’d traipsed everywhere. It was getting comical that every squad car in the city had seen them, and it was a standing joke at the station that he’d finally located some street activity. One of the station comedians posted a notice on the board requesting that he file a written report on his activities, detailing all physical contacts.
Even O’Malley got into it when someone pointed out that she looked like the chick who was at the autopsy, and the Captain called him in and read him the riot act about fraternizing with civilians, a legal activity frowned upon by the SPD, which preferred interbreeding among department families, as it promoted the homogenous clan essential to the modern paramilitary police. Avoiding the issue, he bullshitted O’Malley with some crap about Asian gang familiarity that O’Malley knew was crap but accepted because he’d been lying so long his grasp on reality was weak and he preferred the familiarity of delusion to reality.
Perhaps, and this seemed safest, he should just tell her he had some information and tell her to meet him at a restaurant. Then, they could meet without it being a date and he could suggest they order, since it was dinner time, although he still wasn’t sure about the nutritional needs of Vampires outside of the blood, which wasn’t as gross as you would think.
Perhaps, and this seemed terminally risky, he should call her up and tell her he’d like to go to dinner with her. Agony was not knowing how to proceed with this woman and being a coward about it, but he had no way of reading the situation. In fact, he had no way of knowing if it was a situation or a delusion; he’d been thinking about her for so much for so long, it probably was a delusional fantasy.
Perhaps a frank discussion where he could state his feelings and assure her that he didn’t expect the discussion to negatively affect their professional relationship. Perhaps she would appreciate the frontal approach, given her stated aversion to prevaricating policeman in general. Perhaps she would find such an approach unseemly and simplistic, and he should continue to court her in a reserved fashion, given her old world antecedents.
“Perhaps you should shut up,” said Malloy. “And while you’re at it, be sure to drop ‘old world antecedents’ into the conversation. What woman wouldn’t want to be described that way, sounds like something a professor would say at a World Affairs Council meeting.”
Jesse looked out the window as Malloy motored across the Aurora Bridge, hoping for a jumper so he could hop out and do some honest police work and get away from Malloy, who was looking at him like he was crazy.
A major drawback of hanging around with a Vampire was that you couldn’t really talk to your buddies or mother about the unique circumstances and get some advice. He was pretty sure that if anyone he knew was banging a Vampire he’d have heard about it by now. Malloy was the only person who knew what was going on and obviously Malloy knew Vampires and he knew Arabella so, if he could get him talking, maybe he could get some feedback. The only pedestrian walking on the bridge was a gangly woman dressed like Olive Oyl, marching through the drizzle like she’d had too much fiber for breakfast.
Malloy said, “What is the matter with you,” a statement not a question. As they shot by the weathered wood of Canlis’ roof lifting over Lake Union, he wondered how it would be to eat there with her, his only visit had been prom night in a rented tuxedo, ordering the filet mignon medium rare with the Canlis salad please, because that’s what you ate on your first visit to a real restaurant. A corsage pinned to her chest while calculating potential cost and hoping he’d have enough left for dessert.
Perhaps they could explore the menu and she would be impressed; the view was gorgeous and you didn’t ask for anything because they could read minds there and bring you what you didn’t know you needed just when you did.
“Get your head out of your behind, Ortega,” said Malloy, not really displaying any sensitivity.
Perhaps he should man up and ask her out on a date. Tell her it was a date and tell her that he would like to see her on a romantic basis to explore a potential future.
Of course, he was admittedly hazy on the mechanics of Human-Vampire sexuality; he assumed there was such a thing, although maybe Vampires were sterile like mules. No ‘Vampires for Dummies’ at B & N, everything in the search engines on Vampires was ignorant trash. Last night he’d made a list of the pros and cons, the pluses and minuses. Perhaps he should sit down with her and his lists and review them with her right after he asked her if Vampires shared the reproductive possibilities of mules.
Perhaps he should ignore his brain and the crazy messages emanating from it and continue to do his job walking around downtown Seattle in the misty light and hunting Vampires through the degenerate Underground. Truth be told, and he hated it when people prefaced their statements with assurances of truth, the happiest he’d been in a long time was meeting her at some sewer, dropping in and hunting the beasts of the night.
“Ortega, if you’re going to ask her if she’s a mule, I’d like to be present for that if you wouldn’t mind,” said Malloy, “because I’m betting she could pitch your ass at least a block, maybe more.”
Malloy pulled the big Ford to the curb and Arabella opened the rear passenger side door, slid onto the huge back seat and wished them both a pleasant, “Good day.” The car was the Police Interceptor Crown Victoria badged with civilian styling; how Malloy had one as his personal vehicle was a great mystery of life. “If I don’t get one, I don’t go to work,” was his response when Jesse asked how he rated.
“If I said that they’d say good and don’t come back,” was Jesse’s morose reply.
“You’ve got a lot to learn, Boyo” said Malloy, “Hopefully, you’ll be alive long enough.”
“What do you have for me,” asked Arabella, all business, dispensing with the normal Malloy banter. “The Queen sends greetings and wishes to express her concerns that the situation merits attention.”
“Does she,” mused Malloy, wheeling the big Ford into oncoming traffic to get around a bus backing up traffic on First. “She said situation, did she? Be sure and tell her I appreciate her remembering me and will do what I can to relieve the ‘situation’.”
“Sucking up are you?” smirked Jesse.
Malloy pulled the car to the curb so he could turn and face Arabella. “I’ve been able to synthesize a pattern of attacks. They appear to be random throughout the City but my guess is they’re using certain tunnels to spread it around,” passing a bag of blood across the
seatback. “Drink up, you’ll need your strength.”
“Attacks, what kind of attacks?” was all she said, as she punctured the bag with a pinky nail.
“Physical stuff, tavern brawls, and I think they’re using the anarchists as cover. What ties them all together is blood, lots of blood.”
“Smart, very smart, feeding on Humans sub rosa. They’re rising from the depths to feed; once they’re strengthened by blood they will attack.”
“I think it’s time to slow them down a bit,” said Malloy. “Give them something to think about when they’re skulking through the sewers besides their next meal.”
Finished with her snack, she fastidiously folded the plastic bag and slid it into the Malloy-provided trash bag.
“Where?”
In response, Malloy handed her a crisp piece of cream colored paper. It was a hand drawn map with tiny red x’s about a blue artery. She held it up for Jesse to see and he thought it resembled maps of the subways of New York City. “Those are tunnels under the streets.”
Poking a big fat finger at the drawing, Malloy said, “Right there is where the trunk line branches.” They all contemplated the indicated spot. “If it was me I’d set up right along there,” jabbing away with his finger, “Right about there and wait and see what might come walking by.”
Arabella studied the map for a moment longer then, “Nice paper, very nice.” She slowly ran the tips of her fingers across the paper, savoring the unique feeling of hand laid stock.
“Thank you, made it myself, down in the basement.”
“Rag?”
“Cotton and linen, last forever, so good you could print money on it.”
Malloy turned to Jesse and fixed him with that gaze that wasn’t Vampire but was almost as penetrating, “Now what were you saying about me and the Queen?”
As soon as Jesse’s mouth had said it, he’d hoped that it passed unremarked but it was not to be. “Nothing,” said Jesse, “Didn’t mean anything.”
“We’re managing two situations here, Boyo, and both are delicate.”
Jesse sat tight and quiet, embarrassed to be on the end of a lecture.
“One of them’s a pack of Vampires who are rampaging around Seattle. The other’s the Queen, God bless her damn black soul, who’s sitting up there,” nodding toward Queen Anne, “thinking what this situation,” drawing the word into a parody of peat bog brogue, “needs is for her to come down the hill and show everyone who’s the big boss.”
Jesse nodded his head, vigorously.
“We don’t want a pack of Vampires rampaging and we most certainly don’t want a Master Vampire on the move, so we do whatever we have to keep that from happening, capiche?”
Jesse kept nodding.
“And I most certainly am not in the mood to take any crap from you.”
“Jess,” said Arabella, “They are probably foraging in small packs say, three to five at a time.”
“We can handle that.”
“We may be able to set an ambush here,” tapping a delicate finger on the map, “before the tunnel branches and catch the first group unawares.”
“I doubt there’s any cover for us.”
“We’ll set up in a side tunnel and catch them as they come up.”
“No way to know how many there are,” mused Malloy, “might be a nasty surprise.”
“If we set up here,” said Jesse tracing the map, “we could get them between us, one of us takes them head on the other attacks from behind.”
“Better,” said Malloy as Arabella nodded.
“I need to send a message,” said Arabella, sliding across the seat and out the door and walking down an adjacent alley.
An uncomfortable silence settled over the car as they sat waiting for her return. “Sorry I spoke down to you, Jesse, especially in front of her; it was uncalled for.”
Still miffed, Jesse struggled for a response; knowing that Malloy didn’t really owe him didn’t help.
Malloy turned toward him saying, “You be careful down there, this is hand to hand, no quarter, no hesitation and for God’s sake do what she says without question.”
Turning, he looked down the alley; Arabella stopped working her way around the mud puddles and was talking to a pile of trash. After another moment of conversation the trash shook up and down in what Jesse took as assent.
“My brother and I were fighting Underground backing Arabella; I got bit by one of the bastards, when I woke up my brother was dead and I was changed.”
“You’re a Vamp?” gawped Jesse.
“No, it didn’t take; the only effect is I’m aging slowly.”
“That’s good I guess.”
“Only, if you like watching your wife grow old and die. Everyone I ever knew is dead and now my children are old.”
There was nothing to say and Jesse said it, sitting quietly, watching the afternoon drizzle on the windshield.
“You be real careful what you hope for with her.”
“I will,” said Jesse.
“No you won’t, I’m just hoping you don’t end up with a lonely life, a very long sad life.”
“Yeah,” said Jesse facing forward.
“She doesn’t want to get involved with you,” said Malloy.
“What,” blurted Jesse, “what did she say?”
“Nothing, she said nothing.”
“What, what, I don’t understand.”
“She’s got no future; she can either turn you or watch you die, neither alternative is attractive.”
”What if she turned me?”
“Then you’re a Vampire without a Clan. If the Queen doesn’t kill you outright you’re stateless, so’s she. The two of you roam the world looking for blood, maybe she goes back to the Vampire assassination business. Or, you stay Human and you’ve got forty years together; one day you wake up old and she still looks the same. Then, you die and she’s alone.”
“Don’t make it sound so attractive.”
“Nothing attractive about it; starts ugly ends worse.”
Looking out the passenger side window, he saw Arabella scurry from the alleyway with her distinctive steps sliding between the raindrops so that when she entered the car she was scarcely wet. “What have you two been doing?” she demanded, sensitive to Jesse’s confusion and Malloy’s introspection.
“Just bringing Boyo here up to date on the intricacies of close combat Vampire style.”
“We should discuss that,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m ready,” Jesse said, “I’m in.”
“Alright, in that case let’s feed you. I know of a cafe close to where we’re going, Malloy, if you could drop us there. We’ll have time for a nice dinner, then we go Underground.”
“Of course,” said Malloy, firing the V8 and rolling into the street. Using the opportunity, he glanced at Jesse sitting with a stupefied face. “Buckle up, Boyo, it’s going to be a wild ride.”
Today she wore what he’d come to learn were yoga pants, fashionably black, and a half zip gray top. She’d traded in the customary heels for black leather running shoes. “It’s going to be dark and rough down there,” was all she said when he noticed she wasn’t, for the first time ever, wearing heels.
Malloy dropped them at a small restaurant on Capitol Hill that looked like a rustic stone outbuilding with a house-sized front door. The windows were boxed out with polished panes of glass framed in marine grade white. The door was thick wood matching the windows. It was painted a deep rich green shining like a beautiful car in the night, the hardware was polished brass. If the food was as nice as the door, he was going to love this place.
A place he’d never heard of, one that she apparently frequented because the owner made a point of swinging by the table for a quick kiss kiss. She ordered for him, a salad hostile with aggressive lettuce rescued by duck prosciutto and a poached egg topped with harsh garlic croutons, followed by seared scallops in a butter wine sauce and a root vegetable neither he nor anyone he kne
w had ever consumed. She announced that she wasn’t very hungry and if he didn’t mind she’d share off his plate, so he ended up devouring most of both plates with her tasting and savoring tiny bits like they were perfect jewels to be admired, not destroyed.
It was a celebratory dinner, she announced, to mark the first time they went hunting Underground, more an amuse bouche than a proper meal. If he was hungry afterwards they could eat again, but for now they needed to be fortified but light, didn’t he agree. And yes, he did think it was perfect, light but filling the right amount before an evening of Vampire eradication and a memorable spot for their first evening together.
This last delivered lightly but pregnant with subtext, which she blithely ignored, choosing to comment on the wisdom of skipping dessert in order to avoid bogging down in a sugar fugue. Agreeing, he advanced the proposition that even if they weren’t famished post sewer activities, perhaps an evening recap over coffee and profiteroles, whatever they were, would be appropriate summation.
No bill was presented but the owner circled by, wishing them a good evening, pulling out her chair and escorting them to the door where she admonished him to add a little extra to properly reward their server for the excellent, discreet service the chef’s talents deserved.
Taking his arm they exited and, strolling along, they dropped down Mercer into the city proper, prolonging the evening beyond its natural end till they reached an ancient door set back into an alley so that no one would notice it, so unremarkable was its standing. They stood before it as pilgrims before a mystic gate waiting for the secret word to swing it open, or so it seemed to Jesse, till a trash pile in the shadows announced “I have the key.”
