I shook my head, and flipped out the notebook Nick had given me. I punched the number he had written into my cell, and listened to the phone ring.
“Hello, Eric.” Nick’s smug voice greeted me. “Found something, have we?”
“Thomas’ room was ransacked. I found a box of bullets, and there was a note taped to the bottom.”
He made a noise of acknowledgment. “Well, interesting. Not where I would have put it, but maybe he was rushed. What did it say?”
“Well, apart from calling you a bastard, he said this was big, and you needed to call in the big guns. He was in over his head.” I read off the note for him. “Nick, this sounds pretty bad.”
“Top twenty, eh?” He was silent a moment. “That’s interesting. I can’t think of anyone that high on our most wanted who’s operating in Frisco.”
“Frisco, seriously?” I may have not been a native, but there was just some things you too offense to. That was one.
“Sorry, forgot how you local yokels object to that one.” I could hear the eye-rolling on the other side. “It’s a start. Unfortunately, I have no marshals I can send.. It’s just you and Amy. You guys have to do this.”
“Me?” I rolled my eyes. “Jeez Louise, Nick, why can’t you come?”
He laughed. “Oh, I definitely can’t. You’re new to this, Eric.” His voice grew solemn. “There are lots of rules in the Arcane. You may not know these yet, but you’ll find that Amy and I and others like us are limited, though we may seem powerful. There are rules to our game, ones that we must follow, always. No exceptions.”
“Great, I’m getting slammed with the Arcane Prime Directive.”
“Star Trek, really? I took you more for a Star Wars guy.”
I had to laugh. “Hey, I like both. It’s not a crime. I’m a geek, and I take my sci-fi where I can get it.”
“Very well. Anyways, Mister Carpenter, you’re on your own.. Keep Amy close, and, please, don’t get yourself killed. I’d hate to change the status of your file.”
“Wait, I have a file?”
He just answered. “Find Thomas, find the girl.”
The line went dead. I pondered on that for a moment. A guy who was heading a part of the federal government that tracked and hunted law-breaking Arcanes had a file on me. How’s that for scary?
Chapter 9
I have had terrible ideas in life. I was sure this one took the cake. I was going to walk into a vampire bar and do the same exact thing that got a human killed in a regular bar two nights ago. Yea, totally brilliant.
It was my night off. I had earned that after the mess that was the previous night. I left the jeep at my place, and had stashed the brush in my dresser. I felt safe at least in that those were secure as I called a cab to take me to the Last Drop.
I could practically feel the disapproving glance of the cab driver when I told him the address. I mean, I could have made him feel better by telling him I was doing it to go undercover and try to find a missing girl, but my attire didn’t exactly scream ‘professional investigator’. I wore a black shirt and jeans, both of which had seen better days. The collar of the shirt, thankfully, hid the forming scars of the bite from last night. It was hard to believe, but the wound had rapidly healed. I’d have to ask Amy about that.
The cabby dropped me off on the corner near the Last Drop, so I had to walk the rest of it. I suffered his disapproving look as I paid him. Sure, the Arcane races were out of the closet. Didn’t mean that most people had to like it.
I walked to the line and queued up. As I was waiting, I got a call from Matt. “Hey, man what’s going on?” Matt said, greeting me as I answered.
“Oh, just, uh, running some errands tonight. Going to be busy all night. How’s it going?”
“Pretty good. Heard about what happened at the bar last night. You all right, man? I mean, a vampire, damn.”
“I…I’m all right. I guess.” Well, what the hell was I supposed to say? There’s some unspoken rule of society that you always have to say that you’re fine whenever anyone asks.
“All right, well, if you need anything, you give me a call.”
“Yea, sure man. Later.” I hung up, and went back to waiting silently. I was just one of a few dozen waiting in line. I don’t do clubs for this reason. Give me a nice bar any day. After about twenty minutes of waiting, I was ready to leave.
Then I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turned around to face the source.
It was one of the bouncers, a heavy-set man of indeterminate age. He was shorter than me, but he was definitely bigger. “You’re in.” He said in a gruff monotone.
“Excuse me?” I asked. Yes, that was what you were supposed to do. Look the gift horse in the mouth, count its teeth, make sure it's not a vampire.
“You’re in.” He repeated, and started to walk towards the front. I followed, a little surprised.
One person in line, a guy with a goth blond hanging off his arm, protested. “Hey, why does he get to go in? We’ve been waiting out here forever!”
“He was invited,” said the bouncer.
The first thought that ran through my head was, succinctly, “oh, crap.” Who knew me here? Why did I get to go in? Had I attracted attention? What if Darius was in there, looking to finish the job that he’d tried to start last night? That would not be good, in the understatement of the year.
The inside of the club was loud. A loud, rap number with heavy bass filled the dance floor. Dozens of bodies were grinding and slamming against each other. Each dancer seemed as lewd and careless as the next. People of various ethnicities, all dressed to their nines of skimpy and alluring clothes. I felt out of place, in my t-shirt and jeans. I hadn’t thought of looking like vampire bait tonight.
The Last Drop was bigger than it looked. I had taken a few stairs down to get to the entrance to the club, which occupy to inhabit the entire two-story building. A large dance floor inhabited the center of the club, with booths lining the walls. To the right was a bar, easily twice the size of the one at McLellan’s, with two bartenders working at breakneck speed. I wasn't too shabby when it came to making drinks, but they were damn good.
I felt a little lost in the club. I’d been invited, but no one had come to see me in besides the bouncer. That person was obviously interested in me, in some way, shape, or form, and it would have been pretty rude to just go off without introducing myself. Ah, the wonders of having a country upbringing.
But I couldn’t just stand in the doorway. So, I decided to venture out into the club. I headed towards the bar and ordered a beer from a bartender with a face way too pale to be alive.
I’d just found myself a stool to sit on when a woman approached me. She was dressed in a black dress, exposing long dusky limbs. Her legs seemed to go on forever, and it took me a moment to pull my eyes away. The rest of her was hardly horrific to look at. Curves in just the right proportions filled her slinky dress. She had dark hair that tumbled down to her shoulders, and big, dark eyes.
“You know,” She started, her voice a soft purr. “Pretty little morsels like yourself should not just be left to wander around unattended.”
I felt a little uncomfortable at that moment. I hate being sized up like she was doing. “I’m not food.”
“Oh, but the smell.” She said, and leaned closer to me. She inhaled from where I’d been bit. “It’s fresh, but healed. Fascinating.”
“I wasn’t aware I was a lab rat to study.” I remarked, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
“Not a lab rat, but an anomaly, for sure.” She remarked. “You wonder how you got in, right, with no connections here?” At my nod, she answered. “First-timers aren’t as welcome here. You, however, you have spirit, and you’ve been bit before…” She moved to trace a finger across my arm.
I grabbed her wrist, even if I knew I couldn’t out muscle her. “Not by choice.” I said. “Hands off, Missy.”
“Missy?” She giggled. “I’m easily ten times your age, and you call me ‘Missy�
��? I think I like you.” She made as if to power my arm off her wrist, but froze as her hand darted to mine, mid air.
I watched her as she remained there with an inhuman stillness. She didn’t breathe, didn’t move at all. “Uh, hello?” I waved my free hand. “Anyone home?”
Her eyes fluttered a moment, the first sing of movement. Then her big dark eyes locked on mine. “Come with me, you’ve attracted his interest.”
She took a step back, and I let go of her wrist. “And just who is he?” I asked her.
“Why, the Count.” She said. “He has offered you his hospitality and wishes for you to introduce yourself to him.”
She gestured in a direction, towards a corner where some stairs led up to the second floor. I started off, with her at my side. “I’m Eric.” I said. “Can I at least have the name of the woman who sniffed me up?”
“Teresa.” She said, her voice practically purring. “In my defense, you’re an interesting smell, Eric.”
“Yea, so I’ve been told.” I guessed, from the way she moved, she was a vampire. But what was that odd freezing thing? “So, uh, what’s the deal with you vampires and smells? And weres for that matter too?”
We walked up the stairs, Teresa handling them very well despite the heels she wore. “Both of us have need of it. It allows us to tell territory, to tell what things truly are, to differentiate friend from foe, predator from prey.” She grinned when she said the last word.
“And my smell told you what?”
“Your smell lied.” She smiled. “You smelt like prey, but your actions proved otherwise.” A chuckle escaped her well-formed lips. “Tricky little thing, you are.”
The stairs brought us to a hallway. Teresa walked up to the first door on the left, and opened it. I followed her.
The room proved to be a suite, looking over the main floor of the club. The room was an interesting clash of opposites. It was well-furnished, but practical. I didn’t know interior decorating, but I could tell when people paid a lot for their furniture. Once upon a time, I had tried to move in those kinds of circles.
The opening out onto the floor of the club showed the main floor, with the horde of bodies moving and writhing. To the side furthest from the door were several chairs. Only one was inhabited at the moment, with a few people standing.
It was the man in the chair who caught my eye. He was definitely a vampire. I could feel, already, the power that pulsed from him, the sheer dark energy that emanated from him. His features were sharp. Strong jaw, angular features, and a widow’s peak defined his face. The man wore black, with a silk poet’s shirt and pants that I was sure cost as much as a month’s rent for me. It’s the little things that are the most disheartening.
Teresa spoke, but what she said wasn’t English. High school French was nearly a decade ago, but none of the words were familiar. It wasn’t a Romance language, I could tell that much.
The man nodded, and spoke. “I think that, to earn the trust of this one, we should switch to the tongue of the land, no?” His voice held an accent to it, one I couldn’t even begin to identify. Accents are hard to place, a lot of the time, because teachers and origins can seriously screw with our preconceptions of an accent. He wasn't from this neck of the woods, though.
“Of course, Count.” Teresa nodded. “This one calls himself Eric.”
“Eric Carpenter, sir.” I answered. “Or, uh, Count.”
“Ishmael.” The man introduced himself. He gave me an inquisitive look, catching something on my face. “Something amuses you?”
“Ever read Herman Melville?” I asked him. At his nod, I said. “I have a Master’s in English Literature. I can make the jokes, but I won’t.”
“I commend your self-control. Much more foolish men have made jests at me, and I don’t enjoy being the brunt of a joke.” He rose, his movements slower than Teresa’s had been. But he moved with a slow, easy grace, as if he expended no effort at all in standing. “I am Count Ishmael, ruler of the district of the California Bay Area, and all vampires who dwell in it.”
“It’s a pleasure, Count Ishmael.” I said. “Thank you for your offer of hospitality.”
Ishmael laughed, and started to walk towards me. “Well, you have courtesy, Eric Carpenter. That’s a rare thing in this day and age.” He extended a hand to me.
I shook it, and as I did, tingles flew up my spine. What the hell was that? I struggled to say something for a moment, before stumbling out with. “Well, what can I say? My grandma raised me with just a drop of respect.”
He let go of my hand, and turned to sit back down. “And was it from your grandmother that you got your power?”
I froze. Damn, this man had my number. It was a bit scary, to be honest. I was at a disadvantage, plain and simple. “My power?” I asked.
“My, is there an echo in here, Teresa?” Ishmael asked as he seated himself back in the chair.
Teresa smiled. “Why, I think there is, sir.”
I bristled, feeling very much like the prey Teresa said I smelled like. Ishmael shrugged, and held a hand up, as if to placate me. “Sorry, Mister Carpenter. I couldn’t resist. You are a witch, yes?”
I figured he could probably smell it if I lied. So, reluctantly, I answered. “Yes.”
He nodded. “There are few vampires who are old enough to remember what a witch smelled like.” He studied me, looking me over. “Not a line I know, but that’s no surprise. It’s been two centuries since I’ve seen one of yours.”
“And what about it?” I asked.
“I’m unsure, as of yet. Your kind is known for being troublemakers and ones to tip balances of power. But, that can be interesting.” He sniffed the air a moment. “Is that silver I smell?”
Again, I knew better than to lie. “Yes, it is.”
“He’s clever.” Teresa remarked. “Our guard didn’t detect it.”
A noise of disapproval escaped Ishmael. “I’ll have to dock his pay for that one. Silver shouldn’t be in here. We’ll let that one slide, though. You could see how we could construe that as a threat, yes?” he said, and I nodded. “So, you were bitten last night?”
“Yes, Count.” I nodded. “A vampire named Darius thought I had information he wanted, and he tried to suck it out of me.”
“Darius.” He furrowed his brow, and then looked to Teresa. “That name is not familiar to me. Teresa?”
“He is not one of your subjects, sir,” she supplied.
“In my territory, and he doesn’t declare himself.” A growling noise bubbled from his throat, and his lips peeled back. He flashed his fangs for only a moment. “Would you like justice, Mister Carpenter?”
“Yea, I would.” I nodded, though I admit I had a bit more growl in my voice than I intended. Yea, I was pissed about it. “Since I got bit, all this shit’s happened to me. I’m not complaining about the supernatural, but I was assaulted.”
“He would have to have been seen to, even if you did not seek justice.” Ishmael said. “I would have hunted him. He drank of a witch, and that always causes...complications.”
“Complications?” I asked.
“When a vampire drinks of an Arcane’s blood, there is a small chance of gaining its powers. Vampires who drink from weres can, over time, develop the ability to change their form. From a Fae, some abilities of glamour. But a witch…this is interesting.” He stroked the line of his jaw, pondering.
“Interesting? What do you mean?”
“Witch’s blood is strong. Once, many years ago, I tasted it. He may well develop powers. That will make him dangerous. And he may come for more. If he drained you, oh…that is a scary thought.” He smiled. “I suggest you find protection soon. Ally yourself with one of the players in town. After you find your protection, you can safely move in these circles.”
“Ally myself? How does that work?” I asked him.
“Well, it’s simple. You would approach one of the leaders. The Alpha of the were packs, myself, or maybe one of the minor players in the city.
Any one of them would probably accept a witch like you. In return, you would serve as a vassal to them. You would be a knight, your sword employed in return for political protection.”
“You’re kidding.” I sighed. “That’s…that’s…really old-fashioned.”
“Indeed, but we Arcanes are old creatures. We hate to remove ourselves from trends that, for us, are only a few generations past.”
“Well, I’ll think on it.” I said. I reminded myself that my reason for coming here wasn’t to learn every minutiae of Arcane society. “But in the mean time, I have a few questions I’d like to ask. Maybe someone already came by and asked them, an investigator named Raymond Francis.”
Ishmael shook his head. “No, I know no such name.”
“Then how about a U.S. marshal, James Thomas?”
“Thomas, now him I remember.. He came asking some questions about our clientele. What is this regarding?”
“A woman who came here, Sam Coolidge. She was a werefox, about twenty-four or so.” I summoned my best memory of her. “Average height, short blond hair, very cheery disposition.”
“I know her. Your information, I will give, but at a price.” Ishmael said.
“A price?”
“All things have a price. The modern world worships the god of coin, but we trade in something a little less tangible in our world, Mister Carpenter.”
“And what do you trade in, Ishmael?” I asked, already regretting it the moment I did.
“Favors. I will give you information you require, but in return, I wish for a favor. I like you, Mister Carpenter. You’re interesting, and…sincere. I think we can work together. I promise I will not ask anything to compromise your morals. Only that you do a favor for me sometime in the future.”
“Sure.” Okay, remember when I said that walking into this club was a terrible idea?
Oh, I knew nothing.
Chapter 10
West Coast Witch Page 6
