The smile on Alexander’s face fell, but only for a moment. “Never mind my concern,” he said, albeit more strained than before. “I am asking you.”
This nice version of Alexander was unnerving me. “You don’t do questions; you do threats and intimidation. So I’ll ask you again, what the hell do you know about the pieces?”
Alexander’s mood was falling. “Would you prefer it if I started straight off with the torture and threats?”
I gambled. “You guys beat me to the exhibit. You put the fake knife in there, didn’t you? What, did I stumble in before you could get the rest of them?”
Alexander frowned. “Never mind my interest, the topic at hand is yours.”
“No. You want to have a civilized conversation with me? Fine, you go first.”
He swore in French. “This is getting us nowhere—tell me what you were doing.”
“Or else what?” I snorted. “Come on, you gave me a gas mask, for Christ’s sake—what kind of vampire does that?”
“I’m trying to be reasonable so we can come to a mutually beneficial exchange of information.”
“How stupid do I look? You don’t do reasonable.”
Captain bleated, as if in agreement.
Alexander sighed, closed his eyes, and counted to ten. I think he added something derogatory in there, but my French is bad on a good day.
After he finished counting, Alexander opened the bag. “Since you wish me to start and I have no wish of remaining here all evening in you and your horrendous cat’s company—” He pulled the bowl out first, holding it too close to my face for comfort. I drew in a sharp breath and leaned back.
Alexander smiled. “Ahh. We both see you are not so ignorant,” he said, and placed the bowl near my feet. Alexander and his cronies had removed my shoes when they’d placed me in here. Restrained bare feet on wet floor that near a cursed item—you do the math. I felt a bead of sweat form on my neck.
From what Lady Siyu had suggested, only the higher-up supernaturals should be able to handle the cursed items. Alexander as a vampire had started off as human—that type of supernatural tended to have a harder time with magic. Hell, magic curse was how they ended up not human in the first place. “How come you can handle those?”
Alexander’s smile widened. “Because, ma chérie, as a vampire I am already cursed. Only one curse at a time, you could say—rather like one of your ‘coupons.’ ”
I would have rolled my eyes at his attempt at colloquial phrases—a bad habit of his—but I was too busy watching the bag and the remaining items.
Vampires feed off fear. They live for it, they can smell it. Alexander was practically salivating. “However, you do not have the same . . . immunity.” He withdrew the flint next and arranged it on the other side of my feet, corralling them between the cursed items. He leaned as close as he dared without coming in range of Captain. “Now, unless you wish to test the truth behind the curses, you will tell me where you found them and why you deigned to remove them from their resting place.” He extended his foot so it was almost touching the bowl.
Oh for God’s sake, not Alexander too . . .
“If by ‘resting place’ you mean Daphne Sylph’s display room, I found out about it like everyone else in this century. Google.”
A sharp breath escaped between his pursed lips. “I think you take me for a fool, ma chérie.” And with that, he pushed the bowl forward with the tip of his expensive Italian leather shoes. “Now, their proper resting place?”
Shit. I curled my toes back out of reflex. I was watching his feet, not his face . . . “Look, I know you’re probably going to find this hard to believe, but I didn’t actually break into the City of the Dead. It was someone else—pretending to be me.”
“You who takes me for the idiot again.” This time he pushed the flint closer, and once again I shifted my feet. I’d run out of space soon.
“Look—I realize everyone is having a hard time believing it wasn’t me, especially since apparently some asshole is selling artifacts under my name, but this is some other asshole . . . impersonating me . . .”
“Then why are they now again in your possession? I find that a rather unlikely coincidence.”
“Because I had nothing better to do on a Friday night—hey!” I yelled as he pushed the bowl closer.
“Whereas others may find you funny, I do not.”
Asshole. “If I was the thief who stole them in the first place, would I bother breaking into Daphne’s—a siren, I might add—to steal them back?”
Alexander regarded me, a frown touching his face. “If the dragon was angry enough? Perhaps, especially if you did the theft behind his back, which I well know you are wont to do.”
Open one sarcophagus . . . I shook my head. “OK, despite the fact that was the most intelligent thing I’ve ever heard you say—the answer is no, for one very good, logical reason.”
“And what would that be, chérie?”
This time I leaned in, just so Alexander could see I meant it. “Simple—if the dragon thought for one second I actually stole those items and sold them behind his back, I’d be dead already—or halfway across some deserted wasteland.”
Alexander sat back, considering what I’d said. “Agreed. The dragon would not suffer you to live for taking these items without his approval.”
If it hadn’t been for those last few words . . . “Oh come on—you seriously think the dragon would want those things unearthed?”
“If he thought they posed a greater threat running wild and free? Certainly.”
I rolled my eyes. “OK, yeah—” Especially since Mr. Kurosawa had done almost that exact same thing before making me fetch the scroll. “But that’s not the case here. And you still haven’t told me what the hell you want with them.”
Alexander still looked skeptical. He reached out and pushed the bowl closer again.
I swore. The worst part was Alexander wouldn’t be breaking rules if I ended up cursed. He wasn’t allowed to kill me, specifically—where supernatural deals were concerned, “made me touch an ancient cursed artifact” was gray area.
He edged his foot towards the flint piece.
OK, now time to panic . . . “Look, Alexander, my phone is in the front pocket. Call Mr. Kurosawa, he’ll back up my story.”
Instead of pushing the piece of flint towards me though, he pulled it back and placed it back in the bag. I didn’t like the smile that spread across his face or the blackening of his eyes.
“From what I understand, Owl, I believe your agreement with Mr. Kurosawa means that you need to retrieve the three items? Yes? Then find the thief?”
I hadn’t told Alexander about the thief. A cold chill ran up my spine.
Alexander continued. “I wonder what will happen if I call Mr. Kurosawa and mention I saw you take the pieces and disappear. I am certain Daphne will back up the story. Why have suspicion fall on me and my vampires, when you were so conveniently in my way? And as for what I want with the pieces, it is, as you say, none of your goddamn business.” The evil look I expected from Alexander filled his eyes.
Great, one thief uses me as a scapegoat, and everyone else figures it’s a free-for-all. “You goddamn low-life son of a bitch—let me out and give me those pieces back.”
Alexander held both hands out to the side. “Or what? What do you suggest you can do from there?” He crouched down inches away from me. “Absolutely nothing,” he said, and tapped the top of the gas mask. “I believe I shall leave this on. I wonder whether letting my children bite first will be more painful that way.”
“You son of a bitch—I helped you in Bali—”
His polite demeanor fell as he snarled, “You locked us in a pit for days while you paraded the fact outside. We vampires have some pride.”
“Oh get over yourself. You’d have backed yourself into a corn
er with the Contingency if it hadn’t been for me.” The Contingency being the group in charge of vampires.
“Consider this my retribution for the embarrassment. Let us see how you like being locked up and useless in a hole for three days.”
Evil, fucking, no-good vampires. Not that I’d really expected anything else, but still . . . “Retribution? You assholes were trying to kill me. Hell, I handed over Bindi and Red. I ought to get some credit for that—”
Alexander spread out his hands. “What is the expression? Ah, I know, ‘Like I give a flying fuck.’ ” He made sure to flash his teeth, just to remind me what he could really do if he wanted. “And perhaps after a little misuse at the hands of my fledglings, I shall let you and your wretched cat roam free.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps you will be a vampire by then, who can say?” And with that, Alexander got up to leave, bag in hand.
“Hey! Come back and say that when I’m holding a UV light and my cat isn’t tied up, asshole!”
But having made his point, Alexander left.
I leaned my head against the wall and started to work on my restraints. I wouldn’t break them, but maybe with enough sweat I could pull my wrist through—minus some skin. Or, if I was really lucky, Rynn had been able to GPS my phone, unless Alexander had buried me and it under floors of concrete with no reception.
Damn it, when did Alexander get smart?
Captain mewed.
“Yeah, I know. Not exactly how I’d hoped to see the Sunset Strip, either,” I said. At least the gas mask meant I couldn’t smell Captain’s retaliation urine anymore.
Small comforts.
By my guess, roughly an hour had passed. The music was still going up top, so not closing time yet—if the Sunset Strip ever closed. . . . That was a sobering and unsettling thought.
Oh yeah, and my hands were bleeding. Did that count for progress? Probably not, since my hands were still bound by the metal twist ties.
Captain, however, was sitting on my restrained legs, wondering why the hell I wasn’t up yet. Apparently no carrier or burlap sack could withstand the determined wrath of Captain. Now, if he could only pick locks . . .
Hermes’s comment about me being a fuckup came to mind.
However long I’d been here, my ears were on edge, and I heard the scrape against the door before the handle began to turn.
Feeding time, and me with my wrists all nicely bloodied up as an appetizer. Captain, also hearing the noise, wriggled his hind end.
Maybe there’d only be one or two. I nodded to the spot behind the door, and Captain obliged. The one bonus to being in a vampire den for the past hour was that Captain had acclimatized to the pheromones and had stopped growling at everything.
The door creaked open an inch, and Captain readied himself.
“Wait,” I mouthed. Another few inches open . . .
The door opened and Captain pounced, claws first, as Artemis stuck his head through.
Captain, realizing midair he wasn’t attacking a vampire, sheathed his claws and more or less bounced off Artemis’s stomach. I say more or less because Captain packs a punch.
Artemis and Captain watched each other, Artemis wary and Captain . . . well, Captain just waiting. “Did the cat . . . ?” he said, pointing.
“Long story. Short version: he thought you were a vampire.” My relief at seeing him and not a vampire was warp-speed short-lived. “Artemis, you had one lousy job to do! Warn me if anyone was coming!”
Artemis raised a finger. “I said I’d keep watch—which I did. It just so happens I also said I wasn’t going to risk my neck saving you, which, by the way, confronting Daphne would have been.”
“Then why the hell did you offer?”
“Because I didn’t actually think she’d come herself! Besides, I came to get you out, didn’t I?”
I shook my head and held out my wrists. Worst incubus escort ever. Well . . . no, not in that way—forget it. “Just please say you have a knife.”
Artemis pulled out a box cutter and slit the metal binds. “Come on, we need to leave now,” he said, pulling me up and out the door.
“One second. I need my bag.”
“Seriously? Get my cousin to buy you a new one. We’re not rifling around a vampire den.”
“Yes seriously.” I pulled away, towards a side door. Artemis tried to grab my arm again, but I danced out of the way.
“Shit,” he said. “Look, the only reason I’m here is so my dear cousin doesn’t kill me for letting you out of my sight. Now come on. I have no intention of tangling with a pack of vampires. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly my cousin.” He snarled the last few words.
I didn’t budge. “Well, I’m as good as dead without the items, so consider it saving your own skin.”
Artemis swore, but instead of trying to grab me, he checked the hallway. “All right, this way. I think I saw an office when I came in.”
“How did you make it past the vampires anyways?”
“Hmmm—oh I got one of the girls to bring me down. They’ve got human employees—for the daytime shifts they have to. The young vampires get cranky during the day, and it’s bad for business when beer delivery men keep disappearing. Vampire pheromones coursing through their blood does make them easy targets though. Doesn’t quite seem fair.”
“Wait—you got downstairs seducing some poor bar staff?”
Artemis glanced over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t be so quick to the pity party. She did say she was a big fan.”
Even if Artemis saw me roll my eyes, somehow I doubted he cared.
He shoved me into a side storage room full of beer kegs as a pair of girls came down the stairs. The growl I had to muffle from Captain told me these were vampires—or at least full-blown junkies.
As soon as they turned the corner, Artemis led me a little ways up the hall to a door marked OFFICE. Through the window I could see my bag sitting on the desk. I tried the door. Locked. “Shit—got a lock pick handy?”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Artemis said, and forced the door open. He shrugged when I stared at him. “Being stronger than humans occasionally has its uses.”
I ducked into the room and grabbed my bag first. Now for the artifacts . . . I started searching the drawers.
“Hurry it up, more people are coming.”
“Vampires, not people.”
“In this instance, the difference is a moot point. I told Rynn I’d get you out, not save you from a horde of vampires.”
“Great, go on. I’m out, so not your problem.”
Artemis snorted. “If only. Unfortunately my cousin will beg to differ.”
I ignored him. Come on, brain, if I were a bag of loot, where would I be? My World Quest reflexes kicked in and I started opening the closets and throwing books off shelves . . . I spotted a white satchel behind a row of books on the third shelf.
Artemis was still keeping watch and swore. “There’s two coming down the stairs,” he whispered. “I can hear the panic and adrenaline—and what the hell are you doing?”
“Making sure everything is still here.” Inside the bag were the bowl, flint, and fake sword. I shoved them inside my bag and thought about giving the room a cursory look for the real sword, but Artemis motioned for me to squat on the other side of the door while team number two walked by at a crawl. They began sticking their heads in each room. Shit . . . The woman looked through the office window but didn’t spot us. I tightened my hold on Captain’s scruff, doing my best to muffle his growl until they moved down to the storage room.
Artemis grabbed me and shoved me out of the room. “Up the stairs, before they get thorough.”
Vampires shouted behind us, but we had the head start. Captain squirmed under my arm as I pushed the door to the upstairs club open. The place was packed—mostly a punk crowd here to see the punk band on stage.
I could barely hear the lead singer screaming over the drum and guitars—though this was a bar band, and that might have been the point.
Well, best way to lose the vampires was to blend in with the flock of sheep.
It was standing room only, so I pushed my way in. Artemis, figuring I wasn’t moving fast enough, darted around me. Why the hell hadn’t I thought to grab my damn shoes?
I did my best to make sure no one jostled the artifacts or Captain too badly. If I was smart, I’d have given the bag to Artemis to carry, but visions of the pieces rolling across the floor coming into contact with multiple people stopped me.
Even in the dim lighting, Artemis still managed to garner looks from the crowd. “You stick out like a sore thumb,” I said.
“That’s because when I’m in a dive bar, I’m usually drinking,” he yelled over his shoulder, and reached back to grab me. “Hurry it up—I’m not about to end up on the vampires’ shit list.”
We were getting close to the front of the club and hadn’t been spotted by the vampires yet. We probably would have made it to the door in a few more steps if I hadn’t caught sight of a familiar face; a petite brunette in a lawyer-black suit, the same one who’d been standing outside the catacomb dig in Egypt.
Our eyes met, and she lifted her hand, signaling to other agents.
Shit. And me with the bag of goods slung over my shoulder . . . I grabbed Artemis by the collar of his jacket and ground to a halt, almost slipping on spilled beer in the process.
Off balance, Artemis glared at me over his shoulder.
“IAA,” I shouted, and pointed at the entrance, where more suits had appeared.
Artemis swore. “Is there anyone you don’t manage to piss off?” He altered our course towards the signs that indicated washrooms.
Fantastic; more urine and stale beer.
I did my best to keep up. Artemis wasn’t exactly in “let’s keep the band together” mode; more like “save my own goddamned skin.” Considering how often his band Kaliope split up, that didn’t surprise me.
Owl and the City of Angels Page 21
