by Kit Hallows
“Morgan!” Samuel called as I approached. The group turned my way and I recognized a few creeps I’d come to blows with over the years. One gave me a hateful look and his hand strayed toward whatever he was concealing below his manky winter coat.
“Morgan, meet my new friends. Good men and women all!” Samuel clapped a hand on my shoulder and everyone around him seemed to soften a little, caught as they were in his spell. “Now, if you don’t mind,” Samuel said to them, “I need to talk to this man in private.” A chorus of mutters and tuts filled the air but slowly the group disbanded and wandered away.
“I see your charms work on rats as well as people,” I said as I took a seat across from Astrid.
“Now, now, Morgan, those were fine upstanding citizens,” Samuel grinned. “And it’s always wise to mix with people from every strata of life. You never know when such alliances might come in handy. Now, how’s about I get this empty pitcher filled with something dark and frothy.” He grabbed it from the table and strode toward the heaving bar as Astrid opened her eyes.
It took her a moment to focus on me. She looked exhausted and I wondered if she’d fully recovered from the healing rituals she’d performed on me after our battle with Wyght and her coven.
“Hello, Morgan.” She gave me a slow, soft smile and sat up.
“How are you?”
“Better for seeing you.”
I returned her smile, it was impossible to hold it back and I was thankful we were tucked away in a shadowy bar as my cheeks reddened. For some reason, whenever she complimented me it made me feel like I did back in high school, off guard. Exposed. I was about to try and summon a suitable response when Samuel appeared, pitcher and empty tankard in hand. He filled it for me and shoved it my way then topped Astrid’s glass along with his own. “So,” he said, “what’s been happening? You look like you’ve just fought your way out of a room filled with overly amorous ogres.”
“Not quite. But yeah, I just had an interesting experience,” I said and took a sip of beer. It was surprisingly good, deep and nutty with a hint of pine. “We just had our very own official bank robbery.”
“The first? Really?” Samuel looked doubtful. And then he looked… interested, and I could almost see the wheels turning in his mind.
“No, not the first. And before you get any ideas, the banks here are not easy pickings,” I said. “No, I meant the first time someone from the magical community openly robbed a bank without even attempting to hide their abilities. The guy was wielding some serious magic, as if he didn't have a care in the world, right in front of an audience of blinkered cops.” I took another drink. “Which is perfect seeing as the media’s already been a hornet’s nest after Wyght's little stunt in Temple Park.”
“How did you explain that away?” Astrid asked. “There were so many dead. So much destruction.”
“The Organization combed over the scene pretty intensely. Then Haskins put out a disinformation campaign calling it a terrorist incident,” I said. “It seemed the blinkered authorities swallowed it for the most part, or maybe they were paid off. But this robbery isn’t exactly going to help matters.”
“I don’t understand, why a robbery? Why would anyone from the magical community need blinkered cash?” Astrid asked. Especially when there are so many other ways to acquire whatever you desire.”
“I don’t know either,” I admitted. “But under the circumstances, that magician’s not likely to be on the loose for very long. Maybe he'll shed some light on his motives before he gets hauled off to Stardim, but right now I’m more concerned with Stroud and his plans. Are you any closer to finding Endersley?”
“No,” Samuel said, “but we did manage to round up some new folks that’ll be keeping an eye on the Hinterlands in case he tries to pass through there again. They’re not what I’d call ideal, but they’ll get the job done as long we're paying them. Which was something else we had to take care of.”
Astrid coughed and I saw her give a slight shake of her head. Clearly they’d been up to no good while they were away, not that I cared. I policed this world as best I could, not theirs. At least I knew they had a code of conduct, even if it was shot through with many shades of grey. “Before you left,” I said, changing the subject, “you mentioned bloodsuckers hiding Endersley. Did you mean vampires?”
“Yup,” Samuel said, with a slight shiver, “horrible things. We tried taking them down, and we got a few of ‘em, but in the end there were just too many.”
“While we were fighting them off, Endersley slipped away,” Astrid added.
“Right,” I said. “Well, it sounds like tracking them down is the best lead we have right now. What did they look like?” I asked, before finishing off the rest of the beer and pushing the tankard aside. There was work to do.
“Sharp teeth, starey eyes-” Samuel began.
“They were very… tight,” Astrid said. “Coordinated. At first glance I thought we could eliminate them before they could so much as blink, but things didn’t turn out that way. They had a leader, a vampiress. White hair, but she was young and there was a scar running down the side of her face. Does she sound familiar?”
I shook my head. “I’ve been out the loop with the comings and goings of vampires since this business with Stroud began. But Talulah might know something about them seeing as she’s of that persuasion herself.” I pulled my phone out and was about to call Books, Nooks, Oddments, and Glamors, when I noticed more than a few of The Coin’s patrons glancing our way. “Excuse me,” I said as I stood and strode outside.
“Morgan Rook,” Talulah said as she answered. “You just caught me on my way out. What do you need? A cure? A tonic? Information?” I could hear the smile in her voice. “You still owe me, you know.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” I said, “but you're right, I do have another favor to ask. I’m looking for a vampire. Or a vampiress to be more precise.”
“Well, it looks like you just got lucky.”
“Not you, Talulah, magnificent though you are. No, I’m looking for a young lady with long white hair and a scar on her face. Do you know her?”
“I can’t say that I do. But then I tend to fraternize with all types, not just my own. My grandfather on the other hand is far less cosmopolitan and likes to stick to his own crowd, so you’d probably have better luck asking him.”
I shuddered. The last time I’d dealt with Talulah’s grandfather was just after I’d been stricken with a particularly horrendous curse. I remembered him lurking in the back of Talulah’s shop; a creepy, ancient vampire with horribly appraising eyes. “Can you give me his number?” I asked.
Talulah snorted. “Grandpa doesn’t do phones. Hates them even more than I do. If you want to talk to him you’ll have to toddle along and see him. He lives on Hopswytch, number seventeen. Tell him I sent you and to keep his eyes off your jugular.”
“Will do.”
“Watch yourself, Morgan. He can be… unstable.”
“Perfect,” I said. “Well thank you… I think.”
“No problem, I’m adding it to your tab.”
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the cold air as I glanced down Lunar Avenue. Night was closing in and it seemed even darker than usual. The moon was just a sliver hidden by a steady ragged bank of rainclouds and the atmosphere felt even more charged, if that was possible. It put me on edge, made me jittery. Like things were about to go south. Big time.
5
Hopswytch Street was a grim line of gloomy shops that had apartments stacked upon their second or third stories, and straddled the border between the magical quarter and the blinkered city. The air was quite sour and carried an irrepressible sense of imminent danger, a deliberate deterrent for blinkereds who might otherwise wander down roads that weren’t made for them. We walked on, ignoring the odd stares and questioning glances from the hookers and crystal dealers lingering along the sidewalk.
We came to a stop outside a shadowy doorway next to a butcher sho
p with an ornate gold seventeen painted on the glass. I glanced through the window; the place didn’t look like it was doing much business. The cold cases were empty and the counters clear but for a few knives and long sheets of stark white paper. “Nice,” Samuel said, as he peered in through the window. “Seems like an ideal cover for dismembering and disposal.”
“And you haven’t even met Feist yet. You’re in for a real treat,” I said as I rang the bell.
The door swung right open and I saw Feist lurking by a darkened stairwell. There was just enough light from the nearby streetlamp to make out a few details, like the old white shirt he wore and the suspenders that held up his long trousers but could do nothing about the cuffs that sagged around his gnarled feet. He’d worn the same outfit the first time I’d met him. He stepped forward and I noticed that the liver spots on his face had multiplied and his straggly beard was longer. All in all he looked about ready for the grave, yet his eyes were as bright as a newborn babe’s as they flitted over me. “Yes?” he asked, his voice gruff. He glanced from me to Samuel and then to Astrid, and his tongue flickered over his dry, cracked lips.
The last time I’d met him I’d caught a glimpse under the magical cloak he’d disguised himself with and I could still remember his true and ancient form; that skin the color of moonlight and the long, long fangs. “Good evening, Mr. Feist,” I said, offering a faltering smile.
He continued to stare then stepped forward, sniffing me. “We’ve met before,” he said, his accent thick, possibly Eastern European. He licked his lips again and peered out to the street behind us, before offering a cold, unpleasant grin. “Yes, I remember you.”
“Sure, I’m Morgan Rook” I said, “we met at your granddaughter’s shop a while back.”
“Yes, I remember that too. You were…dying. So tell me, why have you come?”
“Talulah sent me.”
“Did she?” He asked. The air flickered and before I knew it, his cold bony hand was resting on my shoulder. Astrid stepped beside me, one hand beneath her cloak. Feist nodded. “Then you are much welcome. Come in. You and your charming friends.”
I glanced at the doorway and wondered if there were any rituals for entering a vampire’s house, and if non-vampires had to be invited over their thresholds. Either way I wasn’t exactly enthusiastic as I stepped into the gloom and waited for Astrid and Samuel to join me.
We stood in awkward silence as Mr. Feist appraised each of us then slowly closed the door, plunging us into darkness. My hand strayed to my gun. What the hell had I been thinking…
“This way,” Mr. Feist said, his breath frosty and sour in my ear. I heard him ascending a flight of stairs. Slowly, and awkwardly, the three of us followed, climbing up into shadows. As we neared the top a door creaked open, casting a dim light onto the final steps.
“Come,” Feist said.
We entered his tiny living room. It was sparsely furnished. A crumpled sofa, a lone chair set before a dining table, a dank empty fireplace, and a few scattered old photographs of severe-looking people staring out from gilded frames.
“One moment please,” Feist passed through a door in a corner of the room and returned with a bottle of vodka and a coffee mug marred with muddy-red stains. “Drink?” he said, as he filled the cup, took a long sip and handed it to me.
“I’m okay thanks,” I said.
“You?” he asked, offering the cup to Astrid. She shook her head, and even Samuel turned it down. “Suit yourselves,” Feist said, as he walked over to Astrid and Samuel, sniffing the air above their heads. “Is good,” he said. “Your scents. Succulent.” He moved in closer to Astrid but she stepped away and before I knew it, there was a dagger in her hand.
Mr. Feist exploded with dry, rasping laughter. “I will never hurt you! This man,” he nodded to me. “This man is friend of my granddaughter. This means he, and those who walk with him, are my friends too. Trust me, my dear, I’m man of honor.” His eyes twinkled as they found me. “Now tell me, what brings you to my home on a stormy night such as this?”
“We’re looking for some people.”
“People?” Feist asked.
“Well, you know, people of your kind.”
“Vampires? Don’t be afraid to say this word out loud, it won’t bite.” He smiled, but his gaze lingered on my throat.
“Yes, vampires,” I said. “We’re looking for a gang run by a young-looking woman with white hair and a scar-”
“Helena Castle.” He turned and spat into the empty fireplace. “That bitch!”
“You’re not fond of her then,” Samuel said.
“Samuel!” Astrid gave him a withering glare.
Feist shook his head. “I kill her.”
“You killed her?” I asked.
“Not yet, but I will. I kill her, I swear it. She is old enemy.” Slowly his face softened and I could see the machinations passing through his eyes. “You’re looking for them? You want fight?” He stood taller, more alert. “We attack them, yes?”
“If we have to,” I said. “But right now I just want to talk to her.”
“There’s plenty of them. Too many for me to defeat alone,” Feist said. “But together, me and your finely scented friends, together we smash them.” He walked into the kitchen and returned with a meat cleaver, its blade glistening in the dim light.
I suppressed my sigh. “Like I said, we’re planning on talking to them first.”
Feist shook his head like he was dealing with a disagreeable child. “They won’t talk to you. You want information, you crack heads open and snatch it out with bloody fingers. I help you. Now, follow me.”
I heard a faint scratching upon a small door on the other side of the room. “What’s that?” I asked. Samuel and Astrid looked similarly alarmed.
“Little dog,” Feist said. “She likes cupboard, frightened of strangers and storm. The darkness pleases her, makes her feel safe.”
I chose to believe it, but as we descended the stairwell and emerged onto the street I was struck with a low, ominous feeling. What was it? My nerves? Faint stirrings from my dark other? Had the darkness or some unspoken threat in Feist’s grim apartment woken him from his slumber? A part of me hoped not. My life had definitely been simpler without him.
“Come,” Feist said, leading us down the street, “we have job to do.” We followed him back past the dealers and hookers and I watched them avert their eyes as Feist strolled by, cheerfully swinging the meat cleaver in his bony hand. “Is good, yes?” he asked, and when he turned back toward me his fangs were notably longer than they had been.
6
We gave Feist a wide berth as he led us along. He was clearly unhinged, even for a vampire and it led to several moments of discomfort, mainly as we passed bright young things on the sidewalk. I shivered when I caught him staring at their throats and saw his fingers twitching restlessly by his side. Then there was his humming, the long drawn out dirge-like melodies accompanied by his relentless, chipper smile.
Thankfully, the people that we passed seemed to keep their distance, possibly on account of the meat cleaver. Or maybe it was the browning blood stains on his starched white shirt.
“You have curious allies,” Astrid remarked, as we followed Feist across the magical quarter into the blinkered city. I nodded. It was a fair point. The night grew later and later as we passed through one quiet neighborhood then another and it soon seemed like the entire city was asleep, except for us. Soon the residential blocks turned to timeworn buildings and warehouses, and we found ourselves at the dead end of a narrow street, facing a chain-link fence. Behind it was a yard, a few small shed-like structures and a tall, wide redbrick building. The battered old sign on the fence read:
Fink and Sons Meat Packing
It looked like the place had gone out of business some time ago, but there were still a few rusting trucks parked in the lot. I glanced up as a light flickered in one of the darkened windows and Feist turned to me, an expectant gleam in his eyes. “They are
there,’ he said. “Hiding like rats. We’ll catch them by their tails, and then they’ll see.” He licked his lips. “First we must look for sentries. Help me to find them.”
“So,” Samuel said, “Just to be clear, we’re staking out a gang of vampires. Staking…” He grinned. “Get it?”
I made a mental note to unplug the television as soon as we got home. “Yeah, I got it.” I said, “sadly.”
“There’s someone on the roof,” Astrid whispered.
“There’s someones on the roof. I see two of them,” Feist said. “They will be armed.” He pulled his shirt from his trousers and hiked it up, revealing a series of angry red welts on his belly, as if someone had poured boiling water over him. “Do not underestimate these rats. I learn this, last time I was here.” He scowled, his fangs even longer than before.
“I can make my way to the roof and take at least one down before the other notices,” I said.
Samuel removed his bow from his shoulder. “I'll take care of the other one the moment you strike.”
I turned to Astrid, and she nodded as if reading my mind. “I’ll stay here with Mr. Feist,” she said, “and make sure nothing goes wrong.”
“Thank you,” I said. Because there was a good chance that plenty could go wrong where Mr. Feist was concerned. He glanced my way and tightened his fingers on his cleaver. I ignored his gesture, pulled a scope from my bag and took a close look at the roof.
One of the vampires lounged on a deck chair while the other perched by a chimney gazing into its phone. Neither of them seemed very alert. It was as if they figured no one on earth was crazy enough to attack their lair, and I hoped we could use that to our advantage.
“Right, I’m going in,” I said. I strode along the chain-link fence toward an area obscured by shipping containers, scaled the fence and dropped unseen to the other side. I made my way through the jumbled maze of long metal boxes, clasped a crystal and willed myself to become unseen. Or at least as unseen as I could be under a vampire’s heightened senses.
