by D. R. Perry
As we get the sleeping detective to my car and into the back seat (seatbelts are awesome for anchoring levitating people in case you didn’t know), I can finally talk to Frankie, well, frankly. I close the car’s door just in case Maury is only out of it instead of truly asleep.
“Humans can’t see vamp amulets unless we’re turning them. And you pointed it out to me. So what gives?”
He follows me over to the detective’s car, where I lock it up. Once we’re somewhere safe, I’ll use Maury’s phone to text the PD and have it towed back to the station. I know enough to say that he ended up needing to investigate on foot and doesn’t want to leave the car where it is.
“I don’t know. I didn’t expect to see anything. But I had a nightmare about this park, and when I went to the spot that seemed most familiar, I saw something shiny.”
“Are you psychic?” Some humans have sixth senses, and they vary widely in strength and type. Kayleigh’s dad can sense supernaturals, for example. Maybe Frankie has prophetic dreams.
Or maybe he tapped into mine somehow. And yeah, that hill is familiar, could have been the one near the drainpipe in my dream. There was something else here, too. A building. And it’s gone, which should be impossible. It’s coming back to me now, how some creature snatched what felt like a shapeshifter. But if this is Stephanie’s amulet, that means she’s—
The alarm on my phone goes off. You know, the one I set so I won’t be late to the Blood Moot? Again? I don’t have time for this. That’s a recurring theme I’m not fond of. It’s like I’ve pissed off a Time Lord or something.
“Never mind. We’ve got to get you and Maury someplace safe. I’ve got to go out, and you guys can’t come along.” I open the driver’s side door on my car.
“Why?”
“It’s vampires only. Don’t worry, I’ll take you and Maury someplace safe.”
“Oh, okay.” He shrugs and gets in the passenger side.
I take them to the studio. One reason for that is, it’s close. The other reason is, Esther’s there. She made it clear she’d prefer not to have Frankie around, but if it’s for Maury, maybe she’ll tolerate his presence.
Wait. Esther doesn’t even know Maury.
Well, it’s too late to worry about that. I’m in the parking lot. I look up at the windows and see that the lights are out at the weirdo factory on the second floor, but they’re on in my office directly above. We head in and up to the third floor. I bring the cup containing the Kupala blood with me.
When I open the door at Sentry Vanguard Sleuthing, Esther jumps up from the futon we’ve got in there next to the Shoji screen she sold me last month, which has reverted to its original shabby appearance. One glance around the room tells me everything else looks like the office’s original College Hill dumpster-dive decor again. The Alchemy that made it all swanky was only temporary. Bummer.
Esther’s black hair is mussed on one side, and she wipes away a trail of what looks like drool from the bottom of one angular cheek. I’m not sure why the alchemist is sleeping here instead of in her lab. But she’s not at her apartment because of the slow renovations. Don’t look at me, she destroyed her own place. Anyway, that’s a story for another time.
“What’s with the fucking cop?” Esther looks from me to Maury, eyes skipping over Frankie entirely.
“He needs a safe place to sleep off your tracking potion.” I walk over to my desk and get out one of the vials and corks I keep in it for blood samples. The stuff I nicked from Maury’s evidence goes in there. Once it’s sealed, I put it in my jacket.
She saunters over to Maury. I can’t decide if she’s checking him out or using some kind of magic to see if he’s okay. Esther reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out his wallet, and opens it. Her left eyebrow raises.
“Weintraub? This is your fucking PD contact you expect me to babysit?”
“Frankie’s got to stay here, too.”
“This is absolute fucking horseshit, Tino.”
“I know, but it’s not my horseshit. There’s vampire business in my immediate future, and I can’t bring them.”
“A girl can’t get her goddamned beauty rest in this crappy fucking place.”
“I mean, you could. If you set up your wards like in your lab. Maury’s going to be out for a while, and Frankie’s tired.” I turn to have a look at what he’s doing and see he’s raided the mini-fridge, which is fine. Bismarcks are amazing but not exactly filling.
“Why can’t you leave them at your place, then?”
“Because Frankie’s been attacked, and Maury’s been investigating the thing that did it. Or did you forget how fucked your uncle was last night?” I can’t help it. I’m angry with her. Traditions or no, she should care about a kid who did nothing but look up to her when his parents treated him like shit.
“You know jack and shit about what happened to my uncle, asshole.”
“Look, I found out he’s from a Theophile family, and he’s part of their pact-making. It’s pretty easy to understand, really. They get their powers from their Faustian deal, his sacrifice, and your silence. So yes, I maybe know some shit, even if it’s not of the jacked variety.”
Frankie drops the bottle of Gatorade he’s holding and freezes. Thank God they come in plastic bottles now. Only his eyes move. He blinks, gaze moving from me to Esther and back again. He looks like someone who’s been caught out. And that’s true in a way because I got details about the heart of his damage behind his back.
“Sorry, Frankie, but I had to do some digging so I could help you.”
Frankie’s silent, but not Esther. She drops Maury’s wallet, grabs me by the jacket, and shakes.
“What in the ever-living fuck do you think you’re doing, you shit-brained undead moron?”
“I…I…Investigating!” I try to pull away and get her hands off my shirt. But only one of them feels warm and supple enough to pry off. The other one’s like a vise of the metallic variety. “Sexual assault is a crime, no matter how high and mighty the perp is in the supernatural department, Esther.”
“Rape.” Frankie’s by my side, the unstoppable shaker of levitating powder open and hovering over the immovable object of Esther’s hand. “At least give me that much. It was rape, and Mother and Father agreed to let them do it the minute they learned I was mundane.”
I look him in the eyes. They’re dry but rimmed with red. The gleam of baleful fire in them is evidence he’s moved out of despair and into the anger part of grieving.
“There’s nothing I can fucking do about it, Frankie. No matter how much I want to, I can't make any difference.”
“That’s wrong, and you know it. You’re the only relative who ever showed me kindness back then, Esther. Tino’s the only person now who’s willing to help me. Don’t fight. What is it you used to say, back when you holed up at my parents’ house and got this?” He jerks his chin at her arm.
“You’ve got to fight someone back for everything they take in this shitty life, but you only ever start one with a real fucking enemy.”
“Tino’s not your enemy. Neither am I. I’m just fighting back like you taught me.”
“Never fucking taught you a goddamned thing, kid.” Esther’s voice drops a notch in pitch. She lets go of my jacket. “Not on the record, anyway.”
My alarm beeps again, signaling my ten-minute warning for the start of the Blood Moot. “Are you two going to get along while I'm out?”
They both nod, and Frankie closes the levitation powder and puts it in his pocket. They might not be best chums, but they seem copacetic enough for now. I smooth my shirt and head out the door.
I’ve got a date at the vampire club.
Chapter Ten
The place where they hold the Blood Moots and conduct all vampire business in Rhode Island doesn’t have a name that I know of. But that’s probably for the best since it’s easier to keep a secret club from getting outed if it doesn’t have a title to blab on accident. Or under coercion because that’s als
o in the realm of more unfortunate possibility.
I walk up to the door and do the secret knock. It opens, and I’m surprised to see Maya, her face flat and unsmiling. I blink because there’s definitely something wrong if neither of the king’s enforcers are in charge of vetting the secret knocks.
Maya steps aside and lets me by, then shuts and locks the door behind me. I lean against the wall instead of heading down the hall to the room where all the politicking happens. Because right now, I don’t care about that. Maya has taken priority over everything else for the time being. Her eyebrows dip down, face a dusky mask of troubled thoughts.
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything.” She sighs, her frown deepening. “And nothing I can put my finger on, either.”
“How can I help?”
“I’m not sure. But it’s like that movie Invasion of the Body Snatchers in there. Nobody’s acting completely normal. And I can’t tell who’s really off the wall and which ones are only nervous about the others.”
“I think you’re on to something, Maya.” I lean closer, trying not to stare at her lips because the last thing she needs is for me to randomly plant one on her for the first time when she’s upset. “Something’s fishy in the state of Rhode Island.”
But I need to get as close as I can because if even half the old and powerful vamps in the building are off their rockers, I don’t want them seeing this. Letting my jacket hang open, I flip up the flap on one of the interior pockets. Stephanie’s Lazakhar catches the overhead light. Maya’s eyes widen, then flicker up and to her right for the barest of seconds.
“Oh, God, Tino.” She grabs my jacket by the lapels and turns my world upside-down.
That’s right. Maya kisses me, and yes, it is that mind-blowing, thank you very much.
How exactly is one kiss so amazing and powerful? Well, it’s all got to do with some of the special abilities vampires have. They vary on an individual basis, but it’s clear what Maya’s is. She must be an empath, able to share thoughts and feelings with someone through intimate contact. How do I know this? She’s telling me right here and now and confirming that the little crush I’ve got on her is mutual.
Some of my thoughts and feelings leak past that barrier, too. We mingle in the most literal sense of the word, but only just barely. Not like a bottle of vinaigrette where the oil and the balsamic split into tiny bits that combine to make a delicious whole. More like when butter goes on hot toast and it’s only just started to soften. Even with the cuisine analogies my brain conjures, I don’t even care that I can’t eat food anymore.
It’s like Maya stopped the world, and I melted with her. I try sending that corny sentiment her way deliberately. It must work because in my mind’s eye, I see her head shaking, tightly coiled curls a fascination of bouncing. I get the idea she needs me to focus on the important message here, one crucially dire piece of information. And just about the only thing in the universe that would make me willingly let our lips part at that moment.
Stephanie is behind me, and she’s got the king’s enforcers flanking her. And she’s fake.
I know for sure she’s not the real thing, because that amulet in my pocket would be glowing like the daystar if she was, trying to reunite with her. The Lazakhars are bonded to their vampires and are one of the few ways to know who’s truly who. I don’t think the fake Stephanie knows this because her expression is one of smug superiority under a thin veneer of benevolence.
She’s smiling gently at me in a perfect replica of that benign face she puts on when she wants something from me, like the night she turned me and destroyed my life. Except this isn’t really my sire. It’s something else, a creature unknown to me. And if it’s here impersonating Steph, which means it wants to take a bite out of vampire society from the inside, like a worm in an apple.
“Hi, Steph.” I flap my hand in a goofy wave. Don’t worry, this is my way of playing it cool at the vampire club. They all expect me to act like a spaz because I’m new. “Kind of busy right now, if you don’t mind.”
“You ought to be in the main room, Val.” Ugh, that nickname. How does the body-snatcher know I hate it? Does this mean it has all the information Steph does or just some recent surface thoughts? If it’s the former, we’re all screwed.
“Well, Maya and I are having a private—”
“Necking session. Or at least that’s what I think you modern vampires call it.” She shakes her head and the bridge of her otherwise smooth as china nose wrinkles ever so slightly. “But part of full membership in our society is proper attendance at the Moots. You can’t call it mingling if you only see one person.”
“Oh.” Playing dumb comes easily. And again, this is classic Stephanie. Everyone around will have no reason to suspect it isn’t actually her without concrete evidence.
And yes, I know. The proof is in my pocket. But you don’t just trot out another vampire’s Lazakhar in people’s faces. Especially not King’s Enforcer type people. Because usually, the only way for one vampire to get another’s is by murdering them. If I whip it out, Shadow and Hargrove will have every reason and right to stake and ash me right there in the hall. I can’t help but gulp like the guilty fish I am.
“Come on, Tino.” Maya grabs my hand and brushes past the toughs and the fake Stephanie, dragging me in her wake. “I’ve got some people to introduce you to.”
Her tactic of acting like she’s annoyed we got interrupted works. I’d never have thought of it because I was assuming the worst-case scenario about Fake Stephanie’s power and knowledge levels. It’s a testament to how much the unknown body-snatching foe scares me. But Maya’s never been afraid of anything the entire time I’ve known her. Which isn’t long, okay, but I like to think I’m a decent judge of character.
I practically stumble after her into the main room where nobody notices because they’re all going about their own business. I was worried about it, though. Life as a new vampire is a bit like being a teenager that way. The constant worry is that the bigger, cooler fish in the blood-drinking pond will notice you in a bad way.
Maya stops us in front of a trio of vamps I haven’t seen since last month’s Blood Moot. They’re Maya’s people, the ones who showed up the same night she did. Well, actually, that’s not entirely correct. They’re Whitby’s people. Yeah, that includes the girl I just spent the last few minutes lip-locked with. Bummer.
Whitby’s the tool I suspect offed both Stephanie’s vampiric bestie and the guy he had working for him at Cranston PD. Which is one of the reasons I didn’t want to ask him about magician family drama. And now I’m definitely not going to. Because with Fake Stephanie running around and my gut telling me he’s mixed up in this somehow, that’s the opposite of a good idea.
But these vamps Maya’s introducing to me might decide to flip on Whitby. I decide to play nice for now. All three of them are the sort of vampire that stands out in a mortal crowd like sore thumbs. I get it. Blood Moots are gatherings where we can be ourselves without any mundanes present. But some of the wardrobe choices here could have come from the closet of Captain Obvious’s cousin, Captain Conspicuous. I can only hope they don’t dress like this on the nightly.
“Hey, guys.” Maya’s smiling and waving. “This is Tino.”
“Oh, cool!” The guy in the tan trench who’s frequently seen leaning on nothing and talking to himself stands up straight and grabs my hand for a shake. I hadn’t been holding it out, either. “I’m Peligro, nice to meet you.”
“Um, dude.” I let him shake my hand because the motion is too vigorous for me to even think about pulling away without accidentally smacking someone. “Your name means danger?” Yeah, I took High School Spanish.
“You should hear his last name,” says the towering woman wearing a bullet packed bandoleer.
“Um.” I finally get my hand back and stare at it like it’s been out past curfew. “Okay?”
“Cabeza!” And just like that, Peligro Cabeza’s got my hand again, shaking like a
leaf on the wind.
“Help,” I mouth at Maya. But she’s chatting with the gunslinger gal and taking sneaky side-eyed glances across the room at the fourth member of her little cabal.
This is a vampire I’ve at least heard of. Her name is Mrs. Kent, and she does some kind of record-keeping. She’s built like a linebacker but dressed like a librarian, complete with cat-eye glasses on her solid skull and a pink cardigan over her massive shoulders. But tonight, she’s missing the satchel of books she usually carries. And she’s practically glued to Whitby’s side when usually she's avoiding him.
That sneaky white-suited bastard catches me looking at the two of them. He tips his hat like the world’s biggest asshole, showing off his long, blond, douchey ponytail. Yeah, I guess it’s pretty obvious I don’t like this guy. That’s okay, I’m in good company on that front.
Raven is watching us and shooting sharp glares at Whitby. The attaché is sitting on a straight-backed wooden chair in front of the dais that the king’s throne is on. And DeCampo’s there, too. In the shadows that cover most of his torso and his entire face, something silver gleams. I figure it’s the ring that all Vampire Kings supposedly wear. They give off light at times though I’m not sure exactly why yet.
“And this is Annie.” Maya’s taking Peligro’s monopoly on my hand as a matter of course. But then, since they’re part of the same cabal, that must mean this is normal behavior for him.
“Howdy.” The gunslinger smirks down at the longest handshake ever.
I’m starting to feel like one of those lucky cats you see in Chinese restaurants. Except not lucky at all, at least with this mode of greeting. Why can't the guy exchange bows with me instead? I try pulling my hand away. At first, I think it works because his grip loosens. And then, Peligro smiles like a pageant contestant and pulls me into a bro hug.
“Uh, yeah. Good to meet you, too, pal.”
Was I seriously worried about Whitby and his crew? Annie, Peligro, and Mrs. Kent seem like cartoonish walking stereotypes with fangs. But there’s got to be a reason he keeps them around despite that. Or maybe he uses them as distractions. At least Maya’s normal. Well, besides the fact that she’s perfection on two legs with fangs.
