Holidays Are Hell

by Kim Harrison

  “You will not have a choice, if the poison spreads.”

  Joseph said nothing. The street they were on was the main artery running parallel to the Bund. The architecture was European in origin, neoclassical designs from the twenties up to the forties. Immense monoliths that had stood the test of time far better than most modern Chinese buildings constructed in only the last few years.

  Six and Joseph did not take a walking tour of those massive buildings. Instead, they walked into the Peace Hotel and found a bench in a little nook off the main foyer, crowded with tourists, most of them from America and Europe.

  They sat, holding hands. Joseph began a search with his mind. After a moment, he invited Six to join him, and she found herself swept into his thoughts, carried alongside him as he traveled another world, seeking danger.

  He found it, almost immediately. Right on top of them. A sickening lurch of knowledge that made them both reel.

  There is a bomb in this hotel, said Joseph, horror leaking from his thoughts. My God. It’s a person. A person—

  Six was already running, the location in her mind, the face of the man. She barreled through the crowd, ruthless, battling her own feelings of shock. She had expected this in theory—the Peace Hotel had always been on a list of possible targets to be wary of—but thinking and knowing were two separate things, and there was a part of Six that could not believe it was happening here, now. Not now.

  The crowd thickened; she did not think. She jumped. Her body flew over the tops of heads. She heard gasps. She gasped. But there, ahead of her, she saw a stocky man in a heavy coat, and she forced herself to move faster than she ever had before. Faster than was humanly possible.

  The suicide bomber never had a chance; he barely saw her coming before he hit the ground. Six did not kill him. She broke his wrists instead, cracked his knees by stomping hard—and then, as he lay on the ground screaming, she flipped open his coat and looked at the bomb. It was not terribly sophisticated; she had trained on harder targets. Six pulled the necessary wires.

  Joseph appeared behind her. He knelt, placed his hands on the man’s temples, and began to chant. This time, Six stayed out of his head. She stood and pulled out her badge. Showed it to the hotel manager who came running, pale and frightened. Showed it to the crowd, and in her best English, told them to please exit the area in a careful manner. They did, without hesitation. She gave the hotel manager a number to call, just in case they had not already.

  “Joseph,” she said.

  “Got it,” he murmured. “There are seven other locations. We can’t reach all of them in time.”

  Six grabbed a nearby man and stole the cell phone out of his hands. He began to protest—she showed him her badge. Dialed fast with one hand. Ying picked up on the second ring.

  “The terrorists are planting a series of bombs around the city,” she said quickly, and then had Joseph take the phone and rattle off the list of names and locations. Six took back the phone, listening as Ying shouted to someone in the background. She heard the call go up, loud and fierce. For a moment, a feeling of nostalgia, a sliver of regret that could have been grief struck her, but then she looked at Joseph standing beside her, and felt such freedom it stole her breath away. She was making her own path now. Walking her own road.

  “Six,” said Ying. “What happened between you and Xiu? She doesn’t remember anything. You are in such trouble.”

  “I cannot explain,” Six said. “But I am still on your side. Please, no matter what happens, remember that.

  “What happened?” Ying asked. “This is not you, Six.”

  “Goodbye,” she said. “Tell the others for me.”

  Six ended the call and tossed the phone back to its owner. She could hear sirens, and flagged down the hotel manager one more time.

  “Guard this man,” she said, pointing to the terrorist still writhing on the ground. “Step on his wrists or knees if he gives you any trouble. Do it anyway, for fun. The police will be here in a moment.”

  “Y-yes,” stammered the man. Six and Joseph ran. A police cruiser careened around the corner just as they walked through the revolving doors. Six tugged on Joseph’s hand and made him slow to a walk, which they did—very quickly—in the opposite direction. The flow of the crowd made it easy to get lost. A lot of people were leaving the hotel.

  “You found something else,” she said to him, jostled on all sides by strangers. Her sense of hearing threatened to overwhelm. She tried to subdue the sounds crashing in her eardrums, and much to her surprise, they subsided to something resembling normal. She wished her heart rate would do the same.

  “Him,” Joseph said shortly. “I found him.”

  He stopped walking. Six bumped against his side. His hand tightened and she followed his gaze to a man and woman standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at them. Eye contact was startling; Six felt those two sharp gazes reverberate down to her gut, and she knew without being told that they were vampires. Human shells, hollow cores. Just like her, if she was not careful. If the poison began to move again.

  “I wish I had my dagger,” Joseph muttered. “I should have kept a spare at the house.”

  “We will get you a new one after this,” Six replied, and that brought a brief smile to his face.

  “You and I,” he said softly. “What a team.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I like it.”

  The vampires moved close. Six and Joseph waited. The crowd parted around them all like water.

  “Hello, sister,” said the woman. “Hello, hello.”

  “We have a message,” said the man. “You should come with us to hear it.”

  “Really, we’re guides,” added the woman.

  “I think you know who sent us.” The man pointed. “It’s a short walk.”

  Joseph and Six did not look at each other. They were already inside each other’s heads. And they both knew what they had to do.

  They followed the vampires down the long, gently curving street, walking away from the Bund. Sirens filled the city, a wail occasionally interrupted by the shot and blast of firecrackers. The sound made her jumpy, though she tried to hide it. Joseph knew, though. He felt the same.

  They were led to an office building that was still fairly new. All glass and steel. There was a security desk, but no one manning it. The woman keyed in a code, the elevator dinged, and the four of them crowded into the small space—vampires on one side, Joseph and Six on the other. She still had the gun she had taken from the guard. Its weight was comfortable beneath her shirt.

  “We were sorry to hear that Chenglei passed on,” said the man to Joseph. “He was a very good person.”

  “He had dirty feet,” Six said. The vampires frowned. Joseph coughed, holding his hand over his mouth.

  The woman gave Six a piercing look. “You are almost one of us now. I think you will like it, if you give it a chance.”

  Six said nothing. Engaging in that debate would be a waste of time.

  The elevators doors opened. The vampires stepped out first, Joseph and Six following behind. His voice rumbled into a low chant. The creatures froze—and then, movements jerky, stepped back into the elevator. The woman snarled, but she pushed a button. The door slid closed.

  “That will not keep them away very long,” said Six.

  “Long enough,” Joseph replied.

  “A parlor trick, and quite useless,” said another voice. Six and Joseph looked up. A blond man walked out of a nearby office. His Chinese had an English accent, and he was tall and clean-cut, clad in a navy suit with a lilac tie. He was followed by three individuals who were, quite clearly, vampires. One of them, however, also wore a suit. His skin was swarthy, his features more of the south, perhaps from Indonesia. He gave her a straight, hard look, and Six felt, from Joseph’s mind, the realization that this individual was one of the terror cell’s ringleaders. A planner.

  “Ah,” said the other man. “So you finally see your vampire connection.”

  �
��That still doesn’t explain why they would want men like us,” Joseph replied.

  “Control and information,” said the vampire. “There was a woman we needed to speak to, but she was too well guarded. She had very private information about how to access certain facilities where she was planning New Year parties. Simple, really. And I knew of your skills. If it makes you feel better, we were going to kill you afterwards.”

  “Thanks,” Joseph said dryly, and looked at the blond man. “And you, Mr.?…”

  “Doe,” he said, with a slight smile. “John Doe, to you. And no, the little bastards won’t kill me. I’ve never touched a single one of them. And if they do try, I’ve made it crystal clear what will happen in retaliation.” He leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Fear, Mr. Besud. You should really try utilizing it in a different manner than you have. You are far too much of a goody two-shoes.”

  Six recalled Joseph’s memories: the bones, the dead, the cold way he had dispatched the vampires during the previous night. Not so goody-goody, she thought. Not at all. The two of them were the same, that way.

  “What do you get out of this?” she asked Doe. “Not just money. You would not want Joseph dead, if it was simply that.”

  Doe smiled, cracking his knuckles. “Do you know what happens when people die, Miss Six? It is quite remarkable, really. Their souls leave. Everything that ever made a person who they are simply…floats away. To Heaven or Hell, or perhaps just to live on a cloud. I do not know, nor do I care. What I find fascinating is not what happens after death, but what occurs during.”

  Joseph paled. “You’re feeding off the deaths.”

  “Do you know how old I am?” Doe tapped his smooth cheek, running his finger down his strong jaw. “Ninety, young Mr. Besud. Ninety years old, and my body is still as young now as it was all those years ago. Back home in Russia.” His smile changed, becoming darker, more feral. “I knew your grandfather, boy. I trained him.”

  Joseph’s breath caught. “He spoke of a teacher. Never his name, though. He said that man was great.”

  “A compliment,” Doe said. “I am still fond of him, you know. He was a stunning pupil. I was…disappointed…when he chose to run away. It took me years to find him again. I thought for sure that he would have used the trick I taught him to stay young, but instead I found an old brittle man with an old crone of a wife, their children aging by the minute. And you. You, with even more talent than my student.”

  “So you would kill me for that?” Joseph swayed forward. “Why?”

  “Because there are no others like us,” Doe whispered. “Not anywhere. We are alone, boy.”

  “And you do not want the competition,” Six said, quiet.

  Doe tipped his head. “When I was young, nothing excited me more than the idea of my brothers-in-arms, all of us living to use our gifts for pride and country. But it is a different world now, and I like my power being only my power.”

  “You like killing people for that strength,” Joseph said flatly. “Only a violent death would give what you crave.”

  “A little bit of chaos never hurt,” Doe said. “China will rebuild. It has people to spare. I’m sure the vampires agree.”

  Six gritted her teeth. “I would like to kill him now. May I?”

  “By all means,” Joseph said.

  Doe sneered. He lifted his hands, chanting. Six felt a brief tug on her body, but it slid off her like water, and she smiled. Took one step forward, reaching behind for her gun. Doe faltered. The vampires all looked at each other.

  “There is a curious thing called possession,” Joseph said. “You might have heard of it. Thing is, you don’t have to fully inhabit a person in order to keep someone else out. I’m surprised you didn’t know that, Doe.”

  Doe paled. He said one word and the vampires lurched in front of him. Six knew what Joseph wanted before he asked; she tossed him the gun and then barreled into the vampires, clearing a path for him so that he could chase after Doe. He did, disappearing around a corner in the long office corridor.

  Behind her, the elevator dinged. The two vampires who had escorted them up ran off, snarling. Their human faces had drained away; they stared at her with hollow eyes and black mouths, sharp tongues writhing deep within the maw. The air felt cold.

  “Sister,” hissed the woman. “I think, perhaps, we no longer want you to join us.”

  Six laughed. It was too funny. Five vampires against one. She liked those odds.

  Doe ran fast, but Joseph did, too. He caught up with the older man. Before he could fire the gun, he heard a low voice fill the air: binding words, pushing against him. Joseph held up one hand and let his own voice fill the air. Double tones, loud and strong. His voice drowned out Doe, and he lifted the gun and took aim. His grandfather had always been good with a gun. So had his father. The steppe made men hardy, that way. Joseph fired.

  The bullet caught Doe in the knee. He went down screaming and Joseph stood over him. Doe tried again to use his gift, but the power, while strong, slid away.

  “What did you think it would do for you?” Joseph asked quietly, kneeling. “Really, what? Eternal youth? Perfect control over the people around you? And you thought you could beat me with that? You’re no better than a vampire. Worse, even. You had a choice. Same choice as my grandfather. As me.”

  Doe’s face contorted. “I should have killed you all when I found you the first time. Made it easy.”

  “Yes,” Joseph said. “You should have.”

  He put the gun against Doe’s forehead and pulled the trigger.

  Joseph left Doe’s body. He did not watch the man’s soul leave. He ran back to help Six. There were four piles of ash on the ground. No doubt all of them had died with their heads ripped off. Vampire strength was obviously doing her some good.

  The last vampire alive was the terror cell planner. Six had him pinned facedown on the ground. She had somehow found time to locate a mini-recorder, which she held up to Joseph.

  “How do you do that?” he asked admiringly, taking the device. Six smiled.

  Joseph turned on the recorder and held it by the vampire’s face. He watched as Six questioned him on tape, methodically breaking his fingers every time he refused to answer. And when he still refused, she commenced ripping those fingers off his hand, one by one. The dismembered digits turned to ash.

  By the time she reached his pinky, the man had begun blabbering like an idiot. Helped along, of course, by Joseph’s own coercion. He did not feel like wasting any more of their time. When Six was satisfied, he turned off the recorder and slipped it into his pocket. He did not want to preserve, for posterity, the sound of Six tearing off a man’s head with her bare hands.

  Which she did, quite easily. The vampire turned to ash.

  “So,” Joseph said. “That was…interesting.”

  “Very.” Six wiped her hands together.

  “I hope this doesn’t mean we’re breaking up,” he said. “Now that the danger is over.”

  “There is always danger,” Six said. “And no, I am not going anywhere. Not without you.”

  “Good,” Joseph said, the adrenaline finally seeping away, making him shaky. He wrapped his arm around Six’s shoulders and pulled her near.

  “Happy New Year,” he muttered, and kissed her hard.

  Epilogue

  Three weeks later, Six found herself in Mongolia. It was a nice country. She could admit to herself that she loved it.

  It was a beautiful day, cold and crisp. Furs lined her throat. Her leather jacket was heavy and warm. A gun pressed against her ribs, slung tight in a new shoulder holster.

  Joseph sat beside her on a motorcycle. It was a Russian model, lightweight, but sturdy enough for two. Good for cross-country riding, unless they decided to buy horses. Unlikely. The animals did not seem to like Six. She blamed the poison still in her blood.

  “Life is good,” Joseph said.

  “Yes,” Six said. “Do you believe Ying has been able to use the information that was
on the recording?”

  “I would think so.” He hesitated. “Regrets about leaving your old life?”

  “Not really,” she said. “I am making a new one.”

  “In a spectacular way, I might add.”

  “For a vampire.”

  Joseph shrugged, but she could feel concern on the edge of his thoughts. “You’re only part of those creatures.”

  “Enough, I think.”

  “Perfect, just the way you are.” Joseph held out his hand. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. What a team we make, Six.”

  “Yes.” Six trailed her fingers down his chest. “And what will we do next, as a team? I am a wanted woman. You are a wanted man. We cannot ever go back.”

  “China is a big country, but it’s not as big as the world. We’ll manage.” He patted the back of his motorcycle. “Ready?”

  Six hesitated for a moment, gazing down at the valley below her. The land could swallow the sky with its vastness: green and brown and full of lush curves that idled like the clouds.

  No walls, anywhere in sight.

  Six turned around. Joseph was watching her, a question in his eyes. She kissed him, long and slow, and slid behind him on the motorcycle.

  “I want one of these,” she said. “I want to fly on this land.”

  “We’ll fly together,” he said.

  And they did.

  About Marjorie M. Liu

  MARJORIE M. LIU is an attorney who has lived and worked throughout Asia. She hails from both coasts, but currently resides in the Midwest, where she writes full-time. Her books include the New York Times bestselling Dirk & Steele series of paranormal romances for Leisure, and her forthcoming Hunter Kiss urban fantasies from Ace Books.

  For more information, please visit her website at www.marjoriemliu.com.

  The Harvest

  Vicki Pettersson

  For my mother—Joanne Johnson.

  Happy Thanksgiving; Happy Birthday.

  Chapter 1