by A. J. Colby
“Hi,” I said, trying to dodging around her, only to find my way barred again by her wide fanged smile.
God help me, she’s one of those, I thought with a groan.
There are few things I loathe more in this world than early mornings, the IRS, and psychotic killers. Overly peppy people are high on that list. You know the type: the people who somehow have the same level of energy at 6am that normal people are only able to muster around 10am after an infusion of caffeine. They’ve always got an excited smile on their face and want everyone else to be as doggone cheerful as they are. They use words like ‘darn,’ ‘fudge,’ and ‘shoot.’ The only thing that ever made me that excited was a grande, white chocolate peppermint mocha with extra whipped cream and chocolate shavings with a side of Double Stuf Oreos and a trashy romance novel. Well, and Holbrook, of course.
“I’m Tinkerbell, what can I get you to drink?” she asked, sliding a petite hand along my arm.
Seriously? More like Tinkerhell, I thought with a mental snort.
I knew the soft touch was supposed to incite thoughts of lust and inspire me to open my wallet, and I was sure it worked without fail on the club’s usual clientele, but all I could think about was how cold her fingers felt through my shirt.
Do the undead have clammy hands? I wondered. Or it is like touching a piece of petrified wood?
Shaking off the untimely questions floating through my mind, I took a step back out of her reach and forced as much of a polite smile as I could muster. “I’m not here for the... ah... entertainment. I’m here to see the Shepherd.”
“I don’t think he’s taking appointments today,” she replied, her smile unwavering.
Another feather light brush of her fingers against my arm was likely meant to redirect my thoughts to much more enjoyable things, but I remained immune to her feminine wiles. She was good, and I had no doubt she ended each night with a generous bundle of bills tucked into the waistband of her sequined skirt, but at that moment she was standing between me and the master vampire who I intended to give a piece of mind to.
“That’s okay,” I said as I side-stepped out of her reach again and ducked around her. “I’m sure he’ll make time to see me.”
Before the exuberant cheerleader stripper could waylay me again, I darted across the club to the hidden staircase and launched myself up the stairs.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“I’M SORRY, MS. Cray, the Shepherd is in the middle of a meeting,” Katarina protested, teetering on impossibly high heels as she moved to bar my path to the closed double doors of Cordova’s office.
“Fuck him and his meeting,” I shot back, ducking around her.
I could hear quiet voices on the other side of the doors, but wasn’t able to make out what they were saying. Then again, Cordova could have been meeting with the Pope for all I cared; it still wouldn’t have stopped me from barging in like a harpy on a rampage.
Shouldering Katarina out of my way, I pushed open the double doors and burst into Cordova’s office. If I’d been in an old Warner Bros. cartoon, the sound of squealing tires would have accompanied my sudden halt as I considered the merits of spinning on my heel and going back out. Evidently, his assistant’s idea of a meeting was having his head buried between the tanned thighs of a panting blonde in a low cut, silver sequined dress that left little to the imagination. Sprawled across his desk with one high-heeled foot draped over his shoulder and the other hooked over the back of his chair, she looked like a wannabe porn starlet auditioning for her next big role. With a nauseating slurp, Cordova raised his head at the sound of my entrance to gaze at me over his companion’s heaving bosom.
“Ms. Cray, what a delightful surprise,” he said, a black silk handkerchief materializing in his hand which he used to wipe away a stray drop of blood clinging to the corner of his mouth.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cordova. She just burst in,” Katarina said in a quivering voice, her usually polished facade looking a little ruffled.
“It’s alright Katarina, I understand how determined Ms. Cray can be.”
Bobbing up and down in a curtsey that made me roll my eyes, she backed out of the room, retreating to the relative safety of her desk.
“Perhaps you would be so kind as to wait until I have finished my breakfast?” Cordova asked, caressing a smooth thigh while his companion writhed on his desk in what I’m sure was supposed to be a sensual wiggle.
“Not at all,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
He continued to watch me, no doubt expecting me to retreat to the plush waiting area. As tempting as the idea was, I refused to let the vamp creep me out and stubbornly stood my ground.
Not gonna happen, buddy, I thought as the beginnings of a humorless smile curved my lips.
Seeing that I wasn’t going anywhere, he dabbed at his mouth once more and sighed. Patting his breakfast on the thigh, he said, “Thank you, Bethany. Katarina will escort you downstairs.”
Rising from his chair in a single fluid motion, he extended a hand towards the bleach bottle blonde and guided her up to her feet. I came close to rolling my eyes when she teetered on her sky-high heels, looking disoriented and half drugged. Then again, after what Alyssa had told me about vamp venom, I supposed she was. At his unspoken command, Katarina swept back into the room and steered the dazed young lady out of the room, closing the doors behind her with a soft sound.
Settling back into the chair behind his desk, Cordova turned haunting green eyes on me. Maintaining eye contact, he raised a wickedly sharp knife from the desktop, and with an exaggerated gesture licked a trickle of blood from the blade.
Well, that doesn’t look very sanitary.
It was an obvious attempt to discomfort me, and I hated to admit that it was very effective, though I struggled to decide which was more unnerving—the blade itself, or the sight of his tongue, dark with blood, moving serpent like behind his fangs.
Gross.
Curling my hands into fists at my sides, I focused on the stab of my nails against my palms to keep my shudder at bay and waited for him to finish posturing.
Cordova seemed to realize that I wasn’t going to give him the reaction he wanted, and with a smile that held as little warmth as mine had, he laid the knife aside and asked, “How can I help you, Ms. Cray?”
“How about keeping a tighter rein on your cronies?”
Sleek dark brows rose in question. “Did one of the girls make an unwanted advance?” he asked with a smile that would have looked more at home in the reptile house at the zoo. “I understand that your pet FBI Agent has left your bed cold. I would have thought you would appreciate the company.”
“My bed is just fine, thank you,” I said in a growl. “I’m talking about the vengeance kill you ordered.”
“I can assure you, I did not condone any acts of retribution,” he said in a voice with a sharp edge.
“Right,” I drawled, uncrossing my arms to set my hands on my hips. “And I’m the fucking tooth fairy.”
“I can attest that you look nothing like the Queen of Teeth,” he said dryly.
His simple assertion short-circuited my brain for a second, bringing my righteous tirade to a screeching halt. “Wait. The what?”
Rolling his eyes at my ignorance he repeated, “The Queen of Teeth.”
“You mean the tooth fairy?” I asked. At his curt nod I added, “She’s real? What does she do with all those teeth?”
“I have never asked, though I have heard that she has quite a beautiful palace that gleams pearly white in the sun.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“I daresay she would think the same of many human practices,” he said with a smile that was little more than a baring of fangs. I noted with some surprise that his teeth were brilliantly white, unlike the yellowed fangs I’d seen on many other vamps.
He must spend a fortune on teeth whitener.
“But enough of the Queen of Teeth and her peculiar collection. I am displeased that you doubt my h
onesty.”
“You’re a walking corpse and a politician. I doubt you’d know what the truth looked like even if it jumped up and bit you in the ass.”
Even with my heightened senses I didn’t see the master vampire move until he had pinned me against the wall with the knife to my neck. It wasn’t silver, but it would still hurt like hell if he decided to use it. His undead energy turned the air around me as cold as the grave, and it took everything I had not to let him see me shiver.
“I am a vampire, but I am also the Shepherd of this city. Something I think you may have forgotten,” he said in a voice so low I had to strain to hear it above the panicked beating of my heart. “I am responsible for all who dwell here. Perhaps if you concentrated on the job I hired you for instead of playing with the pack master, the culprit would already have been caught.”
“Are you seriously trying to blame this on me?” I demanded, full of outrage regardless of the knife at my throat. “Wait, are you having me followed?” I hadn’t picked up on anyone following me, but then, I hadn’t been looking for it either.
I guess that’s my own fault. I should have known he’d do something like that.
“I am simply making sure you are performing your duties to the best of your abilities. I am, after all, paying you rather handsomely for your efforts. So far, I am not impressed.”
“Fuck you!” I snarled, the wolf lending me her speed as she floated up from the depths to color my eyes wolf gold.
The knife made a loud thud as its tip buried itself three inches deep in the wood of a bookcase across the room. I didn’t dare take my eyes off Cordova, but I could hear the twang of the vibrating handle.
“Impressed now, asshole?” I asked, my anger and fear warring for dominance in my chest, leaving me with the beginnings of heartburn.
Cordova showed no obvious signs of surprise beyond his stillness and the subtle flicker of his gaze to his empty hand.
“Perhaps I have underestimated you,” he said in a contemplative voice cast low to sound more akin to words shared between lovers than employer and employee. The not so subtle undertone made me cringe, made all the more unappealing by the scent of his breath, which smelled of old blood and lemons. It was an odd mixture, and not at all pleasant.
Dude seriously needs a Tic Tac.
My revulsion at his thinly veiled come-on and eau de corpse, were enough to burn through my anger, leaving me awash in fear and the realization that I was poking a very dangerous bear. Even with his fancy, expensive contact lenses, there was no mistaking the nightmarish creature lurking beneath his gaze. The wolf could sense it too, and while half of her wanted to take over and protect us, the other was as fearful of the master vamp as I was. Feeling the tingling itch in my fingertips that signaled the lengthening of my nails into claws, I clamped down on the wolf’s energy, locking it away tight. I didn’t know how good Cordova was at controlling his own mercurial nature, but I had no doubt that wolfing out in the middle of his office would not work in my favor.
Several tense moments passed during which I barely dared to breathe, sure that even the smallest movement would send him over the edge. Of all the ways I had envisioned the end of my existence, a blood smear on the Shepherd of the City’s expensive carpet was not one of them. After what felt like the longest minute of my life, he blinked slowly and took a step back. I immediately moved away from the wall and sank into the nearest chair before my watery knees could give out and dump me unceremoniously on the floor.
“I apologize for my lack of control,” he said, the anger leeching out of his voice as if he were a snake shedding its skin.
Looking up from the trembling hands clasped in my lap, I was startled to see him on the far side of his desk. Once again, I hadn’t sensed him move. Either my senses weren’t as sharp as I had thought, or he was far more powerful than I had assumed.
I’m betting on the latter.
Eyeing the expanse of polished glass that acted as a feeble barrier between us I weighed my words carefully before speaking. “So, now that we’ve established that we both have enormous balls, can we get back to the matter of one of your vamps going after the weres?” Okay, maybe not so carefully after all.
Other than a barely there tightening of his lips, Cordova gave no reaction to my words.
“As I said, none of my children would commit such an act without my permission, which I did not give.”
“So I suppose Ben Simpson bled himself dry before tearing out his own throat, then?”
“Your proof is circumstantial at best,” he said dismissively, though even the master vamp couldn’t hide the shadow of doubt around his eyes.
“You’re kidding, right? Wow. You know, I never thought I’d meet anymore more ruthless than—”
“When did the attack occur?” Cordova interrupted.
“Yesterday afternoon...” I replied slowly, feeling my shoulders slump as a smug smile spread across his face.
“Therein lies your answer. As much as I loathe the limitations imposed upon my brethren by the sun’s rays, surely even you can see that this relieves my children of guilt.”
“He was working in the sewers,” I said, remembering snippets of conversation I’d overheard before passing out in the dead were’s kitchen. “He was underground, and, as I’m now well aware, your minions have no trouble navigating the tunnels under the city.”
“That is true,” he admitted, though it was obvious that it cost him a lot to do so. His discomfort was brief, and within the blink of an eye he’d resumed his air of superiority to become the aloof master vampire I expected. “It would appear that we are at impasse.”
“Is that your fancy way of saying your vamps are skulking around behind your back?”
Breezing past my retort as if I hadn’t spoken, he posed a question of his own, “Tell me, do you have any leads on who attacked my brethren in the first place?”
My gaze flickered to the knife still sticking straight out from the bookcase and wondered if I’d be able to retrieve it and jam it into Cordova’s smug face before he removed my head from my body. Ultimately deciding that the odds weren’t in my favor, I instead settled for something a bit more tactful and replied, “I’m... exploring the possibilities.”
Other than a small sound in the back his throat, he made no other comment in regards to my blatantly evasive answer. “Very well. You had best get back to work then.”
There was no mistaking his dismissal, and both the wolf and I bristled at the none too subtle blow-off.
“I’m not done talking to you yet. I still don’t believe that you didn’t have something to do with the attack on Ben Simpson.”
Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end when he froze mid-step. Moving with the slowness that only the undead can possess, he turned to look at me over his shoulder, only one cold, green eye visible.
“We are done.” His words, though simple enough, chilled me to the bone as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.
I’d had every intention of laying into Cordova over his lax security measures and the murder of Ben Simpson, but the deadly presence lurking beneath his polished facade had me scampering for the door like a frightened pup. If anyone ever asks I will outright deny it, but I hightailed it out of there as if the hounds of hell were snapping at my heels and didn’t allow myself to breathe easy until I was safely ensconced in the SUV with several blocks between me and Asylum.
“That is one scary mother fucker.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
RECOGNIZING THE WHITE and green work truck parked in the small lot behind the Chinese restaurant, I felt my lips curve into a smile as I wedged the SUV in between Alyssa’s shiny new Audi and a beat up Toyota truck. Mounting the narrow stairs leading up to Alyssa’s supe clinic, I caught the first strains of the melodic brogue that could sound both grandfatherly and lascivious, usually within the span of a couple seconds.
I’d met Dermot O’Malley at the clinic the previous fall and taken a shine
to the perverted leprechaun. As the owner of a pest control service dealing in beasties of a more supernatural nature, he was regularly hired to clear out pixie nests and hell spider webs. So I was unsurprised to see him seated on the edge of the exam table with his shirt sleeve rolled up to reveal a red and swollen hand covered in oozing blisters.
Alyssa was perched on a padded stool on wheels, twisting and turning his hand this way and that to gauge the severity of his reaction to the poisonous pixie bite.
“You’re a damn fool, Dermot O’Malley,” she muttered, though her affection shone through the irritation.
“Get yourself into some trouble with a pixie nest again?” I asked, eyeing the red and puffy hand being prodded by Alyssa, none too gently if his low oath was anything to go by.
“Aye. Damn wee buggers got me good,” he replied, trying to hide his discomfort behind a wide smile.
Sliding into an empty seat, I asked, “Don’t you wear gloves?”
“No. He doesn’t. Even though I’ve told him to at least a dozen times,” Alyssa growled before he could answer. “If I didn’t know how painful the bites were, I’d almost swear he does it on purpose.”
“And deny meself the pleasure of your bonny company?” he asked, turning glittering eyes on Alyssa.
Despite her best efforts she gave him a small smile as twin spots of color illuminated her cheeks.
“And what about you, lassie? What brings you to visit our fair doctor?”
“I just stopped by to have the dressing changed on my bite.”
I caught the shadow of surprise that crossed Alyssa’s face at my words, but she remained silent for the moment.
“Did ye tumble into a pixie nest too?” Dermot asked, raising bushy red brows in question.
“No, though I kinda wish I had,” I replied, rubbing my shoulder, the skin and muscles beneath still tender where the vamp had torn into me. It itched something terrible too. “A vamp got me,” I added at his inquiring look.
