“Tell me how you know this,” said Kim.
“I guess I don’t know for sure,” said Vince, “but I can tell something’s up by the way my dad’s acting. When I’m home for the summer, my dad meets with Sammy a couple times a week. They meet early in the morning before anyone else is up. Sammy’s got a new car every time I come home.”
“Tell me who Sammy is.”
“He’s the operations manager for my dad’s company. He’s the….”
Vince’s jaw dropped as bits and pieces of a larger story took shape in his brain. Scenes from his childhood were running together…a tour his family took of the underground facilities beneath the Strip. His dad yelling on the phone about inefficiency and who was going to pay for all the employees if he couldn’t have his own vault. Vince saw long tunnels, a bank of cameras, glass doors, and Sammy…always at his father’s side.
“He’s the what, Vince?”
“He’s the first sign-off on the cash deposits.”
“Keep going,” Kim said.
“All the cash from my dad’s casinos and from Palace Immortalis goes into a single vault with automated storage,” Vince said. “Cash goes in, gets stored, and gets transported to the bank automatically. There are only two people who have the authority to open the vault and step inside.”
“Your father is one of those people,” Kim said.
“Right, and Sammy is the other.”
Kim looked in Vince’s eyes. “What you’re telling me is Sammy is your dad’s partner in crime,” she said.
“Yeah…I guess he is.”
“And what you’re really saying is that this little embezzling racket they’re running might be much bigger than skimming off the top at Palace Immortalis.”
Vince tried to gulp, but there wasn’t any saliva in his mouth to go down.
“Yes,” he whispered.
Kim gave his hand a gentle squeeze, then she let it go, giving him his arm back.
“You’ve done well,” she said. “And you’re officially on my team now.”
Vince nodded, a layer of sweat lubricating the movements between his neck and collar.
“I can see that you understand how serious of an error you made,” Kim continued. “And there’s no denying that it cost me dearly. Had you not gone to Nicky’s party, Mattie Dupree wouldn’t have gone either. And without Mattie, Annika wouldn’t have been so sure of herself. And without Annika, Nicky’s whole crew of supporters comes unglued.”
“I’ll fix this today,” Vince said. “I’ll tell Mattie we’re with you. We’ll tell all our friends. We’ll badmouth Nicky and her after-party. We’ll break up her little band of supporters. We’ll--”
Kim held her hand up to silence Vince. “I don’t want you to do anything of the sort,” she said. “In fact, what I need from you is to keep our little conversation today a secret. You have access to Nicky, and I want that access. I want you to pretend you’re still one of her people, right up to the Date Auction. Nicky won’t know you’re on my side until the moment you raise your paddle and bid three million dollars on me.”
“Three million dollars! Even if I win the Brawl I won’t have that much money to spend.”
“You’ll get the money from your father. He’s got plenty.”
“But three million for the Date Auction. That would…”
“Yes, that would be a new record. I’m worth it, don’t you think?”
She had a sinister smile on her face as she spoke the words. Vince felt like he might throw up.
“I suppose now is the time you show me what you’ve got on my father so I can blackmail him with it, right?” Vince said.
“Right you are,” said Kim. “Here it is.”
She reached behind her head and unclasped her necklace. She flipped the pendant over in her hand. There was a tiny digital screen on the back. She pressed against it with her finger, and her own voice came out.
“Hello Vince, glad you could make it.”
She slid the necklace across the table. “Take it,” she said. “Our entire conversation is recorded on there. You can play it for your dad when you ask for the money.”
“But…I don’t…I need documents or pictures or something. You said you had proof. Just give me what you’ve got so I can give it to my dad and tell him we need to pony up the money.”
“I don’t have anything, Vince, except what’s in your hands right now.”
Suddenly Vince felt very small.
“Are you saying that--”
“Yes, Vince, I’m saying that I had no idea what your dad was up to at all until you told me. Of course, now that we know where to look, my dad and his helpers will find plenty, I’m sure. Skimming off the top at Palace Immortalis, stealing money from your own vault, all of it with this partner named Sammy…what was Sammy’s last name?”
“Donatelli,” Vince said quietly. “His name is Samuel Donatelli.”
“Just a minute while I write that down. Will you spell it for me?” Kim said, as she pulled a pen from her purse and reached for a napkin.
“It’s D-O-N-A-T-E-L-L-I.”
Kim wrote the letters slowly in a sweet, girly script. “So anyway, send that recording to your father,” she said. “I recommend you use an overnight service so you and he can start talking about the money tomorrow.”
Vince was numb. The thought of asking his father for three million dollars, of telling him that they had to pay it because Vince couldn’t keep his mouth shut…
“Well, it’s been lovely,” Kim said. “But I should get back to school. Fifth period starts in ten minutes. Leave the waiter a nice tip, will you? I come here a lot and would hate for them to think poorly of me.”
“Right,” Vince said.
Kim stood up and left, closing the door behind her. A minute later, the waiter came in and looked at all the food on the table. Not a bite of it had been eaten.
“Are you still working on this, Sir?”
“No,” Vince said. “No. Take it all away.”
Chapter 17
Nicky went into fourth period hopeful that she and Ryan could talk. Ryan wasn’t at his desk when she arrived. He came to class right as the bell rang. Moving quietly across the room, he dropped a folded piece of paper on Nicky’s desk as he passed.
Later in the period, after Mr. Matteo had finished his lecture on derivatives, Nicky excused herself to go to the bathroom so she could unfold the paper and look at in in private.
Dear Nicky,
I got really angry when I learned you were with Art last weekend. I understand you need Art to bid on you at the Date Auction, so it’s completely unfair of me to be angry, but I was, or rather, I am. Just thinking about you and him at his house, about him getting to be with you not because you want it, but because you need his money—it’s just sick. Everything about this school and this contest is sick and I wish there was something we could do about it.
But sadly, we can’t. You were correct at the Masquerade when you told me we can’t just leave. There are too many people we care about that would be hurt if we disappeared. You have to give Art what he wants; I have to give Kim what she wants. And as long as we’re stuck in this hellhole, we’re only inviting sadness into our lives when we talk on the phone and in math class.
I’m going to quit calling you now. Tomorrow in fourth period I’m going to sit far away from you. I’m not going to say hi when I see you in the halls. I’m going to do my best to forget about how easy it is to talk to you and how happy I feel when I hear your voice.
I want you to be alive when all of this is over. I want you to feel free to do the things you have to do to compete with Kim, even the ugly things, without worrying about what I think. I don’t want to be in your way, so I’m saying goodbye now.
Good luck.
Ryan
The letter should have set Nicky free. It should have released her from all the confusion and emotional drama she was feeling—drama that Ryan understood all too well and wanted to end.
&nb
sp; But it did just the opposite. It made her blood boil. It made her angry at the world that was conspiring to keep her and Ryan apart, and as the week went on, that anger distracted her from the work she had to do.
Instead of maintaining her relationships with Art, Marshall, and Vince, she kept to herself as she walked between classes. Instead of hanging out with Annika and the gang after school, she made up excuses and went off to be alone. Instead of sitting with Jill and discussing strategy, she took long drives across town.
And when she was on those drives, she let the engine of the Vicenza roar and left Melissa’s ever-present slaves in the dust.
Her first week as a girl wearing black came and went and she knew she was doing a terrible job at it. But she didn’t care. How could she focus on the inanities of life as a Thorndike student when she knew that Melissa Mayhew had tortured and killed her father? How could she think about Art and Marshall and Vince when she knew Frankie was stuck in Renata’s mansion? How could she keep her mind on the Coronation contest when every night she drifted into the same disturbing dream about a silver sphere and a monstrous version of her mother?
Gia called a debriefing meeting at Nicky’s house on Thursday.
“Let’s talk about the Date Auction,” Gia said. “It’s only a week away. Which boys are bidding on Nicky and what are we doing to make sure Kim doesn’t steal them away?”
Jill and Nicky shared a glance, neither of them eager to speak.
“Is something going on between you two?” Gia said.
“No, everything’s fine,” said Jill. “The most important guy for the plan is Art. Nicky and I went to see him on Sunday night.”
“You went too?” Gia said to Jill. “What were you doing there?”
“She was there to break into the TPM database after I drugged Art to sleep,” Nicky said.
Gia raised her eyebrows. “Okay. Tell me more,” she said.
Nicky began the story with the “hangover tonic” and ended with Art in his bed, half-empty bottles of pills and wine on the nightstand next to him.
“Unfortunately, the data didn’t hold,” Jill said.
“What do you mean it didn’t hold?” asked Gia.
“There was a logic bomb embedded in the code. Once we got it on Alvin’s servers the data turned to mush,” said Jill.
“You’re telling me you risked the support of Nicky’s wealthiest backer for nothing?” said Gia.
“Not for nothing,” said Jill. “Nicky found a secret room in the house. It was very interesting.”
As Jill described Merv’s human trophies, Nicky pulled out her phone to show pictures of all the paperwork they found in Merv’s desk, including the letter from Falkon.
“So Merv is talking to Falkon Dillinger,” Gia said. “Are we going to use this to blackmail Art?”
“We don’t need to blackmail Art,” said Nicky. “I spent time with him on Monday. He’s still with us.”
“A lot could have happened since Monday,” said Gia. “Maybe you should spend time with him again tomorrow, and maybe if you get the slightest sense that he’s having second thoughts, you should use this letter against him.”
“Sure, whatever,” Nicky said.
“Okay, spill it,” said Gia. “Something’s up with you. What is it? Is it what Melissa told you after the Masquerade?”
“That’s part of it, yeah,” said Nicky.
“Part of it but not all of it?” said Gia.
“Maybe all of it, I don’t know. It’s hard to pretend to be a snotty rich girl when you just learned that your father was tortured and killed. It’s hard to care about the whims of a few spoiled brats at school when you know your friend is being held as a slave in a vampire’s mansion.”
“We’ll get your friend out, Nicky,” said Gia.
“When? He turns eighteen in December, you know. We don’t have a lot of time. We should be planning the rescue already.”
“I don’t know,” said Gia. “Right now a break-in at Renata’s doesn’t fit the plan.”
“Then the plan needs to change.”
“Do we need to end this mission now?” Gia said. “Because I’m starting to think you’re not up for it. Do I need to remind you that Melissa Mayhew is watching your every move? Brawl in the Fall is tomorrow night and she might decide to come. That’s why I called this meeting. I want to talk about a plan to kill her. But if your head isn’t in the game, we might as well forget it. You’ll be killed and the mission will be over. So what do you say, Nicky? Are you still up for this or do we need to get you out of here?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Nicky said.
“That’s not what I asked you,” said Gia.
“But that’s what I’m telling you,” said Nicky. “I’m not going anywhere until Melissa is dead and Frankie is free.”
That night the dream began in a different way. It started outside Renata’s mansion. She was standing with Ryan, Art, and Marshall. All of them were looking through a window and watching Frankie work inside the house. Nicky asked the guys if they would help her break in and they all refused, so Nicky went through the front doors alone. It seemed so easy to step inside, and for a minute she thought she and Frankie might walk out together.
But then Renata’s mansion disappeared, and she was back in the mountains, back with the silver sphere and her mother. It was night. A huge, blood red moon hung overhead. Sergio appeared beside her.
“You’ve come back,” Nicky said to him. “You’ve been away for a few nights.”
Sergio nodded once, then pointed behind Nicky, back to the building where Nicky’s mother was about to break through the glass. Knowing she only had seconds left before the dream was over, Nicky turned to Sergio and asked, “What does it mean? Why am I coming back here every night?”
“This scene is buried deep in your memory,” he said. “Your conscious mind has been hiding it from you, but it wants to come out.”
The glass shattered and Nicky’s mom came running, her yellow teeth dripping with drool, her gray face pulled tight over her skull. She was running as fast as ever, but somehow, in the strange way dreams sometimes work, Nicky still had time to talk to Sergio before her mother arrived.
“How can this be a memory?” Nicky said. “Did my mother actually do this to me? It’s like she’s infected. When she gets here, she’ll bite me, and something will spread out from her teeth into my blood.”
“That part doesn’t ring as true, does it?” Sergio said.
“No,” said Nicky. “It doesn’t. Something isn’t right. It’s why I always wake up when she bites into my neck.”
“The scene is rooted in memory, but that doesn’t mean it happened exactly as you see it,” Sergio said.
Her mother was close. The rotten stench of the woman’s breath filled Nicky’s lungs.
“Pay attention now,” Sergio said. “Focus on what’s really happening.”
Her mother descended upon her and bit into her neck. This was the time when Nicky was supposed to close her eyes and scream as the sickness came inside. It was becoming so familiar as to be habitual. Close your eyes and wait it out—this is when you always wake up.
She forced herself to make a change. This time, as her mother bit into her neck, Nicky kept her eyes open. She turned her head to look at the woman who was tearing at her flesh. The woman had changed. No longer a gray-faced monstrosity, she was now a beautiful teen, with soft, white skin and long black hair. The woman pulled away from Nicky’s neck, blood dripping from her lips.
She saw the woman only for an instant. It was like a flash frame; one that was so horrifying it threw her out of the dream and woke her up.
Sitting up in bed, breathing heavy, the final image from the dream echoed in Nicky’s vision.
The woman Nicky saw in that final instant wasn’t her mother at all. It was Daciana Samarin.
Chapter 18
Jill walked out of the debriefing session at Nicky’s house with a monstrous homework assignment. Gia had tasked he
r with finding a way to track Melissa’s movements.
“As soon as Melissa comes to Washington, we want to know,” Gia had said. “We want to lure Melissa to the Bloom mansion where we’ll have a crew of assassins ready to meet her. We’ll have a much better chance of pulling this off if we have some kind of warning that Melissa is on her way. Create something for us.”
Create something for us. As if breaking into the database of the Federal Aviation Administration was something Jill could do in an evening. As if she wasn’t already busy working on the mission, and the stolen data, and her own life.
As if she could just snap her fingers and find a vampire.
Jill rushed home from school on Friday afternoon intending to bang out this new program before she was due at Sutter’s Field for Brawl in the Fall. But when she got home she found her house full of people.
“Oh hello, Jill. Come in, come in. Everyone, this is my daughter Jill. Jill, meet everyone.”
Her father was already blitzed. Barely three in the afternoon and he was slurring his speech. He had a martini glass in his hand, empty save a few cubes of ice and an olive.
“Dad, what’s going on?”
“We’re celebrating,” said Walter. “A long overdue company party. You kids are going to go out and have your big shindig in the woods tonight. Why not the grownups too? Huh? Doesn’t everybody deserve a good party?”
Walter raised his glass and a dozen people cheered in response.
Jill looked around and saw all the assistants and sales staff that worked for her father’s company, Black Dart Enterprises. All of these people owed their livelihoods to Jill’s mother, the only employee of Black Dart that counted.
“Where’s Mom?” Jill said.
“Your mother is upstairs,” said Walter. “She’s the reason we’re celebrating. Right now she is working on the very last program on Daciana’s to-do list. When she’s done, we’ll have completed everything Daciana has asked of us. Can you believe it? For as long as we’ve been in business, we’ve had a huge stack of work from her, but now we’re almost at the bottom. We’re getting way ahead of the game here, Jill. We have so many clients who’ve wanted us to work for them, but I’ve told them all to step aside. Daciana comes first, of course. But she hasn’t had any new work for us in a long time. Hell, I haven’t even spoken with Daciana in months! All our contact is with Renata now, and she isn’t giving us new work. We’re about to reach the end of the backlog.”
The Festival of the Moon (Girls Wearing Black: Book Two) Page 14
