My eyes fell on the jagged scar across the vampire’s neck.
It had to be more than an inch thick. It wasn’t pink like a human scar, so I hadn’t noticed it at first; it was white, matching his unmarked skin. Now that I saw it, however, I realized the previously broken flesh rose off this throat in jagged ridges.
I’d seen him get that scar in New York. I’d been there when Black impaled the vampire’s neck on his sword and pinned him to the wall with it.
Brick’s eyes flickered to me, almost like he’d heard me.
Maybe his vampire eyes simply saw where my eyes had rested.
Either way, a harder, colder light rose to those crystal-colored irises.
“What do you want, Quentin?” Brick said, his pleasant tone holding an edge as his eyes flickered back to Black. “Whyever would you come a’ courting at my plantation, knowing how likely it was you’d be swinging from one of the trees before the sun went down?”
I grimaced a little at the slavery reference.
I knew that couldn’t be accidental, either.
If Brick noticed, he didn’t react. Gazing out over the rest of the table, his eyes paused briefly on Manny, then on Lex before swiveling back to Black.
“…I truly thought you valued your own life more than this, Quentin,” Brick said, raising his voice slightly louder. “I thought you valued your friends’ lives more, not to mention your wife’s. I dare say, I’m even a bit disappointed.”
The vampire’s crystal eyes hardened more.
“You do know how I relish a good hunt,” he said. “Chaining you to my floor for the next however-many decades while I violate the lovely Miriam in front of you won’t be anywhere near as satisfying if I don’t feel I’ve earned that privilege, do you see?”
Silence fell over the backyard of the small wooden house.
I glanced at Black.
He didn’t return my look. His gold irises never left Brick.
I didn’t see any fear in his expression, or feel any in his light. His gold eyes were hard. I felt anger there, but more than that, I felt him thinking, strategizing, maybe even running scenarios in the back of his mind.
Now that Brick was actually here, I couldn’t help wondering if maybe the vampire was right. Our coming here was foolhardy, to say the least. Moreover, the idea that Brick would be open to some kind of negotiation or sharing of intel after what happened in New York struck me as delusional.
I’d assumed before that Black wouldn’t even try for a real negotiation, not like this.
I figured he’d just kidnap one of Brick’s followers. Then, he’d either try to force the vampire to talk to him, or let it feed on him until he discerned who might be behind what was going on in the Pentagon.
That was more or less the plan, doc, Black murmured.
I glanced at him. So? How are we going to pull that off now?
Plans changes sometimes, doc. Trust me––I liked the old plan better, too.
Out of nowhere, another voice rose in my mind.
Just how vulnerable are they to sunlight? it asked.
I turned sharply, more in reflex than thought. I found myself staring at the group sitting on the crabgrass- and dandelion-choked lawn, and realized it was Dalejem who’d been speaking.
Black looked over there, too.
Not enough, Black answered the other male. Depending on how many he brought with him. Depending on how long they need to stay in that sunlight. From what Charles told me, five to ten minutes is about the max they can do without it starting to really hurt. Even then, only a fraction will catch on fire in that amount of time. Most just suffer serious burns.
Grimacing, Black added,
Given how many seem to be living out here, meaning in this rough geographical area, and the probable level of Brick’s paranoia, given that he’s now a fugitive and I nearly killed him in New York… we should assume he came well-fortified. We could be looking at hundreds of them, depending on the kind of shelter available nearby. I’d be willing to bet there’s at least a few dozen in Jackson’s house, not to mention nearby houses, shelters we don’t know about, even the trees, if they’re thick enough.
They wouldn’t wait in open sunlight, would they? I sent, glancing between them.
Probably not, Black conceded. Again, depending on the tech they have, in terms of creams or clothes or whatever else that might prolong their ability to be in direct sunlight.
So we could capture this one? Dalejem sent. Potentially?
Before Black could answer, I found myself shaking my head.
I can’t imagine Brick would allow that, I sent, frowning faintly. Or risk it in any way. Like Black said, he’s got to be insanely paranoid after what happened before. He wouldn’t have walked out here unless he was ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain he could control every aspect of this interaction.
I glanced around our table, and at the lawn.
If Black’s right, I sent. He’s got Jackson’s sister and all of those kids enthralled. Clearly, the kids have been fed on recently. Brick didn’t do all that himself.
She’s right, Black sent. He’s got others inside the house watching us right now. More nearby, in another house or shelter. They’ve probably enthralled more humans who could help, and who don’t have to worry about sun poisoning. They move really damned fast. And they’d all be on high alert, expecting a fight.
I glanced at Black.
Something’s different, though, I told him, my thoughts quieter.
Black turned towards me, frowning.
At his tauter scrutiny, I shrugged.
He just seems different… compared to New York, I mean. Is it possible he might be taking more chances than he would have before? Still thinking, I added, Maybe they messed with his mind at the Pentagon. We already know vampires can be vulnerable to trauma. Or maybe his emotions towards you are making him reckless.
Black grunted, looking out over the weed-choked lawn.
Or maybe his leadership isn’t as rock solid as it was before he was imprisoned, he added sourly. I’ve noticed his people seem pretty susceptible to coups. They don’t seem to have much patience for anything they perceive as “weakness.”
I gave a bare nod of agreement, thinking about Black’s words.
If that’s true, I wonder how they reacted to Brick’s coup internally, I sent. Meaning what he did to Konstantin. And what happened after his imprisonment… especially after he risked the exposure of the race as a whole in New York, going after you.
Black nodded, eyes thoughtful.
I watched him continue to turn over thoughts in some other part of his mind as his eyes returned to where Brick stood on the edge of the porch.
It frustrated me that I still didn’t really know what he was thinking.
I knew he was doing his damnedest to be forthcoming with me, but I still struggled to follow the trails of his mind.
“Well, Quentin?” Brick said. “Are you going to tell me what y’all are doing here? Or not?” The vampire made a show of checking an expensive-looking watch. “Even my good nature and my patience has its limits. I may decide, any second now, that I simply don’t care.”
There was another silence.
Then Black frowned up at the vampire king.
“You killed the Colonel,” he said.
It wasn’t a question.
When Black didn’t go on, Brick quirked an eyebrow, that smile still teasing his lips as he glanced at me, then at Black.
“Is this revenge, then? How deliciously interesting.”
When Black didn’t answer, the vampire’s smile slowly widened.
“The Colonel? Let me see.” The vampire tapped his lips with a long, white finger, rolling his eyes upward, as if in thought. “I believe I did have the pleasure of a number of military-type men recently. Was he that older, dark-skinned gentleman? The one who screamed so shrilly right before I tore out his throat? If so, I do recall him, yes.”
Wincing, I glanced at Lex, and saw a colder
fury rise to his eyes.
If Black reacted, it didn’t show in his words.
“You must have had help,” he said. “Who helped you?”
Brick stared at him, his eyes suddenly showing a sharper interest.
“Ah,” he said. “I think I am understanding now, why you haven’t attempted to harm me yet, Quentin. Or run away. Or set fire to this dwelling… despite my walking out here among you so freely. Despite my occasionally pointed words.”
Pausing, he glanced at me again, as if something in me and Black piqued his interest as well, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
In the end, he aimed his frown back at Black.
“Are you really expecting me to share information with you, Quentin?” he said, emphasizing Black’s name with an added lilt. “I must say, that is forward of you. Rather presumptuous, one might even say. Particularly given our last meeting.”
“Was it Charles who helped you?” Black said, ignoring the other’s words, and his tone. “Did Lucky Lucifer let you out of your cage to attack the Colonel? Did he help you to escape wherever they were holding you?”
Brick’s eyes turned visibly harder.
The anger reflected there didn’t entirely overpower everything else I saw in his expression; I could see the interest there, the faintest hint of conflict as he stared at Black.
The anger was damned strong, though.
“Why this sudden fascination with my comings and goings, Quentin?” he said finally. “Did you really risk your life to come down here and ask me how I escaped that prison in which you, personally, had me forcibly sequestered? Or is the cornbread really that good?”
Black frowned.
I felt him thinking again, even as his jaw hardened.
“You really don’t know, do you?” he said after another pause.
When Brick only continued to stare at him, Black clicked under his breath.
“They’re after me, Brick. Whoever is behind this… whoever set you up to kill the Colonel, and likely whoever arranged for your escape… they sent people after me, as well. I don’t know what you’ve seen in the news, but they weren’t just picking me up for questioning. As far as I know, the Pentagon has a kill order out on me.”
Brick stared at him.
Like Black must have, I saw the genuine surprise in his eyes.
He might have faked that reaction, of course.
Being a vampire, I was reasonably sure he was as old as Black, if not older, so it was safe to assume he was an accomplished liar.
Still, unlike Black, I’d never seen that particular skill on Brick up until now.
On the contrary, the vampire king’s emotions were usually more or less on the surface of his face, and utterly transparent. Maybe because of that, or maybe for some other reason, I was reasonably sure what I was seeing in his face now was real.
While I was still studying his crimson and glass irises, looking for a trick, Brick burst out in a laugh.
“Well isn’t that just… delicious.”
Leaning against the support beam of the porch and folding his arms, he smiled at Black. It was maybe the first genuine smile I’d ever seen on the creature’s face.
“Are you here to ask for my help, Mr. Quentin R. Black, Private Detective? Really? Because I might just die of happiness right here and now, if that truly is the case.”
Black shrugged, his expression close to blank.
“I thought an information exchange might benefit both of us,” Black said. “Seeing as how we seem to find ourselves in… similar predicaments.”
Brick stared at him.
I saw the surprise there still, but I saw a denser anger, as well.
I also saw the calculation, the thought going on behind that harder gaze.
When he finally spoke, that harder note made it to his voice.
“Similar predicaments. What a fascinating idea.” Drumming his fingers against his bicep, he straightened, taking his weight off the porch beam. “And how do you figure our predicaments are similar, exactly, Quentin?”
Black shrugged his broad shoulders.
“Whoever it is, they clearly want me dead. Or in a hole, probably not dissimilar to wherever it was they held you.”
Leaning one of his muscular forearms on the table, he motioned towards Brick with graceful fingers. I couldn’t help noticing he never took his other hand off my thigh, or loosened his grip on me.
“If Charles is behind this, you can bet he wants your entire race exterminated,” Black added, blunt. “In fact, I suspect that’s the only reason you’re still alive. If he allowed you to escape, instead of mind-pushing one of those humans to cut out your heart and toss your body in an incinerator, it was likely so you’d lead him here. Or really, to wherever your people are hiding out. Which means, he’s likely prepping something as we speak… assuming you’ve more or less stayed in the same place for the last few hours.”
Black trailed as the door to the house opened with a screech.
A blond vampire strode out of that darkened doorway and out onto the deck. His perfectly drawn features were like something out of a fairytale, so disarmingly beautiful, it was difficult to look away for a few seconds.
Realizing I knew him, that I recognized him from New York, I glanced at Angel, only to find her and Cowboy staring up at him too.
The vampire itself stared only at Black, a cold, unfeeling interest shining through its crimson eyes.
Looking at him, I felt my first real shiver of fear.
There was something seriously wrong with this one, even for a vampire.
“…Moreover,” Black continued, as though the blond vampire’s appearance didn’t faze him in the slightest. “If it is Charles orchestrating all this, I suspect he fully intends to eradicate my people, too. Not seers. My people. As in every human who works for me. Every seer he perceives as siding with me against him. Everyone but Miri, his niece, most likely. Knowing him, he’ll kill any seer he’s not related to who demonstrates themselves unable to be brought over or controlled by his seer cult in whatever way.”
Frowning, I glanced at the seers sitting on the grass, all of whom were listening to the exchange attentively.
I knew Black meant his words for their ears as well.
“He’ll definitely kill me,” Black added sourly. “At least if he thinks he can do it without harming Miri. If he doesn’t think he can do that, he’ll likely try something more drastic to bring my mind around to his way of thinking. Blackmail. Torture. Possibly even some kind of chemical or tech solution that would make me more ‘malleable’ in his view.”
Glancing around the table at his employees, Black scowled, his expression darker.
“…He’ll definitely kill or erase any humans who know about seers. He’ll destroy any records that pertain to the seer race, the Colonel’s or anyone else’s. He’ll kill anyone or anything that threatens his people in the slightest.”
Black waited a beat.
When neither vampire spoke, he added,
“I believe this might be a contingency of some kind. A clean-up, if you will, to ensure the safety and anonymity of our race. I confess, I’ve considered doing less radical versions of the same, just to keep information about seers contained. I considered it again recently, with the Colonel’s death, and given everything that happened in New York.”
Shrugging, Black let his scowl deepen.
“If Charles has the help of someone in the United States government, willing or not, witting or not, there’s a good chance he’ll unleash the full force of their military on one or both of us… and soon. That means military drones. Satellites. Missiles. Extraction teams. Possibly even ground forces and tanks.”
Motioning eloquently up towards the sky, he added,
“You might want to think about moving your people, Brick. I strongly suspect he’s tracked you down here. I’d ditch any clothes you had on you when you escaped. I’d also check your body for implants, RFID chips, anything sending out a signal,
or anything about your biology that may have changed since you were imprisoned. They might have put some kind of tracker in your blood… even in your DNA.”
Brick and the blond vampire exchanged looks.
At their continued silence, Black let his hand drop to the top of the wooden table.
“For that reason,” he finished, letting a hint of sarcasm touch his voice. “I would say we do share some similarities in predicament, friend. Especially since I’m reasonably sure I’m risking my ass getting anywhere near you and your people right now… and not only because you’re pissed off at what I did to you in New York.”
Brick and the blond vampire looked at one another again.
Brick frowned a second later, his gaze swiveling to Black.
“Don’t try to leave here, ‘friend,’” he said, his voice cold.
I let out a disbelieving snort. “What?”
Brick gave me a look, then returned his gaze to Black.
“I’m sure you and your lovely wife understand why we might prefer to verify a few elements in your story?” he said, his voice a few shades colder. “You can’t seriously expect us to take you at your word, can you, Quentin?”
One of the Navajos from New Mexico, Dog, spoke up from the lawn.
“Turn on the television,” he said, holding up a smart phone with one hand. He gave me and Black an apologetic look. “Black’s all over it. It’s blowing up on social media, too… faster than it is on the news stations. They’re saying now he’s suspected of murder… and there’s a bunch of other stuff, about him maybe being some kind of double-agent, working for Islamic terrorists.”
“What?” I turned, staring at Dog. “Who did he supposedly kill?”
“That Colonel guy.” Dog continued staring down at his smaller screen. “They’re also blaming him for the death of six Federal agents.” Stopping as he thought about that, Dog flushed a little. “Okay, that part might be true. They mention the funeral, and how he was being brought in for questioning when he bolted and shot up the Colonel’s neighborhood.”
Manny shifted on his piece of bench too, also staring at Dog.
“They think he murdered Holmes?” Manny frowned. “Black wasn’t even in D.C. then. He was still with us, in New Mexico, when the Colonel bought it.”
In Black We Trust Page 20
