Laws of the Blood 2: Partners

by Susan Sizemore

  Char nodded. “The most serious kind of agreement is said to be sealed in ancient blood. Very strong magic.”

  If truth be told, all vampire blood was, technically or at least theoretically, the blood of the goddess—if one was a religious sort of vampire. Personally, Char would rather think that vampirism was some sort of mutation or blood disease that brought about physical changes and enhanced the energy manipulation that was better known as magic. Demons, real demons, not the ones created by magical experimentation, were probably some sort of interdimensional alien. Or maybe they were exactly what they believed they were, creatures of forgotten gods whose duty it was to punish mortals. Who was she to question other beings’ religious beliefs when she had enough of her own to question? She supposed it was an easier explanation than the alien theory, though she suspected that it was demons that were responsible for the recent rash of what mortal victims deemed to be alien abductions.

  She was musing again, Char realized, while Della gaped at her. When Char focused on her, Della asked, “You’ve got an agreement with demons?”

  “I didn’t make the deal. I don’t necessarily think it’s a good idea, but I enforce the Laws.”

  “Oh, really?” Della snapped. “What laws have you enforced lately?”

  Char winced at both Della’s words and tone. But she admitted, “I know I’m a rookie.”

  She had a ceremonial silver knife, but no nest leader had yet to give her an owl-faced coin to acknowledge her authority to organize hunts and mediate disputes. She wanted to be of active use to the community but suspected she was more of a support-staff type than field operative material. But Istvan wouldn’t have sent her out with an assignment if he didn’t think she was ready. Except, he hadn’t exactly set her to hunting other vampires, had he? And demons? Demons were definitely out of Enforcer jurisdiction.

  “Aren’t you supposed to protect people?”

  “Enforcers protect mortal and immortal people from each other and settle disputes between immortals.”

  “Demons are immortal.”

  “No, they’re not, just long-lived. And I can’t protect mortals from them.”

  “I protect whoever comes under my wing.”

  “That’s very admirable, but there’s nothing I can do for Daniel if a demon has him under its power.”

  “Excuse me? But doesn’t this treaty work both ways? If a demon’s kidnapped a vampire and is using the vampire to murder people . . .”

  “I don’t know that Daniel was kidnapped by anyone,” Char interrupted. “I don’t know anything about what’s happened to Daniel. What I do know is that a mortal sorcerer—for want of a better term—is killing people. I know that this sorcerer is using obscuring spells to keep anyone with psychic talent from detecting his or her presence. I know that a companion called on a spell set by a sorcerer to knock me out, and that this companion also mentioned a demon. Whether this companion belongs to Daniel, I don’t know.”

  “But what if this wizard is in league with a demon, and they’re using Daniel?”

  “Then Daniel might be in deep shit with the Strigoi Council for being in league with this demon.”

  “But—it would be against his will.”

  “I would have to discover why and how he’s involved before I enforce the Laws. I might be able to let him off. I might not.”

  “But—”

  “I know! No one says laws written thousands of years ago make any sense today, but they’re still the laws I have to enforce.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Della laughed harshly. “You’re ridiculous. You’re scared, Char-lotte. Scared you can’t handle what’s out there, so you invent a law about demons as an excuse.”

  That was unfair and untrue, but Char saw the woman’s point. She didn’t argue about it. “Whatever.”

  Della rose to her feet. “Something evil is going on. If you can’t fix it, find somebody who can.” She pointed toward the street door. “Get out of my house, and don’t come back until the streets are safer for the poor souls that are under my protection.” She tossed Char her car keys. “Hunter,” she added with a hard laugh and a dismissive shrug. “Hunter, my ass.”

  Chapter 12

  “WHAT DO YOU mean, how’d I get this number?” Char spoke into the cell phone from the exact spot in Pioneer Square where the companion’s magic had attacked her the night before. She could still detect the dregs of that burst of energy and noticed that the crowds on the sidewalk were unconsciously giving the area a wide berth.

  The woman on the other end of the line said nothing, and Char went on. “I knew there was something you didn’t tell me when you came to my place, Bourbon. Tell me now, or forever rest in peace, all right?”

  That sounded good. Sounded tough. Char gave a toss of her head as she gazed into the window of the Starbucks across the busy street. Friday night was a lot different in this neighborhood than Thanksgiving had been. Friday night was party time, with the square full of locals and tourists. Lots of noise, lots of fun. She remembered nights here years ago, Johnny and her drinking and listening to music at the clubs. She didn’t want to go back in them—stirring up old memories and all that. She planned on catching the last underground tour of the evening. She didn’t know if she’d find any clue to Daniel’s whereabouts, but she had another purpose in mind. She looked up and down the street and saw no sign of the man she waited for. She smiled as she thought, Maybe I spent the day sleeping, but that doesn’t mean I was napping.

  She did have a plan. Despite Della’s lack of confidence, Char had every intention of behaving like an Enforcer of the Law before leaving this town. While she waited, she answered the question she’d posed to Helene Bourbon herself. “You told me you were tired of playing mother to strays, but the real reason you didn’t come for help sooner was because you didn’t notice he was missing. Somebody put a spell on you.”

  The indignant answer came instantly. “Don’t be ridiculous!” No strigoi, especially a nest leader, would easily admit to that. Char didn’t bother replying, and after a long silence, Helene Bourbon said, almost whispered, very contritely, “That’s what must have happened.”

  “And why didn’t you mention this to me?”

  “I . . . forgot?”

  “Oh, puh-lease. I wasn’t reborn yesterday.”

  Of course that was exactly what everyone thought, that Char’s being a hunter was some sort of joke, a mistake, that she was naive and gullible, and maybe part of that was true. Time to change that perception.

  “Was Daniel kidnapped by a sorcerer? Did he go off with a demon?” Char batted away the mental image of Huck Finn as a vampire being taken in by a pair of mortal con artists.

  “A demon? I don’t know anything about demons,” Helene said hastily.

  “What about the mortal magician?”

  “I don’t know anything. Daniel ran off. I did go looking for him, but I got . . . lost. I ended up sleeping in the woods near my house. When I woke up, I went home and didn’t even think about Daniel for weeks. Neither did anyone else in my nest. When the spell wore off, I did what I could to find him.”

  Char knew she should still be annoyed at Helene’s not adding this salient point about spells during their initial conversation, but she smiled. The spell had worn off. So this sorcerer wasn’t as good as he thought he was. She could work with that. “Thanks,” she said as she spotted her quarry crossing the square. “Gotta go. Have a date.”

  She shut off the phone and put it back in her coat pocket. Maybe she couldn’t do anything about the demon if he was working with the sorcerer, but there was a chance she could take out the sorcerer. Then whatever magic he was using on the young vampire would fade. That might do Daniel some good. But this sorcerer was good at weaving protective spells, and she’d have to find him first. She’d work on that after taking care of some other business.

  The problem with magic, Char thought as she walked toward where the tour group gathered beside one of the old buildings, was that some
idiots thought they could rule the world with it. Magic, as any sensible being who was affected by it could tell you, was more of a pain in the posterior than it was a power tool. For one thing, it turned around and bit you on the butt if you gave it half a chance. It was dangerous to use, hard to control, and there were always consequences for using it. Also, only a tiny percentage of the population could even be affected by it. Just because you put a spell on someone didn’t mean it was going to work. Magic was like ragweed or cat fur, some people had an allergic reaction; most didn’t.

  She had the most serious form of the allergy or she wouldn’t have ended up not only a vampire, but a vampire’s vampire. The tall, stoop-shouldered man in the worn leather coat standing near the tour group was also sorely afflicted with the allergy, or he wouldn’t have responded to her dreamriding suggestion that he check out the underground tonight.

  She regretted that he’d answered her call, because she was going to kill Jebel Haven this evening. She was going to have to have a talk with him first, and that would make it harder for her, but she was definitely going to kill him.

  Her immediate problem was how to introduce herself. She always thanked her luck for meeting Johnny Bluecorn, because she’d never been any good on the dating scene. All that “Hi, what’s your sign? Come here often?” stuff was simply beyond her comprehension. Oh, well, she thought as Haven’s glance flicked her way and she was caught by the intensity in his dark brown eyes, I’m sure something will come up.

  He’d woken up with an urge, and not just the usual one to take a piss. A voice in his head called to him to look for vampires in the ruins under the square in his dreams and he’d given in to it. This wasn’t the first time this week Haven had let a gut feeling lead him around Washington state, but he was getting tired of it. He trusted his instincts, but right now he didn’t feel in control of them, and that bothered him. It made a spot between his shoulder blades itch, kind of like it was warning him that he was about to be stabbed in the back. He gave a sour sneer as he looked around.

  He wasn’t sure what had called to him, whether it was his own sixth sense or the influence of some psychic evil fucking with his mind, but he wasn’t fool enough to come without backup. Santini was around somewhere. If this was some sort of trap set by the werewolf, they could handle it. Besides, Santini had wanted to see if he could get any information about the nut cult from the regular drunks and druggies who called Pioneer Square home.

  Haven was going to do what the dreams suggested, look underground for the lair of any local bloodsuckers. He didn’t have much hope for finding vampires in a place that was basically a local tourist trap, but he knew from experience that the brain-damaged ones frequently sought out the obvious hiding places. There had been fang marks on the corpse in the woods and on the bodies in Special Agent Novak’s files. So there were vampires involved as well as the monster that had sniffed out the dumped body. Haven figured he’d take out the fiends he knew how to handle first, then he’d concentrate on the werewolf and whatever else was haunting this dark, dreary city.

  Probably all working together, he thought as he lit a cigarette. His gaze was caught briefly by the sight of a large fake owl on a second-floor window ledge. Someone had attached it to the building to scare off pigeons. Then he turned his head and looked directly at the girl with the dark red hair who had been inching her way toward him for the last five minutes.

  Their eyes met as she came out from under the shadow of the trees at one end of the square. She lifted her head slightly and smiled, and Jebel Haven got hit by lightning. The sensation faded after a moment, but for that moment, he couldn’t remember why he was here in the first place. Or even where here was. He knew it wasn’t to pick up a girl. Of course, it had been awhile . . .

  He ran a finger down his jaw and tilted his head sideways to look at her some more. Not bad. Not spectacular, but she had something. Enough of something that Haven gave himself a moment to wonder about the shape hidden by her baggy blue raincoat. Enough of something to keep him staring and to start his blood racing. Correction: She had spectacular legs, even wearing what he supposed were called sensible shoes. He hoped that the skirt beneath the raincoat was a short one, because his best guess was that those legs went on for about a week. A man needed a good long view to appreciate them properly.

  He stepped away from the crowd, closer to her. It was a hesitant movement on his part, not his usual style at all. He tossed away the cigarette and crushed it under his heel. She smiled ever so slightly at this. She was shy, vulnerable, not his type.

  He said, “You know I’m trouble, right?”

  “Undoubtedly you are,” she answered in a deep, husky, bedroom voice that didn’t match her looks at all.

  She came a few steps closer, or maybe he did. His plan to explore the underground was shelved in favor of asking her what her sign was and did she come here often. “You going underground?”

  “Been there, done that.”

  “Yeah,” he answered. “Me, too.” He had the feeling neither of them was talking about walking around the subterranean streets of Seattle.

  They were all alone in a big, noisy Friday night party crowd. Music spilled out from bars, but there was a little island of silence around them. He felt as if he should pour bright, clever conversation into the silence, making a gift of words to impress her. He knew she liked words, and pleasing her was important. He wished he’d shaved closer and had better clothes.

  The tour group was led off by a cheerful guide, but Haven and the girl stayed behind. He didn’t want to do anything but be with her. He did not believe in meeting the girl of his dreams. Why not? He hadn’t believed in vampires five years ago. If they were real, why not go with the idea of love at first sight? Not that love was exactly in his game plan, but why not take the night off with a little female company? Haven chuckled, a low, wicked sound, and that broke the spell.

  “Who are you?” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What do you want?”

  “You don’t have to be rude,” she responded with a sharp lift of her head that almost made him laugh.

  “I’m always rude.”

  “So I see.”

  She took a step back, toward the shadows. He followed.

  She’d had him! For a few seconds there, Char knew she’d drawn Haven to her in the good, old-fashioned, tried-and-true, put-a-vampire-glamour-on-the-object-of-desire way. Okay, Jimmy had always said that nobody but a loser vampire nerd would pick up chicks by hypnotizing them in this day and age. Well, she was a chick, and a nerd as well as being a vampire, and doing the fatal attraction thing had seemed like the simplest way to distract someone as dangerous as Jebel Haven. Problem was, when she looked at him, he looked back. The results were disturbing and distracting. Took her mind right off seducing him, and put it on . . . well, seducing him, but for all the wrong reasons.

  Maybe she should have gone about this differently, or rather, traditionally. The easy way would be to unleash the urge to hunt, stalk the man, absorb his fear like a dark drug, consume his emotions, feast on his flesh, and dump the remains. Looked at objectively, that was a fairly disgusting scenario and one she wanted no part of. Whatever danger he posed to the strigoi, Haven did not deserve a death that should be reserved for only for the deepest and most irredeemably evil of mortal kind.

  “And members of grunge bands,” Jimmy had added when he’d taught her the basics of vampire killing. But she was pretty sure he’d been joking, even if he had left town right after Kurt Cobain’s body was found.

  The point was, she’d been attempting to attract Haven to find out what he was doing in Seattle, not to initiate a hunt. When it came time for her to murder Jebel Haven, she would do it in a humane way, which would give her inner beast no physical, emotional, or sexual gratification. Damn it.

  Well, whatever she’d done and however he’d responded didn’t matter now. He was still looking at her intently, but his manner was now wary.

  Char was not sure what to do
next, but she was distracted by bumping into someone as she took another step back. When she turned around to apologize, there was Santini. I used to be smarter than this, she thought as she noticed the two men exchange looks. I really was. Of course Haven brought Santini with him. The two men were partners, there for each other, watching each other’s backs while they defended the world from vampires. She almost growled at them that they’d just met their first real vampire, but she already knew that they didn’t think vampires were particularly intelligent and saw no reason to prove them correct just now.

  “Hi,” Santini said, with a smile that was curiously charming. “We’ve met before.” He said this to Haven rather than to her.

  “We weren’t introduced,” she answered. She’d recognized Santini, and he remembered seeing her with Della. How charming.

  Haven’s hand landed on her shoulder. “The girl from the shelter.” Not a question.

  Nor was it a problem, Char decided. She looked into Haven’s very suspicious face. Might as well get this over with and confront the situation head-on. “Are you looking for Daniel, too?” she asked.

  Haven looked around and scratched his jaw. She heard the rough scrape of his finger against dark stubble. “Come on,” he said, and directed her toward the nearest coffee bar with his hand still tightly grasping her shoulder. Santini didn’t come with them.

  Chapter 13

  CHAR COULD HAVE broken his hold on her easily enough, but since he was doing exactly what she wanted, this was no time to oppose any macho high-handedness. They reached the front of the line quickly, and he ordered two black coffees. Char translated this for the confused counterperson, and they ended up taking a pair of regular double-shot talls to a booth in the back. She let Haven pay.

  “Where are you from?” Haven didn’t know why the hell he cared, but he asked anyway.

  “Portland.” Char supposed that if she was going to get information from him, she might as well give some in turn. She took a sip of coffee, grimaced, and reached for a packet of sugar.