by RJ Blain
“Lucky man,” Quinton muttered.
I grabbed a devil berry and tossed it at him. “Quiet, you.”
“I took his virginity in a show hosted by a succubus and an incubus. He was very enthusiastic, and I appreciated his performance and wanted to keep him—permanently, especially since he’d already stepped in front of a gun for me, gotten shot twice for me, and was this disgustingly nice guy. Disgustingly nice guys are very rare on the singles market. Not only had I claimed his virginity, I had a chance to claim his firstborn as well. Wasn’t letting that chance go by.” Marian sniffled.
“You bit me because I got mouthy with you,” I reminded her.
“All the more reason to keep you around. I like your mouth.”
“So, she bit me, I was worried I’d infected her with lycanthropy, only to discover I’d already burned out the virus. That oddity got me a trip straight courtesy of the CDC to Chicago for testing. The tests ate up a solid day, after which I went home. Life happened for a while, then I learned I was a suspect in Mark O’Conners’ murder. However, as I couldn’t be at the CDC being tested at the same time I was killing the guy who shot me near my parents’ place, I was exonerated. That whole mess led to the CDC and the CPD and my insurance company getting into a court battle over the replacement of my eye and medical care.”
“I can give you reports and recordings of the entire trial,” Quinton offered. “It’s a pleasure to watch, and I think you’ll learn a lot from it. Anyway, the trial kept him busy for a few weeks, during which Shane was closely monitored by Papa, the CPD, and the CDC. Papa and the CDC wanted to make sure nothing happened to him while the CPD wanted him to dig a grave for himself.”
“Yeah, they tried to nail me on the nationwide concealed carry permit Marian arranged for me. That tactic didn’t work.”
“It did, however, present an interesting issue.” The vampire sat up, grabbing one of the red kiwis from the tray. “After Gibby returned to his home with Marian, Papa visited him, and the CPD kept showing up. What was it, six pairs of officers over several hours?”
“That’s right,” Marian confirmed. “The department kept trying to get his permit number. We ran into the last pair as we were leaving to replace Shane’s phones and visit the mall.”
“White dresses,” I murmured, although I appreciated how comfortable she was with her nudity.
“I recall you lost your mind over the little black dress. It’s a shame it was ruined.”
Quinton sighed. “I’ll see that it’s replaced. You were in our care when it happened. Papa will insist. Gibby brought her to my sister’s restaurant in his best clothes, and he dressed her like a queen. He isn’t a romantic man by nature—I feared he’d never find a woman sufficiently interesting for him to pursue—but there they were, together as though born to be side by side. My sister had me bring out her wine, Abil Ili.”
“The last?” the Babylonian asked, quiet and still.
“The last.” The vampire lifted up a bunch of the devil berries. “These are the grapes that made that wine, Gibby. When fermented, they turn blood red. It’s old magic that kept that bottle preserved.”
“Tell me what happened,” Abil Ili demanded.
I sighed. “We were on the balcony having dinner. Pierina had made everything for us, sending out in small portions so we could try everything. I had my back to the canal so Marian could look into the abyss.”
“The abyss.” The Babylonian chuckled. “Yes, that is a suitable name for our home. An abyss, which leads to treasures unsurpassed by humans, beyond the comprehension of mere mortals.”
Since I couldn’t argue with the truth, I acknowledged him with a nod. “I heard the bang before the balcony collapsed and had time to stand before I fell into the water.”
“We think they used a grenade with a delayed detonation, stuck to the wall beneath the balcony to knock out the supports. Gibby fell into the water. Marian fell onto the sidewalk. I had to choose, and he never would have forgiven me if I’d chosen him over her, so I helped her. By the time Pierina had made it outside, someone had tossed another grenade onto the grate, breaking it. Gibby was gone, washed away. I thought he’d drowned—or died when he fell.”
“He had,” Abil Ili confirmed with a clack of his beak. “Saved only because he had not yet had his first shift. I was challenged healing his body. Do you know who did it?”
“No. His parents and my family seek the culprits.”
Abil Ili rose from his crouch, standing to his full, intimidating height. “I have heard all I need to know. Rest. When I return, we will have work to do. Sleep for a while, even you, my favored darkener of doorways. We will be busy soon enough.”
His body shimmered, and he vanished, although the movement of the cushions betrayed his presence until he reached the ledge. With a few clicks of his talons on the crystal floor, he was gone.
“Busy? Busy doing what?” Marian demanded.
Quinton smiled, and a red gleam washed over his dark eyes. “Hunting for those who tried to kill you have issued a grave insult without knowing it.”
Frowning, I turned my head to better see the vampire. “What insult?”
“Never mistake Abil Ili for human. He doesn’t have human emotions, nor does he understand emotions the way humans do, but there are a few that overlap. He is very fond of Papa, and the people Papa cherishes, he cherishes. Someone ruined something my sister loves. Someone hurt someone Papa loves. These things he understands. When he heard Pierina had shared the last of her most prized wines, the last bottle of that specific vintage, a treasure to her, he knew where we stand. He isn’t a vampire. He isn’t part of our brood. But he’s family all the same, and that Abil Ili understands, and so he will hunt.” Quinton’s smile turned cold and calculating. “He’s angry enough he means to take us with him. Tomorrow will be a bloody day, one I plan to enjoy.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I was pretty certain I’d gone from wide awake to sound asleep in a heartbeat—and mid sentence. A hazy memory of discussing potential suspects played through my head, but I could barely make sense of it, except Marian kept wanting to blame Michelle. Why would Michelle want to kill me?
“Why Michelle?” I blurted.
Marian rolled over to sprawl over my chest, her hands resting on my shoulders. Though I had no recollection of taking off my jacket and shirt, our bare skin touched. At least she’d left me with my pants, else I would’ve fallen prey to her for something entirely inappropriate for the situation. “I’d be offended, except Quinton already warned me you’d pick up right where you left off after fainting. Stop fainting. I don’t like it.”
“It’s not his fault. He needed the rest,” the vampire said, emerging from beneath the cushions. “If you two are going to get hot and heavy, you should let me join in for a light snack. I’d like it a lot.”
Instead of kneecapping the bastard, I twisted under Marian and kicked him in the face. “No.”
“You love me. You truly love me.” Quinton backed away and rubbed his nose. “But I’d like it a lot.”
“You’re not getting a drink from either one of us, so forget it. I might consider selling my parents to you for a fair price.”
Marian laughed. “You can’t keep selling your parents to vampires, Shane.”
“Why the hell not?”
“You love them, despite appearances. Selling them once as payback for trying to sell you was fair. Selling them twice would be mean.”
“Do I want to know how long I was out this time?”
Marian stuck her hand in my pants pocket, located my phone, and checked the time. “Eight and a half hours. We both needed sleep, so don’t worry about it. I was just worried because you conked out fast. Quinton said it didn’t count as a faint because you were tired and needed sleep. I’m counting it as a faint.”
“All right. Did I miss anything important?”
The look Marian and Quinton exchanged warned me I had, but neither spoke.
“What did
I miss?” Since Quinton would be a harder mark, I snagged Marian by her waist, pulled her to me, and pressed my lips to her throat. “If you want more of this later, you’ll talk, Miss Peterson.”
She giggled, wrapping her arms around me. “You’re bad.”
“So are you, lounging around without any clothes. I’m just a man, and I can’t take you home yet. When I get you home, you only have yourself to blame for all the ravishing of your person I intend to do.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“But you have to tell me what I missed first.”
“You’re a tough negotiator, Mr. Gibson.”
“You’re also going to have to marry me. That’s non-negotiable.”
She chuckled, settled herself on my lap, and rested her chin on my shoulder. “I think we may have slightly miscalculated.”
“We did?”
“It’s less we miscalculated and more that we underestimated how enthusiastically the Babylonians would join the hunt. Someone here talked to someone from a different hive, and that someone talked to someone from yet another hive, and it may have spiraled out of control.”
I made myself comfortable holding Marian, something I’d have no problem getting used to, as she was warm and fit against me just right, even though she did make my legs fall asleep. “How out of control are we talking?”
“Well, this hive has a hundred and thirty Babylonians, all adults, all with mounts, and eager to make a few forays to the surface. There’s another hive across the city with another twenty adults. They don’t have mounts, but they’re quadrupeds to begin with, so they don’t need them.”
I had a difficult time imagining a talon-footed, carapace-covered, tentacle-armed, clawed-handed Babylonian became a quadruped. “I’m becoming concerned.”
“That’s because you’re as wise as you are smart. Detroit’s hive mobilized about five hours ago, so they’re probably reaching the outskirts of the city now. They’re a mixed hive, so the bipeds are likely riding the quadrupeds, because if they brought their mounts, Chicago’s fucked.”
“Come again?”
“They have, in their infinite wisdom, convinced a herd of shedu to partner with them. The quadrupeds are the hive’s warrior maidens, and they partner with their shedu to protect each other in battle. In their hive, the bipeds are all males, and they ride their shedu to better slaughter their foes. Where the shedu roam, blood flows. Unfortunately, the shedu associated with this hive are more violent than their brethren.” Quinton grimaced.
“What the hell is a shedu?”
“The shedu of Detroit’s hive have the head of a man, the body of a lion, the wings of a great eagle, and the hooves of a bull. They’re tall, and when they look upon a man, their eyes see into his heart and know his worth. Sin is made clear, virtues are known, and justice is delivered. When they speak, only the truth falls from their lips, and when they hear a lie, their fury burns hotter than the sun. A wise man bows his head in the presence of the shedu, for the eyes are the mirrors of the soul, and only through the eyes may a man’s worth be known.” Quinton shuddered and shook his head. “I’ll pray they don’t bring their shedu, for should they, the canal will run red with blood.”
Okay, when Quinton feared something, it meant bad news. “Right. If I see any winged bulls, I won’t look up.”
“That’s a good start, except they are accompanied by the Babylonians. You won’t see them until it’s too late.”
“The Babylonians chameleons.”
“There’s a reason you haven’t seen or heard of them before, except in myth and legend. They aren’t just chameleons. They’re masters of illusion. One could walk right by you on the street, and you’d never know he was there. Some are loners, separated from the hive, wandering the Earth gathering knowledge, returning only to share the wealth they have gathered. You’ll never meet the son or daughter of one; they can’t reproduce with humans—they can’t even reproduce with each other. There are always exactly one hundred and forty-four thousand of them. When one dies, rebirth is immediate, and they rise on the morning of the fourth day.”
An unsettled feeling started in my chest and swept through me. I remembered the vampire telling me the significance of the sunrise of the fourth day. “They’re immortal.”
“They’re immortal with long memories, and should you make enemies of them, the best you can hope for is a four-day respite from their fury before they rise again and resume the hunt. Something has stirred their ire beyond what I anticipated. I don’t know what, and that frightens me most of all. I’d hoped for one or two to aid us in the hunt for the people who tried to kill you, to learn their names and their goals. Something tells me they know, and the corruption they’ve found is more extensive that I believed.”
The vampires I knew rarely showed fear; they’d already faced death, choosing to respect and control it rather than allow it to control them. I’d heard of other vampires of different broods, every bit the monster legend and lore made them out to be. But Ernesto and his children?
They were still scary, but they were a familiar fear, one I could respect and understand.
The Babylonians were beyond anything I could’ve imagine.
I swallowed and ran my hands along Marian’s spine before holding her closer. “It gets worse, doesn’t it?”
“See, this is why you were smart to lay permanent claim, Marian. You need to convince him to let you go so you can get dressed. Abil Ili brought you clothes hours ago.”
“I’m comfortable as I am,” she replied.
“Of course you are. I think you like making me nervous. I’m waiting for Gibby to tire of me seeing your beauty and take one of my eyes to replace his.”
“Now that’s a thought. I’d look strange with a vampire eye, Quinton. You’re safe for now, assuming the Babylonians give mine back. If they don’t, I may have to consider taking yours. Also, stop looking at her. I saw her first. You can’t have her.”
Marian laughed. “You can’t take his eye, Shane. That’s just rude.”
“Do vampires even use their eyes?”
“Yes, Gibby, I need my eyes. Both of them.”
“Is there anything else I should be worried about? The shedu are the biggest concern, right?”
“Depends on what you view as a problem. If the Babylonians stick to the people involved with your attempted murder and any connected sex trafficking operations in Chicago, it won’t be wholesale slaughter—just a bit messy. There are so many factors to consider. Who’s involved? How far does the corruption go? How many of the other crime lords have gotten their hands unforgivably dirty? If there’s a ring here, it’s possible the attack was intended to get rid of both of you. If that’s the case, you’ll be targeted again.”
“I’m worried there are police officers involved,” Marian confessed. “They had you heavily monitored. Six pairs of officers visiting for bogus information would be a good way to track you. You ditched your phones in the canal, but if someone had been using the phones to track you, they could have followed us there. They had the time to hack the software. Anyone with a little knowledge and skill could do it.”
“Okay. You’re worried the CPD is involved. That’s fair. They have no reason to like me right now, and making me disappear would benefit them in more ways than one. I hadn’t exactly made a lot of friends on the force. The sex trafficking ring is more likely, though.”
“Unless the CPD is involved in the ring,” Marian whispered.
The suggestion horrified me and went against everything I’d ever believed in as a cop. Worse, I couldn’t deny the possibility. A substantial sum could be made buying and selling of people, and the more exotic the person, the higher the pay off. I’d never been involved with busting any of the rings, but I’d heard rumors.
A single corrupt cop inside the system could clear the way for the masterminds behind a ring to get away with murder—or worse.
“Someone on the inside is always a possibility,” I conceded.
Quinton looked grim. “And if there’s someone on the inside, and they were afraid you were getting too close to them, they might try to get rid of you. It doesn’t take a genius to see you’re dedicated. You have connections to the FBI now, a permit that shows you’re far more of a threat than anyone believed. You’ve done a masterful job of avoiding attention. That’s no longer the case. You were shot twice, and within a day, you were back on the move. Someone knew you’d been shot, heard you’d been released, and tried to get you locked away for a crime you didn’t commit—someone in Chicago.”
“Why do you think it’s someone in Chicago?”
“Because there’s no record of the so-called case anywhere else. The crime only exists in the CPD’s database—I know because Uncle Pierce looked. The accusation was never fully filed.”
Marian sucked in a breath. “When a law enforcement officer, past or current, commits a crime, it’s supposed to be reported to the FBI for monitoring. Exonerated cases are reviewed, and an investigation of the accusation is conducted. But if the case is never submitted to the FBI, that investigation can’t take place.”
“Someone inside the system was setting Gibby up. Gibby, do you know who was behind it?”
“No. Captain Martins explained the accusation to me, I informed him where I’d been, and that was that.”
“So he knew you were in Des Moines.” Marian wiggled free of my hold, planted a kiss on my cheek, and waded through the cushions towards the archway. She threw my jacket and shirt at me, and the jacket’s weight betrayed the presence of my Ruger and wallet. “What species is this Martins fellow?”
