Alucard nodded, absentmindedly. He crossed over to the bar where three bottles sat open, a rag doused in gasoline dipped in each. He produced an old-school lighter from his jacket pocket—one of those antiques you find that rarely work—and lit the ends of each. “Want to do the honors?” he drawled. “They’ll go up like matchboxes. Cops won’t even find their teeth.”
I shook my head. Guns I could handle. But homemade incendiaries? Hard pass. Alucard shrugged and chucked a bottle into the VIP area, igniting the booth Othello and I had sat in. The next hit the DJ’s equipment, sending sparks flying as electric wires went up in flames. We made our way to the back exit. The sirens were getting uncomfortably loud. Alucard sent the last sailing into the bar itself, letting it crash against the bottles of alcohol standing on the shelves. The fire caught and spread and, in a matter of seconds, all I could see was smoke.
“They’ll wait to get the firefighters in here,” Alucard said. “Should give the place time to catch.”
“Well let’s get out of here, then,” I said. “No sense gettin’ caught. Besides, ye have blood on your shoes.”
Alucard glanced down as he and I left, ducking into the rear alleyway, dodging the rats that scurried away from a nearby dumpster. “There’re worse things to step in, I reckon. Especially in this town.”
The rats disappeared down the nearest sewer drain.
He had a point.
“You weren’t using wooden bullets when you took those people down,” Alucard remarked, though it sounded almost like a question.
“Nope,” I replied. If I was being honest with myself, I didn’t even really think of vampires as people. I didn’t begrudge them their struggle to survive, but their methods didn’t appeal to me—they were leeches feeding off the fringes of society. Under the circumstances, though, I decided it was best to keep that to myself.
“So how?” Alucard asked.
I realized he was trying to figure out how I’d managed to hurt the vampires with the bullets I’d used; normal bullets wouldn’t have slowed them down in the slightest, let alone driven them mad with pain. I grinned and held up my guns. “Did ye know Othello got ordained?”
Alucard frowned. “Yeah, so she could officiate at Ashely and Gunnar’s wedding, but…” His eyes went wide. “Seriously?”
“Our God is an awesome God…” I sang in a lilting tune, grinning. Originally, I’d planned to bribe a priest for a blessing or two, but Othello had vetoed the idea, claiming she probably had spiritual authority equal to any priest. She’d said a series of prayers over my duffel bag full of guns and ammunition, including the two little beauties I’d used to kill Magnus’ crew.
“What about what I saw you do back there?” Alucard asked. “When you fought them. Not even fledgling vampires flail about like that.”
I grunted. “Never seen a cat land on its ass, even though everyone says they should be able to land on their feet?”
Alucard shuddered. “I’ve seen a cat do awful, unforgiveable things.”
I cocked my head at the vehemence in his voice, staring at him until he grew uncomfortable.
Alucard sighed. “It’s been a rough couple of years.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but then—when he didn’t—I set off down the alleyway. He hurried up beside me, thrusting his hands into his pockets. “So, what are you, anyway?”
My right cross sent him careening into the dumpster.
Because I always kept my promises.
Especially to myself.
Chapter 29
I made Alucard sit in the hotel living room while I changed. There was no word from Serge, but I couldn’t risk him knowing that Othello was in danger. I couldn’t predict what he’d do when he found out and—without Othello to remove his leash—he’d be little more than a liability, anyway. Besides, I needed him to keep an eye on Chapman until I could get his boss back. If I had to tell Hemingway that I’d let his girlfriend get kidnapped by a homicidal, blood-drinking maniac and that I’d let the seed to the Tree of Knowledge slip into celestial hands, I was pretty sure he’d see my death, after all.
Or, you know, cause it.
“So, what were ye doin’ in town, really?” I called as I shuffled out of my jumpsuit, peeling the top half away from my body. I did a quick inventory of my injuries from earlier and was relieved to see none had gotten any worse—speaking from experience, there was nothing worse than bleeding out because you were too busy to notice.
“Chasing down a hunch,” Alucard replied.
“A hunch?”
“Things with the Council are…fluid, right now. There’s been a lot of turnover. The higher ups are hoping to stem the tide. They want to know who can be trusted to keep things the way they are. Or were,” he added, smirking at me.
“And Magnus couldn’t be trusted?”
“Magnus wasn’t even on their radar.”
“So, why’d they send you?”
“Who said the Council sent me?” Alucard sounded amused.
I ducked out with an incredulous expression, strapping a hip holster on over my brown suede pants. Alucard’s eyes flicked from my hips to my face. A slow, languorous smile spread across his face. I glared. “I’ll deck ye again,” I said.
Alucard laughed, but raised his hands in surrender.
“So, if the Council didn’t send ye,” I said, “then why did ye come?”
“The Council is looking for candidates for a new position. A Master of the Midwest—someone they can trust to hold down the fort. Which means they’re shopping around for Masters with good track records ruling large territories. Vampires who aren’t connected to everything that’s been going down there, lately.”
I nodded, but frowned. “How does Magnus fit in?”
“Magnus is one of those candidates.”
“So ye came here to what, vet him? Make sure he’d do a good job?”
Alucard cocked his head. “I came here to kill him. Quietly.”
“Why?” I asked, surprised.
“Because I want the job,” Alucard said, as if that explained everything.
And, in a way, it did.
“Well, this won’t be quiet,” I said, fetching a pair of combat boots from the living room floor. Othello’s and my clothes were strewn all over the hotel room, but I didn’t give a shit; I’d come back to the hotel for two reasons. Changing was only the first.
“No, it won’t be,” Alucard agreed. “But Magnus tried to kill me.”
“Arguin’ self-defense may not work, either,” I noted, slipping the boots on.
“The Council doesn’t need to sanction what I do,” Alucard explained. “They simply need to understand it. Magnus tried to have me killed. Which means my retaliation,” Alucard drew that word out, relishing it, “should make perfect sense. I wouldn’t be a good candidate if I sat back and let him attack me without paying the price.”
“So, we’re goin’ to storm the Master’s mansion?” I asked.
“Sure are. Why, you got a problem with that plan?”
“No, I was makin’ sure ye and I were on the same page, that’s all.” I returned to the bedroom and fetched the real reason I’d come back to the hotel; I slung the duffel bag strap over one shoulder and wobbled into the living room. “Ready whenever you are.”
Alucard eyed my accessory, clearly amused, “Armed for bear, huh?”
I grunted, thinking of Christoff in his massive Russian Grizzly bear form. “No way. Bears are way tougher to kill.”
Alucard rose and hooked his thumbs along the pockets of his jeans. “I’m starting to think I’m not the only one who’s had a rough couple of years. I can’t believe you’re the reason Othello’s been off grid, of late. Nate is going to lose his poor little mind.”
“Well,” I replied, “I’m sure he’ll manage. Sharin’ is carin’, after all.”
Alucard barked a laugh. “I see you haven’t met him.”
I frowned. “Once. He hijacked my Uber.” While Alucard was busy laughing so ha
rd he was practically in tears, I went to retrieve my phone from the bedroom. “We’re goin’ to need a car. It’s a two hour drive to Magnus’ place.” A thought occurred to me. “We’ll be pushin’ daylight by then. Are ye sure you’ll be alright to help?”
Alucard nodded. “Don’t you worry about me, cher. I’ll be fine.”
“Do those little pet names get ye laid?” I asked, eyes narrowed.
Alucard shrugged, tonguing the tip of his incisor playfully. “Ain’t no need for a car, by the way. I’ve got a guy coming. Should be here any minute.”
“Someone you trust?” I said, rolling my eyes.
Alucard chuckled. “Sure. I mean, if you can’t trust a priest, who can you trust?”
Well, that sounded promising.
Chapter 30
The driver pulled up in a rickety, rectangular Oldsmobile—one of those sad, dependable cars that people drove when gas cost less than a pack of bubblegum. It wasn’t flashy, but then I got the impression that flashy wasn’t the point; you could park this thing anywhere and no one would think to mess with it—cop or criminal. It was too pitiful to tow or to vandalize.
“Where’d you get this piece of junk?” Alucard asked.
“Paid for it,” the driver said in a gruff, no-nonsense voice through a crack in the passenger window. “Who’s she?”
“Of course you did. Pop the trunk,” Alucard said, exasperated. “She’s one of Othello’s people.”
“And we’re bringing her along?”
I bristled, prepared to say something snarky, but was distracted by Alucard, who snatched the duffel bag from me and tossed it in the trunk. He slammed it shut, then eyed me up and down. “Your call, Legs. You want the front, or the back?”
“I’ll take the back,” I said, deciding it was best to avoid a confrontation with the guy behind the wheel before we even got on the road.
Alucard nodded, but stopped to open the door for me before climbing in himself. I scowled at him the whole time, but let it happen; some women might get rankled when a man opens a door for them, but I was lazy enough to appreciate the gesture.
“I saw her take out three of us in a little under a minute,” Alucard said as he hopped in, his words almost inaudible over the roar of the Oldsmobile’s antique engine.
A pair of red eyes flicked up to gauge me from the rearview mirror. The driver shifted gears and pulled away from the curb, turning slightly to make sure he was clear to merge. In profile, he had one of those heavyset, powerful faces that belonged on busts of steel magnates or oil tycoons. His thick neck, salt and pepper buzz cut, and sturdy shoulders gave off a similar impression. After a few minutes of driving, he turned his attention to me again.
“The name’s Roland,” he said.
“Quinn,” I replied, tersely.
“Glad to see you two getting along,” Alucard teased. “So where are your wolves, Roland?” Alucard shifted around to look at me, grinning like a demented child. “Roland here has two shapeshifting girlfriends. I’ve been trying to get him to tell me his secret for days now.”
“I asked them to stay in St. Louis for a little while,” Roland said. “Gunnar and Ashley have built something worthwhile there. A good pack. I want them to experience that. Build trust.”
“Is that the real reason? You sure it wasn’t because you couldn’t keep up with their…needs?” Alucard let the last word drop, intentionally baiting the older man.
“I want them to know what it means to be part of a pack,” Roland said, although I was sure I could see a very faint blush spreading across his cheeks. He must have fed recently. “I don’t want them to feel like they’re missing out by spending all their time with a vampire.”
Alucard grunted. “Nonsense, if you ask me.” He pointed to Roland, but looked at me. “Ever heard of a Shepherd?”
“Aye,’ I replied. “They say one used to work in Boston, where I live, years back.”
Roland’s shoulders stiffened imperceptibly.
“Well, I don’t know about all that. But this fine gentleman used to be one.”
My eyes shot to the older man. Shepherds were reportedly a group of wandering warrior priests—individuals responsible for protecting the Church and its flock from the things that went bump in the night. They worked exclusively for the Vatican. No one I’d talked to knew how many there were or how to spot one. Over the decades, they’d become supernatural bogeymen—rarely seen, often feared. Meeting a Shepherd, even an ex-Shepherd, was not something I’d ever expected to happen.
“See,” Alucard continued, “the way I figure it, religious types always end up doing this to themselves. They can’t help it. It’s a martyrdom thing. He’s feeling guilty, that’s all.”
“Guilty for what?” I asked, trying to deflect the growing tension I saw building up in Roland’s posture.
“For having lots of sex. What else would a Catholic feel guilty for?”
I glowered at Alucard, whose smile only widened.
“Oh, don’t tell me…you’re Catholic, too?”
“Alucard,” I said sweetly, testing out his name for the first time, “do ye need me to remind ye what happens when ye start askin’ dumb questions?”
Alucard brushed his fingers along his jawline, which had begun swelling up almost immediately after I’d put him on his ass. He sighed, but settled back in his seat with a chagrined expression. “Catholics. They’re so…” his eyes twinkled mischievously as he glanced back at me, “touchy,” he said, overemphasizing the word.
Roland shot his companion a dirty look before returning his attention to the road. “I got gas before picking you two up. Might as well rest if you can.”
Roland’s advice reminded me that I’d been up for nearly twenty hours now. If I didn’t get some shut eye, I’d be running on nothing but adrenaline, so I spread out along the seats and closed my eyes, ignoring the occasional bumps in the road. I fell asleep to the grumble of the Oldsmobile’s motor and the sound of Alucard humming something twangy.
Chapter 31
I dreamt.
The rhythmic pulse of red and blue washed over a quiet residential street, but the sirens were silent. Neighbors peered from the slits between their blinds, but refused to step outside. Two people—a man and a woman in thick, woolen jackets—passed a lighter back and forth, the smoke from their cigarettes drifting lazily in the twilight air. The man, far taller, with hulking proportions, nudged his companion and pointed with the lit cherry at a nearby street sign. Druid Street.
The area was residential, two-car garages occupied by conservative models a few years past their prime. The woman took a long pull of her cigarette and blew it out in a sharp exhale. They didn’t speak.
They didn’t have to.
I dreamt.
A short, muscular man with greying hair played with his children, wrestling his eldest daughter to the ground, pinning her there with one hand while he used the other to poke and prod, causing her to laugh and squeal. The younger sibling leapt on his back, giggling, yanking on his shirt and hair. The father shrugged his son off once, then again. The game went on, observed by a woman lounging on a nearby sofa, a cup of steaming tea cradled in her hands.
A knock interrupted the scene of familial bliss.
The father sniffed the air and rose, putting his children behind him.
He growled, the pitch low and inhuman.
I dreamt.
Overlooking a cliff’s edge, high above the pounding surf, a woman in a sundress leaned into the wind, arms outstretched, her tow-colored hair fluttering behind her. Far below, another woman approached, her raven-colored hair as dark as the other’s was fair, dressed as if she’d recently left a funeral. When they met, they did not embrace. In fact, they stood several feet apart, as if afraid to touch.
They had not seen each other in a long time.
They had hoped never to see each other again.
I dreamt.
In a dark place, so dark it had weight—like staring into the infinite dep
ths of outer space, the darkness oppressive and vast and fascinating—something stirred. In the pitch blackness, shape wasn’t discernible, but there was something there. A primordial presence, denser than that lightless world it inhabited, grinding forward with the patience of a black hole swallowing starlight.
It had places to be.
Chapter 32
Roland’s rumbling baritone woke me as I felt a wave of nausea creep up my gut, my half-remembered dreams sending goosebumps prickling up my arms. I focused on Roland’s voice, hoping it would pass, pretending to be asleep, my eyes only slightly open.
“So, what’s the plan?” Roland asked.
Alucard shrugged, the outline of his body barely visible in the darkened cab. We were driving through an unpopulated part of upstate New York, the streetlights few and far between, our headlights barely making a dent in the gloom. I’d have turned on the high beams if it were me, but I bet Roland’s vampire anatomy came with a factory setting that included night vision.
“Magnus has wards all around the grounds,” Alucard answered a moment later. “There’s a squad running security. Humans who can walk around during the day, posted on the outer perimeter. I’ll leave them to you.”
“That why you didn’t want to use a Gateway? The wards?”
“Pretty much,” Alucard said, “Depending how far out he placed them, we could end up having to go several miles. Driving seemed like the better option.”
Roland mumbled something I couldn’t make out.
“I’m not asking for their help,” Alucard said, vehemently. “I need to handle this on my own. Besides, if Nate got involved it would be seen by most as a declaration of war.” Alucard sighed. “Still, I owe you for coming on short notice. And Haven for loaning you out. Otherwise it would have been up to me and the girl.”
“You sure she’s up for it?”
“She’s tough. I didn’t get a solid read on what all she can do, but she’s a good shot and can throw a punch. Doesn’t hesitate. I can take down Magnus and the rest, but not while trying to save Othello at the same time. This way, we divide and conquer. Besides, she’s so into me that if I told her to go home, she’d probably follow me anyway. Like a puppy.”
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