I shrugged. “Just weird.”
“Okay, no problem. I’ll call you with whatever I find?”
I nodded and sipped my coffee.
Jenni stared, waiting for me to say something else.
You gotta love the awkward silence. Reminds me of when she said, “Sam, I think I’m gay …” I had an urge to put on a big robe, and the entirety of the English language suddenly fled my mind. That was then; this is now.
“So,” she said.
“So,” I replied.
She stared at me for a long time, so much so I got a little uncomfortable. I couldn’t tell her, not until I knew it was safe.
“You’ll tell me when you can?” she sighed.
“Yeah,” I said gratefully. “I promise.”
“Okay then. I better get going.”
“Me too.” Mayfair would probably be waiting for me. We stood up and hugged, maybe a little longer than we normally do. I felt extra bad for not spilling my guts, but the moment passed, and I walked Jenni to the door.
“How’s your computer?” she pointed to the desk off in the corner. “Any problems?”
“No,” I said in all honesty. I’d found if you never turned it on, you never had any problems. Of course, I didn’t mention that to computer girl.
“Excellent! Glad to see you’ve learned your lesson and the new antivirus I installed is working.”
“Uh-huh,” I smiled. “Like a charm.”
“I’ll call when I have something for you.”
Chapter Thirteen
Leaving my apartment, I found a stretch limo blocking access to my car—and all the cars along that row of parking too. The driver’s door popped open, and one of the goons from Vladymir’s team got out. Number Two wore his dark glasses and a gray suit that didn’t quite cover up the fact that he was built like a mountain.
I didn’t like him standing so close to where I live, given who he was and who he worked for.
“Detective Kane,” he said, bowing slightly. “Mister Tupolev asks you to join him. For coffee.”
“Yeah,” I said, taking two steps back and putting my hand on my gun. “I don’t think so.”
With a tight smile, he added, “Your safety is assured and guaranteed under Treaty stipulations.”
“No offense, but,” I said, “your delivery lacks sincerity.” My car was blocked in, but I could go back up the stairs, down the length of the building, and get to the street from the stairs on the opposite side.
Number Two’s eyebrow rose, head tilting up towards my escape route. Another man dressed similarly to him stood there about twenty feet from my apartment door. Movement on my right indicated another one on the path through the hedges. On the far side of the parking lot, another one near the fire hydrant. A fifth appeared to my left on the path between my building and next one over. They’d cut off every escape route except the one behind me.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I glanced over my shoulder. Two more of them standing not six inches from me, and I hadn’t heard a damned thing. They were bigger than Number Two, and that was saying something.
“Really,” said Number Two. “I must insist.”
I still didn’t know, exactly, what a throw down with these guys meant, but I sure as shit didn’t want to get into that limo with them. Would my gun hurt them? Were they Vampires like their boss? Or something different, something worse? My hand closed tighter on my gun.
In response, Number Two let out a low, soft hiss before saying, “You don’t want to do that.” He punctuated this by opening the rear door of the limo. “And you shouldn’t keep Mister Tupolev waiting.”
A hand went down on my right shoulder, giving me a little shove forward. I let it happen and used the momentum to drive my left elbow up and into the face of one of the men behind me, finishing by pulling my gun and pointing it in the face of the other one. I expected to hear a crack from breaking the guy’s nose, and I did, but I didn’t expect feeling it from my elbow to my shoulder. Hitting him was like punching concrete.
“Back up,” I ordered.
Neither man moved. Blood flowed down the face of one. He didn’t even flinch.
A whistle rose behind me, and I moved to where I could keep Number Two in my peripheral vision.
All around me, more of them appeared. From the shadows between buildings, the bushes, behind cars. I counted fifteen before I gave up.
“As I said before,” Number Two said, “I must insist.” He emphasized the last word.
Taking a few deep breaths, I holstered my weapon. Something told me it wouldn’t do the kind of damage I hoped it would.
Number Two smiled and gestured toward the car again.
I slid in. The Bobbsey Twins clamored in after and took seats opposite me. Both wore dark suits but with loose fitting T-shirts on instead of collared shirts and ties. Blood dripped from the nose I broke, spreading a red Rorschach test across his shirt.
I swear to God they must be growing these guys on a thug farm somewhere. The door slammed shut, and I tried not to panic.
“How long is this going to take?” I asked.
They shared a glance. Then the one on the left said, “Long enough.”
Great. Just great. How do you get out of this one, Sam? I considered and rejected calling Mayfair. What would he be able to do? No, this was my mess. What if the Vampire still wanted my head on a pike? There’s a comforting thought. Besides, I doubted these guys would let me make a phone call.
Yes, Sam, get into the Vampire’s limousine. Would you also like some candy from some guy? You don’t know him …
A bell went off in my head. Number Two said something about a treaty. That’s not the first time I’ve heard it mentioned. Hadn’t Vladymir said something about a treaty the day before? Maybe he couldn’t hurt me at all, or else risk some sort of retaliation or war with the Wizards? That’s sort of a comforting thought. Like saying, “Here, enter the tiger cage. He promised he wouldn’t eat you.” Another thought: most countries abide by treaties if they know they’re being watched. If they don’t think they’ll get caught, on the other hand …
I supposed I could make a break for it.
As if the thought had been broadcast over a loudspeaker, a loud clunk announced the doors were now locked. The limo began moving with me, essentially, trapped.
* * *
The Bobbsey Twins were not conversationalists. After several attempts to get them to say anything at all, I gave up and stared out the dark tinted windows of the limo. None of these windows were legal in even the broadest sense of the word, meaning I couldn’t see jack shit beyond indistinct shadows. And since I couldn’t make out where we were going or what part of town we were even in after hitting what had to be the interstate, my already building sense of panic threatened to choke me. I tried to open a window for some air and found they were locked, just like the door. Settling into my limo ride, I sulked. Just a little. I also planned a daring escape.
I’d reach for my gun and the Twins would react. The one on the left would just make it across the gap separating us before I’d clear my gun and put three in his chest the way I’d been taught. While he fell back, three more would go into the twin on the right. By then, Number Two would be shitting himself up front and I’d put a couple in the divider between us, which would prove to be bullet-proof, leaving me trapped in the back with two dead guys bleeding on my shoes. If my gun even hurt them.
I didn’t say it was a good escape plan. The Bobbsey Twins kept exchanging glances like they knew what I was thinking, too, which creeped me out and made me reconsider the whole thing anyway.
It took nearly half an hour to get where we were going, during which I hatched a half dozen doomed escape plans that always fell apart on some small detail. Like the divider wasn’t bulletproof, so my shots killed Number Two and sent the limo speeding into oncoming traffic, where we hit a bus full of orphaned, blind schoolchildren who were on their way to the eye surgeon to get new eyes so they could see for th
e first time ever. And that was one of the better scenarios. In one, we were on the Dam Road above I-225 and Parker Road, and when I shot Number Two, we went hurtling down the side into the water, where you’d think I would drown, but no, see, I’d be eaten by piranha mermaids.
As my mind raced through one doomed plan after another, we arrived, the windows rolled down under their own power, and I got my first glimpse at a Vampire’s lair.
If Banba could be considered a kooky castle, then Vladymir’s place was a modern-day fortress.
Twenty-foot-high walls, armed guards patrolling the grounds, each easily as big as the Twins here, check-in at the gate, loads of cameras everywhere, and an overall sense of being watched and trapped. Despite assurances of my safety, I couldn’t help but feel like I really stuck my neck out by coming here alone. But what choice did I have? Number Two hadn’t been going to take “no” for an answer.
The limo pulled around a giant fountain and stopped before a house big enough to swallow Banba whole and still have room for a couple more regular houses and my apartment. A fairly modern design with lots of clean lines and large windows to let in tons of light, which I found odd, given who lived there. The door opened, and Number Two appeared, offering me a hand out. I brushed it aside and got out on my own. It was early enough for the air to be crisp but not bitterly cold, so I pulled my coat in tight and turned back to the open car door.
“Thanks for the chat, boys,” I said. “I learned a lot.”
Number Two’s head snapped to the Twins as they were getting out of the car. Their faces went pale.
“Stay here,” he ordered them. Turning to me, he said, “This way.”
He definitely was not happy. I sort of felt bad for the Twins, but not bad enough to take it back. I followed him around the house and onto a side path down through the trees.
“You are bold,” he said over his shoulder.
“Am I?” I asked.
“Yes. Using the Master’s name last night? Coming here this morning? Bold.”
Shit. They knew about the club? News travels fast, apparently. Maybe that’s what this little visit was about today—my invoking Vlad’s name to get clear of the Hulks at the club last night. Any chance they’d see it as charming and endearing, not offensive?
Number Two kept walking until the trees parted, and we trekked up a stone path into a garden filled with slumbering flowers and grass starting to turn brown in response to the coming winter. A few statues dotted the landscape, mostly of fairy tale creatures like satyrs and gnomes … which are probably real creatures, now that I thought about it. Great, just great. I’m gonna need a book or something to keep track of this shit.
Here, in a spot where a white wood trellis covered in grape vines offered shade from the sun, I found Vladymir and his retinue lounging on stone couches draped in flowered cushions. The tall Vampire rose at my approach and, smiling, came to greet me warmly.
“Ah, Detective, so good of you to join us.” He took my hand in his, raised it to his lips, and kissed it.
Not easy, but I didn’t flinch at his touch.
Bitchy and the cheerleaders were there with a few others I hadn’t seen before. I gave them a good glare as these new faces stared with open interest at me.
“I didn’t really think I had a choice,” I quipped.
Number Two stepped away from me and went to stand near Vladymir’s bench, hands clasped before him.
“Ah,” he laughed. “I apologize if you thought it so. We always have choices, Detective. Free will. Still, now that you are here, let us put such considerations behind us. I am eager to speak with you without dour Jack standing over your shoulder.”
“Okay,” I said, allowing him to lead me over to the group. He showed me to a stone bench across from his. After I sat, he retook his seat, reclining on his elbow.
A woman in a white dress that went down to her toes appeared with a tray of long-stemmed glasses filled with something the color of red wine, and began offering them up to Vladymir and the other Vampires on the couches.
I couldn’t quite repress a shudder as I thought of what might actually be in those glasses.
“Would you care for something? A drink? Something to eat? I have one of the best chefs in the country on my staff. Perhaps a crepe?”
“You eat food?” I asked.
Again, he laughed. “No. But many of those sworn to serve me rely on such, so why not provide them with the absolute best as reward for their sacrifice?”
“I see.” I didn’t. “No, thank you. I’m fine.” Despite being thirsty, I decided it probably wasn’t a good idea to eat or drink anything given to me by a Vampire.
“Do you enjoy the meals provided by my chef?” he asked Number Two.
“Not really,” Number Two replied.
“Oh? Such a shame. May I ask why?”
“I prefer my meat … raw,” Number Two answered.
“Ah,” laughed Vladymir. “Werewolves. So uncivilized, don’t you think?”
So. Number Two wasn’t a vamp but a Werewolf. On a closer examination of him, I couldn’t help but wonder if all the muscle came with the wolf or if the guy just worked out. For his part, he didn’t give anything away. His face could’ve been cut from stone for all the emotion he showed, and his eyes were hidden behind those dark glasses, so no help there. Probably meant all the other Mister Universe types around here were Werewolves too. Vladymir had an army of them.
As if he knew exactly what I’d just thought, Vladymir smiled. Mayfair had said only the old Vampires could make new ones, and even then, they couldn’t do it often. Yet I counted eleven here with me right now, which seemed like a lot. But even if they couldn’t make tons of them, there didn’t seem to be any limits on Werewolves. I needed to ask Mayfair about them.
Vladymir’s eyes made me feel like maybe I was on the menu. Then he laughed again.
“In some cultures,” he said, “it is a deep insult to refuse the hospitality of your host. Still, times change. I suppose we must move onto other things. You, for instance. Did you know you are the talk of the town?” He swirled his glass, staring at me above the lip before taking a sip. The red liquid seemed thicker than wine, solidifying in my mind that it had to be blood.
I tried to push the thought away. “Am I?”
“Oh, yes. Some think you are Fey, but I dismiss this theory. I smell nothing of them about you, despite the idea you are exactly the kind of thing they would do to cause trouble.”
“I don’t understand,” I said truthfully.
“No. Of course not. You’re very interesting, Detective. Far too interesting to be of the Fey, though many postulate such ridiculous rumors.” He regarded the other Vampires, turning lazily. “I have never thought the Fey to be particularly imaginative. There is a difference between immortal and stagnant. Some things should simply die.” Returning his dark eyes to me, he said, “Nor do I believe you attached to anyone from, shall we say, my side of things? No lack of imagination there, believe me, but I think if they had sent you, there would be a finer smell about you, more refined. They would have tried too hard to make you absolutely normal and would have failed in the execution.”
Again, he lazily turned away from me. “I wouldn’t put it past any of them, of course. Especially Lotus, Esteves, or Scanlin’s lot. They have ever been jealous of anyone who surpasses them in influence. But what do any of them know of normal anymore? Does that make sense?” he asked, and this time he directed the question at me.
“Not really,” I answered.
He laughed again, roaring this time. “Ah, my dear, you will be the death of me. How long will you keep your secrets, I wonder? No matter. All comes out in the end. As for me, I have dismissed two of the rumors swirling around you. Shall I now address the third?”
I nodded.
“I do not think you are of the Council. They are relentless in their adherence to rules, are they not?” he asked the other Vampires, causing a wave of laughter to roll through them. “It makes the
m weak and predictable. They would never attempt so bold a thing as you, not with the wretched Guardian out there with carte blanche to dole out justice as he sees fit. Not even to bring down House Mayfair, as much as they detest it. No, they would not risk it nor the blow to their honor should it fail and their participation become public knowledge. They are nothing without their honor.”
“If you say so.” My mind reeled at the information he’d tossed out in rapid succession. But could I trust any of it? Or did he want to mess with my head?
He smiled. “I believe all of these theories to be wrong about you. Do you know why?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Because I think you are something old, back to rear its ugly head. Tell me, Detective, do you believe in God?”
Chapter Fourteen
“Absolutely,” I replied as any good Catholic girl would. Honestly, the question took me by surprise. Sitting here, face-to-face with a gaggle of Vampires, wasn’t where I’d expect to have a theological debate. Then again, maybe it was the perfect place. I suddenly wondered if they could enter a church, if the sight of a crucifix caused them pain, that sort of thing.
“And, if I were to search for such, might I find a small tattoo on your body depicting a crucifix overlaid by sword, dagger, and shield?” he asked.
“No.” I blinked. “And believe me, no one is going to be searching me for any tattoos today.” What the hell?
“The greatest rewards always have a dangerous task involved.” He laughed, and the others joined in. His smile took on a predatory grin that made me feel like he might just think it worth his trouble to search me for tattoos.
“Not gonna happen,” I said, standing up, hand moving to my gun.
Another hand coming down on my shoulder nearly made me wet myself.
I spun to find Jack Mayfair standing there in his trench coat and hat, creepy skull walking stick in his other hand.
“I apologize for being late,” he said. “But my invitation seems to have been lost in the mail.”
Into the Fire Page 10
