by Karen Greco
"Eh, okay," I sighed. There was no point in lying to Babe. She always knew when I wasn't telling her the truth. I hadn’t slept well. Marcello kept invading my dreams, taunting me with images of a fire. I didn't recognize where, and I didn't see anyone in the fire, but I could hear screams. I wasn't sure if it was the mild concussion giving me nightmares or if he was getting into my head. Some of the older vamps could do that, and it was one of the abilities that freaked me right out. In case it was the latter, I pretty much stayed up all night.
"Once the gang arrives, you go home," Babe said firmly. "You need time with them, and you need time to rest. You could've have taken tonight off, you know."
I knew, but I hated leaving her alone at the bar at night. Babe was a tough broad, but the neighborhood was a little rough around the edges, and she wasn't as young as she used to be.
"Promise you'll close up early if it's dead," I said, giving her a look.
"Yes, Boss." Babe grinned.
I didn't believe her. "I'll ask Dr. O to hang around and keep an eye on you then."
The door to Babe's flung open. I squinted at the motley crew who stood at the threshold.
An older gentleman with a tweedy coat and a professorial air strode into the bar. At his heels was a tall man with pale skin and long black hair that accentuated cerulean-blue eyes. With his long black leather coat, he looked like a rock star. That was Frankie.
I vaulted the bar and landed in front of them, Babe not far behind me.
"Nina," Dr. O said, pulling me to him and holding me tightly.
The tweed of his jacket was a little itchy, but the hug felt really good.
"You look lovely,” Dr. O continued. “Being home has done some good, I see."
Babe turned in time to catch a kiss from Dr. O and their embrace lingered for a moment before she turned to hug Frankie.
With the greetings out of the way, we moved to the empty tables away from the bar.
Frankie slid his arm around my waist as we walked, a faint accent hinted at his European background. "What the hell is going on here?"
Frankie looked no older than me, but he was probably close to 500 years old and one of the most dangerous vamps I had ever come across. He was also a talented tinkerer and built my custom motorcycle. And he was one of my best friends.
"Where's Darcy?" I asked him, realizing that my other best friend was missing.
"That time of the month," Frankie smiled slyly.
That sucked. Darcy was our tactical support and resident computer genius. I was waiting for months for her to wire up my new Blood Ops home base here in Providence, and hook up my loft with some sweet electronics. But she was also a banshee, putting her out of commission for a few days a month so she could go somewhere safe to wail to her heart’s content. Descended from the Tuatha De'Dannan, a race of Irish fairies, the myth is that banshees are the omen of death for one family. In truth it’s the sound of the banshee’s wail that kills a person who is suffering some sort of heartbreak. And in Darcy’s case, it’s usually men. Darcy finds the heartsick men and wails for them. It’s a nasty business for her, particularly since the Blood Ops base was so close to Las Vegas. Hearts were breaking all over that city at any given time.
Knowing that they would be joining me here in Providence, I had a room next to Frankie's apartment built out for this purpose. Of course, I wasn't going to tell Frankie about it until it was too late. He'd piss and moan about having to listen to her shrieks, even though I had the rooms soundproofed. He’d claim vampire hearing, but that’s sort of a load of bullshit. I spared no expense on the soundproofing. My dad was a 700-year-old vampire who amassed quite a fortune over the centuries. I was his sole heir. I could afford to build it right.
"Do you guys know a Marcello?" I asked as we settled down at a round table, not far from where Marcello attacked.
"Why?" Frankie asked. He looked like he was about to jump out of his skin.
"So you do know him," I said. I felt a small wave of relief. "He was the one who attacked me last night, right here. Spoke the ancient language to me. He knows what I am, and more importantly, who I am. But I know nothing about him, which puts me at a real disadvantage."
Dr. O shook his head. "So Marcello's here. I thought he might show up when he caught scent of you, but he put a lot of pieces together faster than I thought he was capable."
My patience was running thin. "So you both know him? Mind telling me who he is?"
Frankie hesitated. "He's a hit man."
"A vampire hit man?" I crossed my arms. Had the mafia taken over the vampire population or something?
Dr. O hesitated. "We think Marcello killed your parents."
I actually felt the blood drain from my face.
Dr. O continued. "Marcello didn't order the kill. That much we are sure of. He is simply a hired gun."
"So why is he after me?" I felt my fangs start to burst through my gums. Wrapping my arms around myself, I pressed my nails into my arms to force myself to stay seated. What I really wanted to do was run out of the bar, track Marcello down, and drive a stake through him.
"Because you came back. Apparently he has been waiting for you." Dr. O said, looking chagrined.
That response was infuriatingly cryptic.
Babe looked alarmed. "Nina, maybe you should go back to the Nevada..." She met Dr. O's eyes.
I sighed and reached for Babe's hand, pressing it against my cheek. "Auntie Babe, I love you. But I am so staying here to stake this bastard." I had been waiting for 30 years for this kill. It was all I thought about during the hours of the Blood Ops physical training. He was so mine.
"Nina, you have no idea what vampires like Marcello are capable of." Babe was edging towards hysteria. "And your dad was supposed to be unstoppable!"
I dug in my heels. "Dr. O, you agreed I could come home because some weird supernatural something is apparently setting up shop, remember? You said that the time had finally come for me to be here, to help out Babe, and keep an eye on the activity."
For two years, I wanted to leave the desert and come home. Home. I wanted to have a life outside of Blood Ops. I wanted to try to run my mom’s bar. Babe was growing old, and I barely spent any time with her. My history was here, what was left of my family was here. And this is where I chose to be. Hell, I earned it.
"But that was before we knew that Marcello was still hanging around," Babe said, her voice rising. She wasn't giving in without a fight. "Now we know he’s here, so I need you to go back to Nevada. Let them send another team out to deal with this other stuff."
It was all I could do to keep from stomping my feet. "You can't be serious!"
"You are your father's daughter," Dr. O said with a chuckle. "He wouldn't have passed up this fight either."
"Yeah, and look where that got him," Babe said. Her dark eyes were blazing with anger.
A far-off look on his face, Frankie spoke up at last. "But you need to know what to do after you catch him. At least I can help with that." He was filled with bitterness. I sometimes forget that Dad was Frankie's mentor and they spent centuries on the run together.
"I guess it's settled," Dr. O said, but Babe yanked him back to the table.
"Not so fast, Lochlan," she hissed. I had never seen Babe look so angry.
"Auntie Babette," I began, choking back tears. "I know what you did for me..."
"Do you?" Babe asked. "Really, did Lochlan tell you the whole story?"
"Babette..." Dr. O tried to stop her.
Babe refused to stop. "How we were on the run, how this thing and his so-called family kept finding us? How so many more were killed while we were running?"
I knew Babe had tried to take care of me, but I always assumed taking care of a half-breed had been too much for a young, single woman. I had no idea she was running from a vampire.
Babe was shooting daggers at Dr. O with her eyes. "So you never told her how she ended up with you?"
Before Dr. O could answer, Babe stood up and stalk
ed away.
Dr. O began to rise, but I stopped him. "Let her go," I stood. "I'll deal with her when she has a chance to think it all through. Let me get you guys something to drink. Beer?"
"Guinness?" Dr. O nodded and smiled appreciatively.
Babe stormed off to the stock room, and the bar was filling up with the post-exam college crowd. Talking to her would have wait. I filled a few simple draft orders from the college students filtering in before filling two pints of Guinness from the tap. I rolled my head from side to side during the slow pour. My neck and upper back were killing me from last night. And my neck was still red and raw from the knife wound, which was weird. I usually heal at warp speed.
I grabbed the pints and walked them over to the table, setting them down in front of Dr. O and Frankie. Dr. O was absorbed in conversation with two college kids. They sounded like religious studies majors, and since they barely noticed the beers in front of them, the conversation was probably getting heated. I headed back towards the bar, but Frankie caught my wrist.
"What's this?" He pointed to his own neck, while looking at mine.
"Nothing," I shrugged, and tried to move away, but he wouldn't let go.
"I don't think so." He raised his eyebrows.
"Frankie..." I warned as I tried to yank my hand away. Vampires and their goddamn death grips.
The door opened with a burst of cold air, and Frankie dropped my wrist. Since I was already pulling against it, the surprise release sent me stumbling backward at a good clip. Muttering several choice words under my breath, I ran straight into Max's muscular shoulder, bounced off of him and landed squarely on my ass.
"Ow!" I yelled, more out of shock than pain. But dammit now my tail bone was throbbing.
"Oh shit!" Max exclaimed, staring down at me. He rubbed his shoulder where my forehead met it. "You have a solid head!" He offered me a hand up.
"Sorry," I said, shaking my head. I wasn't ready to move just yet. I stared at the worn wood floor and hoped I wouldn't be picking splinters out of my ass later.
Max squatted down beside me, "You alright?"
I nodded, feeling a rush of air on my back. Frankie was now hovering, with a tiny smirk turning the corners of his mouth upwards.
I tentatively pushed myself up from the floor. Frankie grabbed me around my waist and hauled me to my feet so quickly that Max, who was still in his squat position, stared directly at my knees.
"Thanks," I said to Frankie, clearly not meaning it. He grinned and winked. Then he walked back to Dr. O, who was engrossed in some deep conversation with a student, beer untouched, completely oblivious to what was going on. Frankie dropped into his seat, a smug smile pasted on his face. He was so infuriating and he knew it.
Max was back on his feet and shot a look over in Frankie's direction. "You sure you’re okay?"
I shrugged. "Yeah. Don't mind Frankie. He's an absolute shit sometimes."
"Nina, can we talk?" Max said, turning serious.
I nodded and motioned for him to follow me to the bar. Two frat boys ordered shots of tequila. After carefully checking their IDs, I grabbed two shot glasses and reached for the cheap shit.
"I don't think last night was a random junkie looking for some cash." Max spoke so matter-of-factly that I jumped. The tequila I was pouring missed the shot glasses completely and spilled all over my hand.
"No? So what was it then?" I tried to sound nonchalant, wiping my tequila-soaked hand on my jeans before sliding the shots over to the frat boys.
"I was hoping you could tell me." He pulled out his smart phone, fiddled with it and held the screen towards me.
I took the phone from him and squinted at the screen. It was a picture of a gruesome crime scene. Four naked bodies, two women and two men, were laid out on the snow, their heads touching but bodies stretched out like a bizarre snowflake. It was a replica of the crime scene I took him to the previous night, only with fewer dead bodies. Their bodies were blue with cold. And there was a lot of blood.
Max swiped his finger against the phone's screen, and a new picture, even more graphic than the last, came up. It appeared that each body had a hole in the chest. It looked like the hearts were missing.
Another swipe, and there was close up on a weapon, but not just any old weapon. Against a blood-spattered snow background, a dagger exactly like the one Marcello used to attack me was painfully obvious.
I closed my eyes and feigned disgust. "Nasty. Why are you showing that to me?"
I hoped I sounded appropriately horrified. But my heart was racing. The dagger. Why was that damn dagger at a crime scene? And why would Marcello drop it? Could there be more than two out there, and this was just a really bizarre coincidence? I knew that was a giant stretch, but I really wanted to believe in coincidence right now.
"That dagger," Max began, his voice so damn even that it was unnerving me. "Is that the dagger from last night? The one that did this?" He ran his finger lightly over the scar on my neck. My stomach flipped and my skin tingled at his touch.
"Is there something you are not telling me?" Max asked, just as evenly as before. "Or not telling the cops?"
The sound of glass breaking was a welcome relief. "Holy CRAP!" Alfonso bellowed, but the words were slurred from one too many beers and sounded more like holly carp. "Open your eyes, people! Don't you see what that fucker is doing?"
I looked up at the television, and I saw Ami Bertrand leading a massive group of people up on the lawn of the state house.
"Al, it's just a demonstration," Babe rushed out of the stock room. The sound of shattered barware brought her out of hiding. "Remember, we did that when we were kids."
Alfonso continued, his voice rising. "It's happening now. It's all happening, and we ain't ready. We ain't ready at all. It wasn't supposed to be now. We ain't ready for this yet. Not yet."
Babe went over to Alfonso and held his face in her hands.
"Al," she said firmly. "I am taking you home. Now."
She looked directly into his eyes, which were filled with tears. Then she whispered into his ear, he nodded and looked down, exhausted.
Babe grabbed her coat off the hook, and led Alfonso out the door. He was pretty drunk and leaned heavily on her narrow shoulders. Babe was even smaller than me, and she didn't have vampire strength. I was impressed that she didn't buckle under Al's near dead weight.
"I'll tag along. You know, safety in numbers," Dr. O said. Then he extracted himself from his conversation and nodded at Max as he shuffled past. "It's a rough neighborhood, right, Agent?"
Wait. How the hell did he know Max was FBI?
Max nodded slowly, his eyes following Dr. O.
"Do I know him?" Max muttered to me.
I couldn't respond. My focus was on Dr. O's half-drained beer. I felt a little light-headed, but probably because my nerves were shot. I swayed a bit.
Frankie suddenly appeared in front of me, catching me before I fell over. Of course, this made me feel even worse. Goddamn vampire speed wasn't exactly subtle.
"And you are?" Max glared at Frankie's hands, holding me firmly by the waist.
I was scanning my brain for a logical explanation for all this bizarre behavior, and came up empty.
"Frankie," he said, lowering his voice just a little. I caught a slight snarl at the corner of his mouth. Shit. He was showing off his fangs. Here. In my bar.
"Frankie, this is Max," I said weakly. "From the FBI."
"Feds?" Frankie dropped his snarl, looking slightly interested.
My ears started to ring.
"And where are you from, Frankie?" Max's question sounded almost like a challenge.
"At the moment, Nevada. Just flew in. To see our Nina." He grabbed me around the shoulders and squished me into him.
"And you two know each other from?" Max questioned.
"Oh, we've known each other for eternity." Frankie smirked.
"Eternity is a bit dramatic," I squeaked out. "We sort of grew up together."
My face
flashed hot, and the bar began to spin. As ringing in my ears grew louder, Casper from the hospital appeared and stood by Dr. O's chair. He waved and then made a beeline towards me, slipping his cold plasma ooze into me before I could protest.
"Need to talk," his voice rattled around in my head. "Those pictures. Same vampire."
"Get out!" I doubled over as the pain in my head blinded me.
"Nina? Nina!" I heard Frankie say. He sounded so far away. Then blackness washed over me.
CHAPTER 8
I could hear worried voices expressing concern. Someone called out for a cold wet cloth and a male voice shouted, "They are on their way!"
Babe was laying down some very choice words in Spanish. Crap. I had been out long enough for her to be back from taking Al home?
Right before I blacked out, Frankie was causing a scene, Max was suspicious as hell, and Casper had reappeared. Even if I wanted to sit up, I couldn't. My body wasn't ready to respond yet, and given the situation, I wasn't in any real hurry to open my eyes.
The cool damp cloth hit my forehead, and I took a deep breath. I felt vaguely like I was floating. A hand grabbed my wrist, checking my pulse. Then someone pulled me up to a sitting position.
"Hold her head back," Babe's voice commanded whoever had hold of me.
My head tipped back, and some foul-tasting liquid dropped into my mouth and ran down my throat. About a second after hitting my stomach, my esophagus felt like it was on fire. My eyes shot open. I started to hack.
"What the hell was that?" I sputtered, coughing and grabbing at my chest. My entire body was burning. I reached out and Babe caught onto my hand, her face a mix of concern and triumph. Once my coughing subsided, I noticed she was holding one of her dusty cobalt bottles.
"Thank God," she sighed and stood up.
I leaned back and my head slammed against something hard. I turned and saw Frankie sitting behind me. Just over his shoulder, Max looked kind of pissed.
I tried to push myself up from the floor but fell back into Frankie's chest again. My head was still fuzzy and I felt like I was hovering slightly above my body.
