“I asked you a question.”
This was one of those moments where if my heart could beat, it would be pounding like that of an adrenaline junkie or caffeine freak or stylista during fashion week. It should never even have occurred to her that I hadn’t been home all night.
“Right here,” I answered. “You know that. You’ve got surveillance on me, for goodness sake. You’ve probably got me Lojacked.”
“You didn’t answer your phone.”
“When?”
“Last night,” she bit out.
“You must have called while I was in the shower. Crappy cell service in there, if you must know. I blame the ceramic tile.”
“And afterward?”
“Afterward, what?”
“Messages.” I could practically see the steam coming out of her ears from here.
“I didn’t check. Sorry! Why, what happened?” I’d practiced the innocent voice on my parents, so I knew I could pull it off. Sadly, she wasn’t getting the full glare of the innocent look, which really sold it.
“One of our facilities was broken into last night.”
“And you think it was me?” I asked, playing up shock.
“The description matched.”
“Petite, stylish, irresistible?”
She choked, and, if I didn’t know better, I’d have thought it was a repressed laugh. Well, the repressed part fit, anyway. “Female vampire, dark hair, small stature, heart-shaped face … sound like anyone we know?”
Well, crap. “Half the models in Teen Vogue,” I quipped. “But then, I guess we can’t count them among us vamps, since they photograph so well. Let me think—”
“Don’t bother. You’re needed at the Tower tonight.”
“I don’t know that it’s such a good idea for me to show up there empty-handed. The vamps made it very clear the cost of doing business with them … I need to bring in Nelson Ricci—Dion. It’s the only way to prove myself.”
“That’s exactly why we need you there. Brent and Marcy have turned up a new lead, someone who apparently escaped Dion’s cult. If they question him themselves, they blow their cover, but if they give you the nod—”
“I can get him alone and convince him to spill his guts. Got it. But what if he’s a trap. I mean, cults aren’t exactly known for being easy to leave.”
“You’ll have backup.”
“Brent and Marcy?” Wouldn’t running to my rescue blow their cover just as surely as doing the interview themselves?
“Bobby. He’ll meet you there.”
“But—”
“Relax. The vamps had you in that wine bar, didn’t they? Selene, anyway. If they’d been desperate to have Bobby, they could have pulled him in right then. There’s something else that they want more. Or, at least, first.”
“Nelson.”
“Bingo.”
That led right into the question I’d been dreading but could no longer fail to ask. “Back at the Radner fire … ” My heart ached even if it couldn’t beat. “You didn’t find any of Nelson’s, uh, people, did you? Any bodies, I mean?”
Maya was silent for a second, then asked, “Who should we have found?”
The air I took in to get the words out felt like hot tar and stuck in my chest.
“No one,” I answered, forcing the words out. “I just wondered. In the thick of battle—” I thought I killed someone, I didn’t finish, not out loud.
“No one? ” she repeated, clearly disbelieving. “Well, if they had a man down, they took him away with them.”
Crap, that was an idea that had never even occurred to me. It had taken me almost twenty-four hours to work up the courage to even ask, and I’d been too busy sneaking around to check out the news. I’d almost been prepared to live with fear and uncertainty about what had happened rather than risk the sure knowledge of what I’d done. But now that I’d faced my fears … I still didn’t know about Kelly Swinter. It didn’t seem likely that Nelson and his brood would have gone to the trouble of taking a body with them, though. They didn’t strike me as the sentimental types. So either she was alive or they had some sinister purpose in taking the corpse … Somehow, I didn’t find myself entirely comforted.
To outrun my thoughts, I turned, as always, to fashion. The Feds had supplied me with a few fashion faux pas along the pseudo-vampire line, including a shiny black vinyl dress and matching knee-high boots with a wedge heel that would give me at least another four inches in height that I sorely needed. Give me a whip and a funky mask and I could practically be Catwoman. Never in a million years would I have chosen the outfit for myself, but tonight that was kinda the point. I didn’t want to be me. I wanted to be Cosette D’Ampir, uber-vamp, or Gayle Kuttner, super spy, or … anyone else. Wearing vinyl seemed like a kind of penance.
It was time to go clubbing with the fanged and fabulous.
• • •
I wouldn’t say that the Tower was packed, but even mid-week it drew a pretty good crowd. They weren’t all as wildly dressed as on the night of the vampire ball, but I wasn’t the only one in vinyl. In fact, there was enough vinyl around that I wondered how many old records had died for our fashion sins. I’d left my hair free-flowing tonight, and it hung in waves down to my butt, nearly as black as my dress. If it weren’t for the wide red belt I’d found and my fire-engine-red lipstick, you’d have sworn I was drawn in black-and-white, given my pallor.
Even though the spy game was all about blending in, I turned at least one head. The guy checking IDs at the door—no cover charge tonight—looked more punk than goth. His fauxhawk was tortured into a hard ridge on top of his head, like the back sail on some prehistoric lizard, and his head alone probably held enough hardware to set off metal detectors just driving past the airport—brow, lip, nose, and when he spoke I noticed it was tongue, too. Not the ears, though. Those had the big wooden plugs in lieu of earrings. It was a hardcore look, but I didn’t think it’d be all that when he was tripping over his earlobes in a few years.
“You alone?” he asked, looking me up one side and down the other, which was pretty pointless since I was totally symmetrical.
“Not for long,” I answered, wondering how long it would take Selene or Very Scary to catch me. Oh, I could have called ahead, but that would have taken all the fun out of things.
“I’m on break in twenty minutes. I could buy you a drink,” he said, missing the point.
“I’m spoken for. Thanks anyway.” I moved on inside.
He shrugged like it didn’t matter and turned back to the door, half-thrashing my ego. It was official—if I ever started my own entourage, he was right out.
No Bobby, no Marcy or Brent on the first floor, so I climbed to the second. That’s where most of the action was, and certainly the volume. Techno music poured out of every speaker. It wasn’t jam-packed this time—which was good for the caped crusader thrash-dancing by himself at the edge of the dance floor—but there were enough people to fill the room. I was halfway across it before I spotted Brent grinding up against the aviatrix of the Burgess Brigade. Her goggles were up on top of her fiery red hair, holding it back like a headband. Her fawn-colored leggings were skintight, like riding pants, and her white men’s shirt was unbuttoned to where I could see her bra peeking out—black, like her boots. I didn’t think she was very authentic, but what did I know. I bet Marcy was grinding her teeth down to itty-bitty nubs. Luckily, they’d grow back.
Brent caught my eye and nodded deeper into the club, to where the rest of the Brigade stood holding up the back wall. I hoped the bump-and-grind was mission related … for Marcy’s sake.
Speaking of whom … I found her there, among a gaggle of admirers, shooting poisonous glances at the dance floor. I got caught up in one, but her face changed immediately at the sight of me and she was able to turn the resulting smile onto one of her suitors. You’d never know it wasn’t still dress-up night at the sight of them: the maharajah; a guy who looked like Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter; and the clock
work gentleman who’d caught my eye outside the club that first night. He was another Johnny Depp look-alike, but a much hotter version, like maybe from Sleepy Hollow. Bad movie, smokin’ hero.
Apparently there hadn’t been time yet to create Marcy’s doomsday dress, because she sat among them in widow’s weeds—a small hat with a black veil (the real thing, not the vampire Magna Carta) and a dark lace gown with a collar that rose high around the back and scooped daringly low in the front to reveal scads of cleavage. A silver-wrapped vial dangled between her breasts, drawing the eye to the assets that were pushed and smooshed to attention. On her right hand, she wore a poison ring. I wondered if it was loaded and, if so, whether Brent or his dancing girl were entirely safe. Marcy twirled a dark curl absently around and around her ring finger as if considering the question herself.
The maharajah was holding forth, and stopped suddenly as he realized he’d lost everyone. He turned a cranky face toward me, which changed quickly as he took in my vinyl dress and four-inch heels. Marcy’s other two admirers looked me over as well.
“You’re the girl who got pulled into the inner sanctum the other night,” the hotter Johnny Depp said.
I gave him one of my coyest smiles. “I am. And you are?”
“Guy Fawkes,” he said with a bow. “And my companions are Ghedri, Terrence”—the maharajah and hatter bowed in turn—“and the fair Raven.” He used the introduction as an excuse to take and kiss Marcy’s hand, probably trying to one-up her other suitors.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” I responded. I refused to curtsey in this dress. I wasn’t sure the seams could handle it.
“Your name, dear lady?” Guy Fawkes prompted.
“Oh, sorry. I’m Cosette. Of course, I noticed you all the other night and was hoping that I might have the chance to speak with you.”
“Just speak?” he asked, giving me a “come hither” sort of look. I bet in good light it worked like a charm.
“For now,” I flirted back.
Marcy used their distraction as a chance to shoot another poisoned glance at the dance floor, twisting her curl nearly to the breaking point.
“Raven, is it?” I asked, calling Marcy’s attention back to me. “I have a particular fascination with poison rings.” Well, rings in general. “I was wondering about yours. Is it a working model?”
Marcy yanked her gaze back to the group and took her cue just as expected.
“Absolutely. An antique as well. Would you care to see it?”
“I’d love to, but perhaps we should step over into better light. Boys, if you would excuse us?”
Marcy touched each of their arms as she stood and passed by, promising to return shortly. I thought I heard one of them mutter something about every moment of her absence being an eternity, but no one could be that sappy. Right?
“I’m going to kill him,” Marcy said as we moved out of earshot, which didn’t take more than a few steps given the pounding music. We stopped in a decently lit spot near the dance floor.
“Brent?” I asked.
“Ye-ah,” she said. “I’m not going to kill just anyone.”
I pretended that made sense … and that I was utterly fascinated with her poison ring.
“He’s not that into her,” I said with a shrug.
“How can you tell?”
“I thought you weren’t interested in Brent?”
“Gina!”
“Okay, okay. I can tell because his eyes were scanning the room and not her. He saw me as soon as I got upstairs.”
“Really?”
Oh yeah, she was totally indifferent. “I swear,” I said.
“Thanks. You’re the best.” She took the ring off and handed it to me to try on, showing me first how to release the hidden catch.
“I know it. Have you seen Bobby?”
“Not yet.”
“What about the guy I’m supposed to grill?”
“It’s Terrence.”
“The guy who looks like the Mad Hatter?”
“I know, right?”
“Got it.” I handed her the ring back and we returned to the men, chatting away about poisons. She was, anyway. The Feds must have briefed her for her role. Must have, because she couldn’t really be that into death, could she? A BFF would know.
I debated waiting for Bobby, but for all I knew he was watching from afar. Plus, I suspected I’d do better with the Mad Hatter on my own than with an escort.
“I’m off to the bar,” I announced when we got back to the group. “Anyone else want anything?”
“Terrence, love, would you get me a bloody Mary?” Marcy asked. “I think I need some electrolytes or something. I’m feeling a little—” She swayed dramatically on her feet. Ghedri and Guy rushed to help her.
“Anything for m’lady,” Terrence said hurriedly, not even questioning why I couldn’t fetch and carry. Oh, she was good.
I took Terrence’s arm and held it in an iron grip as I steered him away from the clan. When I had him all to myself, I leaned in close. “So, I hear you were in with Dion’s group. What’s it like inside the cult?”
He jumped, and instantly tried to get his arm back, but I wasn’t going to let him get away that easily. “I—I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Too bad,” I said heartlessly. I let an ominous note creep into my voice. “You heard them say I was pulled into the club’s inner sanctum. You don’t think I was called in for nothing, do you?” I didn’t know what they all thought went on in there, but clearly the inner sanctum was a source of awe. I could use that.
“What do you mean?” There was a tremor in his voice. I didn’t want to be proud of putting it there, but …
I licked my lips, slowly, and that was clearly all he could take. There must have been fang showing. Really convincing fang. I ran my tongue over my teeth to check, lingering on the canines. Yup, sure enough.
“Nevermind. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, okay? Your boy Dion … he’s lost it.”
“Lost it how? What did you see?”
“I don’t”—he swallowed—“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Terrence, we’ve been over this. You’re not going anywhere until you tell me.”
His gaze darted left and right, as if looking for rescue. He pulled away again, testing that there was still no escape, which, of course, there wasn’t.
“The girl,” he said finally. “They fell on her like dogs. And now, the way they have her hooked up like some kind of Frankenstein’s lab experiment … ”
“You said they, but you were a part of it. Weren’t you?”
I could see the whites all around his eyes. He didn’t answer right away, which was answer enough.
“I got out,” he said defensively.
“And they just let you go?”
His gaze stopped rolling around the room and he looked at me, really looked at me for a moment … and then his attention caught on something over my shoulder.
“Focus, Terrence. Come back to me. Who are they? What girl? I need you to tell me about her.” Who could it be? Elise’s former roommate, Kinesha Williams? Someone we didn’t know about?
But the sanity train had left the station. “No,” he said in a hush, as if to himself. “No, they didn’t. They couldn’t. They’re here.”
He yanked at his arm, like his life depended on getting it free, like he’d leave it behind with me if he could just so the rest of him could escape. I looked over my shoulder to see who he was so afraid of, and froze.
Kelly Swinter sat at the bar, drinking something froufrou and pink. She raised it when she saw me glancing her way. She looked a little rough around the edges, which made sense for someone who’d only the night before been drained nearly to death and left behind in a burning building. But she also looked dark, deadly, determined, and completely fixated on us.
“Come on,” I said, tugging on the arm Terrence was so desperate to free.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
>
“Out of here, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, thank God. I didn’t think they’d dare come back, but—”
“Less talk, more walk.”
Terrence nearly lost his footing on the stairs, but a hand came out of nowhere to grab him and keep him from falling on his face. And attached to the hand was a nice arm … very nice, as I knew from intimate experience.
“Our informant?” Bobby asked, his gaze meeting mine and zapping me with that current that always threatened to restart my heart. Took my breath away every time.
“Our informant,” I agreed. “We’re getting him out of here.”
“Then let’s go.” Bobby cleared the way down the stairs, but as we got to the ground floor, I saw Elise lurking by the entrance.
“This way.” I aimed us all for the side door leading into the alley where Hunter had caught up with me the first night.
The door was propped open, as I’d known it would be, for people coming out for smokes. I yanked it wider and burst through, Terrence huffing and puffing at my side, Bobby one step behind me.
All of us headed right into a trap.
13
The door slammed shut behind us. I only had time to take in the sight of Nelson, Elise, and some new muscle-headed minion before I was whirling to face whatever was coming from behind. Kelly, still looking as pale as the grave, launched herself away from the alley door, swinging some kind of flat wooden bat with nails driven through it straight for my head. Bobby threw Terrence to the side, out of the way of the fight, and jumped in front of the bat, catching the impact with his outstretched hand. One of the nails pierced right through it, the blood lashing my eye, which I closed just in time.
Then one of those I’d turned my back on brought a
second bat crashing down on my head, and my world shattered into sharp shards of pain. I went down to my knees.
Behind me, Bobby gave an animalistic cry and suddenly Kelly went flying through the air toward my attacker. I didn’t know whether he’d flung her off her bat or picked her up with his mental mojo—telekinesis was a wonderful thing—but either way, it was effective. Kelly struck Elise and both hit the pavement hard. Unfortunately, Nelson and his muscle-headed Burly Boy were still standing and rushed in to take the girls’ place.
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