by Maggie Shayne, MaryJanice Davidson, Angela Knight, Jacey Ford
CH@%!*R 6
"You can't hire me," Boo told the vampire, who, amazingly, had pulled up a chair and was sitting two feet away.
"Excuse me, but I just did."
"I don't work for dead guys."
"What do you think you've been doing?"
Her eyes widened and almost bulged, and Eddie happened to know there was a gun in the small of her back and three stakes in her purse, so he jumped in. "So, you're a comedian?"
The vampire looked away from her, at him, and Eddie squashed the instant urge to leap from his chair and exit the building. Boo had explained that the way to spot a vampire was to look for the ones who couldn't join a crowd. The ones on the fringe, looking on. Pale, and quick—unbelievably quick. With mesmerizing charisma—the ones you wanted to follow all the way home. Or to a car. Or a hotel room. Or an alley. A stranger you were instantly drawn to, and trusted. And feared.
Eddie was afraid of the vampire, but wanted to stay and listen as much as he wanted to leave. And that scared him worse than anything that had happened all night.
"Yeah, amateur," the vampire said. Eddie wasn't sure if he was referring to himself, or Eddie. "What'd you think?"
"It was… interesting." To put it mildly. A vampire riffing on vampires. Huh. He'd been afraid Boo would swallow her own tongue. She hadn't been that appalled when he'd tagged along for the night. "So this is what you do?"
"Sure. In my old life I was a cop, but I swore if I ever got a second chance, I'd try stand-up. Just for fun, a part-time thing. So after I came back from the dead—"
"You didn't come back from the dead," Boo interrupted. She looked rattled. Frankly, he didn't think she could get rattled. "You are dead."
"Semantics," the vampire said easily, and smiled at them both.
"You have a great smile," Eddie said, dazzled. Not that he swung that way (not that there was anything wrong with that) but the vampire seemed genuinely nice. Charming and, like, urbane. It was kind of—
"We're out of here," Boo announced, standing. "Let's book, B.B."
The vampire put a hand on her arm. "Don't you want to—"
"I want you to let go of me before something felonious happens to you."
He let go. Eddie nearly shriveled with relief. "Look, let's all sit down and have a drink."
Boo gave him a look that nearly scorched his eyebrows. "I don't drink with the dead."
"No," the vampire said cheerfully, "you just get hired by them. You pretty much do their bidding. You don't think I'm the first one to ever think of it, do you?"
She sat so hard, the chair rocked. "What."
The vampire clicked his fingers at the waitress. "Another round, please."
"Sure, Greg," the bodaciously cute woman with purple curls replied, giving him a smile and switching her butt as she walked away.
"What."
"Is that supposed to be a question? I'd heard your social skills were fairly poor, but I like to judge for myself before—ow."
"Ow?" Eddie asked. He'd heard an odd sound—zing!—but couldn't place it. Then he saw the vampire look under the table, put his hand down—on his leg, maybe?—and bring it back up, dripping blood. "Oh my God! You shot him?"
"I shot him."
"That wasn't nice," the vampire said reproachfully. "That's my favorite shin. Not to mention, all my other slacks are at the dry cleaners."
"I don't get some answers quick, I'll be a lot less nice and your dry cleaner will be a lot more busy."
Eddie's mind reeled. "Ack! Dude, tell her what she wants to know! And put the gun away," he hissed at Boo. "We're not in the Star Wars cantina."
"Oh, God, if only." She saw the vampire flinch and smiled. It wasn't an especially warm smile. "Oops. My bad."
"What do you want to know?" he asked reasonably, reaching for a napkin and wiping the blood off his hand. Eddie noticed it was very dark blood, and that the vampire didn't bother to use any napkins to blot his leg. Could they heal that quickly? And why wasn't he screaming and jumping up and down? Did they not feel pain?
"Why did you hire me?"
"To kill vampires. Two unbelievably awful ones, in fact."
"But—you're a vampire," Eddie couldn't help pointing out. "You can't—I mean, you guys are supposed to stick together."
"Why?" the vampire replied. "You guys don't. Besides, I used to be a cop. There's some stuff you just can't look away from. Ghost can do the job, so I hired her."
"Don't shoot him again!" Eddie screamed in a whisper.
"I don't like that name," Boo told the undead, soon-to-be-all-the-way dead guy.
For the first time all evening, the vampire looked mortified. "Right. Sorry about that. What shall I call you?"
"Shut up."
"All right, but doesn't have a very nice ring to—"
"What did you mean when you said you weren't the first one to think of it?" she interrupted.
"Well, what does it sound like? Vampires are territorial. Sometimes we don't get along too well. Luckily, there's a famous vampire killer who happens to be for hire, and she doesn't check ID. She just takes the cash and does the job. What could be simpler?"
Boo went paler, a feat Eddie didn't think was possible. It was obvious this had never occurred to her before. It wouldn't have occurred to him, either. Vampires hiring vampire slayers to kill vampires? Yech. Chilly bastards.
"It's the way of the world," the vampire was saying, sounding concerned. "I thought you knew."
"Of course she knew," Eddie interrupted, too heartily. "You think there's something you bloodsuckers are up to that we don't have the 4-1-1 on? Ha! And again, I say ha."
"Well, good, I'd hate to think I took the intrepid vampire killers by surprise." The waitress came back, put down drinks—the vampire was drinking something dark red in a wineglass, surprise—and gave them all a nice flash of cleavage as she took her tip. "So! I take it you've killed that asshole, Weatherly?"
There was a 'clunk!' as Boo dropped the dead (?) vampire's ring on their little table.
"Nice," the vampire said, picking it up and looking at it. "Just outstanding. How'd he go?"
"He went easy."
"Yeah," Eddie said, sounding, to his own ears, tough and cool, if slightly squeaky. "Piece of cake."
"Really?" The vampire's gaze lingered on Eddie's neck, and he couldn't help fingering the bite mark, which still stung. "That's good. Only one to go."
"I can't work for you," Boo said, looking like a grasshopper was crawling around inside her mouth.
"You'll let Martigan walk around free?"
"Martigan would be…" Eddie prompted.
"A real piece of work," the vampire said, sounding disgusted. And what would disgust a guy who routinely drank blood, Eddie had no idea. But he suspected he was about to find out. "As far as I can figure, he's been around since the thirties. Likes to eat children. He'll stay in one place, a bunch of kids will disappear, but before the mob can get pitchforks and torches—or even an Identi-Kit—together, he disappears. Then he'll pop up somewhere new, and in a few days, there's more third graders missing."
"That's horrible," Eddie said, feeling faint. As a mostly grown man it had been one thing to face off against a vampire. But a child? "That's—"
"But he fucked up. He's in my territory now. And we're gonna get him." The vampire smiled, looking wolfish and cheerful at the same time.
"We?" Boo said, and Eddie could have sworn her expression had eased a little. Aw. She and the vampire had something in common… their hatred of scumball vampires. It was all right out of… well, he wasn't sure what.
"He's too dangerous, too old. I can't in good conscience let you go after him by yourselves. Especially with a child who has no idea what he's doing."
"Hey!" Eddie said hotly. "I'm not a child, I'm twenty-one!"
The vampire rolled his eyes, and the corner of Boo's mouth twitched.
"I'm an intrepid vampire killer, deadly apprentice to the most feared and—and blond vampire killer of them all!
"
"Oh, stop it," the vampire told him. "You've never even met one before tonight, I'll bet my watch on it. You're probably tagging along because you think it'll be interesting and fun. And the lady here is too nice to tell you to flick off."
"Heh," Boo said.
"But I'm not," the vampire said. He leaned forward, and Eddie suddenly noticed how huge the man's pupils were, blotting out the blue of his eyes, blotting out the room, the world. "Fuck off."
* * *
CH@%!*R 7
"I'm not working with you," Boo said, watching Eddie get up and walk away like a robot. "Although, uh, thanks."
"Really, what were you thinking?" Gregory scolded her. "I can't think of a better way for an ordinary fellow to get hurt than to spend the night hanging out with you."
"I would have looked out for him. Off my case, dead guy," she snapped.
"We'll let that pass for the minute. And would you rather go after Martigan by yourself and possibly fail, or let me come along and increase your chances of success?"
"Mmmm…"
"Not that you would be 'letting' me do anything," he added silkily.
"You're really pushing your luck, dead guy."
"Maybe you could stake me after," he added helpfully, and she almost laughed.
In fact, this was the most intriguing vampire she had ever met. Not that she'd ever spent much time getting to know the dead. But Gregory Schorr was an interesting mix of hard and compassionate.
Kind of the way she thought of herself, truth be told.
"That's an interesting proposition," she admitted. "And you did get rid of the Boy Blunder for me."
He'd been sipping his wine, and choked. "That's what you call him?"
"One of the things." She finished her last Black Russian, then shook her head. "No, I can't. I should be killing you right this second."
"Please," he said, offended. "You've already ruined my pants. That reminds me, I've got a locker in the back of the club—I'll have to change."
"Never mind about your pants. I should stake you, then go after Martigan. He won't be the only awful vampire I've ever killed."
"No, but he'll be the oldest."
She was silent. He was right. How did he know that?
"We have a newsletter," he told her, anticipating the question.
"You what?"
"All right, we don't. But there are files on you in the library in Minneapolis. There's not much, but you have left witnesses, unwittingly or not. I've sort of been a fan."
"That's gross."
"Fine, play hard to get."
"I'm not—"
"Anyway, you do what I do. You get rid of the scum, the creatures you absolutely can't abide walking around on the same planet you are. Listen, when I was a cop, I had the highest clearing rate in the city. I wasn't about to let being a vampire change that. Put yourself in my shoes: You've got fifteen years of BPD experience, and suddenly you're a lot harder to kill. What would you do?"
"What all of you do," she replied in a hard voice. "Make victims. Every night."
He made an impatient sound. "Yes, I drink blood, I take victims just about every night. You're telling me you're a defender of rapists, of murderers? Because that's who I drink from."
She sat in silence. She was a lot of things, but she wasn't a hypocrite. She wasn't about to ride his ass because he ate bad guys. If you thought about it, he was doing a public service.
She shook that off. Sitting here in the gloom with him, not killing him, did make her a hypocrite. All vampires were bad. Gregory was a vampire. Gregory was bad. Simplistic but then, the basics always were.
"It's just a job," he reminded her gently. "Don't you want to stack the deck as far as you can in your favor? There's plenty of time to worry about other things after we—after you take care of Martigan."
In the end, that was the straw she grasped: the job. She had been telling herself for years that killing vampires was just how she made a buck. If Gregory could help her do her job, she was a fool to stand in his way.
And there would be time to worry about other things. Later.
* * *
CH@%!*R 8
Gregory worked hard to contain his elation. If the darling Ghost had the tiniest hint how thrilled he was to be spending the night with her, she'd likely shoot him again. Worse, she'd leave.
"I suppose we'd better get B.B.," she observed as they left the club and went into the autumn Boston evening. "Not that I don't appreciate you getting rid of him. But I'd feel better if I saw him safely home. Otherwise he'll just—"
"Wander around, fucking off," Gregory confirmed. "Not to tell you your business—"
"So don't."
"But what were you thinking, letting him tag along?"
"He caught me in a weak moment," she admitted. "Not to mention, I was sort of impressed. Most people in that situation would have pissed themselves with fear, then cried themselves to sleep. He wanted to tag along and help me."
"Can't blame him for that one," Gregory murmured.
She gave him a sideways look, one without the slightest drop of flirtation. "Don't start the whole vampire seduction bullshit, unless you like the taste of wood."
"Wanting to seduce you has nothing to do with my being a vampire," he told her.
"Right." She managed to cram an amazing amount of disgust and disbelief into one word.
"Is this the part where you pretend that you have no idea you're fantastically beautiful?" he asked politely.
Her lips went so tight they almost disappeared. "No, it's the part where I kill you and then sit down to a chicken dinner."
"After we get Eddie," he reminded her, cheering up, as always, at the prospect of distracting death. Not to mention possibly buying death a drink.
They found Eddie stumbling around along the waterfront, more vacant-eyed than usual. The vampire, Boo noticed, didn't look remotely ashamed at the state he'd left Eddie in.
"You're coming with us, looks like," he said, snapping his fingers before Eddie's eyes.
"Whoa!" Eddie shook himself like a Labrador fresh out of a lake. "I am? Great. Okay! Great. That was weird. Man, you totally Jedi'd all over my butt."
"Yeah, sorry ab—"
"That was awesome! You used your dark powers of the night on me."
"I'm going to use my dark powers of my foot up your ass if we don't get going," Boo said, possibly more irritated than she'd ever been in her life. "Let's go, Boy Blunder."
"I really hate that name," Eddie confided, falling into step beside her. "So what's the plan?"
"What is the plan?" Gregory asked, behind her. He could see at once she didn't care for that at all, as she immediately slowed so he could walk abreast. It was a little disconcerting, but he couldn't blame her for being practical.
"You're asking me?" she replied. "You're the incredibly ancient wise old creature of the night."
"I'm only sixty-eight," he said, irritated. He had no idea how old the lady was, but chances were he had a decade or two on her at least.
"Well, you don't look a second over twenty-eight," Eddie comforted him. "In fact, you're a great-looking guy. Not great looking for your age; great looking in general. I mean, I'm strictly hetero, but I have to say, if I ever made an exception to the rule, I'd definitely do it for you."
"That's adorable," Boo said. "I think you two make a great couple. I foresee a spring wedding."
"It's possible I haven't entirely shaken off your little Jedi trick," Eddie admitted.
"I'm sure that's not it," Boo said, actually grinning a little. Gregory was torn between exasperation at the Boy Blunder and happiness that she was smiling.
"You were telling us the plan."
"Was I? Well, my plan was to meet you, get the green light to axe Martigan, then go find Martigan and axe him. But it's turning into one of those nights," she finished in a mutter.
* * *
CH@%!*R 9
"You know, you don't have to stick around," Boo said. Bad enough she h
ad one sidekick she didn't know what to do with, but now a vampire was tagging along. A damned vampire!
It serves me right, she thought, sighing internally. I earned every bit of it. It's mine. I shouldn't have put Blunder out there for bait, and this is my punishment: The guy I thought I was supposed to kill is sticking to me like gum on a shoe.
"You can't take Martigan by yourself," he reminded her.
"Says you. Besides, what do you care?"
"Hey, I'm still a cop."
"No you aren't!" she almost shouted. "You're dead, you've been dead for years, and dead guys make lousy policemen."
"In my heart, I'm still a cop." And he said it so sincerely, she couldn't think of a retort.
"So you hired her to kill this vampire," Eddie piped up, "this Martigan guy?"
"Sure."
"How'd you even know how to find her? How'd you even know about Martigan?"
She opened her mouth to say something like "Shut up, Boy Asunder," but she was curious about those points herself, and wanted to hear Gregory's answer.
Gregory had his hands stuffed in his pocket, past the wrists, and kicked at a rock while they walked together. "I run my own security company."
"Like private cops."
"Yes."
"Cool."
"We can always use another Web geek," Gregory said, and Boo could practically hear Eddie getting the thrill of his life.
"Really? You'll give me a job? Because the one I have sucks. No offense. If that term offends you. And I hope it doesn't."
"You can't work for him," she said, exasperated.
"You do."
"That's just for tonight," she snapped. "And I'm an independent contractor, not an employee."
"Well, you can't spend your whole life slaying vampires," Eddie said. "Can you?"
She found that honestly puzzling. "What else would I do?"
"Lots of things. With your God-given powers of light, and his fiendish powers of the night—"
"Eddie, you're so completely full of shit."
"Not completely," Gregory said.
