by Gary Jonas
I smiled. “I haven’t had time to work out yet today. Bring them out to play.”
“How about you just leave?”
“How about you listen to reason and sell me the information I need.”
He shook his head. “We don’t do that.”
“So you really can’t get anything you want at Tally’s.”
“We’re done here. Time for you to go.”
“You summoning up some magic?” I asked.
“Already summoned it, but I won’t need it.”
The steel doors opened, and two obese people stepped through, one black male, one white female. They wore matching black T-shirts and baggy tan chinos. The man had short hair, the woman had curly blonde hair that barely touched her shoulders. Their eyes were red. Not bloodshot. The irises themselves were red as blood.
“Is there a disturbance here?” the woman asked.
“Unhappy customer,” the clerk said. “She was just leaving.”
The bouncers stepped around the counter and held up their arms. Their forearms ended in long silver blades where their hands should have been. “We thank you for your patronage,” the man said, “but it’s time for you to go.”
I looked them up and down, but didn’t move. “I just need some information.”
“We don’t deal in information,” the man said. His eyes locked onto mine and narrowed. “A Sekutar warrior.” He gave me a nod. “I thought you were all dead.”
“Perhaps you should invest in more information then,” I said.
“Do we need to escort you outside?” the woman asked. Her tone suggested she really wanted to tangle with me.
The front door opened and a young black man wearing baggy pants and a leather vest stepped inside. He had tattoos crawling up and down his arms. “Yo, Chet, you got my order in yet?” He stopped when he saw the bouncers. “Did I come at a bad time?”
“She was just leaving,” the clerk said. “And yes, your order is in. I’ll have it brought out for you.”
“Thanks, man.” He gave the bouncers a wide berth as he moved toward the counter.
I knew this wasn’t going to be helpful, so I gave the bouncers a nod. “We’ll have to dance another time,” I said.
The bouncers smiled. “We look forward to it,” they said in unison.
I glanced back at the clerk. “Catch you later, Chet.”
“That’s not my name,” the clerk said.
“Of course not. Your legal name is Asshole.”
And I walked out.
The young black man followed me outside. “Hold up,” he said.
I turned toward him. “I’m really not in the mood.”
“No, lady, I meant hold up as in wait, not as in this is a hold up.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “It’s been a bad day.”
“I’m used to it. Still, I ain’t seen the bouncers come out bladed in years until this past week,” he said. “I gotta ask. What did you do?”
“What makes you think I did anything?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you can’t weigh more than ninety pounds soaking wet, and yet they were bladed up ready to carve you to pieces. You had to do something.”
“I asked for information.”
He shook his head. “You had to do more than that.”
“I told Chet or whatever his name is not to make me hurt him. That’s it.”
“Nobody knows his name. I like to rhyme shit sometimes, so I said Yo Chet, my order in yet. Other times it’s Yo, Joe, what do you know. And he gets threatened every day, so that ain’t it either. Folks at Tally’s have been on edge this past week. I think some serious shit is going down and I want to know what it is so I can steer the fuck clear.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Name’s Terrence Jones, but folks call me TJ. I do some low level magic shit. Nothing major.”
“Kelly Chan,” I said. “Martial arts instructor.”
He did a karate chop move. “Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan! Cool. Nice to meet you, Kelly.” He extended a hand.
I accepted his handshake. The tattoos on his arms shifted. Definitely magic. “Nice to meet you too, TJ.”
“What you doin’ here? Kung Fu and magic don’t cross paths too often.”
“You don’t want to get your order?”
“It ain’t goin’ no place. Your dojo around here? Maybe I’ll stop in for some lessons.”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
He held out his hands, palms upward. “You got me. I don’t really want lessons.”
“So what do you want?”
“Toss the dice, your number would be nice.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“What?” he said. “You’re a little bundle of badass hotness.”
“Go get your order, TJ.”
“Hold up. Or hold on if that makes you feel better. What info were you after in there? Maybe I can help.”
“I need to know about vampires, Watchers, and companions.”
“Take me to lunch. I keep my finger on the supernatural pulse of Denver. I’m a fountain of info about all kinds of weird shit, and that includes vampires, Watchers, and companions.”
“You want me to buy you lunch?”
“You were willing to try and buy info at Tally’s. My price is a cheeseburger and fries. Can’t beat that with a stick.”
“Depends on the stick,” I said.
“True dat.”
I pointed to my truck. “That’s mine. I’ll wait for you while you get your package.”
He did a fist pump like a teenager. “Yeah, baby!”
“One thing,” I said. “Don’t call me baby.”
***
TJ wolfed down his cheeseburger in record time.
I sat across from him in the booth at a local diner sipping iced tea. “So tell me about vampires,” I said.
“Vicious little bloodsucking bastards,” TJ said.
“Well, that was worth the cost of a burger.”
“In all seriousness, the things that Hollywood got right are simple. Yes, they do drink blood. Yes, they are nocturnal and can’t go out in the daytime. Sunlight will burn them, and if they stay in it too long, sunlight will set their sorry asses on fire.”
“Any idea how long it takes?”
“They start to blister immediately, so most won’t risk it. Twenty seconds or so and they’re burning like a campfire and within a minute they’re ashes. There ain’t many around, of course, and those who are here are secretive little bastards.”
“Have you met any?” I asked.
“A few. I did an internship at DGI. You familiar with them?”
“Dragon Gate Industries, sure. But they don’t have any vampires working for them.”
“Not in the Denver branch. The Vegas office and the New York office have vamps on staff, though. I did some work with the Vegas office when I lived in Nevada.”
“So to kill them I need sunlight, or a wooden stake through the heart?”
“Or decapitation. It’s true that they don’t cast reflections in mirrors. Saw that for myself in Vegas.”
“What about crosses and garlic?”
“Hollywood bullshit.”
“Turning into bats and mist?”
“Shapeshifting? No. Mist, also no, but that myth came about because vampires can travel through shadows. When they step through, it can look like they turned to mist when the shadows close around them. It’s wicked cool to see.”
“I’ll bet. What about companions and Watchers?”
TJ dipped a fry in some ketchup. “Companions are loyal as fuck, and will do anything for their masters. And I do mean anything. They’d rather die than fail their masters.”
Well, that explained Ben disappearing. “So the ability to travel through shadows extends to companions?”
“Companions are Lead Watchers, but they lose distance traveling to stay close to their masters. But they get extra healing powers and shit.”
“And regular Watc
hers?”
“Are watching us right now.”
“Cute.”
“You think I’m bullshitting you, but I’m dead serious. I can feel eyes on me.”
“Really,” I said, not buying it.
He nodded. “I’m being measured right now. One of them sons of bitches is peeking out at me from the shadows under that table.” His eyes darted toward a table in the center of the diner. A family sat at the table. Husband, wife, two toddlers.
I smiled. “One of the kids has ducks on her shoes. Maybe the eyes from the ducks are messing with you because I don’t see anything else under the table.”
“If you could see the Watcher, it wouldn’t be all that useful.”
“And the purpose of the Watchers?”
“Depends on the Watcher,” TJ said. “Some are used to watch other vampires. Some are more like companions and work for vamps to guard them. Some hire themselves out to kill vamps. Some are more like soldiers for each vampire’s army. Ain’t no way to completely define a Watcher. You can’t trust any of them though. Fuckers will lie, cheat, steal, and kill to get what they want. Every last of them is undead. And that Watcher under the table is gone.”
“If he was ever there to begin with.”
“Oh, he was there.”
I was about to ask if TJ had seen any vampires in Denver, but Ben walked through the front door of the diner and headed straight for my table with a big smile on his face.
“Hello, Kelly. Why didn’t you wait for me at the hotel?” he said then stopped to check out TJ. “Oh my, you’ve been holding out on me.” He sat down in the booth next to TJ and slipped an arm around his shoulder. “You are downright delectable,” he said.
“Don’t perv on me.” TJ pushed Ben out of the booth, but Ben didn’t fall. Instead, he whipped around and slid into the seat next to me.
“Touchy, but yummy,” Ben said. He looked at me. “We had a shopping date and you stood me up.”
“You skipped out on me, you son of a bitch,” I said.
“And I’m suddenly a third wheel,” TJ said.
“We can do a three way,” Ben said raising his eyebrows.
Our waitress started toward us, but a man burst from the shadows beneath the family’s table. The waitress stopped, wide-eyed with shock and staggered back.
The man didn’t look familiar, but he did look formidable. Plenty of sinewy muscle. He reached out, placed a hand on TJ’s head and slid into the seat beside him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” TJ said.
“Oh!” the man said. “You should be paralyzed.” He glanced at the swirling tattoos that shot from TJs arms to his head. “Ah, protector ink. We may have to get physical.”
I reached up and tugged one of my hoop earrings free. With a twitch of my fingers, I straightened it and tried to send it sailing across the table into the Watcher’s left eye. Unfortunately, I couldn’t release it and ended up staring at my useless hand.
The Watcher smiled. “Problem?”
Ben reached over and grabbed one of the Watcher’s arms. “No shadow hopping for you right now.”
TJ grabbed the Watcher’s other hand and twisted it into a pretty good wrist lock.
They held him in place as the waitress bravely stepped up to the booth. Her eyes were saucers and her voice came out high-pitched and soft. “I was going to leave your check, but if you need anything else…please don’t call.”
I handed her a twenty. “We’re good. Keep the change.”
“Thank you. Please don’t break anything.” She scuttled away.
The Watcher glared at me. “Your time is ticking away.”
“You’re with Sinclair?” I asked.
“Mr. Chambers.”
“I know his real name.” That explained why I couldn’t throw my earring. It would have been a death blow through the eye into the brain. I wasn’t allowed to kill him.
“He wanted me to give you something, but if these two don’t release one of my arms, I can’t get it.”
“Where is it?” TJ asked.
“My left back pocket.”
“Oh, I’ll get it,” Ben said and got up. As he rose he pulled the Watcher close. TJ maintained his grip on the other arm. Ben ran his hand over the man’s butt cheek. “Pocket has to be around here somewhere,” he said giving the cheek a squeeze.
“Stop.”
“You should have kept it in your front pocket,” Ben said. “More fun that way.” He reached into the pocket and pulled out a small envelope. In a fine calligraphy script someone had written, Kelly Chan on the front.
Ben handed it to me.
“Mr. Chambers thought you might need that.” To Ben he said, “Will you please release me now? I promise not to attack.”
“What if I want you to attack?”
The Watcher shook his head.
“You’re no fun,” Ben said. “Get lost.” And released him.
“You too,” the Watcher said looking at TJ. “Take your hands off me.”
TJ let go of him. “Your skin is nasty. Now I need to wash my hands.”
The Watcher smiled. “Take care now, you hear?” he said. He slid under the table into the shadows and disappeared.
“Freaky ass motherfucker,” TJ said. He looked at me. “What did he give you?”
I opened the envelope and pulled out a heavy card with elegant printing on it.
“An invitation to a vampire ball,” I said.
Ben sighed and pulled a similar envelope from his shirt pocket and tossed it on the table. “That makes my invitation superfluous.”
“Your invitation?” I asked.
“Well, Victor extended it to you through me, but same difference. Right?”
“This is some wild shit. What just happened?” TJ asked.
“You’ve got your finger on the supernatural pulse of Denver,” I said. “You tell me.”
He held up his hands. “I was just saying some shit hoping to get in your pants. That guy’s way outta my league, moving through shadows and shit. I think I should go while I’m still alive.”
“I’ll protect you,” Ben said.
“No offense, m’man, but you ain’t my type.”
“Don’t know that until you’ve tasted the fruit.”
“Pass. Nice to meet you, Kelly Chan. You’re running in circles I can’t reach.”
He started to get up, but I reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “What did you get at Tally’s?”
“Same shit I always get. Banisteriopsis caapi.”
“What the hell is that?”
Ben smiled and raised his hand like a kid in school. “Oh, I know that one,” he said. “It’s a vine from South America used to brew Ayahuasca.”
“Got it in one,” TJ said.
“Should you ever find yourself in Los Angeles and in need of a spiritual experience that doesn’t involve diarrhea and vomit, call me.” Ben slid a card across the table that read Benjamin with a 310 area code. Probably the same number as the card from Monica in his wallet.
“If you decide you want martial arts lessons without the sex, look me up,” I said.
TJ nodded and walked out of the diner in a daze.
“Nice young man,” Ben said. “Think he’ll call me?”
“You? No. Me? Maybe.”
Ben sighed. “Those rumors about Denver being known as Menver must be wrong.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ben insisted on continuing our conversation while we went on a shopping spree.
I’m not much of a shopper. I tend to go into a store knowing what I want. I get it, buy it, and get out. The exception to that is when I shop for weapons. Then I tend to take my time.
Ben was worse than Amanda. He pawed through racks of clothing. “How about this?” he asked holding up a short, tight dress.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because, if I wore that dress I couldn’t kick someone in the face without flashing the entire room.”
“Oh
, honey, you wouldn’t get any complaints.”
Whenever a salesperson wandered over, Ben shooed them away. He pulled out various dresses. “Too long, too short, too blue, too boring, too revealing—not that that’s a bad thing—too pink, too girly, too new age.”
“Just get me a basic black dress.”
“Boring. Every female vampire will be wearing black. Damn near every male will be wearing black. You need to stand out with a splash of color. A nice red dress would be best.”
“I don’t want to stand out.”
“Blood won’t show up as well on a dark red dress,” he said with a grin as though it were a selling point. Granted, it was, but I didn’t want to wear red.
“Shouldn’t I just blend in?”
“You should be yourself.”
“Then black is perfect because that’s my favorite color.”
He shook his head. “Black is the absence of color.”
“I don’t care. It’s what I wear.”
“It absorbs everything and gives nothing back,” Ben said.
“It gives me satisfaction.”
“I’m the one paying. Well, Victor is paying, but it’s the same difference.”
“But I’m the one who has to wear it.”
This went on for some time before he finally relented and bought an elegant black dress. I liked it because it allowed me movement. Ben said the only way he’d like it was on his bedroom floor. I’m still not sure why I didn’t punch him.
Over the next few hours, we went to several jewelry stores. I don’t know how much money he spent, but it was more than I earned in a year. The earrings, necklace, bracelets, and rings were incredible, but I accepted them primarily because I could sell them later and give the proceeds to the women’s shelter. I knew I’d probably have to clean blood off the rings. Attending a party with the undead was bound to lead to violence.
One can hope, anyway.
We got dressed back at the hotel. Ben wanted to change together, but I went into the bathroom for some privacy. He wore a nice black suit, and gave it a splash of originality by donning the Bogart tie I’d seen earlier.
“Cool tie,” I said.
He beamed. “It’s my favorite.”
***
When the sun went down, we drove to a private residence in Cherry Hills. The area attracted the wealthy Denverites, and the minor celebrities like sports stars, actors, and businessmen looking to impress. At least one of the mansions belonged to a vampire. As I cruised down the circling brick road, we passed cars manufactured by Mercedes, BMW, Porsche, and Tesla. There were a few other makes: Rolls Royce, Bentley, and even a Bugatti Veyron. I made a note to set my parking break because I wasn’t sure my insurance coverage was set high enough to cover the damage should my truck roll into one of them.
