“It doesn’t matter. Just make me a key that will get me into the rooftop lounge. Then forget you ever saw me. And have a nice night.” I kept my voice low and a smile on my face for the security cameras I was sure were watching.
“Yes, sir.” She put a key card into the magnetic coding machine, pushed a couple of buttons, then handed it to me. “Here you go. Don’t forget that you have to leave the key in the slot while you press the button for your floor.” She smiled again, and I walked toward the elevators.
The boys caught up to me halfway across the lobby. King asked, “What did you do to her?”
“A little mojo,” I said with a smirk. I put the key into the slot and pushed the button for the roof. As the elevator doors slid closed, I saw King’s eyes narrow a little. “Don’t worry,” I went on. “It’s harmless. And I’m pretty sure it only works on humans.”
“At least it’s never worked on any non-human we’ve ever tried it on,” Greg added. “And I really don’t suggest attempting to mojo a dragon.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “They get testy about that stuff.”
“And it’s no good on zombies, either.” My partner seemed determined to drag out all our failures for our newfound furry friend.
“Yeah, and demons and faeries are right out, too. Come to think of it, it doesn’t even work on all humans. So you probably don’t have anything to worry about,” I said, needling the big guy a little.
“I’m not worried. Try that crap with me, and I’ll rip out your heart and eat it. Then, I might change shape to finish you off.” He gave me a frigid grin, and the elevator doors dinged open just in time.
The doors opened onto a nicely appointed rooftop terrace with several dozen well-dressed business types milling about. There was a pool with a few people swimming languidly in the underwater lights, and they were definitely the type of women who were at home wandering through a black-tie party in a bikini. A black marble-topped bar dominated one corner of the roof, with the building to the bartender’s back, and the low outer wall of the patio looked out over the skyline. I admired the lighted buildings, the arena and the fantastical architecture of the children’s theatre building just a couple blocks away.
“Where is she?” Greg asked, jostling my elbow. “Do you see her?”
I motioned for him to be quiet as I peered through the crowd, trying to find anyone familiar in the suits and party dresses. A loud group of guys wearing the oxford shirt, khaki pants and flip-flops uniform of off-duty bank employees cheered as they downed their tequila shots over by the ledge. As their group parted and meandered back to the bar, I saw her standing alone, watching me.
Her eyes locked with mine, and my borrowed blood ran cold when I saw a smile crawl across her lips. The smile never touched her eyes, which stayed as blue and cold as iceberg chips. She held out a hand, curling a finger in an unmistakable “come hither” gesture. I had taken a good half-dozen steps before I ran face-first into King’s chest, breaking the spell and almost breaking my nose in the process. I shook my head and stepped to the side, but King put a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“I think that might be a bad idea, Junior,” the werewolf said, carefully not looking straight at the vampire, who pouted beautifully at me for a second, then smiled and laughed as a man in a very expensive suit brought her a glass filled with what looked like red wine. It looked like wine at first glance, but I smelled the blood all the way across the terrace. When I looked back to where the man had come from, I saw one of the banker-boys leaning heavily on his friends, looking for all the world like a broker who’d had a little too much to drink a little too early.
“Holy crap,” I whispered to Greg. “He drained that guy right here in front of everybody. And it’s like nobody even noticed.”
I was shocked at the new guy’s actions, but even more shocked when he looked up at me and smiled a raptor smile. He’d heard me. With my whisper, not even a vampire should have heard me from more than a few feet away, but this guy had heard me from fifty feet. I was starting to think we might be a little out of our league.
That thought barely had time to form when the new guy smiled a little wider, showing a gleaming set of razor-sharp fangs, then whispered, “They noticed, little vampire, but they don’t mind. After all, they all belong to me. These are all my people.” His eyes went from emerald-green to pupil-less black in a blink, and the patio fell completely silent. I turned around slowly and saw that every single eye was focused on me and my traveling buddies, and none of them seemed happy to see us.
“Be cool,” I muttered to Greg and King, who had both reached for weapons when the crowd of beautiful people suddenly turned ugly. “They’re human.”
“Exactly.” New Guy was suddenly right in front of me. I’d never even seen him start to move, and judging by the sharp intakes of breath I heard behind me, neither had the other guys. “Now, why don’t we all sit down like civilized beings and discuss the impasse at which we find ourselves?”
“And what impasse would that be?” I looked anywhere but at the new vamp. I didn’t think he could mojo me, but this guy was the strongest vampire I’d ever seen, so I didn’t want to take chances.
“You would like to kill Krysta. I do not want you to. That leaves us at an impasse, wouldn’t you say?” New Guy was now sitting at a table with five chairs halfway across the patio, the vamp chick beside him.
“I assume Krysta is your date’s name?” I asked, showing off a little super-speed of my own by crossing the patio in the blink of an eye, then taking a seat. “I didn’t catch it the last time we saw each other.”
The vamp who killed me threw her head back and laughed, a silvery peal of mirth that made me want to rip her lungs out through her nose. “I had other things I was looking for that night, Mr. Black. You’ll have to forgive my rudeness. I hope you’ve been well in the years since our last encounter. I’ve thought of you . . . often.”
“Yeah, and the Easter Bunny craps jelly beans,” I snarled. “You killed me and left me on my sofa. Then I woke up and murdered my best friend. All because of you, you evil, bloodsucking bitch.”
I hadn’t realized how angry I was until Greg put a hand on my shoulder and murmured appropriate calming noises, trying to get me to take my seat again.
“Well done, Mr. Knightwood. After all, we wouldn’t want to ruin our lovely evening with unnecessary bloodshed, would we? Now, would anyone like a bite to eat? I find business discussions go so much better on a full stomach,” New Guy said smoothly.
“Don’t worry,” Greg said flatly, suddenly standing right behind me. “Any bloodshed will be absolutely necessary, I promise.”
I glanced over at my partner and shivered a little at the look on his face. He was seriously pissed, the likes of which I hadn’t seen since high school when the center for the football team used his X-Men collection for toilet paper. Suddenly, it looked like the werewolf was going to be the voice of reason at the party, and I had a really bad feeling about that.
“So who are you, how do you know Krysta, and why exactly shouldn’t I rip out her heart and eat it?” I asked, leaning back in my chair and waving one of New Guy’s human minions over. The guy came over, knelt beside my chair, and rolled up his sleeve as if it were something he did every weekend for kicks. For all I knew, it was. With bravado I didn’t feel, I sank my teeth into his wrist and took a big drink, my eyes never leaving Krysta. She smiled a slow smile as she watched me drink, and the hair on the back of my neck went up again. Something about this whole scene wasn’t right, and New Guy’s next words told me how unfortunately correct I was.
Chapter 11
“My name is Gordon Tiram, and this is my city.” New Guy looked over the patio like a feudal lord, which I supposed he had just declared himself. I dropped the arm of the human I was munching on and gaped up at the vampire who had just declared himself my new boss.
“What do you mean, your city?” Greg sneered, despite my trying to wave him to silence. Usually running off at the
mouth was my shtick, but apparently Greg had appointed himself Dumb Question Guy for the evening. I was starting to see just how annoying my habit could be to an observer.
“I mean, Mr. Knightwood, that I am the Master of Charlotte. All vampiric activity within the metropolitan area falls under my dominion. Krysta here has paid appropriate tribute as a visitor to my territory, and I have given her my protection. That extends to all my subjects, including yourself and Mr. Black. So you will not harm her without my permission, which I will not give. Do I make myself clear?”
Greg started to answer, and I gave up on trying to subtly shush him. Instead, I reached over and poked him in the gut. He let out an oof and shot me a nasty look, but I ignored it and started talking fast and thinking faster. If I didn’t come up with something pretty quick, we were going to end up in a big fight with two seriously powerful vampires and a couple dozen humans. I wasn’t at all sure we could win, and I knew we couldn’t win without making a lot of well-dressed corpses.
“So,” I began, “is Master of the City a city-only position, or is it like most things around here, a city-county collective? I mean, are you the Master of Charlotte, or are you the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Master of the City? I just wanna know if I have to ask permission just within the city limits, or does your control reach all the suburbs, too? And what about neighboring counties? Are you more like the Master of the Greater Charlotte Viewing Area, because I don’t watch much TV, and that might be tough. And did we enlist in your little army, or were we drafted? Because our mail service has been really spotty for the last fifteen years or so, and I think I might have eaten the guy who brought me the certified letter telling me that I work for you.” I paused to take a breath and check for reactions, but Tiram just sat there smiling what he probably considered an enigmatic smile. I guessed it was, since I had no idea what it meant, but I wasn’t about to admit to that.
“I have heard of your legendary wit, Mr. Black. Now I see that those reports are at best half-true.” I put on my best wounded expression, but he went on, “I am the Master of the City, and my territory extends to all vampires living, if you’ll pardon the term, within the region. There is another Master in Atlanta, and one in Washington. But you only need concern yourself with me. And you do need to be concerned with me, Mr. Black. Because you are correct, you cannot defeat me. You cannot even hope to survive a moment of my displeasure. So please, sit.” He laid a lot of mojo on the last word, and my butt was in the chair before the sound died on his lips.
“Now,” he said, “I understand that you feel you have an unresolved disagreement with Krysta, and that Mr. King here has convinced you she is an evil creature, murdering willy-nilly all across the country. But I assure you that she is not, and that Mr. King here is mistaken. And you gentlemen would like nothing better than to forget all about this unpleasant encounter and go back to your ridiculously boring existence.”
I felt the weight of his words, and he made a lot of sense. I mean, why would a vampire like Krysta, obviously someone of good breeding, run around killing random people? It just didn’t make sense.
I was halfway out of my chair when Greg spoke up. “Are you done playing Boggle with his brain yet? Because it’s not working on me or Jo-Jo the Dog-Faced Boy, and I really hate to see Jimmy so confused all the time.”
I shook my head to clear it and realized that Tiram had put the mojo on me something fierce. Greg and King were apparently immune to the effects, but I’d bought it—hook, line and sinker. I was totally going to have to take up yoga or some of that other meditation crap Sabrina kept yammering about.
“Interesting. My words had no effect on you at all?” Tiram asked Greg. “Yeah, they annoyed me. You’re a pompous ass, and your girlfriend is a mass murderer. And we’re going to kill her. Now how many of your walking hors d’oeuvres are you willing to sacrifice to protect her?” Greg got to his feet, a samurai sword coming from under his long coat to end up in one hand, and a pistol in his other.
“Fascinating. Your mind is so much stronger than your friend’s,” the Master of the City mused.
“That sets the bar pretty low, pal. Now, can we get back to the question
at hand? Namely, are you going to get out of the way so we can off your arm
ornament, or is this going to get ugly?” Greg was pretty intense, and King
looked as if he were ready for a fight, but I was still having a hard time
clearing my head.
Everything got very clear very quickly when Krysta reached out and
grabbed a pretty waitress by the throat. “Put away the sword, fat boy. I’ll
happily kill this human and leave the mess for you to deal with.” She held out
her other hand, claw-like, and I could see her ripping the girl’s throat in my
mind.
“Okay, kids, let’s everybody calm down.” I stepped forward with both
hands out, trying to defuse the situation a little. “Nobody wants to hurt
anybody here. We just want to talk.”
“Actually, Mr. Black, I’m pretty sure we all want to kill each other,”
Tiram said, his eyes never leaving my partner.
“I know that. I just didn’t have anything better to say, and I needed to
get a little closer.”
“Closer?” he parroted.
“Yeah, so I could do this.” I drew my Glock and shot Krysta in the
wrist, shattering both bones in her forearm and causing her to drop the
waitress.
I grabbed the human girl before she hit the floor and looked her in the
eyes. “Run,” I said, my voice low and heavy with mojo.
She took off as if the hounds of hell were on her heels, and when I
turned around, I thought she might have been right. King had obviously
taken my hint to get ready for a fight, because where a tall guy with a
monobrow had stood seconds before there was now a seven-foot-tall
wolf-man with claws like razorblades and a seriously grumpy look on his
face. Or muzzle. Or whatever.
Greg and I got shoulder to shoulder with the wolf-man and squared off
to face Tiram, but he hadn’t moved.
“Do you three really think you can defeat us?” he asked with a cold
smile.
“Not really,” I answered honestly. “But I think we can take one of you.
And I bet neither one of you selfish chumps wants to be the one we take.” I leveled my pistol at Krysta’s face, and Greg lined up his sword on
Tiram. King growled low in his throat and bunched his muscles to leap into
the fray.
Chapter 12
Just as our wolf-man was about to pounce, I felt a huge impact on the side of my head and was knocked to the patio. I broke my fall with my hands, but my gun went skittering across the concrete and right into the swimming pool. Contrary to popular fiction, a good pistol will fire even when wet, but I hated swimming, and I was wearing my favorite pants. I had just about enough time to realize all of this before I felt a rush of air toward my head.
I rolled over in time to see a spiked heel slam down right where my temple had been half a second before. I looked up to see a beautiful human woman in a very short skirt trying to stomp me to death. I had no time to enjoy the view because she quickly lined up for a second stab with her stiletto heels. I clambered to my feet with all the grace a scrawny vampire could muster, which wasn’t much, and caught her fist as it flew toward my eye.
“Sleep,” I said as we locked eyes.
Nothing.
I heard Tiram chuckle behind me and chanced a glance over my
shoulder. He was leaning against the bar sipping a drink with an umbrella and smirking at me while the babe in the miniskirt landed a solid punch on my cheek.
All right, I thought, the hard way it is. I took the shot to the face while still holding her other hand, and as she drew back again, I re
ached out and slapped her to the ground. I felt bad about it for about half a second, but when she kicked up and caught me in the shin with a heel, all remorse went out the window. I ducked under a punch thrown by another blank-eyed yuppie in party clothes and picked up the first chick by the collar and one leg. I lifted her easily over my head and threw her into the pool, taking out a waiter and a tray of drinks in the process.
I looked around, and Greg and King were similarly occupied with mesmerized bankers and their tarted-up girls du jour. One guy jumped on King’s fuzzy back and beat him in the head with a Blackberry, while Greg used his sword to deflect glassware hurled at him by two women near the bar. Another mortal rushed at me, head down and feet churning. All I needed was a red cape and some tight pants to complete the picture of me as matador and the idiot as bull. I dodged, picked him up by the scruff of the neck and his belt as he passed and pitched him into the pool on top of the first girl, who was just climbing out.
King flipped the guy off his back, and I looked on in horror as he wrapped a huge furry fist around the human’s throat. He leaned in, fangs bared and eyes narrowed, and drew back his other hand for the killing stroke. Just before he ripped the man’s face off, Greg ducked under a flying highball glass, which caught King a solid blow to the temple. His yellow eyes rolled back in his head, and the giant wolf-man collapsed on top of the human he’d been about to eviscerate.
“Nice timing!” I yelled to Greg.
“Thanks!” he shouted back. “You got any bright ideas?” “Yeah, don’t kill the humans!”
“Got it!” He shattered two martini glasses with a swipe of his sword. I heard the squeak of a leather shoe behind me and ducked under a
punch that would have knocked me into the middle of next week. I looked up, and up, and up to the largest human I’d ever seen up close. Almost seven feet tall and wider than most doorways, he stood over me like a very grumpy bald mountain with a goatee and more tattoos than the entire lineup of Mötley Crüe. He drew back a fist that looked bigger than Rhode Island and swung for my head. Fortunately, he was almost as slow as I’d hoped, and I ducked his punch easily. Unfortunately, he wasn’t as stupid as I’d hoped, and by ducking under his haymaker, I put my face right in front of the uppercut he threw behind it. It felt like a lead-lined Christmas ham hit me right on the point of my jaw, and I staggered back a good five feet before crashing into a glass and metal patio table. Steel bent, glass shattered, and one undernourished vampire got wrapped up in lawn furniture like a grievously wounded pretzel.
The Black Knight Chronicles (Omnibus Edition) Page 45
