High Stakes

by Helen Harper

  His face is white. He takes the photo from me and studies it for a moment. ‘Where did you get this from?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  His expression turns to granite. ‘Tell me, Bo.’

  ‘Or what?’ I taunt. ‘You’ll go to the papers about me, too? Or perhaps you’ll decide I’m too much of a thorn in your side so you’ll…’

  He grabs my shoulders, pulling me towards him. ‘You go too far.’

  I stare at him. ‘Oh, I don’t think I’m going far enough. I liked you, Michael. Even after you turned me when you knew it was last thing I wanted, I still liked you.’ I burn my last bridge. ‘Get out. And don’t ever come near me again.’

  He looks like he wants to say something but instead he turns on his heel and strides out, leaving nothing behind other than the lingering scent of his aftershave and a faint whine from Kimchi.

  I remain where I am, standing alone, wondering if I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.

  *

  Once it’s dark again, I venture out. I don’t bother checking in at the office on my way down and, even though the door is open and my grandfather and Arzo are in view, neither of them calls out to me. The walls around here are pretty thin. Chances are Arzo and Peter heard every single word between me and Michael and it’s now common knowledge. Whatever the reason is for them leaving me in peace, I’m thankful for it. Even Kimchi, by my side on a makeshift lead made out of ribbon, is quiet.

  I ignore the pitiful gaggle of protestors who are no doubt disappointed that I’m not still in police custody and sweep past as if they’re invisible. I don’t give them time to react to my appearance – which is just as well because I’m not sure my mood lends itself to responsible action.

  The little shop at the end of the street is still open. Unfortunately, due to our proximity to the tourist hub of the area, it uses its spare shelf space for cheap London knick-knacks rather than anything useful like dog food. I heave a sigh and leave, heading for the supermarket a few blocks away. I walk with my head down, hoping, just for once, for a quiet life. It would probably be easier to manage if Kimchi didn’t insist on sniffing every standing object and occasionally cocking his leg to mark his territory. At least he seems happy to be out, his tail wagging vigorously as we stroll along.

  Once we reach the supermarket, I tie him to a lamppost. He immediately starts gnawing it. I’m watching him, idly wondering whether the council will be able trace the teeth marks in the metal and will send me a bill, when I catch something odd out of the corner of my eye. There’s definitely a nip in the air but the weather is still unseasonably warm for October. Most people are wearing light jackets, so the figure shuffling along the far side of the street in the huge winter overcoat, furry hat and with a woollen scarf covering his face stands out like a sore thumb. I glance down at Kimchi, who is still fascinated by the lamppost. I’m not going to get distracted again. I’ll get the dog food first.

  I grab a basket and weave down the aisles until I reach the one I want. I grab several tins of ‘Choice Venison Stew’. It’s pricey but, given the rubbish I’ve fed Kimchi so far, the least I can do is treat him to a slap-up dinner. I throw in some bone-shaped chews and make my way to the checkout.

  Mr Overcoat darts in, moving behind a display of Halloween-themed goodies. I’m tempted to confront him but I spot the besuited shop manager appearing beside the till as if to protect either the pimply teenager manning it – or the money inside it – from me. I’m betting it’s the latter. I shrug and head over. The teen won’t even look at me. His cheeks are a vivid shade of red and he mumbles the amount I owe. I hand over the money and he snatches it quickly, shoving it into the till. He holds out the receipt, his fingers shaking.

  I put him out of his misery and politely decline it. I do, however, glance up at the manager. ‘Thanks! Your store is great. I need to check on my dog outside but it would be great if you could remind my friend over there to pick up some pepper too.’ I wink. ‘It really makes the blood taste so much better.’

  To give the manager his due, he answers steadily, ‘Where’s your friend?’

  I point vaguely towards the Halloween display. ‘He’s over there somewhere. You can’t miss him – he’s bundled up like it’s a winter’s day.’ I beam sunnily then stroll out, whistling.

  Less than thirty seconds later, a figure is propelled out at warp speed. I wait.

  ‘Bo!’ The whine is familiar. ‘That wasn’t funny!’

  I squint. ‘O’Shea?’

  He pulls down his scarf and grins. ‘Of course! I’m in disguise.’

  ‘Not a very good one,’ I grunt, bending down to free Kimchi. The dog pants then, without warning, leaps at the daemon.

  O’Shea laughs nervously and backs away. ‘Dog saliva brings me out in hives,’ he complains.

  I regard him speculatively. ‘Either that or you’re afraid of tubby dogs.’

  ‘He does have a bit of belly, doesn’t he?’

  I raise my eyebrows. ‘That’ll be all the daemon meat.’ O’Shea takes another step back. ‘I’m joking,’ I say, exasperated. ‘Why are you hiding from me, O’Shea? I’m not really in the mood for your shenanigans.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not hiding from you.’ He waves an airy hand in front of his face.

  Against my better nature, I take the bait. ‘Then who are you waiting for?’

  ‘From us,’ a gruff voice says. I look across, just in time to see one of two sharply dressed Agathos daemons raise a gun in my direction.

  Chapter Eight: Underground Action

  For a split second, time freezes. The bright, welcoming lights of the supermarket dim and the cars on the road appear to slow. Then I spring into action.

  I grab the man’s wrist, forcing the gun upwards just as he squeezes the trigger. The bullet scrapes past my cheek and the gun falls onto the pavement with a clatter. His partner, despite wearing a tight-fitting skirt, lunges at O’Shea with more speed than I would have thought possible. O’Shea blocks the move. Kimchi barks wildly, jaws snapping. The woman reaches inside her jacket to a shoulder holster and starts to pull out another shiny gun, while the man slams his hand into my nose, connecting with a painful crack. My head jerks backwards and lights dance in front of my eyes. Shit. These guys are good. I kick blindly upwards, aiming for the man’s groin but he flips backwards just in the nick of time.

  I wipe my streaming eyes as Kimchi leaps in front of me, using his body as a shield between me and my attacker. The woman tries to get off a shot but O’Shea crashes into her, knocking her off balance. I blink several times while Kimchi snaps and bites, preventing the daemon from reaching down to retrieve the gun. From behind me, in the relative safety of the supermarket, I can hear someone yelling to call 999.

  I sidestep left until I’m closer to the gun than the male daemon. Although he’s being kept back by Kimchi and he’s concentrating on using his fists to prevent the dog coming any closer, he is still aware of me and knows exactly what I’m trying to do. He kicks the weapon out of reach under a nearby parked car. Or so he thinks. Kimchi’s muscles are bunched up and taut: he’s had enough and is about to spring forward. I wait for the moment when I think he’s going to leap and do the same, jumping onto the car roof and somersaulting to the other side. Fur and skin collide as I slide underneath the chassis and curl my fingers round the gun’s muzzle. I push forward, a sudden whine from the dog propelling me even faster, then grab the man’s ankles and pull them towards me as hard as I can.

  He slams forward onto the hard pavement so swiftly that he doesn’t have time to put out his hands to break his fall. He lands on top of Kimchi but the dog pulls himself free, leaping onto the man’s back and snapping at his head every time he tries to get up.

  I slide free from the car, beckoning Kimchi to my side. I grab the man’s shirt and heave him upwards, pushing the gun i
n his face. I glance over at O’Shea and realise with a sudden sinking feeling that the woman is doing exactly the same to him. Impasse.

  ‘We’re not interested in you, vampire,’ she hisses. ‘Walk away.’

  O’Shea’s orange eyes turn to me. His expression is calm. I press the gun into the man’s cheek and he winces.

  ‘Now,’ I say, ‘why would I want to do that, when we’re just getting acquainted?’

  ‘Don’t think I won’t shoot him.’

  I shrug. ‘I’ll do the same.’

  I can hear sirens in the distance, no doubt heading this way. From the opposite side of the street, a cowering figure holds out a phone in our direction, recording the action. I wonder how this will play out in tomorrow’s papers. It’s certainly not going to do me any good.

  I try to calm things down. ‘The police are on their way,’ I say softly. ‘Nobody’s going to win here.’

  She exchanges a look with her partner. I sense that neither of them is willing to back down. Trying not to think about what O’Shea has done to land us in this situation, I take a deep breath. ‘Why don’t we both put down the guns?’ I suggest.

  She eyes me. ‘Alright then. On a count of three?’

  ‘Why not? One, two…’ I tense my muscles. ‘Three.’

  Neither of us moves. ‘You didn’t put it down,’ she murmurs.

  ‘You didn’t either.’

  The sirens are getting louder. I don’t need the hassle of being hauled off to the nearest jail cell. Given that Family vampires are technically above human law, I can probably get myself out of it but it won’t look good and it won’t help O’Shea. I don’t doubt that he’s done something to merit this attention but I don’t want to see his innards smeared across the street. I make a decision.

  ‘Well,’ I drawl, ‘in that case…’ I bend my knees, grab the handle of my shopping bag and fling it upwards in her direction with every ounce of muscle I can muster. The heavy tins of dog food slam into the side of her face, allowing O’Shea to lunge for the barrel of her gun. I throw a fist into the man’s bloodied face and yank my free hand to the right, making sure O’Shea takes note. Then the three of us – daemon, dog and vampire – sprint away.

  I speed up and pull away from them then glance backwards. The flashing lights of a panda car pull into view but the two daemons have already vanished. I notice the fear etched on the faces of the pedestrians and realise I’m still clutching the gun in one hand and the shopping bag in the other. Unwilling to toss the weapon in the trash where anyone could scoop it up, I shove it into my waistband and veer right.

  There’s an underground station ahead so I shout to O’Shea and make a beeline for it, running down the stairs. A station guard strides forward, no doubt to inform me that only guide dogs are permitted. Kimchi barks with delight. The guard takes one look at the blood streaming from my face and the hard look in my eyes and changes his mind. I vault over the turnstiles. The other two copy my movements and we dash to the nearest platform just as a train pulls in. We clamber aboard.

  The carriage is packed with commuters who, almost to a man, pull away from us. One have-a-go hero stands up, ready for confrontation, but I snarl at him and he backs down.

  ‘This way.’ I lead O’Shea and Kimchi towards the back of the train, just as the doors start to close. We reach the final carriage as the train trundles through the darkness to the next stop.

  ‘We need to hide,’ O’Shea says. ‘They’ll come after us.’

  I nod, moving to the last set of doors and taking the time to check Kimchi over. He seems unharmed, although I’m sure the daemon managed to land a few hits. I crouch down. ‘You’re a bloody brave dog.’

  He wags his tail and gives me a great big lick, lapping up some of the blood still dripping from my nose. His tail wags harder. I stare at him suspiciously. Is he enjoying the taste of the blood?

  ‘Bo…’ O’Shea begins.

  I hold up my palm. ‘Not yet.’ The train’s brakes whine as we pull into the next station. ‘Tunnel,’ I grunt.

  He swallows in nervous agreement, takes off his hat and ridiculous coat and folds them neatly over the handrail. I glance at the bunched-up passengers at the other end of the carriage. ‘Don’t worry,’ I call out. Several shrink away. Damn it.

  The train halts and the tinny voice of the announcer comes over the tannoy, informing us politely to mind the gap. As soon as the doors hiss open, we belt out and round the back, jumping down to the tracks.

  ‘Avoid the middle track,’ I shout to O’Shea, keeping a firm hold on Kimchi’s collar.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’ll be electrocuted!’

  I don’t wait for his reaction but run down into the darkness, ignoring the scuttling pair of rats heading in the opposite direction. We have barely minutes to get out of the way of the next train.

  Fortunately my eyes do better in darkness these days than they used to and I pierce through the gloom easily enough to find what I’m looking for. Set into the side of the tunnel, less a few hundred metres away, is a service entrance door.

  I run towards it. I’m nervous about how Kimchi will cope in such a small space, so I scoop him up in my arms. He lands another wet lick on my cheek and I shift his body so I can see round him. I should have bought diet dog food.

  ‘Can you see the door?’ I yell to O’Shea.

  ‘Yeah!’

  We run, just as the roar of another train fills the tunnel. I grab the door handle and pull. It’s locked. Cursing under my breath, I pass Kimchi to O’Shea, who staggers momentarily under the dog’s weight. I take a few steps backwards and launch a kick. The door splinters in just the right place, falling open with a rusty groan. I push O’Shea through it then follow him in, just as there’s a rush of air and the next train flies past.

  *

  Once I know we’re safe, I breathe deeply and regroup. Then I look around. This is obviously a fairly well-used entrance: it’s well lit, with fluorescent strips overhead. Old-fashioned, albeit remarkably well-maintained, tiling covers the walls.

  ‘Come on,’ I say. ‘Let’s find our way out of here. The sooner we get back to fresh air the better.’

  O’Shea seems alarmed. ‘We can’t. They must have a tracking spell on me, Bo. They could have placed it on me when they came earlier today. I had on a disguise – there’s no way they could have found me otherwise.’

  I raise my eyebrows. Considering how ineffective his disguise was, I’m not convinced. But if I had the means, I’d be using a spell to find my quarry too.

  ‘We can’t stay down here forever,’ I tell him.

  ‘Actually, I know which way to go,’ he says. ‘You just have to trust me.’

  ‘Trusting you nearly got my head blown off. What have you done this time?’

  ‘I’ll explain later,’ he mutters. ‘We need to keep moving.’

  I follow him down the corridor but, when we reach a small intersection, instead of continuing straight ahead O’Shea turns right, away from the lights and into the darkness.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ I ask doubtfully.

  ‘I told you, I know which way to go.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘These tunnels are a good way to move about the city without being detected.’

  I open my mouth to ask him why on earth he’d need to hide in a subterranean maze then think better of it. I don’t need to know.

  O’Shea explains anyway. ‘I used to run bootleg alcohol to various triber clubs in my youth.’

  ‘Moonshine? London is hardly a prohibition city.’

  ‘Not for normal spirits. Mine were,’ he pauses, ‘special.’

  I dread to think. ‘You don’t do that any more, do you?’ Despite having taken part in a gun battle in open view, I need to keep my nose clean for the sake of N
ew Order.

  ‘Nah, I was young and foolish back then.’

  ‘Of course, now you’re old and wise,’ I mutter sarcastically. He doesn’t answer.

  We walk for several minutes. Kimchi trots beside me, seemingly undisturbed by our environment. At least he’s not a nervous dog. I can’t imagine Brinkish being too impressed if he found out where I’m taking his pet, though. I use spittle to wet the corner of my cuff and wipe away the worst of the blood on my face. It hurts like hell but I can already feel the healing process kicking in. It’s not that long since I drank so I’ll recover easily.

  I’m satisfied that I’ve cleaned off as much as I can when I look up and realise there’s a brick wall ahead of us. ‘It’s a dead end,’ I hiss. ‘We’ll have to turn back.’

  ‘Look closer,’ O’Shea says.

  I squint, scanning the wall, confident that we’ve taken a wrong turn. Then I spot the fallen bricks. Several in the far corner have been knocked out to create a hole leading into a gap of absolute blackness. I thought we were already fumbling around in the dark; I hadn’t appreciated how much darker things could get.

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘I told you, Bo,’ O’Shea says with renewed good humour. ‘You need to trust me.’ He gives me a tiny push. ‘Ladies first.’

  I grimace. Out of all the bad ideas in the world, crawling through a dark hole far underground with a daemon and a dog seems about the worst. I have the strange sensation that I’m in one of those horror movies where the audience shouts at the dim-witted girl who’s about to be eviscerated that she shouldn’t open the damn door. Then again, in those sorts of films the dog always survives so as long as I stick close to Kimchi, I’ll be fine.

  I step forward carefully and eye the gap. I’m pretty darn petite but even so it’s going to be a tight squeeze. I inhale then jump up, bracing my body with my palms. I start to wiggle through.