by C L Walker
“That’s his last master,” Roman said. He screwed the top onto the bottle as though wringing a chicken’s neck. “Before your father got the locket.”
“A more useless man I have never met,” I said. I relaxed into the couch and put my hands behind my head. “Although you, dearest Rebecca, are giving him a run for his money.”
“Be quiet, Agmundr.”
I was starting to annoy her, which was good. I’d worried she might not be receptive to my particular form of aggravation.
“You shouldn’t tell him to be quiet,” Roman said quickly. “He won’t tell you about danger if he sees it before you do.”
“Fine, then,” Bec said. “You can speak, but stop being so irritating.”
“You can’t tell him to do that either. He might decide you’ll find it irritating to hear when a car is about to hit you on the street, or when a goddamn werewolf is about to tear your head off.”
“What do you propose then, professor?”
“Grow up and realize what you’re doing is ridiculous, that you’re not going to be smarter than every other master who’s held his leash. Failing that, suck it up, princess.”
I laughed. “I really like you, hedge-mage.”
“Both of you shut up.”
Bec’s irritation was like a cool breeze on a warm day. The feeling wouldn’t last, though, and I’d have to get her out into the world if I hoped to be free of her.
“So, Roman, what do you propose?” I said, choosing to interpret Bec’s order to mean that she wanted me to stop saying things she didn’t want to hear, rather than a blanket order to remain speechless.
“Curling up in a ball and praying for the world to go away?”
I laughed again. “The remaining gods don’t care if you pray. You should know that.”
He ignored me. “The better question is, what does Bec want? She’s the one running the show, after all.”
Roman joined me in the living room, collapsing into a reclining chair and popping out the footrest. He looked anxious, but otherwise well. The years had been kind to him; he stood a little over six feet and had the body of a younger man, as though he exercised regularly. From what I’d seen of the world, that wasn’t normal. His hair was wild and sprang free of his head at every angle. It was clean now, where it had been a dirty tangle when he was younger.
Bec took the remaining chair, resting her hands on the arms and watching us as she spoke. “We need to work out how to get his tattoos up and running again.”
“Wouldn’t it be more prudent to discover who is trying to kill you, master?”
“What would we do with that information?” she replied. “You can’t fight them the way you are now.”
“You’d be surprised what I can do.”
She nodded. “Probably, but can you guarantee you’ll be able to defend me if something bigger than you comes my way?”
She didn’t care about her safety, I could tell. She needed an excuse to chase the power that had landed in her lap, even if the only one buying the excuse was herself. Something about that made me want to kill her less, perhaps because she wasn’t as naked in her greed as others I had known. It didn’t matter; she had to go.
“I can face anything that comes your way, as I am now.” I didn’t say I would defeat the threat, but I knew she wouldn’t notice. They never did.
“He has a good point,” Roman said. He held the half-empty bottle on his lap the way I might hold a blade, ready for battle at a moment’s notice. “If you don’t deal with whoever is trying to kill you then you can’t control your research.”
“Research?” She didn’t seem happy with the idea.
“If we’re going to work out another way to power his tattoos then we’re going spend a lot of time reading. We’ll need to gain access to some pretty out of the way libraries, and we’ll need to travel. Nothing from the civilization he was cursed in still exists, but there are transcripts of transcripts that might help.”
She shook her head and sighed. She wanted action, wanted to get moving on whatever future had sprung up in her imagination when she realized who I was. She didn’t want to do the hard work of getting what she wanted; she simply wanted to get it. It was typical of humanity, in my experience.
“How long?”
Roman glanced at me before answering. “There’s no way to know, but perhaps a few years. We might get lucky, but I wouldn’t count on it. There are people who have studied all their lives to gain a fraction of the information we’ll need.”
“No,” Bec said, simply. “No, no, no.” She shook her head and glared at the carpet, but she remained calm. Her forehead furrowed as she thought through the process required to get what she wanted. “No.”
“I’m sorry?” Roman said. He was clutching his bottle more tightly. “What do you mean, no?”
“I spent my childhood living in your shadow.” Bec looked up at me and for the first time I saw the hate burning inside her. It was refreshing to see her exhibit such a human emotion. “For my father everything was about you. His business suffered because he spent his nights worrying about the locket in the safe. My mother left because he couldn’t stop rehashing what happened with my grandfather in that basement. She thought he was crazy and he couldn’t show her he wasn’t. He couldn’t let you out, so he let her go.
“I grew up knowing that we had the power to do anything we wanted and we couldn’t risk using it. And that stupid old man just summoned you when he needed you. All of that time, wasted, for nothing. And now you’re useless to me? No. I don’t believe it.”
I gave her a moment to stew, a moment to let her come to grips with the reality of her situation. Perhaps this could be the turning point, the moment when she defied my low expectations and did what her father had done for decades. When she realized that she was messing with something she couldn’t use to her advantage.
“Put me back,” I said. “Your father was right not to call on me.”
She remained silent and returned her glare to the carpet. Roman and I waited on her like supplicants at an audience with a queen, but it seemed like she’d gone away somewhere in her mind. Minutes passed with nothing from her and Roman and I shared a few looks, wondering what we were supposed to do.
Eventually she answered, picking the course of action I’d most suspected and least wanted.
“How much damage can you take?” she said at last.
“I am a mortal man, now,” I replied.
“Bullshit. I’ve seen the bullet holes in your clothes. You healed, and quickly. Answer me honestly.”
“You don’t control my mind and you can’t tell me to tell the truth, but I will. I heal quickly, but I can’t guarantee I always will. It isn’t part of the curse and shouldn’t happen now that the tattoos are dormant. I myself, devoid of magical enhancement, can take a lot of damage before going down.”
She had a plan formed in her head and I could see it on her face; she would use me as an enforcer, as a larger than normal attack dog. It limited her aspirations but it still gave her something nobody else had. I could never let her know about the power I’d received from the vampire blood, or she’d have me slaughtering vampires daily to advance her status.
“Alright,” she said. She sat on the edge of her seat, her energy restored, anxious to get started. “Then we crack some skulls. Let’s find out who wants me dead and tear them a few new holes.”
“Then I assume you won’t be needing my services anymore?” Roman said. It was obvious he knew what might be coming next and was terrified.
“I’ll need you to stick around,” Bec replied, surprising Roman and me. “Agmundr might have other symptoms thanks to his god dying, and I’ll need someone I can talk to about it.”
“I am at your beck and call.”
It was obvious he had no intention of hanging around and Bec saw it as easily as I did.
“You can stay here but if you run I’ll send Agmundr after you,” she said in a low voice that was meant to be threat
ening.
He sighed, nodding. “I understand.”
Bec bounced out of her chair and started toward the door.
“Let’s go, Agmundr,” she called over her shoulder.
I rose and followed my master, pleased that she planned to put herself in harm’s way. It would make it easier to free myself of her.
Chapter 10
Vampires always ran cities. It was a rule as old as the species itself, as though there was something in their design that made them gravitate there despite it not making sense, from a self-preservation stance. Sure, there was plenty of food, and local government could be coerced into aiding you, but if you were discovered you were done.
Magic weavers also tended to live in cities, and there was no love lost between the creatures who fed on humanity and those who erroneously still thought of themselves as part of it.
“The people inside owe me product,” Bec said. “They also might want to kill me.”
We stood in line outside a nightclub; a place humans went to dance away their pointless days. We’d been there since before the sun set and I’d had time to examine my surroundings. I recognized several ancient symbols scattered among the regular graffiti adorning the walls of the building: vampire signs, advertisements of allegiance to one vampire king or another, or to an entire lineage of leeches.
“What did you do to rile them up?”
I wasn’t sure if she realized where we were, what the club represented. With their flags on display on the walls outside, the vampires were announcing themselves to anyone who knew to look. This was a court, and within would be the king. If she thought she was going to start a fight she was stupid, and if she thought I would win a fight against such odds in my current state then she was suicidal.
“I took some of their business.”
“You did not,” I replied. Bec wasn’t powerful enough to simply take something from the vampire king and his court.
“Fine, I ratted them out to some witches and got them booted from a neighborhood. Then I stole their business.”
That made more sense, and it would explain why they wanted her dead. Not why they went after her father, but the creatures of the night could be surprisingly childish.
It also didn’t explain why a hollow man had been with the thugs who killed Fletcher.
We reached the front of the line and were faced by a fat man as tall as I was, in a black leather jacket. He frowned when he saw Bec.
“Hey, big man,” Bec said, smiling sweetly. “I need to get inside.”
“You’re crazy,” he said. He didn’t remove the tiny rope keeping us from entering.
“Listen, I know I’ve had my differences with your boss, but we’re good, right?”
“Even for a human. Crazy.”
“Agmundr,” Bec said.
I knew what she was going to say next. I knew that we were on a public street surrounded by regular people, and the bouncer was almost certainly a newly changed vampire.
“Listen,” I said to the bouncer, cutting off whatever ridiculous thing she was about to propose. “I don’t want to hurt you, or the people within. We just want to talk.”
“Hurt me?” The fat man laughed, even as he looked me up and down to assess the threat and ended staring up at me. “What makes you think you can hurt me?”
“Look at me.”
I held his gaze and showed him my resolve. His confidence lasted for a few seconds. I was an intimidating man, even to a vampire.
“I’ll let him know you’re coming in,” the bouncer said, maintaining his image of toughness. “But I was trying to help you. You should know she’s walking you into a bad situation.”
“They always do,” I replied.
We waited for the man to call inside and get permission. He waited on hold for a minute before moving the tiny rope that somehow held back the throng of people. We stepped inside.
“This is one of the worst places I’ve ever been,” I yelled over the pounding music. A hundred men and women danced and gyrated around the large room, some with glowing sticks in their hands. I wanted to leave.
“It’s not that bad,” Bec replied, leading the way to the back of the room and one of the raised section guarded by more bouncers. “Once you go a little deaf the music gets more bearable.”
“I once ate mammoth testicles in a yurt with plague corpses,” I said, more to myself than to her; I wasn’t speaking loudly enough for her to hear. “That was more fun.”
The bouncers waiting at the rear of the room stepped aside and allowed us up the three steps and onto the dais. A man waited there, dressed in black trousers and a black shirt, with long black hair and eye makeup smeared on his face. Everyone else on the platform deferred to him.
“Rebecca Fletcher,” the man said, patting the chair beside him. “Come and take a seat.”
“Artem,” Bec replied.
“King Artem, now.” He said it lightly but Bec caught the note of warning in his tone. “Come, tell me why you’re risking your blood to come in here.”
I had met a few vampire kings over the centuries and this man did not strike me as royalty. He had none of the poise, and the illusion he’d wrapped around himself to hide what he truly was would only fool the unwary. He lacked the power of even a low-ranking courtier.
“King?” Bec said, taking the seat beside him. I stood near her, ignoring the glares of the other vampires in this odd nest.
“I’ve had a falling out with the old man.” He leaned forward and let some of his hair fall over his face. “It was over that little stunt you pulled.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
Bec hid her fear well, but Artem’s elevation had her rattled. She’d expected to face a simple situation and ask some questions, and instead she was sitting beside a vampire who thought he was king.
“So, Rebecca, tell me why I shouldn’t have you taken downstairs and bled dry?”
Artem was being so theatrical it was almost comical. He was a pretender, at best, and I worried what he’d do to prove he was more than he clearly was.
“I wanted to make things right. To say I’m sorry.” She inched closer to him, like she was trying to influence a normal human. She didn’t seem to understand that they were predators and she was prey. Prey that pissed them off.
“Never fear, little one,” Artem said, revealing his fangs as he smiled. “I accept your apology.”
“I would like to continue the shipments, if that’s alright?”
Artem shook his head, his eyes holding hers like a snake about to strike. “Sorry, dear. There is no chance of that happening.”
“But I was good. I spread your…stuff around and got good prices. I was a good earner.” She had put just the right amount of earnestness into her voice. She was an expert manipulator, but I didn’t think it was going to help her, and she wasn’t dealing with the real reason we were there.
“We’ve made other arrangements. There are easier ways to do business than to deal with people like you.”
Bec wanted to argue her case, to try and get back what she’d screwed up. I wasn’t interested in any of it.
“Will you call off your dogs?” I said. Bec looked at me like I’d started barking, like I was a crazy person for interrupting her.
“Whatever does he mean?” Artem wasn’t looking at me but had kept his gaze fixed on her.
“I mean, will you stop trying to kill her?”
“Your large friend is being very rude, Rebecca.”
Bec turned and put her hand on my arm. “He doesn’t know any better. Stop speaking, Agmundr.”
That was unfortunate. I had to speak or I was going to spend the evening listening to my young master make a fool of herself to a vampire who would be dead as soon as the real king noticed what he was doing.
I saw a way to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.
I leaned forward as though about to speak in Bec’s ear. Artem still hadn’t acknowledged me but he paused whatever he was saying to let
her listen. The nearest vampire was close enough to get to me before I acted but I trusted they were off guard and was willing to risk them not being ready. Besides, they’d be more likely to kill Bec than me anyway.
I put my hand up to cup her ear, then reached out and grabbed Artem’s throat. I pushed past her to pull him close to me.
“You’re crazy,” he said as I allowed a small amount of air to pass through the pipe gripped between my fingers.
“Agmundr,” Bec said. “What the…what are you doing?”
I turned to her and mimed talking, smiling at her angry face. The other vampires were standing ready around us, their hands at their sides and their claws out.
“Fine, you can speak.”
I turned back to Artem, the pretend vampire king. “Did you send people to kill her?”
“You will regret putting your hands on me.” He had his own claws out too.
“When I rip out your throat I know you will heal, but how long will it take? You won’t be able to feed, so I’m betting it’ll take a while.”
I had no idea if what I was saying was true; when I’d wanted to get a vampire’s attention in the past I’d simply cut the head off the nearest friend.
“I didn’t send anyone,” he said, glaring at me as best he could in his position.
“Have you had dealings with the hollow men?” It was a long shot that they would bother with someone like Artem, but it was worth asking.
“You’re talking to the wrong king,” he said.
His eyes went wide as he spotted something behind me. It could have been a ploy, but I’d done a good job of scaring him and I still had his throat at my mercy. I turned to see what had drawn his attention.
A group of men had entered and one of them was carrying the fat man from the door. They wore dark suits and I knew what they were without Artem needing to utter a word.
These were the true leaders of Fairbridge, the vampires in charge of everything. They had the swagger of undead leaders, the confidence of men who had been in charge for longer than almost anyone in the club had been alive.
