by Sonya Clark
Kirkbride spoke to a hulking man in a dark gray suit. William wore khakis and a dark blue button-down shirt. Nice, but out of place here and a sign of his relative poverty compared to the rest of the clientele. The shirt didn’t hang on him. More muscle there than he liked to show. Might come in handy if this gets stupid. She turned to the bar, catching the bartender’s gaze and motioning him to her.
“What can I get you, darlin’?” he said with a sleepy drawl.
“A bloodbath, please.”
“I know two ways to make one, raspberry liqueur, merlot, and cranberry juice, or vodka, pomegranate juice, and raspberry syrup.”
Impressed, she gave him a smile as she kept her eye on Kirkbride in the mirror behind the bar. “The first one sounds good, babe.” The music changed to Muddy Waters, I Just Want to Make Love to You—the Electric Mud version. She swayed along, thinking idly somebody, probably Watanabe himself, preferred their sexy slow and steady rather than loud and rowdy, a nice change from the last strip club she’d been in.
“One bloodbath, coming right up.”
“Hey, lemme get one for my date, too.” Not that he’ll drink it.
The bartender gave her a sideways grin. “You trying to turn out the padre?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Think I got a shot?”
The bartender shrugged. “You’re not his usual type, but you might have a shot.”
Intrigued that a strip club bartender might know the minister’s usual type, she asked, “So what would that be, his usual type?”
“Long legs, red hair, and hanging upside down on one of those poles,” he said with a laugh.
“Wow, who would have thought?” Jessie laughed with him, watching in the mirror as Kirkbride approached.
Kirkbride came alongside her. “He’ll see us now.”
She gave him a wide grin and asked the bartender, “Can I get those drinks brought to us?”
The bartender nodded and they walked away, heading for the small curve of stairs leading to the VIP area. Jessie linked her arm through Kirkbride’s. “I hear you don’t so much bring your hot dates here, as look for them here.”
He gave her a slightly embarrassed look but no reply.
Gray Suit met them at the top of the stairs. He patted Kirkbride down first then approached Jessie with an apologetic look. She gave him a friendly smile to let him she was cool with it and set her small leather backpack on the floor at her feet, raising her arms. He was briskly efficient, doing his job rather than copping a feel. She took that as a good sign. They were dealing with civilized criminals. Catching the bodyguard’s gaze, she said, “I keep a weapon in my boot. I’ll take it out for you slowly.”
Kirkbride tensed as she gave him a “no worries” look and slowly pulled the tanto from her boot, making sure Gray Suit had a good view of her every move as she handed the knife to him with both hands. He took it with a nod, removing it from its sheath for inspection. Another bodyguard came to his side and held the tanto as Gray Suit picked up her backpack. Seeing the only item inside, he gave her a slight smile. Still carrying the backpack and taking the tanto back, he led them to the large round table in the center of the VIP area.
Johnny Watanabe watched the whole thing from his seat at the middle of the table. Jessie surveyed him on the short walk. Slim, anywhere from thirty to fifty, he looked like a man comfortable in his own skin, and with his own power. He wore a dark hand-tailored suit, bright white shirt that glowed under the lights, and a dark red tie. She glanced at Kirkbride, her eyes and her smile telling him, chill out, I got this.
Gray Suit presented them to Watanabe.
“Reverend Kirkbride, good evening. So nice to see you again. How are things at the shelter?” As Watanabe extended a hand to shake Kirkbride’s, she spied a bit of his tattoos peaking out under his shirt cuff.
Kirkbride took his hand. “Mr. Watanabe, good evening. The kids at the shelter are sleeping much better since your last visit. We’ve got a number of new beds and cots now.”
Where all were you stationed, Clean Marine, she wondered, grateful he had more manners than attitude.
Watanabe’s eyes met hers. “I’m glad to hear it, very glad. Please, introduce your lady friend.” He gave her a mild appraising look.
Kirkbride hesitated for a fraction of a second. “This is Jessamine. Jessie, this is Johnny Watanabe.”
She bowed before he could offer to shake her hand. “Konbanwa, Watanabe-san. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He bowed in return. “The pleasure’s mine,” he said with a smile. He gestured for them to be seated. “Can I interest either of you in a drink?”
Taking a seat to Watanabe’s left, Jessie spotted a waitress bringing the drinks she’d already ordered. “Actually, our drinks are here now.” She thanked the waitress and took a sip. “It’s good. I hope you like it, William.”
Eyeing the reddish-purple drink warily, Kirkbride asked, “What is it?”
She gave him her best smile. “A bloodbath.”
Watanabe, who was clearly enjoying the interchange, chuckled. Kirkbride took a deep drink, keeping his eyes on hers. He nodded. “It is good.”
Gray Suit approached and leaned to whisper in his boss’s ear, telling him about her weapon and her gift. Jessie kept her face impassive, not wanting Watanabe to know she heard every word. Gray Suit handed the tanto to Watanabe, who looked it over with appreciation.
“This is a beautiful weapon.” He examined the blade. “May I ask where did you get it?”
“It was a gift.” She was not inclined to elaborate.
Watanabe gave her another appraising look and passed the tanto to her. She set her drink down and leaned over enough to reach to return the knife to its hiding place in her boot. She quirked her eyebrow at Gray Suit and he held up her backpack next, holding it open for her to retrieve the item inside.
Holding the bottle of sake in both hands, she offered it to Watanabe, inclining her head. In flawless Japanese, she said, “I wanted to give you this as a token of our appreciation, for seeing us tonight. I hope you find it to your liking.”
“I’m sure I’d find any gift you offered me to my liking,” Watanabe replied, also in Japanese. He took the bottle, checking the label before handing it to Gray Suit. Switching to English for Kirkbride, he said, “A junmai daiginjo. Demon Slayer, this one’s called. I’m sure it’ll be quite good. Thank you very much.”
Downing another swallow of his drink, Kirkbride said, “Mr. Watanabe, we’re wondering if we might help each other with a mutual problem.”
With reluctance, Watanabe took his eyes off Jessie and looked at Kirkbride. “What mutual problem is that?” he asked evenly.
“I know Nico’s looking for who killed Minx.” Kirkbride said no more, as if waiting to see if Watanabe would take him seriously.
Watanabe did. He kept his expression bland, noncommittal, but Jessie watched as the tension poured through his body slowly, like molasses.
She said, “We know who killed the girl, and that they’re responsible for the other killings. They’ve brought a lot of attention to the waterfront.”
Watanabe flicked his gaze between them.
Jessie said, “We can stop this. But we need help finding them.”
“There was a rumor something happened last night, in an old church, a fight of some kind.” Watanabe looked at the minister. “Was that your people, Reverend Kirkbride?”
Kirkbride nodded, taking another sip.
“You lost one of your people, is what I heard. Is it true?”
Another nod. Kirkbride seemed to be fighting within himself, and not for the first time Jessie wondered how hard he fought to keep his own demons at bay.
“Is it vampires?” Watanabe asked.
Jessie’s mouth fell open. Kirkbride took another drink then recovered, nodding. He said, “And werewolves. Do you have any idea where a gang of vampires and werewolves might be hiding out?”
Jessie couldn’t help herself. “Wait, you know about va
mpires?”
Watanabe gave her a shrug. “I’ve run across a few over the years. Werewolves, though, that’s not something I’ve encountered before. What are they like?” He sounded genuinely curious.
“We’re not looking to tag them and study their feeding and mating habits,” Kirkbride said. “We’re looking to kill them.”
Jessie scrambled. “We feel a sense of urgency, Mr. Watanabe, because werewolves can, uh, add to their numbers on the night of a full moon, which will be tomorrow night.”
Watanabe nodded, regarding the minister for a long moment. “I’m sorry for your loss. May I ask, who was it?”
“Leonard Wells. Lenny.” Kirkbride finished his bloodbath, setting the glass down hard.
“The boy,” Watanabe murmured. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to forgive my curiosity. I like to watch Animal Planet, but believe me when I tell you, I want these monsters dead too. Nico’s been looking around, trying to find out whatever he can. I’ll put you in touch with him. Whatever I can do to help, Reverend Kirkbride, I’ll be glad to do it.” He stood, gesturing at Gray Suit. “Excuse me for a moment. I’ll make a call, set up a meeting for you with Nico.”
“Thank you, Mr. Watanabe.” Jessie met his eyes only briefly before turning her gaze back to the minister.
“Call me Johnny.” He walked away.
Jessie moved a little quicker than she should have in mortal company to get to Kirkbride’s side. “You need to get a grip there, big fella.”
He reached for her glass, still nearly full. His face looked forbidding in the shadows and flashing lights of the club. He stared into the inky red of the drink before raising it to his lips.
She found herself deeply regretting daring him with the drink. “William.” He ignored her. She put her hand on his chin and turned his head to face her. “William, we’re going to take care of this. The pack’s as good as dead.”
He nodded slowly and removed her hand. Rising, he walked to the balcony railing, drink in hand. He stood, watching the dancer on the stage below as he drank Jessie’s bloodbath.
She followed him to the railing, the back of her mind recognizing The Black Keys’ Strange Desire. Kirkbride’s expression remained blank as he stared down at the stripper, his body swaying slightly. Jessie couldn’t tell if it was the music or the booze doing that. She reached out to him, her fingers barely brushing his arm. He turned to face her, the intensity in his dark blue eyes scaring her for a moment. She backed away from him then shook her head, annoyed with herself for letting a mortal frighten her, even if he was several inches taller, more muscular than a minister needed to be. Even one who was a former Marine, with experience fighting monsters, and currently seemed to have a great deal of righteous fury threatening to spill out of the box he kept it in. There had been a time in her own mortal existence when she’d been afraid of men like Kirkbride, men who kept their rage on a leash like a pet until they decided to let the beast run free for a while, but she was a long way from mortal now. She met his fierce gaze with one of her own.
Watanabe approached, moving quickly. Too quickly. “Nico’s dead,” he said without preamble. “Some of my men found him in an abandoned building. In pieces.”
Kirkbride and Jessie exchanged a look. “He found them,” Kirkbride said.
“Take us there,” Jessie said to Watanabe. “I can track them.”
Watanabe eyed her suspiciously. Abruptly he grabbed her wrist, feeling for a pulse. She yanked her hand away. Watanabe said to Kirkbride, “You should have mentioned her being a vampire.”
“Now you know, so how about we get out of here and see if she can do what she says.”
Jessie didn’t like the implication of doubt in the minister’s voice, but she stayed quiet. Watanabe waved over Gray Suit, issuing orders in Japanese so rapid even Jessie had trouble following. He gestured at the stairwell. “Let’s go.”
They headed into the night.
Chapter 8
The night air smelled heavily of rain. Jessie took a deep breath as she exited the car, looking around the outside of the deserted building. She nodded at Kirkbride. “I’m getting a whiff. It’s faint, but it’s definitely Dilbert and Dogbert.”
Another car approached. “It’s okay,” Kirkbride told Watanabe and his men. “It’s Haywood.” He’d called Haywood before leaving the strip club.
Haywood and Brandon stepped out of the car, both looking ready for action, shotguns, nunchucks, backpacks and cargo pants pockets full of no telling what.
Kirkbride eyed the gear. “Bring any for me?”
Haywood reached into the backseat of the car and pulled out a baseball bat. It had several six-point steel shuriken—Japanese throwing stars—adorning it, each with one point sunk into the business end of the bat. He handed the bat to Kirkbride. “I knew you’d want this.”
Brandon withdrew another weapon, swinging the strap over his head and holding it with his left hand, the uninjured side. Jessie blinked. “What the hell is that?”
Brandon hefted the blue-and-orange toy. His voice took on the tone of a guy bragging about his car. “This is a Super Soaker Aqua Shock HydroBlitz. It’s got a thirty-five foot range and the tank holds a hundred ounces of water. That’s almost a gallon.”
“A water gun?” Jessie asked.
“Au contraire.” Brandon pulled a small lime-green pistol from one of the pockets of his cargo pants, wagging it at her. “This is a water gun.” He raised the Aqua Shock again. “This is a Super Soaker. There is a difference.”
“Dude...”
“They’re full of holy water,” he snapped.
“Fine, okay.” Jessie choked back a laugh. “Just don’t get any on me.”
Haywood eyed them with contempt. “You girls ready to go, or do you want to braid each other’s hair first?”
“How about I braid your hair, ass monkey,” Jessie retorted.
Kirkbride stepped between them, impatient. “Save it for the pack. We need to put them down, tonight. The full moon is tomorrow and I don’t want any more werewolves running loose.”
Without another word Kirkbride turned on his heel and strode to the door. He kicked it in and ran inside, letting the darkness swallow him. Haywood followed. Watanabe waved to his men to do the same.
Jessie and Brandon stood there staring at the door. The vampire shook her head. “So, hey, who needs a plan, right?”
“I think the plan is to go charging into the big dark building and look for nasty monsters,” Brandon offered.
Jessie glared at him, and he raised a hand. “No offense to you, of course.”
“None taken, and that plan sucks.” She shot Watanabe a look. “Brother William is a big drama queen.”
“I know.” Watanabe approached her with a shotgun, holding it out to her. “Take this when you go in.”
“Give it to Brandon. I don’t need it.”
“What?” Brandon mumbled. “Uh, no, I mean, I don’t know how to use one.” He lifted the Super Soaker. “I’m okay with this.”
“Brandy, holy water won’t do anything to a werewolf but get them wet.”
He rummaged in another pocket and produced the nunchucks. “I’ve got these, too. I’ll be fine, and I can run really fast.”
Not fast enough. From the look on his face, she could tell Watanabe was thinking the same thing. “You don’t have to go. We need somebody covering the door, anyway. Hell, they’re probably not even in there.”
A guttural scream erupted from inside the warehouse. They snapped their heads around at the same time, as if expecting someone, or something, to fly out of the open door. Nothing did.
Watanabe pumped the shotgun and held it at the ready.
Jessie winked at Brandon. “We don’t need no stinkin’ plan.”
Brandon winked back. “I don’t think you’re a monster.”
They ran for the door.
* * * *
The place used to be a meat packing plant. Jessie’s vampiric eyesight picked out hooks still hanging from
the ceiling, broken work tables, crumbling pillars and what looked like freezers against one wall, graffiti glowing from nearly every surface. The scent of slaughtered cattle was long gone but she got a big whiff of the dead bodies almost directly in front of them. “Got a light, Brandy?”
After a long moment, a beam of light gave the answer. Brandon came to her side. “I forgot which pocket I put it in. Had to hunt for it.” He gestured with the light. “Is that a dead body?”
The beam pointed at a dark mass hanging from one of the old meat hooks. “Yeah.” Jessie walked toward it. Her boots made a nasty squicking sound with every step as she traversed the bloody floor. “So is this.” Past the corpse hanging on the hook, another corpse lay on the floor—parts of it, at any rate. She knelt to give it a cursory examination before returning to Brandon’s side. “I’m guessing the one on the floor is Nico. The other one’s fresh.”
“I can tell.” Even his voice sounded like an unpleasant shade of green. She hoped he didn’t add to the funk by getting sick. “Think he’s the screamer?” He backed away slowly.
Jessie continued to survey the room. “I don’t think so. Dude didn’t have time to scream.”
“What got who?”
“Vamps got the guy on the hook, and weren’t too neat about it. There’s blood frakking everywhere. The wolves got Nico. That’s why there’s...” She cocked her head to listen.
Brandon didn’t notice. He was waving the flashlight all over the room. “Pieces?” he finished for her.
She pivoted toward the back of the room. “Come on, I smell Haywood.”
“That’s just all kinds of disturbing.” He ran after her, the beam of the flashlight bobbing crazy patterns in the dark.
She found a stairwell leading to a floor of offices. Haywood slumped in a doorway, his shotgun broken in two pieces on the floor nearby. Jessie skidded to a halt and dropped to the ground, her hands searching for a pulse and wounds. Brandon caught up and shined the light on Haywood’s face. His eyes were closed.
