Bait and Bleed

by Elizabeth Blake

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yep. I’m interested in having a question answered.”

  “Better not be too steep.”

  “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

  I laughed, loud and surprised and bitter. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Try me.”

  I down the last bit of whiskey in my glass and looked at the old man. Sixty, maybe, gut like a beer keg, eyes like sunshine. “I wanted to be a motorcycle mechanic. Are you gonna let me visit my car or what?”

  He blinked. I’d surprised him. His answering grin gleamed with gold teeth. He slammed his whiskey and lumbered around the bar. I followed. He led me through the garage which smelled blissfully of grease, oil, and rubber. Could have had this life, if mutts hadn’t tried to eat the world and vamps weren’t sucking on the scraps.

  We journeyed out of the garage and past several lines of cars in various states of disrepair. Some were about to be scrapped for parts while others were probably staged for other paranoid criminals.

  I had stashed a getaway car at Brutus’ for nearly three years. A sturdy vehicle with an engine I could tinker with, nothing complicated, a bit harsh on gas mileage, but dependable. She had cash of various makes tucked along her frame, papers for a new life, and bullets both mundane and silver. Three month supply of MREs, med kits, and hiking gear. Freedom on wheels. My get-out-of-jail-free card for when my life was irrevocably fucked.

  Considering what I planned, I’d never have a chance to use her.

  The Buick had a healthy coat of dust, the paint bubbled on the hood, and a crack had appeared on the rear windshield. Brutus tucked his hands into his pockets. “Sorry about the windshield,” he said. “Surveillance drones. Y’know, they don’t make them like they used to. The slightest nudge with a .22 and, blam, the gizmos drop right out of the sky.”

  “Not your fault. Completely understandable.”

  He tucked his lip, feigned a sheepish expression, and returned to the bar. Alone, I approached the trunk, set my hand on the hood, and slid a key into the lock. When it clicked open, I caught the rigging that would detonate the IED in the trunk and defused it. Once the trunk opened without exploding, I retrieved a modest stash of hand grenades. Only five, to be precise.

  A lady can never have too many accessories.

  I resealed the trunk with its excitable failsafe and patted the hood as if it was an old family pet. Our time together and its fickle offering of security had come to an end.

  I bypassed the bar and went back to my truck, tucking the grenades in back with the rest of my stash and leaving without so much as a fare-thee-well.

  Dusk smudged the horizon.

  Tonight there would be a reckoning. People would die. Probably a lot of them. Me, too, possibly. If Iago ended among the dead, I was okay with that.

  Chapter 36

  Svetlana called. Davey had probably tattled on me and reported I’d gone crazy. With a push of a button, I let it go to voice mail. Five seconds later, she called again.

  No. Not going to let her talk me out of anything. I had a plan, sort of, and I had the firepower, but mostly I had a burr up my ass. During his rant, Clifford had mentioned a bar called Toreno's. If I poked around, surely I could find someone to torture for Iago’s location.

  I ignored Svetlana’s call twice more before I finally picked up.

  “I’m not listening,” I said.

  “You need to come to the house.”

  “No. Screw off.”

  “If you don’t come voluntarily, I will send a horde of wolves to stuff you in a van and drag you here against your will.”

  “Well, that’s just rude. And good luck catching me.”

  “Kaidlyn!” She sighed, her voice rich and thick and smoky. “Grant me one night, Kaidlyn. Stay tonight, and we will consider our options tomorrow morning when the day is fresh and the sun is shining. Davey is here, and he wants you to come. We’re roasting pork in the pits, and there will be plenty to share. There’s beer—”

  “I will not party with a bunch of neutral diplomats. Everyone is tip-toeing around the issue, and I am damned tired of playing games. Do you know how hard it is to know who is behind the mess and yet not be able to separate his head from his body because everyone who should want him dead, all his enemies, are protecting him! Don’t know where he is, my ass! Tell you what I’m going to do! I’m taking my stash of explosives and weapons, and I’m going to make the heavens rain fire. I’m going to find—”

  “You’re right.”

  “Huh?”

  “This has gone on too long. I will fix it. Come over. Bring everyone. In fact, I’m calling Erik right now. No more players on a chessboard. No more setting our ducks in a row. We will find a way to end this trouble.”

  “Oh.” I blinked. “No, this is a trick. You’re stronger and smarter than me, but I won’t be fooled. I got shit to do, woman.”

  I hung up. She rang back. Growling, I clenched my white knuckles on the steering wheel and tried to ignore her, but it didn’t work. I answered the phone.

  “I’m damned mad, Svetlana! Like really, really pissed. It’s not right, it’s not fair, and it’s a blasted tragedy—”

  “I know.”

  “No, you clearly don’t—”

  “If you come tonight, right now, I will have a squadron of wolves escort Davey up north to safety. No planes. No records. If you book him a flight like you’re undoubtedly thinking, he’ll leave a trail for your enemies to follow. They will snatch him at the airport or when he lands far away, and you’ll have sent him to his death.”

  “Why, you low down, dirty, sneaky—” I slammed on the brakes and steered to the side of the road. Panting, angry, and completely outwitted. One night in exchange for Davey’s guaranteed safety? The trade was too good to ignore, which she undoubtedly counted on. Manipulative bitch. “No tricks.”

  “None. I promise.”

  “Promise me something else.”

  “What?”

  “If Peter wants to go with Davey, you will let him. Without consequence.”

  Silence absorbed the line. She loved Peter. They’d been through ceaseless war zones, fighting for each other, killing and surviving. He was king wolf in her triad. If she made this promise, she’d lose him. We both knew it.

  “I’m hanging up,” I said.

  “Wait.” She sighed. “We both know the day is coming. The first time I saw him look at Davey, I knew it was only a matter of time. After twenty years—”

  “Do we have a deal or not?”

  “If he wishes to go, I will let him. Of course, I will.”

  “I want to believe you.”

  “You think I’d hurt Peter?”

  “No. You will let him go if you must, but you might fail to mention he’s free to leave. He’s been your partner for two decades. Does he even think he has a choice anymore?”

  “Kaidlyn.” Her rich voice rode the surface of a growl. “I have promised to do as you wish, but I will not be interrogated. I know Davey loves strawberries on his cheesecake, but I wager you prefer caramel.”

  “Now we’re talking. I’ll be there.”

  “I expect you soon.”

  I pulled a U-turn and tried to relax deep in the seat, keeping my mind blank as I drove. Svetlana had something up her sleeve. I didn’t care. She couldn’t stop me without killing me. If the mutts decided it was time to kill Iago, I’d have reinforcements. If not, the plan remained the same.

  Cityscape faded away and I passed through the ghost towns, the shanty remnants of neighborhoods which had migrated closer to the core city. The dilapidated structures, half rubble, usually housed illegals and homeless. Normally, I’d see people milling about. Today, nothing. No one in sight. As if they’d all vanished. Dread turned my gut.

  I cruised down the highway, watching the landscape grow more cluttered and tattered with post-apocalyptic debris littered along the roadside. Here and there, a scavenger reaped metal for scrap, but the good stuff h
ad been lifted years ago.

  Svetlana’s enormous house, dark sky, and shading trees could have come straight from a B-grade horror flick. I parked where I was least likely to be boxed in and double checked my Ag rounds. Confident my firearms were as ready as could be, I crossed the lawn.

  Tatka had remodeled with absolute simplicity, doing the work of a master carpenter who knew without a doubt the house would need to be rebuilt often. The grounds swelled with the boisterous revelry of too many wolves. A crowd of teenagers lounged on the porch, smoking.

  Lucy sat, first and foremost, offering tobacco to everyone in sight. Her goth get-up, fake black-purple hair, and overwhelming makeup hid every ounce of natural beauty she had, a miraculous feat. She was possibly the most beautiful person I’d ever seen, yet she wore the mask of a court jester. She flicked a lighter and illuminated the stark tattoo of a cross on each middle finger, which she brandished often. Teenage angst overdone and shoved into one package.

  Her accomplice, Silvershot, was a whip of a young woman with short white hair and cyan irises. Athletic, rude, and aspiring to be street muscle. Peavey, Erik’s wolf, had a thing for her, but he currently put his energy into flattering another female. Silvershot’s stiletto-sharp eyes promised a fight to the death if the flirt didn’t stop his evil ways. Lucy passed Peavey a cigarette, distracting him while the victim of his flirtations escaped. Silvershot snorted. Without puffing, Peavey passed the cigarette to Alden, a tech savant who covered Svetlana’s tracks as well as Rainer covered mine.

  The mutt twins, Kliment and Vadik, eagerly refilled their mugs from a keg of dark beer on the corner of the porch. Another dozen teens were new. Svetlana’s numbers had been growing. Again. Marc poked his head out of the house long enough to catch my gaze. He waved his fingers to invite me inside.

  I was late to the party. Everyone was there, including Erik’s lieutenants.

  Svetlana took her hair out of the ponytail and pulled her hands through it, trying to work out the stress and snarls. I watched her for a moment, simply because I couldn't think of anything else to do. My throat clammed up like a bear trap.

  She came toward me with a beer in each hand, but her smile was the best offering. As if she hadn’t ignored me for weeks and forgotten to call. As if she hadn’t been blasé about my friend nearly dying on my front yard. I wanted to kiss her, and then I wanted to punch her.

  Then again, the beer was cold. Her hand brushed mine while she transferred the bottle. She winked and clinked my bottle with hers. Her nostrils flared. No sense pretending she couldn’t smell explosives and munitions on my skin.

  She gestured to the couch, an invitation which I ignored.

  “I’ve been bitching about Iago for weeks,” I said. “Why are we only now doing something about it?”

  Svetlana sipped the beer. “Why don’t you try the roast? Eat, drink, and be merry. We’ll discuss business as soon as the children are in bed.”

  I growled. “I want to talk about it now.”

  “Alden tells me Rainer has finished translating the vampire lineage, though he couldn’t procure a copy for me. Rainer is surely one of the most adept guardians you could have entrusted with digital information.”

  “So that’s why you’ve been stalling? Waiting for the vampire book of names? While you’ve been playing at who-has-the-smarter-computer-nerd, vampires are killing innocent people and mutts are snatching children from the streets.”

  “I need to know how far the involvement goes, Kaidlyn. I must know that we aren’t unknowingly pinching only one head off a hydra without killing the entire beast. I am not the sort who wages war without knowing the battlefield. Do you think I ruled Moscow for decades without acquiring patience and employing thorough violence? Besides, I had hoped the assets already in play would quickly end Iago. Unfortunately, this hasn’t happened.”

  “Oh, unfortunate?” I stepped into her and jabbed the neck of my beer bottle into her chest. “People died while you twiddled your thumbs.”

  “And your thumbs as well,” she said. “You’ve been twiddling, too. Without the quality information you could have provided, I have to scour the city brick by pebble to find my enemy. Don’t expect me to drop everything for your problem.”

  I wondered how many bullets I could drop in her skull before she killed me.

  “Svetlana, you’re obsessed with vamps. They aren’t the only villains in the world. What about crazy Iago and his merry mutts?”

  “As you surely know by now, our two species rarely play on separate stages. We have been at each other’s throats since the beginning of time. The war runs deeper than one mad American wolf killing innocents in the desert. There’s more going on than you know.”

  “Then tell me. I know vampires are involved somehow. When you visited me after my coma, you bore wounds from a vampire fight. Clue me in?”

  “Yes, I have been distracted. The greatest enemy my bloodline has ever known, the creature who thwarted my civil rights movement in any way imaginable, has up and disappeared. Poof. One night he slaughters innocents in Kiev, the next it’s as if he never existed. His estate sits empty.”

  “Maybe he’s on vacation? Maybe he died?”

  “Alden discovered Alexei’s accounts have been used in Boston. Do you know how rare it is for a vampire to cross the ocean?”

  “They don’t cross bodies of water? Seriously? I thought that was myth.”

  “They can, they simply don’t like to. Alexei abandoned his estate only twice this century. The last time he did, the goddamn apocalypse began.”

  “Do you think he had something to do with it—going public?”

  “I cannot say. However, when vampires convene, the result is never pleasant. Now we know my greatest adversary has stepped foot on your country’s soil. He’s stateside, and he’s up to something. This is a creature who eats organs like vitamins! Surely you can agree I should find him and stop him? Everything else must wait. Erik can deal with Iago. I must kill Alexei. When he is dead, my family will be safe and I can go home.”

  “Fine, but that’s your business. Frankly, it’s getting in the way of mine. The mutt is after me, Svetlana, so I don’t give a shit about your world war. Jasmine’s killers wrote my name on her, which has been happening to murder victims across the city. I assumed it was Iago because he had tried to kill me twice already. Or three times. I lose count. I can’t fathom why your vampire nemesis would be after me, so I’ll leave him to you. Iago is the cause of my problem, so I’ll end him. One way or another.” Even if I have to die doing it. Even if—heaven forbid—I have to recruit Mullen to help me.

  “Why are you so upset about this girl?” she said. “Of all the human pieces in the city, why did this girl’s death bother you more than anything?”

  “She had nothing to do with your war or your civil rights campaign. To be fair, she had nothing to do with me, either. She certainly didn’t deserve to be butchered simply because she was in the wrong place.”

  “Did you sleep with her?”

  “How is that relevant?”

  “We aren’t talking about this now.”

  Svetlana turned her back like we had never shared a kiss or a care in the world, and walked into the kitchen, leaving Peter to deal with me.

  I chugged half my beer. “Tell me where Iago is.”

  He smiled like he found me funny.

  “Are you leaving Phoenix with Davey or are you staying with her?”

  His smile died, and his eyes sought Svetlana. He wouldn’t leave her. Maybe he couldn’t. I hated him. I hated him and I wanted to kill him. How dare he break Davey’s heart! Why wasn't anyone telling me the truth? Why didn't the whole world go and leave me alone?

  “Be patient,” Peter growled, abandoning me.

  Erik strolled from the back porch, dressed in grey and black. His white hair was bound in a ponytail, and black contacts hid his pink albino eyes. Marc strolled at his side, holding two beers, one of which he handed to me. I guzzled the remainder of my curre
nt beer and eagerly took the next.

  Erik was all business. “Did she tell you she’s leaving?”

  “She mentioned it.”

  “Do you believe her?”

  “She bit off more than she can chew over here.”

  “More like she doesn't want to be here when things go to hell. She'll be on the other side of the ocean if we start killing each other.”

  “I have a suggestion,” I said. “Marc goes with Svetlana to make certain she's not plotting all sorts of evil while we're sitting here like a target.”

  “Marc?” Peter said, popping his head out of the kitchen. I had forgotten about supernatural mutt hearing. Everyone in the room could eavesdrop on my conversation. Peter and Erik looked at each other. Marc's eyes widened.

  “He's intelligent and loyal,” I said. “He knows more about both sides of the argument than anyone, and I trust him. He'll be a buffer between Erik's temper and Svetlana's temper, allowing correspondence to continue. This way, peace talks won't be abandoned.”

  “You trust him?” Peter said.

  “Yeah, so?” He made it sound like I didn't trust anyone.

  He mulled it over. “It is a possibility.”

  “Good,” Erik said, like it was his idea.

  Svetlana skyrocketed into the room and scared the poop out of me. Her head turned right and left and paused, skull cocked to the side.

  “Problem?” Peter said.

  “Get my ookami up here,” she said. “Sakura!”

  A whisper, like a moth batting its wings, drew my attention to the stairs. Sakura shimmied up from the basement. I ached to tear out her spleen and smother her with it.

  The Japanese enforcer loosened the straps of her summer dress and stepped out of the pink cotton. I glanced away. She threw the dress at me, forcing me to catch it and see her lithe flesh and smirking eyes. Rage curdled my blood.

  God, if you're up there, lend me a lightning bolt, please.

  She sprinted through the kitchen and out the back of the house, into the dark night and the three hundred acres of forest and stone around the estate.

  “Tatka!” Svetlana grabbed the teenager by the elbow as she tried to follow Sakura to the yard. Tatka’s bones were too big and broad, her elbows the size of apples, her shoulders a foot too wide. About to shed. Svetlana snarled into her face. “Gather the youngest children in the basement. As soon as you can, take them into the woods. We will regroup later. Carbine, Kliment, Vadik, clear the way for Tatka.”