The Vampire Files Anthology

by P. N. Elrod

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  He paused over that one. “For you or the subject?”

  “Both.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s a trap. The last … the last time I was talking—starting to talk, starting to get information … I lost control.”

  “In what way?”

  Dammit. “I nearly killed her.”

  “Miss Grey?” He kept his tone low and neutral, a vocal counterbalance to my obvious twitchiness.

  “Yeah.”

  That answered a lot of questions for him, but not all. He waited for me to go on.

  “We were alone in her studio and I’d just put her under to get some answers. Then it just … took me over. I got caught up in something I couldn’t control. That’s when I stopped thinking.”

  Stopped thinking and began feeding, draining the blood from her as though she were one of the cattle at the Stockyards. Helpless, but uncaring, she’d been swept away and submerged in the sensual pleasure of that joining. I had played upon it, used it to satisfy an appetite and desire blended together to the point of destruction for us both. She’d have lost her life and …. what? Illusions about myself? My sanity? My soul? None would have mattered; she’d have still been dead.

  “I … broke away before it was too late, but it was tough. I almost didn’t.”

  “This aspect of your condition has always bothered you,” he pointed out.

  “Jesus, Charles, every aspect of it has bothered me at one time or another; I may never get used to being what I am. But this … I don’t want (o put anyone through that risk again.”

  “But you’ve done it many times before, what made this particular one different?”

  That I’d been alone with her, or mildly attracted to her, or feeling the Hist inevitable pangs of hunger? “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does, my friend, because there are other lives than your own or even hers to consider.” He wasn’t indifferent to Opal, or using guilt to pressure, only stating facts that I’d already considered. Opal watched us from the windowless room, trying to read our faces for a clue to her future.

  “Which puts me right between a rock and a hard place,” I grumbled. “So what do I do?”

  “I cannot decide for you. There are other ways of finding out what we need. Shoe or Gordy can probably help, but this will be quickest.”

  I turned away and paced down the hall and back. My choice was no choice, not when it came between promises to myself or protecting my friends. Opal would be safe enough with Escott acting as chaperon, but it was cold comfort at best.

  My hands were starting to shake.

  Opal hadn’t liked waiting and said as much when we came in to sit with her. With that very clear opinion out of the way, she hunched down in her coat and crossed her arms protectively against any possible counter argument. Escott gave me a silent nod to indicate that it was my show, content to melt into the background.

  In an attempt to change the subject and to get her more relaxed, I said, “You know you never really answered my question about how you came to work for Kyler.”

  She sensed some less obvious purpose than curiosity behind the question, and used her earlier answer. “Because I’m a great accountant.”

  “That tells me why, but not how. When did you meet him?”

  “Two years, two months, and fifteen days ago.”

  I should have been prepared for that one but wasn’t. My expression amused her. “That’s very good.”

  “I know.”

  “How did you meet him?”

  “I was a cashier at a restaurant. They wanted a singing cashier, but I didn’t sing, I did numbers instead.”

  “Did numbers?”

  “Like I did for you in the car. People’d ask me to add and subtract and stuff like that in my head. I’d do numbers for the customers to make tips. Vaughn ate there one day and asked if I could do bookkeeping and I said yes.”

  “If you knew bookkeeping, why weren’t you doing that?”

  “Because bookkeepers make eight dollars a week and no tips when they start out. I was making fifteen at the restaurant … plus tips.”

  “So Vaughn offered you a new job and you took it?”

  “For a thousand dollars a month.”

  Wow. “What’s your family think of your work?”

  “They don’t care about me. When I finished school, they told me to move out.”

  “Just like that?”

  She shrugged. “They never liked me.”

  “Your own parents?”

  “I’m smart, but in my own way. I wasn’t smart in the way they wanted, so they didn’t like having me around. Everything I said and did was wrong. I was glad to leave.”

  “I’ll bet you were, kid.”

  “Don’t call me that.” She pulled her shoulders tighter, the corners of her mouth turning sharply down. “You’re like them, too. Treating me like I’m a baby because I’m different from everyone else. They’d talk about it and think that I didn’t hear or care, but I did.”

  “How does Kyler treat you?”

  “He doesn’t laugh at me or act embarrassed or talk like I’m not in the room, or talk out in the hall so I don’t hear anything.” She glared at us. Justifiably so, I thought.

  “I’m sorry we have to do this, Opal. We—”

  “Nuts to you. This stinks.” She turned her back and stared at a dingy wall.

  “Yeah, it does. Kyler’s probably the best thing that ever happened to you.”

  “He’s okay.”

  “Even when he kills people?”

  “I’ve never seen him do that.”

  “Or talk about it? He wants to kill me, you know.”

  She looked around sharply. “So you’re the one.”

  There went my plan to relax her. “Yeah. He ever say anything about me?”

  Her eyes went solemn; her little mouth clamped shut.

  “What’d he say?”

  But she only shook her head, preferring refusal over lying. At least she didn’t seem to be frightened of me. It would be easy enough to push her into answering.

  Too easy, as I knew it would be. Always far too easy.

  We soon learned that Kyler had forsaken his downtown fortress in the Travis for a more isolated roadhouse he’d recently bought. The purchase had been so far under the table that only a select few in his organization knew about it. Opal, fortunately, had been one of them and freely parted with details on the price, location, and normal hours of operation. It was open now with business as usual to avoid attracting attention, but tonight they would have an extra patron dropping in on them.

  “It is most likely that he knows about Opal’s disappearance,” Escott pointed out. “And he may act upon it.”

  “Probably so. Chick wasn’t that far gone when I left, but this is all I’ve got for now. I’ll give the place a going-over and see what’s there. Kyler can’t hide forever.”

  “He’s really mad,” Opal volunteered in her flat voice as she drifted softly between consciousness and sleep.

  No new information there, but was she talking about Kyler’s mental state or his feelings? “Mad at me?”

  “Oh, yes. Really mad because of last night. Those men you killed.”

  “I didn’t kill them.”

  “Okay, the men the big guy had killed for you.”

  ”Who? You talking about Gordy?”

  “Uh-huh. He’s going to get it bad tonight.”

  “What do you mean?”

  ”Vaughn’s going to get back at him.”

  I flashed a look at Escott, but he was already on the phone, dialing the Nightcrawler’s number. “What’s he got in mind?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You have to, Opal. Tell me everything he said.”

  “I didn’t hear the rest. I was busy packing to leave.”

  Escott had gotten through to Gordy by then. “Yes, we’re all right, but we’ve learned that Kyler’s made plans for some sort of r
eprisal against you … Because he thinks that you were involved with the shooting of three of his men last night when they tried to kidnap Jack … No, I don’t know what it could be.”

  “When will it happen, Opal?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  I shrugged at Escott. She had an exceptional memory, but there was no way I could get information that she didn’t have. He relayed it to Gordy and hung up after a minute. “He’s been expecting something like this since last night, when they went after us. But he appreciated the additional warning.”

  “What about Bobbi?”

  “He said for you not to worry.”

  “I’m going over there, anyway.”

  His eyes glinted. “I rather thought you would. Your presence may be of considerable help.”

  “Only if I get there in time. Will you be okay babysitting her?” I jerked my chin at Opal.

  “She seems quiet enough.”

  Something that wouldn’t last until my return. I knelt close by her, taking care not to touch her, and did what I could to ensure that Escott would have a peaceful evening.

  Her lids slid shut and she curled comfortably upon the cot. Asleep, her pinched face smoothed out, easing the creases of determined concentration that were already gathering around her mouth and brow. Escott pulled a blanket up over her legs, then removed her glasses, folding them neatly on the packing crate.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  It hadn’t been as bad as I’d anticipated, but my gut felt like jelly and he could see the tremor in my hands. I balled them into fists and shoved them into the pockets of the pea jacket. Car keys scratched my knuckles. “Go ahead and call Shoe. Let him know what’s going on. I’ll take the DeSoto over to the club.”

  “But—”

  “Yeah, I know it’s hot, but I’ll have to chance it. I’m not waiting around for a cab.”

  He nodded, then I was out the door and down the stairs.

  I had to fight to keep within the limits of the traffic around me. Running into another cop I could handle, but it would cost time. My too-fertile imagination worked full blast throughout the trip, coming up with a variety of attacks that Kyler might try. He could strafe the place with machinegun fire, as with Escott’s car, or lob grenades through any of the windows. The aftermath would bring out the Feds like flies on a corpse. Between them and the local law …

  And Bobbi was smack in the middle of it. I sneaked up the pressure on the gas pedal and tore around a slow truck.

  Things must have also gone wrong for Angela Paco. Vic might not have been in a condition to carry whatever message she had for Kyler. He could have died on her by now or she had needed both of us and I’d slipped out and spoiled it all. Whatever the reason, Kyler didn’t know about her involvement and had logically blamed Gordy for the mess she’d left in the street. That’s why his goons had been waiting near the club and opened up the moment Escott’s Nash showed with me in it.

  But that had been last night and a full day had come and gone with no further trouble. If he was spooked enough by Gordy’s apparent involvement, why had he decided to wait? It would only give his opposition time to set up defenses or a counterattack. His hope might be that Gordy would leave rather than risk an open gang war, but he couldn’t count on it.

  Or maybe he was just waiting for me to turn up again and knew that would happen only after dark.

  I left the car in a deserted spot a block away from the club. Going by foot was slower, but it gave me plenty of time to check the area. I kept to the shadows, becoming invisible whenever I had to cross an open space or pass under a streetlight. Halfway there, I had to quit because other people were turning up, well-dressed men in polished shoes hurrying along with their polished ladies. Some looked worried, glancing back over their shoulders, others giggled with tipsy relief. Club patrons, then, and too rushed to wait in the lobby for a cab to come for them.

  It looked like Kyler had started without me.

  Ahead, the flash of lights played along the high walls of the buildings. I picked up the busy commotion of human voices and the grunt of car engines and moved faster against a thin tide of people flowing from the club.

  Cops and cop cars everywhere, their lights snapping in endless circles. No ambulances, at least not yet, but a couple of paddy wagons blocked the front entrance and were doing a good business.

  A raid?

  Gordy had been through this drill more than once, bur he was a good businessman and paid his bribes like everyone else to avoid such problems. But Kyler had used the police before, trying to trap me at the warehouse, so why not again to get at Gordy?

  The cops were probably all over the casino tagging the slot machines for evidence or pounding them to junk with sledgehammers just for the hell of it. Some sawhorse barricades were up to keep out the public, including me. Fat lot of good it did them as I slipped around to the side of the building and picked out a window on the club’s second floor.

  I re-formed in an unoccupied bath and shot out to the adjoining bedroom. Bobbi’s room was just across from it. The door was wide and her things scattered about, but she was gone. That could he good or bad.

  Staying solid, I left the outer bedroom for the hall. It was empty for the moment, but I heard voices coming from Gordy’s office. Time to get some answers.

  Three men looked up at my sudden barge through the door: Gordy standing by the far wall, a uniformed cop next to him, and a plainclothes man in front. All but Gordy jumped a little. He was deadpan by nature, but there seemed to be a hint of relief in his small eyes and an undeniable sheen of sweat clung to his temples. Something was wrong, wrong, wrong.

  The uniform had his gun out and it hovered uncertainly between me and Gordy. I fanned both hands up in a placating gesture.

  “Take it easy, boys, I’m just here to cover things for the Trib.”

  “You sure as hell don’t look it,” said the other man.

  At least he didn’t question the presence of the press, however seedily it was clothed. On raids like this, the cops don’t mind having reporters around; it made good publicity for the department. “I was working a skid-row story and saw the ruckus. You can’t blame me for wanting to drop in for a look.”

  “And that’s all you’ll get. Beat it.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Sergeant.” I had to guess at his rank. “Gimme a break, I gotta wife and kids to feed. How ’bout a short interview? I’ll make you the hero of the day. What’s your name?” I fumbled for my notebook and pencil, stalling for time.

  “That’s Lieutenant Galloway, you asshole.” He was keeping himself on a short leash; I’d read that from him the instant I’d walked in. The tension washing around the room was thick enough for swimming. The uniformed man was as cool as Galloway was hot. On the desk was a gun, taken from Gordy no doubt, and a stupid thing to leave lying around. There was more going on here than a simple arrest. These guys had other things on their minds.

  “Lieutenant Galloway asshole. …” I repeated, pretending to write it down. I shouldn’t have done it that way, but he’d left himself open and I couldn’t resist. It was one way to bring things to a head.

  “Baker, get him outta here!”

  “Just joking, Lieutenant,” I said as Baker closed in. “Okay, you’re Officer Baker and what’s your badge number?”

  Baker started to hustle me out. There was no time to think up anything fancy; once I was out of the room anything could happen. Shrugging off his grip, I turned for a parting shot. “And how much is Vaughn Kyler paying you for this hit?”

  Calloway’s eyes got big. Baker froze solid. I didn’t catch Gordy’s expression, but he made a small noise in the back of his throat to communicate that I’d just thrown an appallingly large hunk of shit into the fan.

  “Bring him back,” Calloway said. “And this time lock up.”

  7

  BAKER swung the door firmly shut and slid home the inside bolt. I didn’t like having him behind me and instinctively turned and
backed away to keep him in sight. If he decided to shoot, I wanted to see it coming. Calmly alert, he remained in place, a professional wearing a cop’s uniform, but not a cop.

  “Who the hell are you?” Baker’s face was as blank as a store window’s dummy. I wondered if he was a close relation to Kyler.

  I looked past them and said, “Bobbi.” It sounded like a statement, but Gordy took it for the question I meant it to be. To my relief, he shut his eyes briefly and gave a minimal nod. She was okay, then, wherever she was. That concern off my mind, I was more ready to deal with these clowns.

  Baker was on the ball and noticed the interplay. “He’s lying.”

  “Search him.”

  He closed in cautiously. I let him slap me down without any fuss because (Galloway was standing there with his hand inside his unbuttoned coat expecting trouble. The car keys, some loose change, a pencil stub, and a thin notebook were tossed on the desk next to the gun. The money belt stayed in place; he wasn’t looking for money.

  “He’s clean.” Baker sounded disappointed as well as suspicious. If I’d been one of Gordy’s men, I’d have been packing something lethal as a matter of course; if a legitimate reporter, then a wallet with some kind of identification.

  “Doesn’t matter,” said Calloway, who was coming out of his initial shock. “What do you know about Kyler?”

  I kept my eyes steady. “Enough to spot a couple of his stooges while they trip over themselves. He’s picked the wrong target this time. Gordy had nothing to do with last night’s hit.”

  “So we should take your word for it? Get him over there, Baker.” He gestured at Gordy’s end of the room.

  “But it’s a pretty sharp plan,” I continued, as though he hadn’t spoken. “Using a real raid as cover, you two come up here for the big fish. Only you’ll invent some kind of problem and be forced to kill him, say, while he’s resisting arrest. His New York bosses won’t pull any reprisals against the official Chicago Police because you were just doing your job. Baker can disappear in the crowd and the whole business leaves Kyler totally clear of the blame. So … how much are you getting to do his dirty work?”

  Calloway looked ready to drop back into shock again, but picked his jaw up faster this time. “What’s it to you? What’s your angle?”