Hubris 3 & 4
Miles and I stepped onto the balcony of Hubris, a sprawling overhang shadowing the strobe lit dance floor a good thirty feet above the crowd. Thundering base vibrated my feet. The speakers towered like monoliths encircling the dance floor below the frenetic crowd like a sacrifice laid between them.
Christian lay pressed up against a chaise lounge watching the surging crowd with the interest a cat might show a pond filled with koi. He was draped over the arm of the chaise. A crystal goblet filled with some dark liquid dangled in one hand. He was completely at leisure. His right leg curled under his left and his wrist rested on his right knee. His lower body was encased in night, the black velvet looked painted on and left very little to the imagination. He wore calf high boots that gleamed in the softer lighting of Hubris’ lounge. The same outfit as in the elevator. The vampire shimmered as if almost too alive. His skin glowed with health the thick blond hair lay in glossy waves about his shoulders and spilled down the couch. The creature had feed and by the sheer energy being given off, it had been recently and with great vigor.
I kept my eyes on his neatly manicured hands and away from the sucking sky blue void of his eyes. He shifted his attention to me, I noticed this by the change pressure, almost a tingling up my arms and in my blood. I was alive and he was dead. It was as simple as that. I knew it in my blood, flesh and bones. The magic that kept him walking and talking called to mine and mine returned call.
There were a few other vamps in the room, all seated in various poses of recline but none shed as much power as he did. It was almost as if had I closed my eyes I would see his power rolling off him like the mist you got when dry ice melted or a thermal signature. There was a man kneeling before the master like a supplicant, impeccably dressed with a recorder in his hands. Christian was speaking, his low rolling voice holding the reporter rapt. He was explaining the premise of the club. And why he’d chosen the theme.
“…and we certainly welcome all of our human friends to join us in celebration 8 to 3am. Thank you for the interview Mr. Foley, and please feel free to make use of any of the facilities, gratis. And I hope to see you again.” The dark dangerous smile that graced Christian’s lips seems to draw Foley forward. The plush lips curved up and he said a little more sharply. “Thank you. Mr Foley.” Foley jerked once and stood quickly a pounding crescendo of music obliterating his reply. The reporter brushed past and hurried down the stairs. I frowned as I caught a look at his face recognizing the features even though they were as white as a sheet of fresh paper. It was Jack Foley entertainment reporter for the Boston Herald. Unfortunately I didn’t have much time to wonder what game Christian was playing with the young reporter.
“Mah chere Noire! I knew you could not resist me.” He stood from the chaise in one ripping motion, much too graceful to be human and put out his hands to take mine. I backed away quickly wanting as much distance between me and monsters. The action was simply force of habit but his crestfallen look didn’t elicit an ounce of pity from me. Especially since I was sure the drowned kitten pout was faked. The monsters scattered around the room looked up in interest. There were at least four that I could see including Nicolo standing near the stair well we had just come up.
“Tell Niccolo to move away from the exit.” I said my voice low but loud enough I knew for every supernatural creature in the room to hear. Vamps could hear a pin drop in a rain storm.
He dropped his hands.
“I am so pleased you chose to take me up on my invitation, ma chere, and you do look incroixible. This is a… breathtaking dress.” His eyes stopped at my cleavage as he put the fluted glass on the low end table next to the chaise. I grit my teeth. I warned myself over and over. Secure the exit, first. Mouth off later. This was another bit of favored advice from LaGrange.
“Nicolo. Away from the stairwell.”
“Ma chere!” He pouted. “I invited you here as my guest!” His tone was as silky as it was sulky.
“Now.” I said frostily.
“You are a hard woman, chere. As you like. What ever you like.” His emphasis on the last sentence was dripping with innuendo. He nodded slightly and Nicolo backed away. Now all five vampires in the room that I could sense were in my field of vision. That was the only way I did business.
“Now ma chere… why did you bring your pet policeman on our date?”
I grit my teeth.
“We are not on a date.” I spat linking my left arm resolutely around Miles right. I needed my right hand free for my gun.
“It is a shame…” He licked his lips as he closed a little more of the distance between us. “I know how difficult it is for you to keep your hands off of my person, chere. It would have been a wonderful night.” Miles hand on my arm tightened as I tensed bodily hauling me back. I could tell he was angry too. But not angry enough to jeapordize what ever information we could get from the dead bastard.
“Yes… like that chere, when you bare your teeth like that it’s particularly arousing.” His eyes lit and physically had to draw my temper back under control.
“Mr St. Justain. Nia and I would like to ask you a few questions about a case.” He said managing politeness where I couldn’t even dredged up a sound around the lump of fury in my throat. He’d fooled me once, along time ago. I hated feeling like anyone’s fool. It was an unsettled score with this particular monster. He’d get his.
“For my chere? Anything, monsieur policeman, please, have a seat.” I was still swallowing down my rage as St. Justain plopped into the lounge chair facing a larger table. It was such a normal human action it wanted to shoot him on the spot. He was dead but he could pass for human. I hated him for that.
I sat carefully to the diagonal of St. Justain’s chair having maneuvered so that I could watch him without being in direct eye contact.
“Do you recognize this woman?” Miles pulled out a photo of a thin woman with long straight blonde hair. The woman was smiling faintly with a misty look in her eyes. She had a small mouth and a long thin nose. Was this the corpse? She looked like a socialite with straight even teeth and wearing expensive looking pastels. He handed the photo to Christian, He held out the picture and Christian traced his fingers down Miles’ palm before plucking the photo from his fingers. I applauded Miles for not flinching; he’d seen a lot of vampire games. I’d shielded him for most of the really sick shit they get up to but he’d seen enough as a cop that little touchie didn’t faze him. Christian stared at the photo a moment.
“Non,” Christian handed the photo back with a Gallic shrug. I intercepted the photograph and handed it back to him.
“Ask around.” I arched one eyebrow and put as much menace in my tone as possible.
“Is she not an endless delight?” The vampire flashed his fangs at Miles, who had tensed in the couch next to me. The flashing strobe lights and low rumble of base added an element of menace that simply wasn’t accidental. I relaxed and slowly reached for the right Rossi. I’d have to shoot through the skirt to get him; it prickled because I looked damned good in it. Preserving a dress just wasn’t worth my life.
“Chere, you’re manners are atrocious.”
“Ask around….please.” I ground out. If it would keep what happened to this woman from happening to anyone else, I was willing to play nice with the monsters.
He moved, one hand flat on the table one knee pressed against the black lacquered table top. His hair spilled across his face obscuring and softening his features behind a golden veil. Eyes away, eyes away! I reminded myself pulling my gun discreetly from its holster and clicking the safety off under the skirt. He reached forward again fingers brushing against my knee. Cold prickles raised goose bumps on my arms and neck. I pressed the muzzle of the gun against his forehead.
“Touch me again and I’ll plaster your brains against yon far wall.” I murmured. “And tell your folks to take a couple of giant steps back.”
He pouted and made an away motion with his fingers. I could tell that Nicolo who had been close enough to break my neck move back reluctantly. It was too dark to make out their features. One was small and very slim from what I could see. He was curled up in something that looked like a giant dog basket. The other was taller about medium height and seated in a dark shadow with the third who seemed on the stocky side but I couldn’t be sure. I couldn’t see them but I could feel them like cold currents in a room, vampiric drafts pulling at the warmth and life of the patrons on the dance floor below.
The small one returned to his basket and the other two regained their chairs.
Christian picked up the picture from where it had fallen on the couch between Miles and I. Miles had in his piece in hand and like the good cop he was had his sights trained on Nicolo.
“It is a shame , chere…” He was close enough to ram the gun down his throat. “I will do it if you grant me a small request.” His fingers tracing the picture and his face a thoughtful mask.
“What is it?” I watched him suspiciously as he crossed his legs, his long fingered hand tapping out the bouncy technopop rhythm on the arm of the chair and the other holding the photo.
“A dance, Chere.”
My mouth tightened. He wouldn’t do it if I didn’t agree. I knew this particular creature.
There was no bargaining.
I really didn’t want to touch him. Not only because he was a monster and a dead man but because he wouldn’t feel like one. He was old and powerful, one or the other or even both kept me from being able to place his age. One didn’t become the Master Vampire of Boston without being both. I’d never actually seen him in action though. He usually just snapped his perfectly manicured fingers and thing got… done. He was extremely intelligent, both cunning and book smart. I’d been trying to get a warrant for his execution for years. He always managed to wriggle of my hook. Finally we’d settled into and uneasy peace. He kept his creatures away from under-aged or the nonconsenting and I didn’t shoot him on sight.
“Miles, Do you have other leads?”
Miles grimaced his eyes still on the other vampires on the mezzanine. He looked at me then frowned. “You don’t have to do this, Nia. We don’t need his information.”
Miles was a bad liar.
“What kind of dance?”
“A lap dance” He murmured, an irritating grin crossing his face.
I stood up gun still in hand and turned to leave.
“Chere! Why are you such a prickly girl! A tango! A tango!”
“A chevral.” I said, it was type of dance where partners never came into contact with each other.
“A waltz.” He countered standing as well.
“Fine. We’ll waltz. No extraneous touching.” I growled. One has to make sure the rules are clearly defined with vampires else one ended up doing what the vamp wanted and thinking it your own bright idea.
Christian fell into a sweeping bow.
“As you will, mah Cherie.” I was instantly suspicious.
Christian studied the picture for a moment then he turned towards the handrail on the perimeter of the mezzanine. The vampire turned away, trying to hide the evidence of his power, hiding his inhumanity. A nice try, I sniffed dryly but I could feel the buildup of power. What the hell was he trying to do? I’d never felt anything like this from a vampire. It was like his essence was being drawn inward, gathered. His creatures even turned as one towards their master. I really hated this preternatural shit. People never believe me when I tell them how dangerous vampires can be. People figure that once you know something’s weaknesses they become harmless, that they’re all the same. Vampires had never been predictable I’ve never killed one didn’t have his own special whammy. Here was something completely new and surprising. In an occupation when new and surprising things tended to be fatal, one learned to hate surprises.
Christian drew in then flung something outward, his fingers splayed and arms open wide. The vamps around us jerked slightly and my hair actually ruffled a bit at its passing. The crawling sensation lay over my sink as though a net had been cast over me. Instantly I recoiled, my own power pushing against his ripping me free of Christian power. This caught the vampires attention causing him to look at me.
His eyes were completely blue, from lid to lid not a sliver of white to be seen. I could feel him looking at me through those eyes bled with power and hungry. As he took a step towards me I raised my gun taking a step back myself and backed right into Nicolo. The vamp gripped my shoulders tight enough that I cried out, the gun falling from my hands. Miles was still in the couch his breathing raspy at the short vampire from the basket held Miles with just hiss eyes, completely mesmerized. Christian took another step forward a slight unsteadiness in his step that I’ve never seen in a vampire, a twisted smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
I jerked trying to drop out of Nicolo’s grip. Thumbing in a holy water ampoule I spun around and jabbed the injector into Nicolo’s ear. He didn’t even have time to get up a proper scream as he fell to the floor scrabbling at his ear, the holy water had eaten away half his face before I had a chance to retrieve my gun. One flailing arm knocked me off my feet I instantly crouch and rolled. Instantly the two from the shadowy table were on me.
The first jumped practically across the room the black cloak he was wearing billowing out behind him. He landed, pinning my shoulder beneath his boot and grinding it into the carpeting. I grit my teeth, the pain clearing my mind completely as I flipped my legs almost over my head and kicked at his knee. The pressure lightened after a satisfying crunch. The vicious bastard then dragged me to my feet by the hair. He roared a blast of bloody breath and fang in my face. The second vamp was clinging to the ceiling, her hair streaming as she hissed, fangs bared.
I gripped his arm drew up both legs and kicked him as hard as I could in stomach. His grip loosed enough for me to jerk free. Unfortunately the vamp on the ceiling chose that moment to drop slamming me into floor. I barely got my arm up in time to shield my face from her fangs. Still her fangs sun into the wrist guard and pulled away the half gloves that covered the backs of my hands. My left wrist cross spilled out with a flash of white hot light and heat. The dark haired vampire reared back screeching as the cross flamed. She scrambled away as the metal cross linked to the leather wrist guards burned with holy fire.
Sweet Holy Father, Thank and praises.
I got to my feet and fetched both guns. The vampires in the room cowered and shied away one even hiding behind Christian who was coolly shading his eyes from the light coming from my crosses.
“You’ve made your point, Chere, please put them away.” He said, he looked pale and weak but he did not retreat. That made me angry. I stepped over Nicolo’s corpse, the holy water still eating away at his body like salt poured on a snail. The vampire who’d had made himself comfortable in Miles lap hissed at me and crawled away in a stream of angry French. I snapped my fingers near Miles face a few times until he blinked sleepily and looked at me with wide frightened eyes. With a curse I turned around and advanced on Christian. He didn’t back away until I was close enough to touch him with the crosses.
“I’m sorry, I did not order them to attack you.” Christian said in the kind of voice one used to speak to crazy people. I’m sure my face reflected the kind of mood I was in. “They will be punished.” The small one stood stock still at this. His shoulders bunching up as he climbed into the basket pulling the coverlets in it over his head. The one I’d kicked in the stomach simply looked blank. He grabbed Nicolo’s bubbling corpse and dragged it out of the room and down the steps. The other female vamp was crouched at Christian’s legs. Her features were vaguely Indian and the thick black hair pooled on the floor around her. She was crouched and her eyes turned away in pain from my out held crosses. At the mention of the word punishment her head swiveled slowly around to watch Christian with way a dog, who had been kicked too many times, watched its master.
“Please, Nia” He asked again shielding her slightly with his body. “I have the information you seek.”
I checked Miles who was still cleaning the cobwebs from his mind. He shrugged.
I gritted my teeth.
“Send them away.” I ordered. My eyes never leaving Christian’s face. There was no outward sign of the order but the Indian vampire rose as if on strings and walked over to where the basket sat. She hoisted the basket as though it weighed nothing at all then wandered down the steps on naked silent feet.
I took off the two I hand strapped to thermal wrist bands and tucked them into my purse. I had two more tucked away and I had my guns. I wasn’t going to loose them again.
“The vampire you seek is known as Claudius Raakov. He is not one of my brood but has been seen in the company of the woman in your photograph.” The soft French accented English amused as Miles scribbled it all down.
“He is a hard vampire to track down. But I have made the request that he join us at the club tomorrow.”
He paused as if waiting for applause.
I arched an eyebrow holstered my guns and turning to go.
“Right.” Miles wandered over to where I stood at the head of the stairs.
“Don’t you want to know how I know?” He looked a little crestfallen.
I arched the other eyebrow.
Miles shot an amused grin at the vampire and headed down the stairs.
I went to follow him.
“My dance, Chere.” He reached for my shoulder, my guns were out and cocked before his fingers brushed the bruises made by his now redeceased henchman.
“You promised.” He purred. I put the safety back on and sighed. The urge to tell him to fuck off was strong but breaking promises to vampires usually ended up badly.
I shrugged. My hair was trashed and where I got whacked on the arm from Nicolo’s death spasms was purpling nicely. He moved to pull the ruined ribbon from my curls. I cocked the left Rossi as a warning. He tugged it out slowly then slid his fingers into my hair at the temples and gently lifted and combed out the thick curls with his fingers. I could smell the smooth skin flushed with somebody else’s blood, his pecs under the flowy linen shirt he wore. He smelled like a man, not a monster, just a man. He was close. Too fucking close and didn’t have a clue why I didn’t put a hole in him for the familiarity.
“Let’s get this over with.” I growled and started down the stairs, so I didn’t have to see that damned cheeky grin of his.
“Chere, I feel I must warn you…” He sidled past Miles and took my arm.
“What now,” I said irritated.
“There are a few more reporters than I’d anticipated. “
“A few?” And with that he opened one of the side doors out of the stair well and we stepped into the gauntlet.
A blonde appeared and tucked her arm around Miles. Her hair was done in an elaborate coif that made my recently roughed up hair look like it had been tackled by a weed whacker. Then we were joined by another couple then a third. The Indian vampire had her arm nestled in the hands of some red headed vamp I could barely feel. He was looking at her with a ridiculously blissfully expression. She had probably made him.
I hoped it wasn’t voluntary. I wanted to stake her real bad but not as badly I wanted to kill the next vamp that joined our little group. The bruiser who had pulled on my hair, he was taller than I thought with thick black hack that was held up in impossible angles by gel moose or vampire magic. He was escorting a petite almost fragile looking creature in a long midnight blue dress. It was difficult to place the sex as she was completely flat in the front but because of the choice of dress I mentally append the female appositive. Her eyes were a bright green almost chartreuse, and her hair was grown long and the color of storm clouds, an icy grey blue. She looked young but perhaps that was because of her small stature and fragile bone structure.
I couldn’t really sense any of the vampires that surrounded me something about Christian’s presence clouded and diverted that magical awareness. This was public the media flocked around pointing cameras, microphones and questions at Christian there were even a few lobed at me. I slipped out of Christian’s arm headed back to where Miles stood looking uncomfortable. The blonde didn’t feel like a monster although I was in no condition to tell. Christian answered a few more questions and then just like that the reporters and photographers simply stopped asking questions. They filed passed much different that the wild inquisitive gaggle they’d been. The blank looks caused the hair on my arms to prickle. Christian had dismissed them.
“Thank you for making our little opening night such a startling success.” Christian stepped onto the elevated stage, holding the mic he’d been handed as the crowd settled right down. Heads swinging to face him as the spot light embraces his embarrassingly attractive figure. The music ramped down as the crowd yelled and applauded.
I stood in the shadows on the dance floor hoping he wasn’t planning what I though he was.
“You’ve been such a delicious audience..” he looked around on the word delicious, his mouth curving into a lush, sensual smile. I ripped my gaze away at the longing sight that rippled through the audience. Every single individual gazed in rapt attention at the master vampire. Mass hypnosis or just a display of power I couldn’t tell which but my skin prickled as I watched the audience follow his every flick of his long fingers and toss of his curls.
“…We at Hubris would like to thank the city of Boston for accepting us so readily into her arms.” His tongue flicked between his teeth touching his lips as he flashed a little fang. Someone screamed Christian’s name. I turned around horrified. They were treating the bastard like a rock star instead of the blood sucking monster he was. There was applause and whistles. One woman seemed to be on the verge of tears or hysterics. She was clinging to the stage her two friends trying to hold her back from climbing on. Before her shrieks and pleas could break Christian’s hold over the audience the burly bouncer from the door and another female vamp with short hair dyed bright platinum
gripped her arms as they touched her she went limp and they escorted the entire party out of the club.
Christian nodded and the DJ switched gears. The haunting strains of La Carmina Sangre filled the hall. Created by Lourdes Sabatini in 1467 for his vampire mistress the Carmina’s history was particularly filled with blood, misery and danger. The music was difficult to play, requiring vampiric speed and a sense of the dramatic only most passionate of musicians possessed.
As the opening flurry of notes echoed through the room, the other members of Christian’s retinue took up their scripted positions on the stage. I backed up quickly knowing exactly what was coming.
“Please, ma chere.” His hand held out and fingers curled slightly, a beatific smile gracing his classic features. I should have walked away, left him standing there in the middle of his entourage partner less and embarrassed but a promise was a promise. With vampires, someone’s word was usually the only thing keeping other throats from being torn out.
I took his hand and my place in the formation surrounded by vampires. Miles stood in the back still a little dazed from his encounter with the basket vamp. As the music rose, we began. Dancing with Christian was… difficult. I wasn’t about to look in his face for fear of having him roll my mind so I couldn’t anticipate his movements. Finally after stepping on his foot, he called my name.
“You are truly an exasperating creature, chere.” I ignored this, too busy trying to keep up with the complex steps.
“Look up, chere. No games, I promise.” He gripped my waist pulling me against him. The firm grip and the press of his solid chest, stomach and other parts startled me into looking at him eye to eye, they were just eyes, no sucking power bending me to his will. Just pretty blue eyes, stunning actually, even without power behind them, I swore and missed a step. Christian chuckled and his thumb caressed my palm. I felt it right through like fuzzy lightening.
“I thought you said no games.” I gasped, sure he’d done something preternatural to me, glaring furiously at him.
“Pardon me, Chere… I couldn’t help it.” I didn’t find his amusement one bit funny.
“You’re trying so hard….” He stopped speaking and looked as we turned as the dance required. I looked away at the dancers surrounding us.
Christian’s eyes were on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Chere. Had you not destroyed Nicolo, I would have myself.” His fingers moved from my waist to the shoulder where Nicolo had gripped me. His face concerned as he examined the bruises.
“It could have been worse. He could have ripped me in half. Plus he got his.” I let a cold evil grin slide onto my face.
Christian laughed.
“So fierce, Chere. Like a dragon,” He slipped the glove that hid the holy water injector up a bit.
“With a scorpion’s sting.” He frowned. “Is this what you used on Nicolo?” He frowned thoughtfully angling my wrist to see it better.
“Yeh.”
“Fascinating.” He murmured. I could see he was perplexed as to what exactly it was and I wasn’t planning on giving him the secret of the bumpy steel bracelet and needle arrangement on my wrist.
I tugged my wrist from his hand as the dancing swirled around us.
“Yes yes, I’m a dangerous woman. Raakov, who made him? What’s his gift?” I asked trying to fight the pleasurable response I was having from just touching him.
“Tomorrow will come soon enough, chere. Don’t distance yourself.” He murmurs, leading me past another set of table and spending a dazzling smile at Foley who was sitting dazed at one of the press tables near the stage.
“That’s not very fair of you.” I muttered. Foley was moonstruck. The term originally described this particular kind of vampire mind control that stimulated a love or heavy lust like reaction in vampire’s target. The magic was practiced so widely by certain vampires that the term began to crawl into popular usage.
Christian was a past master at this particular trick. The poor bastard didn’t even know what hit him. For some vamps it was as easy as a nod and a smile. Moonstrike victim would do anything to be near the vampire, the effects only lasted a short while but once struck the victim would be easier to charm the next time and the next until like a debilitating disease the only thing the victim was capable of thinking of was the vampire. Maljo, or the evil eye, was voodoo’s version of it.
”He bearded my lair, chere, asking all kinds of rude questions. Le jeunesse, the youth, they have no respect. Monsieur Foley would to well to remember with whom he deals.” Christian swept me into another dip and turn taking my breath away as he swept me up and down the wide dance floor. Twirling and dashing through the flurry of notes that marked the finale of the Carmina Sangre. We danced through few exciting moments where my mouth actually turned up at the corners and my feet raced through the complex fluttering steps of the dance. Christian was perfect, pinpoint perfect for every second every turn. When I dipped, he supported, when I dashed, he was their step for step, when I improvised, he was impressed and offered his own flourishes. He was a perfect partner. It was a shame he was so dead.
After the last swirling turn, the music slowly segued back into the bass driven techno. We stopped dancing and the group turned as one to bow to the audience. Christian’s right hand held firmly onto my left as though I was a flight risk which, truth be told, I was.
“Don’t worry there’s one person who will always know exactly what you are.” I said.
“You are the one person in the world I would have forget.” He flashes a look at me, if I didn’t know for a fact that vampires didn’t have souls or emotions I would have counted that look as sadness. But they don’t so I didn’t and chalked it up to Christian trying to get over on something or get something from me. He released my hand.
With a sweeping gesture, the vampire dancers rose as one towards the mezzanine balcony leaving the crowd to gap and applaud the preternatural grace of the monsters. They were graceful. I’ll give them that. I extracted Miles and left for my second appointment of the night.
The hummer’s clock said 1:40 am when I finally pulled up to Forest Hills Cemetery where Good Professor West was buried. The cemetery was a lot like others of its kind; modern with dark monuments and hills filled graves in neat well manicured rows. West’s party was already camped out at the freshly covered grave site in one of the remote corners of the cemetery.
As I pulled up and opened the door to my H2, the group clustered around the grave site turned and looking my way.
I turned off the Hummer and stepped onto the rough gravel paving the lane. The gown was gone. I’d changed into a black pull over and a pair of wide-legged black jeans and sneakers. The ensemble was warm, utilitarian and, if needed, I could run like a fire. This was a pretty important factor when dealing with zombies. As I grabbed the squawking, feather filled animal cage from the back of the truck. It was obvious that most of the group had never seen the dead raised, if they had there would have been a lot fewer 4 inch heels and more sneakers, oh and eyes searching out the quickest routes to their cars. I suppose it was a testament to my skill that they seemed pretty serene about the whole thing, like they were about to start a business meeting instead of bending the laws of the natural world. But then again, they’d never had to deal with zombies so angry at being raised that it managed to slip the traces of control, they never had to play find the body parts.
The group clustered around the grave consisted of about a handful of people. Two of them were estate lawyers only one I recognized. Jimmy James Jr. a streaked blonde Stanford Law graduate had created his own firm and had garnered many a .dotcom millionaire with his flashy white smile and dressed down style. He was ferocious with estate law under all that glitz managing to keep millions out of the hands of the undeserving or the unwilled. Standing next to him was a lawyer I didn’t know. She was about medium height and dark, maybe Puerto Rican. She was dressed in pressed slacks and a blazer and a nice shirt. She was however wearing track shoes; the smart cookie.
Mr. Raime was also there, God I disliked being his lawyer. He stood with his pudgy paws in his pockets chatting up an old man who looked about a hundred and twelve and not a happy hundred and twelve either. He seemed gaunt and the suit sagged over his frame like there wasn’t enough flesh stretched over the bones fill the suit out. Sparse white hair and age spots doted his wrinkled scalp and as I dropped the cage and the black knapsack containing rest of my tools. Even stooped he towered over James and his companion.
“Is this everyone?” I said dusting of my hands on the pair of black running pants i was wearing.
“Yes, Mzz Rayden. May I introduce, Houghton LaFleur of LaFleur House Antiques.” He nodded to the oldster standing next to him. Very few people had heard of LaFleur House, if you couldn’t find it at Southeby’s or Christie’s and didn’t sweat the moral and or legal stuff you went to LaFleur. I had to deal with them to reacquire an item belonging to my great grandmother. It took me 2 years to even find a name and another 2 years of legal threats to get them to hand the damn doll over. LaFleur looked up and I felt the urge to cross myself. The man was ever so slightly wrong. It was that slight preternatural pong that jangled my nerves. I broke eye contact immediately and nodded vowing to analyze what just happened later.
“Jimmy James and associate, we’re here on behalf of the West Estate.” He gave me a conspiratorial grin. “So excited to be here, I hear you’re one of the best in the business. We’ve never had to do a raising before!” Oh great… a lookie-loo, if he puked on my shoes there would come a reckoning. The dark haired legalista turned with a frown and stuck out her hand. “Dove Martinez-Sandoval.” Said the smart cookie, as she rolled her eyes. I shook it, her grip was excellent.
I nodded and pulled some rock salt and a sheathed a sacrificial knife from my knapsack and started sprinkling it in a circle silently praying the prayers Tante Juna taught me to bind and hold a zombie to the grave.
“Can everyone take like 3 giant steps backward?” They were crowding me, I hated that.
I finished with the preparations then took the knife and pulled on the pair of thick gloves. The chicken had settled down some from its ruffled state the. It was free range in fact I knew the owner of the farm that the little beast came from. I hated this part but this was what I’d been taught, a sacrifice of a small life to pull the greater one from the earth at least for a small time.
“What? No dancing naked in the moonlight?” I shot a withering look at Raime.
“No gris gris? Runes? Madamosielle? You can not expect to keep the zombie in with just a simple salt circle?” The old mans voice was as rich and robust as his face was old. It made me gape at the old man in surprise.
It was written all over his face that he thought he knew something about the business at hand. Antiques may have been his family business but death was mine.
“Sorry Mr LaFleur you’ve probably been exposed to what chicanery you’ve been exposed to but most of that stuff is only needed by charlatans and posers.” I shrugged as his eyes narrowed. I hoped I hadn’t offended him. I plucked a blade of grass from the carpet of moon lit green and tested my knife.
The chicken clucked in the wire mesh cage, fluttering and reaching at the handful of grain I held neared the cage. I fed it carefully, silently saying a soft pray for its soul and mine then placed a bowl on the ground just touching the cage and the remainder of the grain in a little pile beyond it as the chicken stretched out its throat, the razor sharp k-bard drew across its throat. It died soundlessly. I gripped the neck tightly against the bars of the cage as steaming blood poured into the bowl. I held the poor thing until it was just a lump of meat. The bowl was filled and I took the chicken’s carcass and quickly wrapped it in brown paper and string then plastic.
The good professor’s headstone was new and clean attesting to the freshness of his corpse, I flicked a few drops onto the headstone and recited one incantation under my breath then slowly reworked the counterclockwise in blood as the last drop was spilt the circle’s power slipped into being. Is was as subtle as the last calm breath of someone dieing in their sleep. Withinthe circle I could feel everything. Everything. Living or dead. It was like a great miasma of being the darkness was tinged with barely visible rainbows. Ms. Sandoval quickly removed herself from the circle. She was probably sensitive if not possessing power herself. Jimmy James seemed blissfully unaware of the power flowing through the circle as was Raime. LaFleur however…
I eyed him again fighting the urge to use my awareness to focus on him. Something warm touched the back of my hand that held the bowl. Looking down I noticed that the blood was trying to crawl up the sides of the bowl and onto my hand. Freeing the excited power and sending it down into the ground to find the remains of Samah West was as simple as tipping the bowl. It wasn’t anywhere near a whole skeleton. What ever had gotten to him had taken him apart more completely than a forensic surgeon. The power only found about half the pieces. He was missing an arm and a leg several ribs a part of his pelvis. I winced. But finally from that jigsaw puzzle I found the pieces that were needed. The mandible and the skull and brain were pretty much intact. The blood sloshed and I took a couple of quick steps towards the grave.
“Samah West,” I commanded, voice #16 for raising the undead. The bones shifted slightly in the casket the body tried to pull itself into some kind of working order but the jumble was too great. I called again.
“Samah West rise…” I threw half of the remaining chicken blood onto the grave willing the bones that were in the casket to pull together and the mutilated flesh to cover what was left. Sometimes freshly raised corpses didn’t look too bad. Especially before the rot set in and they’d been embalmed properly. This was not going to be a pretty zombie. The severely damaged corpse had to be eased from the graves grip. A soft call would be best.
“Samah West, I call you.” I murmured sprinking a bit more of the blood onto the earth. The hunger flared and I could see feel when the weeks-dead corpse opened it’s eye.
As West pulled himself from the grave in search of the blood I had spilled, the four witnesses behind me drew in breath. Samah was in bad shape, very bad shape even for a dead guy. I rushed through the binding ceremony because it looked like the open grave would pull the corpse back into its embrace at any second.
I called Samah’s name in the binding ceremony, one eye had been destroyed the other a sickly gray half deflated bag that swiveled in the socket as i called his name. Straggly strands of dirty brown hair clung to where ever the scalp. A huge gash had ripped part of the scalp away. The soft thud thud of retreating feet on grass snagged my attention for second.
“I bind you, Samah West.” I brought my power to bear as I smeared a bit of the blood from the bowl on his ruined mouth. “I bind you to this grave and this place with blood and the proper sacrifices.” His one good eye was now tracking the bowl, nice zombie, good zombie.
“Can you speak, Samah?” The hunger, the need for blood that all zombies require to go on as undead, the reason why they kill and feed on anything living if they manage to slip their binding, was riding him. I allowed him to sip from the bowl the ordered him to stop.
“Can you speak, Samah West?”
“I can.” His voice was rasped and grindy, the sound made as it was from vocal cords all but destroyed by screaming. The zombie looked down and whispered. “Where’s my arm?” The terror rising from the zombie was palpable, quickly using the power to calm it and sooth away the man’s last horrific memories I quickly motioned to the lawyers.
“He’s sane. I’m suppressing his last memories and calming him but I can’t keep at it for long. Ask what you need to.”
Sandoval stepped up.
“Professor West?”
“Ah the pretty estate lawyer.” He tried to smile through his ruined mouth. A couple of tendons snapped and she winced but nodded. Flirty to the end the professor had satisfied her that legally it was him talking and not just the voodoo. This made everything nice and legally binding.
“Professor, we need to know what happened to this object.” She slipped a picture of a small extremely ugly statuette from a manilla file.
“Oh… heh Mr Funkyface, that what Nina called it. I wasn’t finished studying it though… It.. umm…” The destroyed face looked down.
“Something bad has happened hasn’t it.” He murmurs. “Nia.” He looked at me fear rising in his face.
“Are my kids… are they okay?”
“They’re okay professor. They love you very much.” I murmured trying to be soothing.
“The statue? Ellie’s statue.” Raime prompted impatience in his voice.
Samah blinked and shot the fat banker a look of extreme distaste.
“Ellie came and took it from me a few days ago… a…a few days..”
“He’s lying.” Ramie scowled his voice taking on a desperate taint.
“This is a zombie, Ramie. They can’t lie.” Came LaFleurs deep voice. “There’s no motivation, they have nothing to hide. No soul. Just the truth.” I felt rather than heard LaFleur cross the threshold of my circle.
“Another dead end Raime. You’re trying my patience.” Raime also hustled across the threshold hurry after the old man.
“I’ll ask Ellie again, Mr. LaFleur. We’ll get to the bottom of this I promise you.” Gone was every scrap of bluster and bravado. The banker even held the door of LaFleurs sleek sedan open for the older man. We knew who was holding Mr. Raime’s leash.
Christian lay pressed up against a chaise lounge watching the surging crowd with the interest a cat might show a pond filled with koi. He was draped over the arm of the chaise. A crystal goblet filled with some dark liquid dangled in one hand. He was completely at leisure. His right leg curled under his left and his wrist rested on his right knee. His lower body was encased in night, the black velvet looked painted on and left very little to the imagination. He wore calf high boots that gleamed in the softer lighting of Hubris’ lounge. The same outfit as in the elevator. The vampire shimmered as if almost too alive. His skin glowed with health the thick blond hair lay in glossy waves about his shoulders and spilled down the couch. The creature had feed and by the sheer energy being given off, it had been recently and with great vigor.
I kept my eyes on his neatly manicured hands and away from the sucking sky blue void of his eyes. He shifted his attention to me, I noticed this by the change pressure, almost a tingling up my arms and in my blood. I was alive and he was dead. It was as simple as that. I knew it in my blood, flesh and bones. The magic that kept him walking and talking called to mine and mine returned call.
There were a few other vamps in the room, all seated in various poses of recline but none shed as much power as he did. It was almost as if had I closed my eyes I would see his power rolling off him like the mist you got when dry ice melted or a thermal signature. There was a man kneeling before the master like a supplicant, impeccably dressed with a recorder in his hands. Christian was speaking, his low rolling voice holding the reporter rapt. He was explaining the premise of the club. And why he’d chosen the theme.
“…and we certainly welcome all of our human friends to join us in celebration 8 to 3am. Thank you for the interview Mr. Foley, and please feel free to make use of any of the facilities, gratis. And I hope to see you again.” The dark dangerous smile that graced Christian’s lips seems to draw Foley forward. The plush lips curved up and he said a little more sharply. “Thank you. Mr Foley.” Foley jerked once and stood quickly a pounding crescendo of music obliterating his reply. The reporter brushed past and hurried down the stairs. I frowned as I caught a look at his face recognizing the features even though they were as white as a sheet of fresh paper. It was Jack Foley entertainment reporter for the Boston Herald. Unfortunately I didn’t have much time to wonder what game Christian was playing with the young reporter.
“Mah chere Noire! I knew you could not resist me.” He stood from the chaise in one ripping motion, much too graceful to be human and put out his hands to take mine. I backed away quickly wanting as much distance between me and monsters. The action was simply force of habit but his crestfallen look didn’t elicit an ounce of pity from me. Especially since I was sure the drowned kitten pout was faked. The monsters scattered around the room looked up in interest. There were at least four that I could see including Nicolo standing near the stair well we had just come up.
“Tell Niccolo to move away from the exit.” I said my voice low but loud enough I knew for every supernatural creature in the room to hear. Vamps could hear a pin drop in a rain storm.
He dropped his hands.
“I am so pleased you chose to take me up on my invitation, ma chere, and you do look incroixible. This is a… breathtaking dress.” His eyes stopped at my cleavage as he put the fluted glass on the low end table next to the chaise. I grit my teeth. I warned myself over and over. Secure the exit, first. Mouth off later. This was another bit of favored advice from LaGrange.
“Nicolo. Away from the stairwell.”
“Ma chere!” He pouted. “I invited you here as my guest!” His tone was as silky as it was sulky.
“Now.” I said frostily.
“You are a hard woman, chere. As you like. What ever you like.” His emphasis on the last sentence was dripping with innuendo. He nodded slightly and Nicolo backed away. Now all five vampires in the room that I could sense were in my field of vision. That was the only way I did business.
“Now ma chere… why did you bring your pet policeman on our date?”
I grit my teeth.
“We are not on a date.” I spat linking my left arm resolutely around Miles right. I needed my right hand free for my gun.
“It is a shame…” He licked his lips as he closed a little more of the distance between us. “I know how difficult it is for you to keep your hands off of my person, chere. It would have been a wonderful night.” Miles hand on my arm tightened as I tensed bodily hauling me back. I could tell he was angry too. But not angry enough to jeapordize what ever information we could get from the dead bastard.
“Yes… like that chere, when you bare your teeth like that it’s particularly arousing.” His eyes lit and physically had to draw my temper back under control.
“Mr St. Justain. Nia and I would like to ask you a few questions about a case.” He said managing politeness where I couldn’t even dredged up a sound around the lump of fury in my throat. He’d fooled me once, along time ago. I hated feeling like anyone’s fool. It was an unsettled score with this particular monster. He’d get his.
“For my chere? Anything, monsieur policeman, please, have a seat.” I was still swallowing down my rage as St. Justain plopped into the lounge chair facing a larger table. It was such a normal human action it wanted to shoot him on the spot. He was dead but he could pass for human. I hated him for that.
I sat carefully to the diagonal of St. Justain’s chair having maneuvered so that I could watch him without being in direct eye contact.
“Do you recognize this woman?” Miles pulled out a photo of a thin woman with long straight blonde hair. The woman was smiling faintly with a misty look in her eyes. She had a small mouth and a long thin nose. Was this the corpse? She looked like a socialite with straight even teeth and wearing expensive looking pastels. He handed the photo to Christian, He held out the picture and Christian traced his fingers down Miles’ palm before plucking the photo from his fingers. I applauded Miles for not flinching; he’d seen a lot of vampire games. I’d shielded him for most of the really sick shit they get up to but he’d seen enough as a cop that little touchie didn’t faze him. Christian stared at the photo a moment.
“Non,” Christian handed the photo back with a Gallic shrug. I intercepted the photograph and handed it back to him.
“Ask around.” I arched one eyebrow and put as much menace in my tone as possible.
“Is she not an endless delight?” The vampire flashed his fangs at Miles, who had tensed in the couch next to me. The flashing strobe lights and low rumble of base added an element of menace that simply wasn’t accidental. I relaxed and slowly reached for the right Rossi. I’d have to shoot through the skirt to get him; it prickled because I looked damned good in it. Preserving a dress just wasn’t worth my life.
“Chere, you’re manners are atrocious.”
“Ask around….please.” I ground out. If it would keep what happened to this woman from happening to anyone else, I was willing to play nice with the monsters.
He moved, one hand flat on the table one knee pressed against the black lacquered table top. His hair spilled across his face obscuring and softening his features behind a golden veil. Eyes away, eyes away! I reminded myself pulling my gun discreetly from its holster and clicking the safety off under the skirt. He reached forward again fingers brushing against my knee. Cold prickles raised goose bumps on my arms and neck. I pressed the muzzle of the gun against his forehead.
“Touch me again and I’ll plaster your brains against yon far wall.” I murmured. “And tell your folks to take a couple of giant steps back.”
He pouted and made an away motion with his fingers. I could tell that Nicolo who had been close enough to break my neck move back reluctantly. It was too dark to make out their features. One was small and very slim from what I could see. He was curled up in something that looked like a giant dog basket. The other was taller about medium height and seated in a dark shadow with the third who seemed on the stocky side but I couldn’t be sure. I couldn’t see them but I could feel them like cold currents in a room, vampiric drafts pulling at the warmth and life of the patrons on the dance floor below.
The small one returned to his basket and the other two regained their chairs.
Christian picked up the picture from where it had fallen on the couch between Miles and I. Miles had in his piece in hand and like the good cop he was had his sights trained on Nicolo.
“It is a shame , chere…” He was close enough to ram the gun down his throat. “I will do it if you grant me a small request.” His fingers tracing the picture and his face a thoughtful mask.
“What is it?” I watched him suspiciously as he crossed his legs, his long fingered hand tapping out the bouncy technopop rhythm on the arm of the chair and the other holding the photo.
“A dance, Chere.”
My mouth tightened. He wouldn’t do it if I didn’t agree. I knew this particular creature.
There was no bargaining.
I really didn’t want to touch him. Not only because he was a monster and a dead man but because he wouldn’t feel like one. He was old and powerful, one or the other or even both kept me from being able to place his age. One didn’t become the Master Vampire of Boston without being both. I’d never actually seen him in action though. He usually just snapped his perfectly manicured fingers and thing got… done. He was extremely intelligent, both cunning and book smart. I’d been trying to get a warrant for his execution for years. He always managed to wriggle of my hook. Finally we’d settled into and uneasy peace. He kept his creatures away from under-aged or the nonconsenting and I didn’t shoot him on sight.
“Miles, Do you have other leads?”
Miles grimaced his eyes still on the other vampires on the mezzanine. He looked at me then frowned. “You don’t have to do this, Nia. We don’t need his information.”
Miles was a bad liar.
“What kind of dance?”
“A lap dance” He murmured, an irritating grin crossing his face.
I stood up gun still in hand and turned to leave.
“Chere! Why are you such a prickly girl! A tango! A tango!”
“A chevral.” I said, it was type of dance where partners never came into contact with each other.
“A waltz.” He countered standing as well.
“Fine. We’ll waltz. No extraneous touching.” I growled. One has to make sure the rules are clearly defined with vampires else one ended up doing what the vamp wanted and thinking it your own bright idea.
Christian fell into a sweeping bow.
“As you will, mah Cherie.” I was instantly suspicious.
Christian studied the picture for a moment then he turned towards the handrail on the perimeter of the mezzanine. The vampire turned away, trying to hide the evidence of his power, hiding his inhumanity. A nice try, I sniffed dryly but I could feel the buildup of power. What the hell was he trying to do? I’d never felt anything like this from a vampire. It was like his essence was being drawn inward, gathered. His creatures even turned as one towards their master. I really hated this preternatural shit. People never believe me when I tell them how dangerous vampires can be. People figure that once you know something’s weaknesses they become harmless, that they’re all the same. Vampires had never been predictable I’ve never killed one didn’t have his own special whammy. Here was something completely new and surprising. In an occupation when new and surprising things tended to be fatal, one learned to hate surprises.
Christian drew in then flung something outward, his fingers splayed and arms open wide. The vamps around us jerked slightly and my hair actually ruffled a bit at its passing. The crawling sensation lay over my sink as though a net had been cast over me. Instantly I recoiled, my own power pushing against his ripping me free of Christian power. This caught the vampires attention causing him to look at me.
His eyes were completely blue, from lid to lid not a sliver of white to be seen. I could feel him looking at me through those eyes bled with power and hungry. As he took a step towards me I raised my gun taking a step back myself and backed right into Nicolo. The vamp gripped my shoulders tight enough that I cried out, the gun falling from my hands. Miles was still in the couch his breathing raspy at the short vampire from the basket held Miles with just hiss eyes, completely mesmerized. Christian took another step forward a slight unsteadiness in his step that I’ve never seen in a vampire, a twisted smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
I jerked trying to drop out of Nicolo’s grip. Thumbing in a holy water ampoule I spun around and jabbed the injector into Nicolo’s ear. He didn’t even have time to get up a proper scream as he fell to the floor scrabbling at his ear, the holy water had eaten away half his face before I had a chance to retrieve my gun. One flailing arm knocked me off my feet I instantly crouch and rolled. Instantly the two from the shadowy table were on me.
The first jumped practically across the room the black cloak he was wearing billowing out behind him. He landed, pinning my shoulder beneath his boot and grinding it into the carpeting. I grit my teeth, the pain clearing my mind completely as I flipped my legs almost over my head and kicked at his knee. The pressure lightened after a satisfying crunch. The vicious bastard then dragged me to my feet by the hair. He roared a blast of bloody breath and fang in my face. The second vamp was clinging to the ceiling, her hair streaming as she hissed, fangs bared.
I gripped his arm drew up both legs and kicked him as hard as I could in stomach. His grip loosed enough for me to jerk free. Unfortunately the vamp on the ceiling chose that moment to drop slamming me into floor. I barely got my arm up in time to shield my face from her fangs. Still her fangs sun into the wrist guard and pulled away the half gloves that covered the backs of my hands. My left wrist cross spilled out with a flash of white hot light and heat. The dark haired vampire reared back screeching as the cross flamed. She scrambled away as the metal cross linked to the leather wrist guards burned with holy fire.
Sweet Holy Father, Thank and praises.
I got to my feet and fetched both guns. The vampires in the room cowered and shied away one even hiding behind Christian who was coolly shading his eyes from the light coming from my crosses.
“You’ve made your point, Chere, please put them away.” He said, he looked pale and weak but he did not retreat. That made me angry. I stepped over Nicolo’s corpse, the holy water still eating away at his body like salt poured on a snail. The vampire who’d had made himself comfortable in Miles lap hissed at me and crawled away in a stream of angry French. I snapped my fingers near Miles face a few times until he blinked sleepily and looked at me with wide frightened eyes. With a curse I turned around and advanced on Christian. He didn’t back away until I was close enough to touch him with the crosses.
“I’m sorry, I did not order them to attack you.” Christian said in the kind of voice one used to speak to crazy people. I’m sure my face reflected the kind of mood I was in. “They will be punished.” The small one stood stock still at this. His shoulders bunching up as he climbed into the basket pulling the coverlets in it over his head. The one I’d kicked in the stomach simply looked blank. He grabbed Nicolo’s bubbling corpse and dragged it out of the room and down the steps. The other female vamp was crouched at Christian’s legs. Her features were vaguely Indian and the thick black hair pooled on the floor around her. She was crouched and her eyes turned away in pain from my out held crosses. At the mention of the word punishment her head swiveled slowly around to watch Christian with way a dog, who had been kicked too many times, watched its master.
“Please, Nia” He asked again shielding her slightly with his body. “I have the information you seek.”
I checked Miles who was still cleaning the cobwebs from his mind. He shrugged.
I gritted my teeth.
“Send them away.” I ordered. My eyes never leaving Christian’s face. There was no outward sign of the order but the Indian vampire rose as if on strings and walked over to where the basket sat. She hoisted the basket as though it weighed nothing at all then wandered down the steps on naked silent feet.
I took off the two I hand strapped to thermal wrist bands and tucked them into my purse. I had two more tucked away and I had my guns. I wasn’t going to loose them again.
“The vampire you seek is known as Claudius Raakov. He is not one of my brood but has been seen in the company of the woman in your photograph.” The soft French accented English amused as Miles scribbled it all down.
“He is a hard vampire to track down. But I have made the request that he join us at the club tomorrow.”
He paused as if waiting for applause.
I arched an eyebrow holstered my guns and turning to go.
“Right.” Miles wandered over to where I stood at the head of the stairs.
“Don’t you want to know how I know?” He looked a little crestfallen.
I arched the other eyebrow.
Miles shot an amused grin at the vampire and headed down the stairs.
I went to follow him.
“My dance, Chere.” He reached for my shoulder, my guns were out and cocked before his fingers brushed the bruises made by his now redeceased henchman.
“You promised.” He purred. I put the safety back on and sighed. The urge to tell him to fuck off was strong but breaking promises to vampires usually ended up badly.
I shrugged. My hair was trashed and where I got whacked on the arm from Nicolo’s death spasms was purpling nicely. He moved to pull the ruined ribbon from my curls. I cocked the left Rossi as a warning. He tugged it out slowly then slid his fingers into my hair at the temples and gently lifted and combed out the thick curls with his fingers. I could smell the smooth skin flushed with somebody else’s blood, his pecs under the flowy linen shirt he wore. He smelled like a man, not a monster, just a man. He was close. Too fucking close and didn’t have a clue why I didn’t put a hole in him for the familiarity.
“Let’s get this over with.” I growled and started down the stairs, so I didn’t have to see that damned cheeky grin of his.
“Chere, I feel I must warn you…” He sidled past Miles and took my arm.
“What now,” I said irritated.
“There are a few more reporters than I’d anticipated. “
“A few?” And with that he opened one of the side doors out of the stair well and we stepped into the gauntlet.
A blonde appeared and tucked her arm around Miles. Her hair was done in an elaborate coif that made my recently roughed up hair look like it had been tackled by a weed whacker. Then we were joined by another couple then a third. The Indian vampire had her arm nestled in the hands of some red headed vamp I could barely feel. He was looking at her with a ridiculously blissfully expression. She had probably made him.
I hoped it wasn’t voluntary. I wanted to stake her real bad but not as badly I wanted to kill the next vamp that joined our little group. The bruiser who had pulled on my hair, he was taller than I thought with thick black hack that was held up in impossible angles by gel moose or vampire magic. He was escorting a petite almost fragile looking creature in a long midnight blue dress. It was difficult to place the sex as she was completely flat in the front but because of the choice of dress I mentally append the female appositive. Her eyes were a bright green almost chartreuse, and her hair was grown long and the color of storm clouds, an icy grey blue. She looked young but perhaps that was because of her small stature and fragile bone structure.
I couldn’t really sense any of the vampires that surrounded me something about Christian’s presence clouded and diverted that magical awareness. This was public the media flocked around pointing cameras, microphones and questions at Christian there were even a few lobed at me. I slipped out of Christian’s arm headed back to where Miles stood looking uncomfortable. The blonde didn’t feel like a monster although I was in no condition to tell. Christian answered a few more questions and then just like that the reporters and photographers simply stopped asking questions. They filed passed much different that the wild inquisitive gaggle they’d been. The blank looks caused the hair on my arms to prickle. Christian had dismissed them.
“Thank you for making our little opening night such a startling success.” Christian stepped onto the elevated stage, holding the mic he’d been handed as the crowd settled right down. Heads swinging to face him as the spot light embraces his embarrassingly attractive figure. The music ramped down as the crowd yelled and applauded.
I stood in the shadows on the dance floor hoping he wasn’t planning what I though he was.
“You’ve been such a delicious audience..” he looked around on the word delicious, his mouth curving into a lush, sensual smile. I ripped my gaze away at the longing sight that rippled through the audience. Every single individual gazed in rapt attention at the master vampire. Mass hypnosis or just a display of power I couldn’t tell which but my skin prickled as I watched the audience follow his every flick of his long fingers and toss of his curls.
“…We at Hubris would like to thank the city of Boston for accepting us so readily into her arms.” His tongue flicked between his teeth touching his lips as he flashed a little fang. Someone screamed Christian’s name. I turned around horrified. They were treating the bastard like a rock star instead of the blood sucking monster he was. There was applause and whistles. One woman seemed to be on the verge of tears or hysterics. She was clinging to the stage her two friends trying to hold her back from climbing on. Before her shrieks and pleas could break Christian’s hold over the audience the burly bouncer from the door and another female vamp with short hair dyed bright platinum
gripped her arms as they touched her she went limp and they escorted the entire party out of the club.
Christian nodded and the DJ switched gears. The haunting strains of La Carmina Sangre filled the hall. Created by Lourdes Sabatini in 1467 for his vampire mistress the Carmina’s history was particularly filled with blood, misery and danger. The music was difficult to play, requiring vampiric speed and a sense of the dramatic only most passionate of musicians possessed.
As the opening flurry of notes echoed through the room, the other members of Christian’s retinue took up their scripted positions on the stage. I backed up quickly knowing exactly what was coming.
“Please, ma chere.” His hand held out and fingers curled slightly, a beatific smile gracing his classic features. I should have walked away, left him standing there in the middle of his entourage partner less and embarrassed but a promise was a promise. With vampires, someone’s word was usually the only thing keeping other throats from being torn out.
I took his hand and my place in the formation surrounded by vampires. Miles stood in the back still a little dazed from his encounter with the basket vamp. As the music rose, we began. Dancing with Christian was… difficult. I wasn’t about to look in his face for fear of having him roll my mind so I couldn’t anticipate his movements. Finally after stepping on his foot, he called my name.
“You are truly an exasperating creature, chere.” I ignored this, too busy trying to keep up with the complex steps.
“Look up, chere. No games, I promise.” He gripped my waist pulling me against him. The firm grip and the press of his solid chest, stomach and other parts startled me into looking at him eye to eye, they were just eyes, no sucking power bending me to his will. Just pretty blue eyes, stunning actually, even without power behind them, I swore and missed a step. Christian chuckled and his thumb caressed my palm. I felt it right through like fuzzy lightening.
“I thought you said no games.” I gasped, sure he’d done something preternatural to me, glaring furiously at him.
“Pardon me, Chere… I couldn’t help it.” I didn’t find his amusement one bit funny.
“You’re trying so hard….” He stopped speaking and looked as we turned as the dance required. I looked away at the dancers surrounding us.
Christian’s eyes were on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Chere. Had you not destroyed Nicolo, I would have myself.” His fingers moved from my waist to the shoulder where Nicolo had gripped me. His face concerned as he examined the bruises.
“It could have been worse. He could have ripped me in half. Plus he got his.” I let a cold evil grin slide onto my face.
Christian laughed.
“So fierce, Chere. Like a dragon,” He slipped the glove that hid the holy water injector up a bit.
“With a scorpion’s sting.” He frowned. “Is this what you used on Nicolo?” He frowned thoughtfully angling my wrist to see it better.
“Yeh.”
“Fascinating.” He murmured. I could see he was perplexed as to what exactly it was and I wasn’t planning on giving him the secret of the bumpy steel bracelet and needle arrangement on my wrist.
I tugged my wrist from his hand as the dancing swirled around us.
“Yes yes, I’m a dangerous woman. Raakov, who made him? What’s his gift?” I asked trying to fight the pleasurable response I was having from just touching him.
“Tomorrow will come soon enough, chere. Don’t distance yourself.” He murmurs, leading me past another set of table and spending a dazzling smile at Foley who was sitting dazed at one of the press tables near the stage.
“That’s not very fair of you.” I muttered. Foley was moonstruck. The term originally described this particular kind of vampire mind control that stimulated a love or heavy lust like reaction in vampire’s target. The magic was practiced so widely by certain vampires that the term began to crawl into popular usage.
Christian was a past master at this particular trick. The poor bastard didn’t even know what hit him. For some vamps it was as easy as a nod and a smile. Moonstrike victim would do anything to be near the vampire, the effects only lasted a short while but once struck the victim would be easier to charm the next time and the next until like a debilitating disease the only thing the victim was capable of thinking of was the vampire. Maljo, or the evil eye, was voodoo’s version of it.
”He bearded my lair, chere, asking all kinds of rude questions. Le jeunesse, the youth, they have no respect. Monsieur Foley would to well to remember with whom he deals.” Christian swept me into another dip and turn taking my breath away as he swept me up and down the wide dance floor. Twirling and dashing through the flurry of notes that marked the finale of the Carmina Sangre. We danced through few exciting moments where my mouth actually turned up at the corners and my feet raced through the complex fluttering steps of the dance. Christian was perfect, pinpoint perfect for every second every turn. When I dipped, he supported, when I dashed, he was their step for step, when I improvised, he was impressed and offered his own flourishes. He was a perfect partner. It was a shame he was so dead.
After the last swirling turn, the music slowly segued back into the bass driven techno. We stopped dancing and the group turned as one to bow to the audience. Christian’s right hand held firmly onto my left as though I was a flight risk which, truth be told, I was.
“Don’t worry there’s one person who will always know exactly what you are.” I said.
“You are the one person in the world I would have forget.” He flashes a look at me, if I didn’t know for a fact that vampires didn’t have souls or emotions I would have counted that look as sadness. But they don’t so I didn’t and chalked it up to Christian trying to get over on something or get something from me. He released my hand.
With a sweeping gesture, the vampire dancers rose as one towards the mezzanine balcony leaving the crowd to gap and applaud the preternatural grace of the monsters. They were graceful. I’ll give them that. I extracted Miles and left for my second appointment of the night.
The hummer’s clock said 1:40 am when I finally pulled up to Forest Hills Cemetery where Good Professor West was buried. The cemetery was a lot like others of its kind; modern with dark monuments and hills filled graves in neat well manicured rows. West’s party was already camped out at the freshly covered grave site in one of the remote corners of the cemetery.
As I pulled up and opened the door to my H2, the group clustered around the grave site turned and looking my way.
I turned off the Hummer and stepped onto the rough gravel paving the lane. The gown was gone. I’d changed into a black pull over and a pair of wide-legged black jeans and sneakers. The ensemble was warm, utilitarian and, if needed, I could run like a fire. This was a pretty important factor when dealing with zombies. As I grabbed the squawking, feather filled animal cage from the back of the truck. It was obvious that most of the group had never seen the dead raised, if they had there would have been a lot fewer 4 inch heels and more sneakers, oh and eyes searching out the quickest routes to their cars. I suppose it was a testament to my skill that they seemed pretty serene about the whole thing, like they were about to start a business meeting instead of bending the laws of the natural world. But then again, they’d never had to deal with zombies so angry at being raised that it managed to slip the traces of control, they never had to play find the body parts.
The group clustered around the grave consisted of about a handful of people. Two of them were estate lawyers only one I recognized. Jimmy James Jr. a streaked blonde Stanford Law graduate had created his own firm and had garnered many a .dotcom millionaire with his flashy white smile and dressed down style. He was ferocious with estate law under all that glitz managing to keep millions out of the hands of the undeserving or the unwilled. Standing next to him was a lawyer I didn’t know. She was about medium height and dark, maybe Puerto Rican. She was dressed in pressed slacks and a blazer and a nice shirt. She was however wearing track shoes; the smart cookie.
Mr. Raime was also there, God I disliked being his lawyer. He stood with his pudgy paws in his pockets chatting up an old man who looked about a hundred and twelve and not a happy hundred and twelve either. He seemed gaunt and the suit sagged over his frame like there wasn’t enough flesh stretched over the bones fill the suit out. Sparse white hair and age spots doted his wrinkled scalp and as I dropped the cage and the black knapsack containing rest of my tools. Even stooped he towered over James and his companion.
“Is this everyone?” I said dusting of my hands on the pair of black running pants i was wearing.
“Yes, Mzz Rayden. May I introduce, Houghton LaFleur of LaFleur House Antiques.” He nodded to the oldster standing next to him. Very few people had heard of LaFleur House, if you couldn’t find it at Southeby’s or Christie’s and didn’t sweat the moral and or legal stuff you went to LaFleur. I had to deal with them to reacquire an item belonging to my great grandmother. It took me 2 years to even find a name and another 2 years of legal threats to get them to hand the damn doll over. LaFleur looked up and I felt the urge to cross myself. The man was ever so slightly wrong. It was that slight preternatural pong that jangled my nerves. I broke eye contact immediately and nodded vowing to analyze what just happened later.
“Jimmy James and associate, we’re here on behalf of the West Estate.” He gave me a conspiratorial grin. “So excited to be here, I hear you’re one of the best in the business. We’ve never had to do a raising before!” Oh great… a lookie-loo, if he puked on my shoes there would come a reckoning. The dark haired legalista turned with a frown and stuck out her hand. “Dove Martinez-Sandoval.” Said the smart cookie, as she rolled her eyes. I shook it, her grip was excellent.
I nodded and pulled some rock salt and a sheathed a sacrificial knife from my knapsack and started sprinkling it in a circle silently praying the prayers Tante Juna taught me to bind and hold a zombie to the grave.
“Can everyone take like 3 giant steps backward?” They were crowding me, I hated that.
I finished with the preparations then took the knife and pulled on the pair of thick gloves. The chicken had settled down some from its ruffled state the. It was free range in fact I knew the owner of the farm that the little beast came from. I hated this part but this was what I’d been taught, a sacrifice of a small life to pull the greater one from the earth at least for a small time.
“What? No dancing naked in the moonlight?” I shot a withering look at Raime.
“No gris gris? Runes? Madamosielle? You can not expect to keep the zombie in with just a simple salt circle?” The old mans voice was as rich and robust as his face was old. It made me gape at the old man in surprise.
It was written all over his face that he thought he knew something about the business at hand. Antiques may have been his family business but death was mine.
“Sorry Mr LaFleur you’ve probably been exposed to what chicanery you’ve been exposed to but most of that stuff is only needed by charlatans and posers.” I shrugged as his eyes narrowed. I hoped I hadn’t offended him. I plucked a blade of grass from the carpet of moon lit green and tested my knife.
The chicken clucked in the wire mesh cage, fluttering and reaching at the handful of grain I held neared the cage. I fed it carefully, silently saying a soft pray for its soul and mine then placed a bowl on the ground just touching the cage and the remainder of the grain in a little pile beyond it as the chicken stretched out its throat, the razor sharp k-bard drew across its throat. It died soundlessly. I gripped the neck tightly against the bars of the cage as steaming blood poured into the bowl. I held the poor thing until it was just a lump of meat. The bowl was filled and I took the chicken’s carcass and quickly wrapped it in brown paper and string then plastic.
The good professor’s headstone was new and clean attesting to the freshness of his corpse, I flicked a few drops onto the headstone and recited one incantation under my breath then slowly reworked the counterclockwise in blood as the last drop was spilt the circle’s power slipped into being. Is was as subtle as the last calm breath of someone dieing in their sleep. Withinthe circle I could feel everything. Everything. Living or dead. It was like a great miasma of being the darkness was tinged with barely visible rainbows. Ms. Sandoval quickly removed herself from the circle. She was probably sensitive if not possessing power herself. Jimmy James seemed blissfully unaware of the power flowing through the circle as was Raime. LaFleur however…
I eyed him again fighting the urge to use my awareness to focus on him. Something warm touched the back of my hand that held the bowl. Looking down I noticed that the blood was trying to crawl up the sides of the bowl and onto my hand. Freeing the excited power and sending it down into the ground to find the remains of Samah West was as simple as tipping the bowl. It wasn’t anywhere near a whole skeleton. What ever had gotten to him had taken him apart more completely than a forensic surgeon. The power only found about half the pieces. He was missing an arm and a leg several ribs a part of his pelvis. I winced. But finally from that jigsaw puzzle I found the pieces that were needed. The mandible and the skull and brain were pretty much intact. The blood sloshed and I took a couple of quick steps towards the grave.
“Samah West,” I commanded, voice #16 for raising the undead. The bones shifted slightly in the casket the body tried to pull itself into some kind of working order but the jumble was too great. I called again.
“Samah West rise…” I threw half of the remaining chicken blood onto the grave willing the bones that were in the casket to pull together and the mutilated flesh to cover what was left. Sometimes freshly raised corpses didn’t look too bad. Especially before the rot set in and they’d been embalmed properly. This was not going to be a pretty zombie. The severely damaged corpse had to be eased from the graves grip. A soft call would be best.
“Samah West, I call you.” I murmured sprinking a bit more of the blood onto the earth. The hunger flared and I could see feel when the weeks-dead corpse opened it’s eye.
As West pulled himself from the grave in search of the blood I had spilled, the four witnesses behind me drew in breath. Samah was in bad shape, very bad shape even for a dead guy. I rushed through the binding ceremony because it looked like the open grave would pull the corpse back into its embrace at any second.
I called Samah’s name in the binding ceremony, one eye had been destroyed the other a sickly gray half deflated bag that swiveled in the socket as i called his name. Straggly strands of dirty brown hair clung to where ever the scalp. A huge gash had ripped part of the scalp away. The soft thud thud of retreating feet on grass snagged my attention for second.
“I bind you, Samah West.” I brought my power to bear as I smeared a bit of the blood from the bowl on his ruined mouth. “I bind you to this grave and this place with blood and the proper sacrifices.” His one good eye was now tracking the bowl, nice zombie, good zombie.
“Can you speak, Samah?” The hunger, the need for blood that all zombies require to go on as undead, the reason why they kill and feed on anything living if they manage to slip their binding, was riding him. I allowed him to sip from the bowl the ordered him to stop.
“Can you speak, Samah West?”
“I can.” His voice was rasped and grindy, the sound made as it was from vocal cords all but destroyed by screaming. The zombie looked down and whispered. “Where’s my arm?” The terror rising from the zombie was palpable, quickly using the power to calm it and sooth away the man’s last horrific memories I quickly motioned to the lawyers.
“He’s sane. I’m suppressing his last memories and calming him but I can’t keep at it for long. Ask what you need to.”
Sandoval stepped up.
“Professor West?”
“Ah the pretty estate lawyer.” He tried to smile through his ruined mouth. A couple of tendons snapped and she winced but nodded. Flirty to the end the professor had satisfied her that legally it was him talking and not just the voodoo. This made everything nice and legally binding.
“Professor, we need to know what happened to this object.” She slipped a picture of a small extremely ugly statuette from a manilla file.
“Oh… heh Mr Funkyface, that what Nina called it. I wasn’t finished studying it though… It.. umm…” The destroyed face looked down.
“Something bad has happened hasn’t it.” He murmurs. “Nia.” He looked at me fear rising in his face.
“Are my kids… are they okay?”
“They’re okay professor. They love you very much.” I murmured trying to be soothing.
“The statue? Ellie’s statue.” Raime prompted impatience in his voice.
Samah blinked and shot the fat banker a look of extreme distaste.
“Ellie came and took it from me a few days ago… a…a few days..”
“He’s lying.” Ramie scowled his voice taking on a desperate taint.
“This is a zombie, Ramie. They can’t lie.” Came LaFleurs deep voice. “There’s no motivation, they have nothing to hide. No soul. Just the truth.” I felt rather than heard LaFleur cross the threshold of my circle.
“Another dead end Raime. You’re trying my patience.” Raime also hustled across the threshold hurry after the old man.
“I’ll ask Ellie again, Mr. LaFleur. We’ll get to the bottom of this I promise you.” Gone was every scrap of bluster and bravado. The banker even held the door of LaFleurs sleek sedan open for the older man. We knew who was holding Mr. Raime’s leash.