CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
When I find Lula in an upstairs bedroom with a lock on the outside, she is chained to a bed and semiconscious with tubes sticking from her arms. Her blood is flowing into several buckets on the floor. Her face is a ghastly shade of light gray, her breathing is nearly nonexistent, and her eyes are vacant. She is close to dusting—dying and then turning to dust.
My hands shake with rage. I want to kill anyone who’s had a hand in this. Regrettably, I will not be getting the opportunity. We have to leave quickly.
“Just hang on, sweetie.” I remove the tubes and get to work on the irons. No, there’s no such thing as vampire-proof steel, but Jesus, these are strong.
“Hey! What are you doing up here?” says a man’s voice right before he yells for backup.
I hold up my hands. “Well, now,” I say, getting into character. “Don’t get all excited. I just wanted to come see what my three point two million dollars is buyin’ me.” I stand up, knowing this is not an occasion for my ten hand flexes. “You gotta admit she doesn’t look like much. Ain’t she supposed to be some ancient, powerful vampire? Call that Aspen man and tell him to git up here.”
The guard looks thoroughly confused, and it’s my moment. I rush at him and snap his neck.
I rush back to Lula. “Come on! Come on!” I have only a few seconds to grab her and run. I pull at her shackles with all my strength, managing to snap one side.
I tug at the other wrist, but I already hear footsteps charging up the stairs—dammit—so I turn and stand in front of Lula. Ready for anything.
Aspen appears in the doorway, spotting his dead guard on the floor. “What the…” He looks at me, and though it takes a moment, I know he’s figured me out. “Well, I knew you would try something stupid, but this.” He claps. “Coming here dressed like a moron, risking my wrath? You truly don’t care for your librarian, do you?”
I don’t want him to pull anything, so I say, “Keep the librarian. Just let me leave with Lula.” I glance down at the buckets of blood. “You have what you need to finish your little party.”
“You really think we’d let Lula die so quickly?” he asks snidely.
“You drained Clive in one night,” I point out.
“He gave us problems—a real fighter, but we eventually subdued him. Sadly, that means he ran and we had to slash his throat in the backyard. We didn’t get as much of his blood as we’d hoped. But you and Lula, we can drain you a few times. It’s not like the council will come looking since we’ve sent in our report telling them you’re already dead. Apparently, you weren’t happy with bringing Clive’s killer to justice.” He glances at the nearly lifeless Lula on the bed.
“Are you so sure I won’t be a problem for you, too?” I ask.
“Nah. Jeremy has Miriam within arm’s reach. He’ll snap her neck if I say the word, and you know he’ll have no problem hearing me. So nice of him to bring her along. By the way, how did you find out about the party?”
“A gentleman never tells.”
“Well, that costume certainly is remarkable. And that cologne.” He waves his hand in front of his face. “Good cover.”
“Did I ever tell you that I have had eight professions over the course of four hundred years?”
“How exciting,” he says drably.
“Oh, but I assure you it is. I’ve really become a Jack of all trades, though nothing compares to my seventh profession: working for Clive. I became quite good at disguises like this and using gadgets.” I point to the button on my shirt. “Take this one, for example. It is truly amazing how small they can make cameras and microphones these days.”
Aspen’s face turns pale as he realizes that I just got everything I need. And so does the council—well, at least six of the members, ones I know I can trust because we go way back. All the way to profession #2, hired assassin.
“Oh, and did I also mention,” I spit out my fake teeth and smile wickedly, “that I didn’t come alone?” I flash a bit of fang, which is the vampire equivalent of grabbing one’s manhood and telling someone to suck it.
Panic in his eyes, Aspen turns and reaches for the door, quickly closing it and locking us in.
Fine by me. By now, the council’s guards outside have taken down Aspen’s men. All of the exits are blocked. Nobody is going anywhere, except my librarian, who will be swiftly extracted and brought to safety. I don’t want her seeing any of this, and I certainly don’t want her life being at risk because she found out what we are.
As for the willing participants in this revolting blood-trafficking business, they will all be dealt with the vampire way: swiftly. Humans included. I won’t pretend it doesn’t sadden me, but our laws are simple. And when you get into bed with a vampire, you are subject to the rules of our world, which, at the most fundamental level, are intended to keep innocent humans safe from us. If the world knew we existed, we’d be hunted and forced to defend ourselves. Nobody wants that.
On that note, I try to ignore the screams and scuffles downstairs, turning my attention to Lula. “All right, my sweet. Let us get all this lovely blood of yours back where it belongs.” I grab a tube, stick it in her mouth, and start the process. As soon as they unlock the door, I’ll see about getting her someone else’s blood to help her heal faster. If humans must die tonight, let it not be for naught.
I stroke Lula’s soft blonde hair away from her pale face, and her brown eyes flutter open.
“Cowboy Frank,” she mumbles. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see that stupid wig again.”
“Hopefully, it’s his last appearance ever.” I lay down at Lula’s side and hold her to me. I came so close to losing her, and now I’m wondering what would have become of me if I hadn’t gotten to her in time. She means more to me than family and friend combined, yet I know there will be choices ahead, and they won’t be easy.
“Vanderhorst?”
After helping Lula partially rehydrate, the bedroom door finally opens, and it is my old friend Alexander—thinly built, lethal to the bone, and disciplined like no man I’ve ever known. He once worked for me—profession #2—but now leads the council’s guards.
“How is she?” he asks, his dark eyes intense and his medium-length hair disheveled. His black shirt is torn on the shoulder and his matching pants are covered with mud. I imagine it’s because he killed a bunch of Aspen’s men outside. They likely weren’t too thrilled about it.
“Gaining some living color,” I say. “I think she might heal faster if we were able to get her fed.”
He nods. “Let me see if there are any humans left.”
I lower my head and remind myself that these dinner guests paid millions to drain Lula and kill her. I could tell myself they didn’t know the donor vampire would die, but that would be naïve. Aspen made it clear that the supply was unique and limited. Even so, they know about us now. And who knows how many Aspen already turned successfully. It’s a mess that will take years to clean up.
“Thank you, Alexander.”
“No problem.” He pulls out the radio that’s clipped to his belt. “Hey, Martin. Lula needs to eat. Anyone left?”
“Yes, sir. Be right up,” he replies.
Alexander looks at me. “Mr. Nice is downstairs. He wants to see you.”
For the record, Mr. Nice is not “nice.” He is the antithesis of the adjective, the name short for Nicephorus, which is the Greek bastardization of Nikephoros. Rumor has it that he was a Byzantine general, born around the 800s. The man now sits on the council and is quite possibly the scariest vampire I have ever met.
I release a breath and then look at Lula.
“Do not worry, Vanderhorst, I will watch over her,” Alexander says.
I sigh. “Thank you. I will be back shortly.”
“Guard your nuts. Nice is in one of his moods.” He chuckles.
I groan. On a good day, Nice gives one the urge to piss himself. On a bad day, most of us would prefer to commit seppuku rather than face him.
I make my way down the hall just as one of the guards is bringing up a man who was a guest at the Lula slaughter-fest.
“Suck me, you leechy SOB!” the man yells, fighting the guard’s grip. “Do you know who I am? I’ll have your job for this.”
I shake my head and remove my wig and temporary facial features. I would say something about the man’s punishment being unfair, despite his stupidity, but since when is anything in this world fair?
Well, except for me. I am quite fair.
“Vanderhorrrrthsst!” Nice yells as I come down the stairs. “Ah, there choo are!”
To this day, I’ve yet to fully get his accent. He is supposed to be Greek, but he speaks like a Spaniard without front teeth. The Spanish are known for prolific lisping. So, yeah. It is just plain weird. That, and Nice looks like a throwback from an ’80s goth band, complete with a tall wiry frame, deathly pale face, too-tight leather pants, and a black shirt with a ruffled collar and poufy sleeves. The rule of thumb is that we must play the part of our human cover stories, but I cannot imagine any story that explains him. He is just that bizarre.
And frightening.
“Mr. Nice.” I bow. “Thank you again for bringing your men and coming to my aid so promptly.”
“No. Sank you! Diss Aspen is a disgrace to our kind.”
As he speaks, my eyes dart around the room. There is no blood, bodies, or evidence of any struggle. As I said, vampire justice is swift, and remarkably clean.
“Der is just one problem,” he says, slamming his fist into his palm. “Diss mudderfooker, Aspen, got away!”
I feel my cold blood pool in my feet. “Is Miriam all right?”
“No! She has escaped wit’ him and his son, Jeremy.”
“But how? How’s that possible?”
He flicks a wrist in the air. “Who knows?”
Part of me is extremely suspicious. This place was surrounded. To escape the clutches of the council’s guards would require either a very stealthy escape plan or allies. Or both.
That means I’m back to not knowing who to trust.
“What direction did they head?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Who knows?”
“What about the assistant, Viviana? Where is she?” I ask.
“Being interrogated now, but she claims she does not know where diss Aspen hath gone—I asked her myself.”
If Nice asked and she did not answer, she either does not know or she is not going to talk. Because if he cannot pry information from a vampire, no one can.
Then there are no leads to find Miriam. I run my hands through my matted-down hair—flat from wearing a hat and wig all night. I wonder if I can track her via our bond. It’s something I’ve never done before, but there are no other options.
I let out a long, tired breath. I need to go somewhere quiet to help me focus on Miriam and only Miriam.
I look at Nice. “I must go. May I leave Lula in Alexander’s care until I return?”
His dark, scary-as-hell eyes drill into me, triggering a shiver. Christ, he truly is terrifying.
“And verrr do you think you’re going, eh?” One evil eye twitches.
“The library.”
His ominous eyes light up. “Oh. I will come with choo. I want to check out Dr. Phil’s latest book.”
My face contorts, and I’m not sure I’ve heard him correctly.
Nice shrugs. “You are never too old for self-improvement.”