“You are interfering in our operations because of a twenty-something witch?” Michail asked me.
“Interfering because it’s the right thing to do. And it’s more of a team thing. Our witch might have come up with it but we’re all looking for a little balance here.”
“This warlock doesn’t have enough enemies… He’s gotta pick us too?” Michail asked.
“You got this all backward. It’s not about us having more enemies, it’s about you having us for enemies. I mean, we have some doozies, like the Queens of Fairie and the Vorsook themselves, but oddly we’ve been eliminating all the other ones, not adding to them. You know… minimize the distractions before the big game and all that? Those guys in Europe? Or the ones on the ship? They’re not our enemies… not anymore. They’re not anything. So that’s why I’m here. Stop grabbing girls or you won’t be anything anymore either,” I said, tilting my head while I waited to see if they understood.
The muscles in Michail’s jaw clenched and unclenched and Timofey started to stand up. I moved behind him and shoved down on his shoulders. His butt hit the seat hard and he would have fallen over backward but I held him in place, my feet Posted to the ground.
He tried to stand but found he couldn’t move me at all. “You think I can’t end this discussion with all of you here and now? By myself?” I asked, looking over Timofey’s head at the other two. “And your ex-spy too? I gotta say, Mikey, I’m a little hurt. Sure, I run with the big dogs, but I’ve been bleeding out guys like you since before your parents forgot to practice safe sex.”
Sacha’s right hand was straying toward his waistband. I moved again, swatting Timmy into unconsciousness and then picking Sacky up by his neck and removing the 9mm he was going for. I threw him across the room while I examined the gun. It was German, I think, but then I’m not a gun geek like Chris. It had a nifty suppressor on it which came in handy when Sweaty Lana came through the door with a tidy little machine pistol of some kind in her hands. I shot her through both shoulders before she could even focus on me. Then I moved to Mikey and put the hot business end of the suppressor up his left nostril.
“Do I take your people’s actions at face value or are you the guy who actually calls the shots?” I asked him.
“I’m in charge,” he said.
“Then tell me… are we enemies?” I asked.
Slowly, so slowly, he shook his head. I let him sweat a second, then pulled the gun from his nose. “Good to hear. It’s way too early in my night for a bloodbath,” I said. Then I reached up and plucked some hair from his head. After tossing the pistol across the room, where it stuck grip-first into the sheetrock, I put the hair in an envelope from his desk. On my way to the door, I plucked some from the two henchmen.
“You might want to call someone for her,” I suggested when I got to the wounded assassin by the door. “She shouldn’t bleed out if you hurry… you can take my word on that… I’m something of an expert on bleeding out. Oh, there will be some scars though,” I said as I pulled a couple of hairs from her head and shoved them into the envelope too.
“I won’t be back. If there is a next time, our boy will just end you all when he takes a break between video games,” I said, holding up the hair-filled envelope. Then I walked out.
Brunhilda was happy to see me and started right up with a well-tuned purr. We headed north, to Cobble Hill. Time to see the Aunties. That’s my name for them—no one else would know it except Tanya and Nika. Carmine D’Agosta and Jacque Robillard. They currently lived in a four-bedroom, five-bath townhome that they bought for a mid-seven-figure number just about five years ago. Give them another five or so and they would likely sell. For vampires, they were very mobile, moving every ten to fifteen years. I happened to love this particular home, so much, in fact, that I would probably buy it from them when the time came. Not that I had any plans on moving out of the Tower anytime soon, but it’s nice to have your own place to retreat to, if you know what I mean?
I parked Hilda on the street and approached the front door of the little three-story.
“Up here, dear,” a voice called softly before I reached the buzzer button. A glance upward revealed Carmine leaning over the edge of the roof, which had a lovely patio on it, another of my favorite features of the property.
I glanced around, letting my senses flow outward. Just one car to go by and then I climbed the exterior, Clinging my way to the top.
“Lydia Chapman, what brings you out to our little slice of Brooklyn?” Jacque asked as my head popped over the edge. He was seated in an elegant little patio chair, legs crossed, smoking with one hand while the other held a glass of blood. By the smell of it, its donor was lying passed out in a chaise just behind the vampires—breathing slowly, heartbeat a little weak, but steady.
“Official call, gentlemen.”
“From Her lips to our ears via your delightful little self,” Carmine said, taking his place next to Jacque. They were being very pleasant. That would likely change in the next few minutes.
“You’ve picked up a new sideline,” I said, turning in place to look over my future rooftop.
The Aunties ran a number of businesses, most of which could be lumped into the category of procurement. Darkkin require things that normal humans generally don’t: blood donors, new identities every seventy or eighty years, specialized
