I was starting to lose patience with him—it was like he wasn’t listening to me. “I know you think this is part of some vampire plot. But it wasn’t a vampire that tipped that van over or tried to burn down New Moon. This is something else entirely, and I could really use your help.”
“Kitty, I promise, I’m doing everything I can.”
“Like what? What are you doing? Pulling the Batman stunt on the tops of skyscrapers waiting for someone to walk along wearing a sign that says ‘I’m the bad guy’? Do you have minions scouring the far corners of the globe for information? What are you doing?”
He studied me, calm and unflustered. Very little flustered Rick. When it did, he didn’t panic. He just got angry. Calmly and pointedly angry.
“Here’s what I know: This thing is invisible. It displays sentience and motivation. It’s chosen the moments of its attacks carefully. The attacks are elemental, tied to fire. That makes it an old kind of magic—the kind of magic a vampire might use.”
I tried to be calm like Rick. Calm like a vampire. “You’re hunting for vampires. But what if this has nothing to do with vampire politics? This isn’t about vampires, it’s about revenge against
“A group led by a vampire is making attacks in my territory. This may not have begun with vampire politics, but I find it hard to ignore the implications. Magic like this doesn’t come cheap. Is all this really a simple revenge plot?”
I had assumed it was pure revenge. We’d killed their head lycanthrope and several members of their cult and ruined their ritual. Revenge seemed like a good enough reason. “Now who’s being paranoid?”
“When vampires are involved, the web is more tangled than you think,” he said.
He had a point. Damn stupid vampires and their stupid sense of stupid superiority—
Rick turned aside to answer his cell phone. I hadn’t even heard it ring.
“Yes?” A few moments of listening. I couldn’t hear a thing, and I tried. “I’ll be there in a minute. Stay out of sight.”
He folded the phone away. “One of my people spotted a stranger nosing around New Moon. A vampire. We should go check it out. This might be what we’ve been waiting for.”
He might as well have said “I told you so.” Full of purpose now, Rick strode out the door, grabbing his black trench coat from a stand on the way out. I went with him, trying to be dignified and not scurry to keep up. A strange vampire lurking around New Moon? Of course I wanted to check it out; it made me territorial, and I wanted to growl.
I drove, with Rick in the passenger seat. New Moon was only a few blocks away, but speed seemed important. “So how did vampires report in before cell phones?”
“Telepathy,” he said.
“Wait a minute. That’s a joke, right? Because if it was telepathy, you wouldn’t need cell phones.”
He just smiled. Sometimes I really hated vampires.
I pulled into the alley behind the restaurant. Yellow caution tape was stuck over the back door, waiting for the inspections and repairs that would get the place back on its feet. I hadn’t noticed any strange figures lurking around. I climbed out of the car and took a deep breath.
I could still smell the fire, a tinge of wet soot coming from the building. But I didn’t sense anything else. Rick, however, marched straight around the side of the building without hesitation. Again, I had to scurry to keep up.
At the front of the building we found a man standing at the door, regarding it like he was considering breaking it down. Frustration tightened his already sharp features. This, I decided, was a man who was used to getting his way. He wanted into New Moon, and he couldn’t cross that threshold, and not because the door was locked. He acted like that wasn’t what was stopping him.
He was a vampire. On a cool night like tonight, warm bodies made something like rivers through the air, trails of heat, living smells left behind. But a vampire was an island of cold. Almost, I couldn’t sense him at all. Even the clean, dead smell I associated with vampires was muted on him, as if his scent had faded over the years.
I found that idea terrifying.
He turned to watch Rick and me approach. He was tall, thin, his face craggy. His whole body was probably lanky, but it was hidden under a long overcoat, turtleneck, slacks. Expensive shoes. His dark hair was very closely shaved, giving him a severe, stern appearance. He frowned at us.
“You’re Kitty Norville,” he said, looking each of us over. Sizing us up. His expression revealed no conclusions. “What have you done to block the door?” His voice was nondescript. Steady, not particularly deep. Not particularly conversational.
Rick said, “May I ask: Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
He looked at Rick, taking him in in a glance, then gave me the same cursory look-over. Rick may have considered himself more laid-back than the average vampire Master, but he bristled at the perfunctory attention.
“I can help with your problem,” the stranger said to us.
“How do you know we have one?” I said.
“The demon sent by the Band of Tiamat. Your problem.” He turned his gray-eyed gaze on me. I avoided meeting that gaze.
How did he know this? My back went stiff, like hackles. This guy wasn’t suave, blasé, bored, arrogant, or any of the other things I was used to seeing in vampires. Not even constantly, vaguely amused, which even the nice vampires were, like they’d seen it all and viewed the world as a humorous diversion. This guy was impatient, almost. On a mission.
“Demon?” Weird, having a name for it, an identification, whether or not he was right. “Are you some kind of demon hunter?”
“I suppose I’m an investigator. Of a sort.”
“And I suppose you’re trying to get inside to investigate?”
A single nod answered.
Rick said, “Who are you?”
“Roman,” he said. He traced the door, running his hand along the hinges. “I noticed the blood around the outside, but that isn’t what’s blocking me. You haven’t done anything specific to the entrance, have you? You’ve simply filled this place up with you and yours. Made it your own, keeping people like me out.” He almost sounded admiring. Almost.
“There’s really not much to see here. Not anymore. There was a fire,” I said.
“You have no idea what you’re dealing with, do you?” he said, sounding amazed, like he couldn’t believe we really were that stupid.
“If you’re trying to endear yourself to us, it’s not working.”
“And you might want to think about endearing yourself. At least to me,” Rick said.
“Ah. Yes. You must be Rick. Or is it Ricardo?”
“I don’t stand on ceremony. Rick is fine.”
“Is there someplace we can talk? Since you don’t seem inclined to invite me in.”
“There’s my place,” Rick said. “A club, it’s not far.”
Rick wanted to get this guy on his home turf and thereby get some kind of advantage. I didn’t argue.
The vampire Roman looked like he might want to try. When he gazed at Rick, eyes narrowed, he seemed to be calculating. Weighing the cost of refusing the request against his need to get what he wanted. I for one definitely wanted to find out why he was here, what he knew about demons, and what he knew about what the Band of Tiamat had released on me.
At last he said, “Fine. Shall we?”
He gestured sideways, across the street—in the direction of Rick’s club, like he already knew where it was. He’d scoped the place out already. This guy was a real player.
Rick stepped off the curb and walked on. Roman fell into step beside him.
What could I do but follow?
Chapter 10
I did
So, I skulked along, listening hard to catch everything they said. Except they didn’t say a word. By nature and profession, I could not abide silence.
“So. Roman. Where’s home for you?” Like I was trying to strike up a casual conversation with just anyone. But hey, that was my motto, wasn’t it? Vampires and werewolves are people, too.
Too bad some of them didn’t go along with my attempts at normality.
He didn’t answer. Not a word. Silly me, I couldn’t let it go. Had to keep poking until I got a reaction. “Come on, just a little hint?” I said. “You don’t have to tell me where you’re from originally. It took me years to get that out of Rick. I’m just asking where you hang your hat lately. Can I guess? San Francisco? Miami? Although I can’t imagine a vampire enjoying someplace like Miami.”
Vampires didn’t need to breathe, but I could almost hear Roman’s exasperated sigh before he said, “I don’t appreciate vapid attempts at conversation.”
Now what did I say to that? “Huh. Vapid. That’s a new one. I usually just rate irritating.”
Rick chuckled.
We arrived at Psalm 23.
Along with Arturo’s blood, control of the city, and a slew of vampire minions, Rick inherited God knew how much property around town in the form of corporations and holding companies, which formed the basis of his predecessor’s wealth. Places like Obsidian. Another of those places was the trendy nightclub Psalm 23. It was dark, stylish, with a reputation as a hip young nightclub, a place to see and be seen. A meat market for the cool people. Maybe even a literal meat market. The place had a lot of shadowy corners and sheltered booths, and after dark, a few vampires could always be found lurking there, drawing in prey. Like spiders, as Rick had said.
I usually wasn’t dressed well enough to get in without an argument. Or maybe it was the fact that some of the bouncers were vampires and didn’t like me on principle. Not that I ever spent any time there for fun.
Tonight I was really not up to dress code in my jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers, but Rick waved us through and guided us to an alcove behind the bar, containing a small table and several chairs. This was his equivalent of my table in the back of New Moon. Impromptu office and vantage point. Rick offered me a drink; I took a soda. He did not offer Roman a drink.
While Rick and I sat, Roman remained standing a moment, surveying the main space of the club.
The place was surprisingly hopping for a Sunday night. Two bars, a large one in front and a small one in back, had people lined up, hip and well-dressed twenty-somethings in packs and in couples, most of them flirting. A DJ booth presided over a dance floor, which was empty now. Small tables here and there held another dozen people, nibbling on appetizers and sipping cocktails. Martini glasses glowed with a rainbow of concoctions smelling of alcohol. The air was heady with it. Some terrible hip-hop remix of an old eighties song thumped in the background.
We were quiet for a moment, watching Roman. He watched us in turn, and none of us twitched, none of us revealed a flicker of emotion.
