by Emily Bex
"Cazzo! What in the hell does he want now?" Taking the call, he sighed and flopped down on the chair. "Shade.”
"Brother. Streets seem safer with you in town. Tomas has said things are cleaning up nicely. Anything else you need over there? He said the Dead House was working well as a command center, but we can put in some high-end electronic surveillance equipment if you need it. Just let me know."
Shade lit up a cigarette as he gave Alec a recap. "Look fratello, things are slowly shaping up.. I’m working this crew and they’re showing progress. We’ve taken out a few rogues here and there, but that’s the norm. Nothing to worry about. We are adding a security system, but weapons are my main concern at the moment. I need to increase my stock, bring these boneheads up to speed. Is there something you wanted, because I’m kind of busy here?”
"As a matter of fact, there is something I'd like to talk to you about, but not on the phone. Do you think you can get away from there for a while? Get over here to my place where we can talk in private?"
"Not a problem, brother. Give me fifteen minutes and tell me you got some Midnight over there."
Alec tossed back the remains of the Midnight in his glass. “We never run out of Midnight in the Canton household. I'll be in the study. Santos will show you in.”
"On it, brother."
Hanging up the phone, Shade grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the chair, shrugging his muscled arms and shoulders into the soft leather, and feeling the jacket slide into place like a second skin. He let Tomas know he was headed to G-town and the Canton residence and teleported to Alec’s front door. Santos, Alec's manservant, answered before Shade could even ring the bell. As Santos led him into the study, Shade’s boots hit heavily on the hardwood floors and he could smell Rissa inside the house. He hoped to fucking hell this issue had nothing to do with her.
As Shade entered the study, Santos pulled the door closed behind him, giving them privacy. Alec was pouring them both a glass of Midnight.
"Sit down by the fire, brother. Take a load off. I have a lot to tell you."
He carried the glass of the rich, thick burgundy colored brew to Shade, and sat down in the chair across from him. “I’ve got a problem. Not a security issue. No threat to my life, but a threat to my ambitions. And you have a little gift I think might be quite useful."
"You refer to my ability to dream-walk. Well, fratello, your ambitions can be mighty damn bold, so tell me what in the hell you need, and I will see what I can do."
Alec leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees. "You know my goal is to take the presidency. But this is not medieval Europe. I can't just go in and overthrow the king with an army of warriors like the old days. Unfortunately, I will have to rely on the support of mortals, and the election process. And in order to get there, it will require some serious manipulation. I already have in mind how I can convince President Ashton not to run for office again, but it’s too soon to play that card yet, that’s a ways down the road. Once I have Ashton out of the way, then I have to get through the whole nomination process for the Republican candidacy. When I look at my contenders, there’s only one that’s a serious threat. He has the backing of the far right, he has the NRA, and he has a lot of money. Maybe I can beat him...maybe not. Now, if I can get him to drop out of the race, then the candidacy is mine. That's where you come in with your dream-walking. I was thinking you could stalk him, shadow him, and fill his head with dreams of failure. He's a senior Senator now, and his seat is up for re-election. If he runs for President, he can't also run for his Senate seat. So, if he loses his bid for the Presidency, he has no Senate seat to go back to. Politics is all he knows. Being forced back into the private sector would be a death knell to him. He used to have a drinking problem. Been years ago, he did that whole AA thing and carries around the chip. I need you to rattle him. Get inside his head. Find out what his demons are and fill his head with visions of failure. What do you think, brother?"
Shade listened to Alec, realizing he had this plan worked out in his head. Like the master vampire he was, Alec used his wits to get what he needed. Downing the goblet of Midnight in one single swig, Shade sighed and set the glass down delicately on the side table. He stared at Alec as a smile spreads across his face.
"Alcoholics are easy targets. They are weak. Add if this poor bastard has nothing without this prospect of winning then he is easily taken down, brother. But this will take me away from work on the streets, away from renovations in Virginia. Not to mention, training your warriors is a full-time job. Right now, they have limited skills and they only have the weapons they own. I need money for a cache of weaponry, Alec. And what I need, I can’t buy at the sporting goods store, which means I need Medici made weapons. So let’s bargain here. Get me what I need, it benefits you in the long run. In the meantime, I can take down this mortal with dream-walking. Put a little fear into him. When I am done, he will be cowering in the corner. I need a name and address. Married, bambinos, any other relevant information? Deal, si?"
Alec ran his hand through his hair. Fuck! He thought he could bundle this deal with everything else he’d already paid out to Shade. He should have known!
"Yeah, okay, whatever you need. Get the weapons in. Of course, you need weapons. I relied on the mercenaries to supply their own in the past. Probably not the smartest move, but hell, I buy mercenaries a weapon and they take it with them when they bolt. So, I want you in charge. You keep tabs on the weapons, and I’ll fill the bunker with whatever you want. Just get this fucker off my ass. His name is Senator Ralston. He lives off DuPont Circle near Embassy Row, on Kalorama Road. Big fucking house. He has kids but they're all grown, none live at home, just him and his wife, Helen. His day schedule will mirror mine, and you have that. I think he avoids a lot of big social events, like parties and bars, so he’s not tempted to drink. Plays golf with a bunch of business cronies and lobbyists. That should be enough to get you started."
Shade crossed one leg to his opposite knee. "Warriors have a weapon of choice, usually custom made to fit their skill. They rely on that weapon for everything. But Medici warriors are trained on all weapons and are skilled in each. This shit the mercenaries carry for weaponry won’t be of much use if we ever have a real battle. I need them to be supplied with custom-designed swords, knives, and shuriken’s. We make our own in Florence, fratello. This is an investment on your behalf. You wanted me to run this camp, then we run it my way. The weapons belong to the camp, not the warriors.”
Reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket, Shade grabbed the Medici-made shuriken and quickly threw it in Alec’s direction, watching him move easily to avoid its strike. "That is a Medici shuriken, and it is deadly if used by a trained warrior. Keep it, little gift. I got Ralston. Give me a week or two and he will no longer be a threat to you.”
Alec ducked his head to the left as the shuriken came straight at him. He heard the whistle of the throwing star as it whizzed within an inch of his ear. Fuck! Good thing he was paying attention. Fucking warriors! Always swinging their dicks.
"I knew I could count on you, brother. Order the weapons you need, and as I said, if you want to put in some surveillance equipment, go ahead. I have it here in the house. I'm sure you have it in yours. If you don't, you probably should. And before you even ask, I won't be paying to put surveillance in your own damn house."
Shade laughed as he stood, fist-bumping Alec. "Done deal, brother. I’ll take you up on the surveillance on the Dead House. I’ll get that installed. Don’t have it at Bel Rosso yet. We’re still busy with renovations, but soon. No need to get up. I can see myself out. I will keep you informed of the Ralston situation."
Walking out of the study, Shade saw Larissa coming down the stairs just in time to come face to face with him. He watched the smug look on her face as she glared at him and greeted him with 'Warrior'. He didn’t smile but glared back, never completely trusting this female. "Rissa."
He watched her cross her arms over her ches
t and cock that blonde head of hers to the side with an unpleasant smirk before speaking to him in that bitchy voice.
“Are you done with my vampire now?”
Shade leaned in close to her face and smiled wickedly. "Your vampire’s time is his own Rissa, haven’t you learned that yet?"
Watching as she huffed and pushed him out of her way, swishing that ass like an angry lioness just robbed of her meal, his laugh was loud as he headed out the door. Shade one, Rissa zero.
40
Shade gathered up a blade and a few shuriken’s, tucking them inside his leathers. He had no intention of fighting this Senator, but he never entered any situation unarmed. It was time he got into this Senator Ralston ordeal. The sooner this was done with, the better. Then he could get back to normal, whatever the hell that was. Shade let Tomas know he was making his regular rounds at Alec’s house but didn’t let anyone know his true intent, dream-walking into Ralston’s head. The less people that knew what he was doing, the better off for him and Alec. He wanted to think twice now about what he took on. He couldn’t make some of the same impetuous decisions. His life wasn’t his own any longer, he had a mate, and she deserved as much of his time as he could give her.
He left the Dead House and teleported along Embassy Row and spotted the Ralston home on Kalorama. The houses here were large and well maintained. Owning a free-standing home in Washington D.C. cost money and lots of it. He checked out the house, making sure Ralston was home, and other than his wife, no one else was inside the residence. He wrapped himself in shadow and teleported inside the main living area.
As Shade walked through the house, he was getting the lay of the land before making his way to the second floor. Every room was decorated in antiques and family heirlooms. He noticed a woman sleeping alone in a very feminine bedroom. She was an older woman, and Shade recognized the Senator’s wife Helen from the photos Alec had provided. It appeared she slept in a separate room from her husband. That would make things easier.
He walked inside her room and wandered through it, watching her sleep. One thing was evident, the lady was a lush. She had a large antique dresser, and on it, bottles of alcohol. There was a half-filled glass made of imported crystal, a bowl of lemon and lime slices, and an ice bucket filled with melting ice sitting at her bedside. So, his wife was an alcoholic, and her husband was the reformed one. He wondered how the Senator kept that little secret out of the press. Shade made a mental note to share this information with Alec.
Leaving her room, Shade walked down the long hall of furnished but unoccupied bedrooms that had probably been their children’s rooms when they were younger. He slipped quietly into a masculine bedroom, the furniture dark and imposing. In the bed lay an older gentleman, looking older and frailer than he looked in his photos. Something about seeing him sleeping made him look more vulnerable. The Senator lies still, as his loud snoring filled the room. His hair was gray and thinning, and he had a slight paunch to his stomach.
Shade scanned the room and, on the wall, hung several rifles. Elk and deer heads also lined the walls. So, he was a game hunter, and the Senator liked his weapons. Shade stepped inside the large walk-in closet where things were neat and tidy. His closet was compulsively organized with his suits, white shirts, khaki pants, and polo shirts, all hanging together, and organized by color. Expensive brands but designed to not stand out in a crowd. There was a safe tucked into a corner, and Shade laughed to himself. Walking to the bedside table, he pulled open the drawer and found bottles of prescription pills, and a .357 magnum.
Ralston began to moan and awakened with a start. Still shadowed, Shade decided to sit down in a tufted high back leather chair and watch the Senator. Ralston threw his spindly legs over the side of the bed, and wearing only a pair of baggy white boxer shorts, he waddled off for the bathroom and relieved himself. The Senator shuffled back to his bed, opening the drawer of the side table and pulling out a bottle of pills. Shade watched as the Senator shook out several pills into his palm and downed them with a glass of water that sat atop the table. Instead of returning to his bed, the Senator stumbled across the room to a large desk. He flipped through a datebook and a few newspapers and then went back to the bed, grabbing the remote and turning on the large screen television to CNN. Cazzo, bastard is boring as hell. After approximately forty minutes with the TV still blaring, he fell asleep and began to snore. Shade stood up, walked to the bed, and placed his hand across Ralston's forehead and walked into his dream-state.
He wandered into his dreams, staying to the edges, unseen and unknown and watched the mishmash of thoughts flowing in and out of Ralston’s mind. He hated his wife’s drinking and hated that he still craved the relaxing feel of alcohol. He knew he’d driven his wife to drink through their life in politics and living in the public eye, not to mention a few of his own escapades. Shade pulled hard on the Senator’s memories, feeling fear and pain and shame. The good Senator was not so good after all, and as Shade already knew, mortal or immortal, politics were strewn with corruption. Shade pulled out a very interesting scene that played heavily on Ralston’s mind; he dreamt of it often, it plagued him still.
Ralston had used his old money connections and his family name to climb the political ladder, and married into money as well. But he liked his booze, his women, and expensive toys. As Shade watched the scene unfold, the Senator had been handsome in his youth and easily went through a long list of beautiful young women. The Senator’s tastes were more deviant, however, and he preferred whores. Not the expensive girls from the escort services who lived in a penthouse paid for by their sugar daddy, but street whores who did nasty little deeds for cheap. The Senator’s memory unfolded his ugly past as Shade saw the young blonde whore as the Senator plied her with booze. They were skimming at a high rate of speed in a Cigarette Rough Rider race boat across a huge lake. The only light supplied by the moonbeams streaking across the waves created by the boat he was piloting. He hit something huge in the water, perhaps a log hidden below the surface and the boat flipped up in the air, tossing both of them overboard. They flailed and struggled in the dark abyss, the Senator unable to swim, but finally getting back to the overturned boat. Ralston watched as the young girl floundered, calling for help, and eventually slipped beneath the surface, never to be seen again. As the dream unfolded, bits and pieces were missing, but Shade knew Ralston had paid a lot of money to cover up the accident, and no one was the wiser of a dead whore lying at the bottom of the lake.
The Senator had continued to drink heavily after this, but still remained in the public eye and climbed the political ladder, his wife beside him. Children followed, but his sexual preferences never changed, and his wife knew all about them, and her own drinking increased as well. What a fucking happy ass life he had. The incident of the young girl drowning as he helplessly watched repeated itself over and over in his head. Shade knew that once he put the images of the Senator failing to win his election into his dreams, it would never leave, and the mission would be accomplished. Shade felt the pull of sunrise coming and quickly teleported out. He had enough background information on the Senator to create fear and doubt for a failing career path. For Shade, this would be a walk in the park, and he’d get some damn fine weapons out of the deal as well, all for a few nights of well-placed terror inside an elderly politician’s head.
41
Checking in with Alec, Shade gave him a recap of what he’d learned about Ralston. On the second night, he teleported directly inside Ralston’s home, shadowed from view, and headed straight for the second floor. As Shade walked past the wife’s bedroom, the door was ajar. Looking in, she was sprawled across the bed, still dressed, and passed out, the empty bottle of vodka clutched in her diamond-studded hand. Shade shook his head, been there, done that. He’d had enough of his own nights when he drowned his misery in alcohol, and it sure looked like alcohol was the poison of choice in this residence.
Shade made his way to the Senator’s room to find him sleeping. He was
late arriving tonight, a few problems with two stray rogues kept him working in the Dead House longer than anticipated. Walking quietly to the side of the bed, he laid his hand over Ralston’s forehead, stepping into his dreams like a man on a mission. The vision Shade created was clear, precise, and frightening to a man with nothing to rely on but his political career. The vision let him know he had nowhere to go but down. If he chose the presidency, then losing the nomination would unseat him in the bid for the Senate seat. Shade made the dream more specific, showing him a clear vision of Alec unseating him for the parties’ nomination. Shade painted a picture of Alec as being more powerful, the people loved him, drawn to his youth and energy, his intelligence, his charmed life with his beautiful bride to be. He showed Alec capturing the youth vote, as well as the women voters, and making this country strong and proud again. Shade showed Ralston’s campaign as weak and failing. He’d start to lose favor in the polls, and as the campaign progressed, Canton would run him over by a landslide. Shade hinted at scandal, the exposure of that long-ago accident finally uncovered and put the dream loop on replay. His long-suffering wife’s drinking would be exposed, and he’d fall off the wagon himself. Over and over, the cascading images kept repeating like a broken record and Ralston was the broken man trapped inside.
Shade took his seat in the leather-bound chair and watched the nightmarish images replay over and over in the Senator’s head. Ralston began to break out in a cold sweat. He rolled from side to side and then sat bolt upright in his bed, his hands shaking. The Senator opened the bedside table drawer, grabbed several sleeping pills, and started to reach for the glass of water. He paused briefly before sliding from the bed and walking to his wife’s bedroom, returning with a bottle of Grey Goose. He poured the clear vodka into the glass, tossed down the pills and gulped down the alcohol. Shade watched as the Senator collapsed back on the bed, surprised he’d caved so early. This assignment was going to be over in no time.