by Kingsolver
“I think we can do that for you,” she said. “Sarah, could you please run Erin over to Rosie O’Grady’s?”
Sarah bounced up like we’d offered her a trip to Disneyland. “Sure!”
When we walked into Rosie’s, Sarah forgot all about me and made a beeline straight for Liam. He smiled. A real smile. Before that, I was sure he didn’t know how.
I headed for the stairs. Although I was hungry, the mage I skewered had bled all over my right hand and arm. I wasn’t sure if I might have other evidence of unladylike activities in my hair or on my clothing, but I knew I smelled of smoke. Blair had to have smelled us.
As my feet hit the stairs, Sam came out of his office.
“Where the hell have you been?”
It took me a moment to remember that I didn’t come back to Rosie’s the previous night.
“Oh, I stayed at my apartment last night. I had a lot to think about.”
“And didn’t bother to let me know? I’ve been worried bloody sick.”
“Sorry, Dad.”
He swelled up, his face turned red, and I figured out that I shouldn’t have said that. Then he leaned toward me, sniffing.
“You smell like smoke.”
“Yeah. I was just going to take a shower.”
He looked me over, head to toe and back again a couple of times. His gaze locked on my right arm.
“Any of that yours?”
“I don’t think so. Sam, I’m sorry. When I go into operational mode, I focus. I block out everything except what I need to do to stay alive.”
“Upstairs.”
I turned and obediently climbed the stairs, listening to his footsteps behind me. When we got inside the apartment, he said, “Reports are that Carleton House burned down this afternoon. Blair was in here about half-an-hour ago asking if I had seen you or Michaela Gallagher.”
I rolled my eyes. “I knew we didn’t fool him.”
“So, what happened?”
“Sam, I’m tired, I’m sore, and I smell worse than I can ever remember. I’m going the take a shower, then I need something to eat. Want to have dinner with me and I’ll tell you all about it?”
He scrutinized me, and I could tell he was thinking about it. “All right. What do you want? I’ll put in your order.”
I shook my head, then sat down and started pulling off my boots. “A Smithwick’s and a shot of Redbreast first, then I’ll figure out what I want to eat. Any specials tonight?”
I started shedding my bloody bodysuit. Neither blood nor anything else stained the slick fabric, but I wanted to throw it in the washing machine. It wasn’t just the smoke, either. I had been wearing it for the past two strenuous days.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting undressed so I can shower.”
He shook his head. “I may be old, and you’re too young for me, but I’m not dead yet. I think I should spare my heart the strain. I’ll see you downstairs.”
I pondered that for a moment. Jolene also had a problem with nudity. In the Hunter barracks, we trained together, ate together, showered together, slept together. TV and the internet were filled with nudity. No one at the hot springs wore any clothes. From my point of view, clothes served two purposes, to look pretty and stay warm. I wondered why people thought being naked was okay sometimes but not others. Maybe Lizzy could explain it to me.
Thankfully, that apartment never ran out of hot water. The boiler in the basement was enormous because the restaurant couldn’t afford to run out of hot water. I stood under the shower for half an hour and washed my hair three times. I finally figured out the smoke smell was in my nostrils. I checked the clean clothes I had in the closet and decided to look like a girl instead of some avenging ninja for a change. So, when I finally descended the stairs, I was wearing a skirt and a sleeveless blouse.
Sam was sitting at a table off in one corner, and I noticed none of the tables around him were occupied. A beer and a glass of whiskey sat on the table across from him.
I sat down and sipped the whiskey, rolling it around my mouth, then took a pull on my beer.
“The special is roast duck breast with a pan sauce, stewed apples, and wild rice,” Sam said.
“Sold.”
He smiled and signaled Jenny to come over. He ordered my meal and a steak for himself, along with a bottle of pinot noir.
“Start at the beginning,” he said.
I told him about visiting Flynn and Montgomery, but left out my argument with Trevor.
“And how does Michaela Gallagher fit into all this?” he asked.
“She had inside information that Barclay was going to launch a raid on Flynn. She’s forged an alliance with the South Bay shifters, who are sick of the vampire predations and truly pissed that the chaos brought in the bounty hunters. And oh, by the way, they have put a bounty on bounty hunters.”
Sam chuckled.
“Anyway, using the attack on Flynn as a distraction, she and the shifters attacked the trash hauling company offices and the truck facility, and took them back. She knew Barclay wouldn’t be able to reinforce the vamps he had stationed there. Then another force of shifters laid an ambush for the vamps returning to Carleton House from downtown. Her goal was Barclay’s head, but when I told her about Laurent, she realized that she had a chance to work a deal that would allow her to stay in Westport but remain independent of the Master of the City.”
“Smart girl.”
“Yeah, she is. And ruthless. Anyway, she gave me the best opportunity to get to Barclay and satisfy Laurent. Today we assaulted Carleton House. We snatched Barclay while he was hibernating, but some of his mages attacked us on the way out. Sam, I know vampires go crazy from drinking mage blood, but I’m convinced it turns the mages crazy, too. They started flinging fireballs at us inside the house.”
“And the place caught on fire.”
“Yep.”
“What happened to the mages?”
“One of them survived. Sam, do you know of anyone who could treat a mage who’s been enthralled?”
He shook his head. “Ask your Fae friends. They might be able to do something with him.”
“Her.”
“Ah. That’s why she’s not dead.”
“She surrendered. I would have been happy if they all surrendered. God, Sam, he damned near drank her to death. I counted almost a dozen half-healed puncture sites.”
“And now what?”
“We eat,” I said, as Jenny showed up at our table with two steaming platters.
As we ate, I told him the rest.
“I left while Michaela was negotiating with Laurent. She plans on setting up the handover tomorrow right after sundown at the old flour mill. We’ll take him over there during the daytime and find a place where I can set wards to hold him. When Laurent shows up, I’ll release him and those two can decide what they want to do.”
“What about Flynn and Montgomery?”
“I don’t know, Sam. Michaela and I talked about it, but it’s just speculation. Both of us think Eileen might take the deal. Swear fealty and go about her business. I told Flynn he should consider striking out for greener pastures. He has his bank accounts and investments, I assume, and he should get a rich payout from his insurance for all his burned businesses. Michaela knows him a lot better than I do, and she isn’t sure what he’ll do, either.”
Sam was quiet for a while, chewing on a bite of steak. “He’s been in Westport for a long time. Almost a hundred and thirty years. Big fish in a small pond. I wonder if he’s ever met an ancient vampire.”
“Him going against Laurent would be like you arm-wrestling Jolene.” Sam’s forearms were about as thick as Jolene’s thighs. “Speaking of whom, how is she doing?”
“She’s fine. Josh came and got her earlier today while you were out saving the world. Lizzy told me that she didn’t think there would be any lasting trauma, and I tend to trust Lizzy’s judgement.”
“So do I.” I shook my head and grinned. “If only th
e people who call her Dizzy Lizzy knew what was going on under that pink mop, they would freak out.”
I pointed with my fork at where Sarah sat at the bar talking to Liam. “But if you want a dizzy chick, that one fills the bill.”
CHAPTER 30
The phone rang at four o’clock in the morning. I picked it up from the nightstand and tried to figure out how to make it shut up. Then I saw a name in the display and came awake.
“This is Erin.”
I thought I’d let you know that I’ve made a decision,” George Flynn’s voice said. “Common sense says that I should get the hell out of Westport, and I’ve always considered myself to have at least a little intelligence. So, I called to say goodbye.”
“Where are you going? Or is that a secret?”
“Of all people, I think I can trust you to keep a secret. You probably have more of them than the rest of Westport combined. Salt Lake City. Very few lone vampires there, but no nest, and no master.”
“They have strip clubs in Utah?”
“Yes, and they even serve alcohol. Things have loosened up in the past few years. But I think at first, I’ll re-establish the restaurant. Stay low key.”
“Good luck to you,” I said.
“And to you. Consider yourself always welcome, no strings attached.”
Before I could overcome my surprise, there was a click, and the line went dead.
I lay back in the bed and wondered if saving vampire lives was a plus or a minus toward my redemption.
I got up a few hours later and went for a run, then back to Rosie’s for a shower and a late breakfast. While I was eating, Lieutenant Blair and Detective Cindy Mackle walked in and sat down at my table. She had changed her hair color to teal, which I liked and thought it suited her better. They both looked tired, but he looked exhausted and he hadn’t shaved in a day or two.
“I thought you worked the night shift,” I said.
“I wish I worked a shift,” Blair said.
“He made me go home and get a few hours’ sleep,” Mackle said. “Frankie’s given me strict orders that he isn’t to drive.”
“And who’s driving Frankie?” I asked.
She winked at me. “Sergeant Bailey.”
“Have you eaten?”
Blair’s brow furrowed, and he said, “Yeah, but I can’t remember when or what.”
I signaled the waitress, who came over.
“A full Irish for the Lieutenant,” I said, “and coffee. Cindy?”
“A vegetarian omelet with fruit on the side,” Mackle said. “Whole wheat toast and three pots of coffee.”
The waitress cracked up. “I’ll have that right away. Would you like a cup, or an IV?”
Cindy gave her a lopsided grin. “The IV sounds lovely. Can I get cream with that?”
Blair leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “Off the record, who started that fire at Carleton House?”
“One of the mages Barclay enslaved,” I said.
“I’ve never seen anything that bad,” Blair said. “Not even in Afghanistan.”
I shrugged. “Most of them were dead already. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself. But any bodies you found on the above-ground floors were probably human. Thralls.”
He nodded. “There were a fair number of those who didn’t make it out. But the bodies in the basement that didn’t burn—that was a bloody mess when they started waking up. The forensics people freaked out.”
“We don’t have any way of identifying the vampire bodies,” Cindy said. “Do you know if Rodrick Barclay was in there?”
“No, he wasn’t. He was taken out before it burned, but he’s no longer a problem. I think after tonight you will see a significant change in vampire and shifter activity. No more wars. You’ll still have a rogue vampire problem for a while, but that will quiet down over time.”
“So, who won?” Blair asked. “Flynn?”
I shook my head. “There’s a new master in town.”
Blair looked puzzled. Cindy looked alarmed. I thought both reactions were appropriate. We were entering a brand new world.
I dressed in my battle-ready finest, including my sword, and met Michaela and her sisters at the flour mill late in the afternoon. I walked from Rosie’s, taking the river trail. I saw plenty of wolf tracks and glimpsed a few furry bodies as I neared the mill. Even a very old vampire could be taken down by numbers, and thirty or forty wolfmen could probably pull it off. From what I saw, I figured several hundred shifters had the mill surrounded.
I ducked through a hole someone had cut in the chain-link fence long before. Picking my way through piles of debris and rusted machinery, I found the place where the exchange was scheduled to take place—a wide-open area near the center of the property, surrounded by low buildings on one side and tall silos and the processing plant on the other. Originally, the mill was built right on Sloman’s Creek and was water powered. Later, they used the creek to generate electricity. It was shut down after World War II when the creek was dammed upstream and the mill was abandoned to rust away.
One of the dhampir—I didn’t know her name, but she had short, dark brown hair—fell in beside me as I walked.
“Where did you put him?” I asked.
“One of the small silos,” she said. “It’s brick and crumbling. If he tries to go through the wall, it’ll probably fall down on top of him.” She grinned at me. “Chances are his head will still be attached to his body, and that’s all that matters.”
So, I watched the sunset over the abandoned buildings with a dozen movie-star-worthy dhampir women. I felt like a skinny midget standing amongst them. But I also felt a kinship. Like me, they had been raised and trained to do awful things at the bidding of a powerful older man. Their minds and their bodies had never been their own, until Harry Gallagher lost his head. Cast adrift, they were trying to make new lives, create a new reality for themselves.
Unlike me, they had each other. I had no one, but a few people—Sam, Lizzy, and Jolene foremost among them—had opened their arms and their hearts to me. Something I would have never imagined a few months before. I gave a fleeting thought to Trevor—and his demands that I open myself completely to him before he would consider opening himself to me—and Lieutenant Blair, who seemed sincere about wanting a relationship.
“Michaela, do you still date Jordan Blair?” I asked.
“Occasionally. I mean, we were never in a relationship, but I think he’s fun, sophisticated, and really good in bed.” She shrugged. “Why? Thinking about going out with him?”
“He asked me to the opera,” I said.
“Go, if you like opera. He won’t be crushed if you say no, though. He doesn’t have a problem finding women.”
An hour after dark, Gabriel Laurent and his two dhampir walked into the open space where we waited.
“Michaela Gallagher?” Laurent called.
Michaela stepped forward, and he walked toward her. His dhampir stayed where they were, keeping watch on us as well as scanning the surrounding buildings searching for threats.
“Gabriel Laurent?” Michaela asked, and when he nodded, she dipped her head in respect, then looked up to his face. “We have Rodrick Barclay. He is awake, but imprisoned. He is yours. I ask simply that you confirm our deal, on your honor.”
One corner of Laurent’s mouth quirked up. “I pledge that you, and the other dhampir who you call sisters, shall be considered free and independent human beings. I do not expect, nor will I coerce, any of you to pledge fealty to me. In exchange, you will all acknowledge me as Master of the City, and consider me the sole voice for the vampires in Westport. In addition, you will provide me with twenty-five percent of the net profit generated by the Westport Waste Disposal Company. I shall be accorded the right to examine the books at any time I wish, upon one week’s written notice. I shall not be eligible to buy any part of the business, nor will I have any rights regarding any other businesses you may purchase or start.”
He stuc
k out his hand, and Michaela shook it.
“I must say, you drive a hard bargain, Mademoiselle,” he said. “But that gives me hope that the business will be well-run and I will be well compensated.”
“Thank you, Monsieur.” Michaela turned and pointed to the small silo. “Rodrick Barclay is in there. I hope you don’t mind if we don’t stick around for the ceremony. I’m afraid he’s unhappy with me at the moment, and I would rather be elsewhere if by chance he might get away from you.”
Laurent laughed. “Good night, Miss Gallagher.”
He turned toward the silo even as Michaela and her sisters began moving toward the mill’s front gate.
“Monsieur Laurent,” I called. Speaking in French, I said, “I believe I have done everything you asked of me. Can I have your assurances that my private business will stay private? Will you recall your dhampir in Washington?”
He turned back toward me. “Ah, Mademoiselle McLane. As far as those here in Westport, yes, I give you my word that your secrets are safe with me. Neither your friends nor the Columbia Club, nor anyone else, will ever hear of your past due to my efforts.”
I immediately sensed something was wrong.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “communication with Stephanie, my thrall in Washington, seems to have ceased. Her cell phone goes straight to voice mail. Either it is turned off, needs charging, or is broken. But that isn’t the whole of the problem. She has my number, and as you have seen, I do answer my phone. But she hasn’t attempted to call me. I have to assume that either she is dead, or captive, or perhaps she was separated from me for too long and has acquired Mademoiselle Gallagher’s taste for freedom.”
“How long since you last talked to her?”
“Oh, it’s been two, two-and-a-half weeks.”
“So when I met with you the other night, you knew you couldn’t keep your end of the bargain.”
“Not so. If I manage to restore our communications, I will tell her directly that Monsieur Heine should not be told about you under any circumstances. I am sorry I cannot give you any more assurances. Good night, Mademoiselle.”