* * *
We drove to the edge of the city and stopped at an isolated property belonging to Management. The car pulled around to the back.
“Management thought perhaps you should go in through the private entrance. He believes it would be better if you are not seen.”
I got out. Hansel stayed in the car.
“This is as far as I go with you.”
“Thanks. If you’re ever going to get involved in monster hunting again, take some shooting lessons. Seriously.” I looked down at my hand, which still held the gun. “Tell your client I’m keeping this. Bill me for a replacement.”
“I shall do so. Best of luck to you.”
There was a doorman waiting, the sort of thing one expects in high-class condos. Management must have warned the staff because he didn’t even change his expression when he saw how beat up I was.
The doorman led me to a private elevator that went directly to the penthouse. This wasn’t as grand as the place in which I’d gotten ready for the auction, but it was still pretty fancy.
There were servants waiting in the penthouse. I was asked upon arrival if I needed help bathing and changing which, to be fair, I hadn’t needed since I was three, but I got them to point me toward the bathroom, and then they asked whether I wanted a meal and when.
I hadn’t even thought of food, which was when I realized I was famished. I asked for a meal heavy on the protein, I didn’t particularly care what. Then I asked for a needle, thread, iodine, and bandages. I was so weary I was having trouble thinking, but I had to keep going.
I found that my room already contained clothes in my size, ranging from sundresses to jeans and varying types of T-shirts and blouses to evening attire. There were even three new pairs of glasses in different styles. Of course Management even had my correct prescription. I wasn’t sure what Management thought I’d be doing in Lisbon or how long I’d need to stay, but I had the sudden disquieting feeling that should it come to me needing to stay here for years while tracking down my son, Management and his employees would act like this was no more than expected, and I’d be perfectly welcome here.
I took off my clothes, left Mr. Trash Bags, in his much-the-worse-for-wear fur, on top of the artifact, and got in the shower. It was warm and prickled on my skin, making me realize that I had been severely hurt in several spots. There were scrapes and bruises all over, most of which I didn’t even remember getting. I’d been knocked out and my head throbbed. That couldn’t be good.
I’d done all that, gone to that evil place, been attacked by monsters and tied up in a dungeon by Brother Death, and all for what?
My baby was gone. My evil mother had him. She was going to—
I couldn’t even think of what she was going to do. She probably wouldn’t hurt him physically—yet. She’d want him to grow up first before she turned him—Susan was too pragmatic to want an immortal baby—though it was difficult to guess what a vampire would do, because their sense of what is good for people is all off. But even if she was going to keep him alive and in one piece, he’d still see horrible things, feel horrible things, be taught all sorts of crazy, and then, when he’d finished growing up, she’d turn him.
I leaned against the tile and bawled my eyes out while the water ran over me, making every little bruise and scrape hurt like hell.
I’d had Ray in my arms—warm against me—I’d had him! I should have kept him safe. I sucked as a mother. Despondence washed over me, and then I punched the tile. No, to hell with that. I was still alive, which certainly hadn’t been in Brother Death’s plans. I still had the artifact. I was going to find that vampire bitch, I was going to take my baby from her, and then I was going to make her pay.
I soaped and shampooed as if I were washing away the fear and the pain and the angst of missing my baby. I knew it wouldn’t work. I was still crying after I rinsed, but I was going to call Dorcas, find out where my backup was, and get them to help me. Now, if not yesterday.
I dried myself, bandaged the puncture wounds, and put on jeans and a T-shirt. Breakfast was already waiting for me. I ate while I grabbed the Management’s secure phone and dialed Dorcas. For some reason I expected it to ring a long time, but instead I got her voice almost immediately, sounding all snuffy like she had a cold, and even more hostile than usual.
“MHI. What do you want?”
“Dorcas? It’s Julie. You said you were going to send—”
I stopped because a wail interrupted me. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
For a moment I wondered how she knew I’d lost Ray again, but in the next second I knew. I knew. “What? You…you heard from the siege?”
“The Russians just nuked Severny Island.”
“What?”
“It’s all over the news.”
There was a TV in the room, and I turned it on and flipped through, until it landed on CNN. Yeah, they’re trash, but they’re in English and pretty much everywhere. I read the scroll. Surprise nuclear test violates treaties. They were showing what had to be a stock photo of the island. The talking heads were going on about UN outrage, saber-rattling, nonproliferation, all that smoke-screen nonsense.
I turned the TV off and sat on the bed. It was all gone. Owen, my brother Nate, and all my friends were gone. I’d lost Ray, and everyone else was gone.
I don’t know how long I sat there, my face all wet and tears dripping from my chin. Dorcas was yelling, “Honey?” from the phone, and Mr. Trash Bags cuddled up to my arm.
I picked up the phone. “Oh, Dorcas. They’re all gone.”
She said softly, “Maybe.” But she’d had more time to process this than I had. “But maybe not. There’s been a communications blackout. Everything’s being jammed up there. We know what was really on that island, but we don’t know the circumstances of them dropping that bomb. There were a mess of Russians at the siege too, so maybe they let our guys get out first.”
“Then why haven’t they called?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to get hold of that scumbag Krasnov’s people. If Earl and the rest are dead, if, and that’s a mighty big if, then we’ll make it work. But trust me, kid, Earl’s hard to kill, and your husband ain’t no slouch either! It ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings.”
But I was so tired and so wrung out that I simply had no hope left. Owen was dead. It was just me, and I sucked. I sucked as a mother, I sucked as a Hunter.
I must have started blubbering that out loud because she snorted rudely in my ear, “Yeah, right. Sure, you suck at monster hunting. You’ve only been doing it all your life, and all that PUFF in the bank just came because people really like your pretty eyes, right? Stop being a fool, girl. I take it you don’t have your boy yet?”
I told her what had happened.
“Okay,” she said, her voice like molasses over grits or perhaps like acid over something really gritty. “I tell you what you’re going to do: you’re going to call that ASS agent, and then you’re going to find that crazy vampire, get your son back, and kill that bitch. Got it?”
“I don’t know if—”
“I didn’t ask you what you could or couldn’t do, girl. I told you what you’re gonna do. The group I sent to help should be there in”—I heard paper flip at the other end of the line—“a couple hours. Tell me where you’re going to be, and they’ll meet you. And then you get Little Bubba back. We need you, Julie, and you need him. You’re going to get your ass back here and run the company like your grandpa intended. And you’re gonna train Little Bubba to be the best damned Hunter that ever was, better than all the other Rays who ever ran this company combined. You hear me?”
I heard her. “Yes, ma’am.”
I hung up and walked around the room to the window. I’d been living in such a way that my meals and sleep had absolutely no relation to the time of day. All I knew was that it was early morning. We were at a high point in the hills surrounding the city, and though I knew there were skyscrapers nearby, the view out this window was tile roofs, the
occasional tall, golden stone building and church spire, going down to the blue sparkle that I assumed was the sea.
In any other circumstances it would be beautiful. Right now this was the saddest sight I’d ever seen.
My husband was probably dead… I could either dwell on that, or I could keep fighting to save the rest of my family.
“Salt water drips from your face eyes.” A tentacle wrapped around my arm, and two little eyes on tentacle stalks stared up at me. “No more,” Mr. Trash Bags commanded, trying to be helpful.
He looked so goofy it actually kind of distracted me from the pain. “Hey, let’s get you out of that fur coat.”
“Mr. Trash Bags not pretty?”
“Yes, you are.” He looked like a terrifying reject from The Muppet Show. But what the heck did I know about shoggoth fashion anyway? He was actually kind of adorable—except for the pelt being all dirty, torn, and covered in dried blood. I don’t even know how he’d managed to keep it on through all the excitement, he must have suction-cupped himself to it or something. “But I like you better without the coat.”
That was enough. He parted from the pelt. “Mammal no more. Retrieve Cuddle Bunny Cuddle Bunny. WILL EAT ALL TOES.”
“That’s the spirit,” I said as I dialed the number on Lopes’ card.
It was answered immediately. “Agente de Segurança Sobrenatural Lopes.”
I hoped she spoke English. “This is Julie Shackleford. You wanted to talk?”
“Yes.” There was a pause as she mentally switched gears. She had an accent, but luckily her English was pretty good. “Some important men were killed last night at that church. There are many searching for you right now.”
“I’ve already heard about how I’m upsetting the delicate balance of the EU monster hunting agencies.”
“To hell with them. This isn’t Germany. I’m glad those rich bastards got shot and murdered last night. I want to help you.”
I was desperate and sad, but not a sucker. “How much is that going to cost me?”
“No. I’m not on the take. Well, not exactly. Okay. A little, but not much. Mostly I want these assholes out of my country. You shaking things up is good. I’d prefer not to say anything more over the phone. We need to meet.”
“And you’ll tell me something for my benefit?”
She hesitated. “I think so. I believe there is a way I can help you and you can help me.”
Right then I needed something—anything—some tiny spark of hope so I could keep going.
“Let’s meet.”
Chapter 21
I drove myself to the Museu dos Coches. Apparently taking the city bus simply wasn’t done for any guest of Management, and there had been a garage full of new cars with the keys in them.
I had to sit in the parking lot for a minute to compose myself before going in. I wanted to believe that my husband was still alive, that by some miracle most of my remaining friends and family had gotten off the island before the Russians had bombed the City of Monsters, but right then I really couldn’t.
Noting looked suspicious. None of the other cars looked familiar. I didn’t think I’d been followed.
The entrance to the museum was dispiritingly modern, with glass doors and then smoked glass doors to the interior. I paid the ticket price to the bored-looking man at the entrance. He tried to make small talk. “Kind of early in the season for tourists,” he said, in heavily accented English because apparently I couldn’t even buy a ticket without revealing where I was from. “Most of our visitors now are elderly people and school groups.”
I smiled and told him I was in Portugal visiting family, and he gave me a dubious look since I didn’t look in the least Portuguese, then I went in through the smoked glass doors.
Inside, if I hadn’t been there on a mission of far more importance than gawking at historical artifacts, I would have been impressed. Putting on my art historian hat, I could have spent several happy hours inside the carriage museum. Most of the carriages were from the late nineteenth century, but there were some from the eighteenth that looked like the worst excesses of Baroque churches on wheels.
There were a few people wandering around inside, but I didn’t see anything that looked like an SJK hit squad there to arrest me.
I was walking around a carriage which had been painted with panels representing mannered pastoral scenes, and then ornamented with rococo carvings covered in much too much gold, when a small, neat woman approached. She was dark-haired, dark-eyed, early forties, wore the cheap business attire that is the international symbol for a government agent, and walked with the kind of gait that let you know that, yes, despite being kind of frumpy, she actually was in great physical shape.
She approached me with her hand out, “Mrs. Pitt? I am Luisa Lopes.” She flashed an ID with the letters ASS emblazoned across it in bright red. Then she looked at the nearest carriage, “You are admiring some of Portugal’s history, no?”
I reminded myself not to piss off the nice foreign government agent who supposedly wanted to help me. In our marriage, Owen and I had a strict division of labor. Pissing off government agents of any and all nationalities was his job. Mine was to make sure that it didn’t end with us dead. So I remained polite.
“I’d love to come back and look at all this properly, at a better time, when I’m not worried about my son being kidnapped by a Master vampire.”
She sucked in air through her teeth. “Very sad. If we can’t protect our children, who will be safe?”
“You have children, Agent Lopes?”
“No.”
“Then you have no idea what I’m willing to do to protect him.”
We walked along between the carriages.
“So, Mrs. Pitt, before I share too much, tell me, what cause do you have to think he’s even still alive? Vampires are not known to keep babies alive. They are too young to be turned, and normally—”
“The Master vampire used to be my mother.”
“I see.”
“You have to understand, the human version was a very good mother. She still wants to be a good mother and, worse, a good grandmother.”
She gave me a look of pity. “You tell me the truth. I already knew who she was. The MCB shared their file with us, but it counts in your favor that you tell me the truth.”
I’d been so fixated on not trusting her that I’d not even thought about her not trusting me. Either way, I didn’t want pity.
“Truth is I want Susan dead.”
“We believe we know where she is hiding in this country. ASS is not pleased at this incursion into our territory by foreign vampires. We have trouble enough as a country, we do not need foreign vampires too. It’s in our best interest to eliminate her before the tourist season starts. Too many disappearances are bad for the economy. And then the politicians yell at me.”
I was glad Agent Lopes had her priorities in order. “So why haven’t you raided this hideout yet?”
“It’s complicated. It is a very isolated estate which belongs to a monster who has been protected. Up until now it has been off limits.”
Dealing with corrupt officials was nothing new for me, so even though I was tired and frustrated, I did my best to sound sweet. “So how much will this information cost me?”
Lopes grinned. “No, no, you misunderstand. You see, the creature you killed in France had made many arrangements. It turns out much money was being paid to government officers in Portugal. Big people. Even ASS couldn’t go against them. If ASS had tried, we wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. But now Marchand is gone, there is no one to pay protection for his clients.”
Maybe I had read her wrong. “So I’ve already done you a favor.”
“For me, yes. For our politicians who will be poorer now, not so much. The French searched Marchand’s home. One of his clients is a wealthy Portuguese businessman: a man we have been keeping an eye on, who has never once been seen outside during the daytime. Starting an investigation on this businessman got
my predecessor fired. Now I know why. Can you believe that? Politicians sparing a vampire for money?”
My government would make deals with certain monsters and give them PUFF exemptions, but a vampire? They needed to kill humans to live. Sparing one of those was pretty much inconceivable to an American Hunter. “How sure are you this guy’s a vampire?”
“Fairly sure. I continued my former boss’s investigation, but in secret. I’ve paid informants and sent men to spy on the property. My hands have been tied to challenge him directly but if I were to get real proof, my superiors would have no choice. A day ago we got word this vampire was hosting a guest…from the deference shown, a yet more powerful vampire. The description by my informant matches your mother who arrived right when there was a very valuable baby kidnapped and auctioned, bringing all sorts of supernatural scum to Portugal. And we can’t have that. ASS is not a plaything.”
Even as messed up as my day was, that still made me smile.
Lopes was getting worked up. “The rest of the European agencies, they say arrest Julie Shackleford because we don’t want private Monster Hunters here, disrespecting us. But you know who disrespects ASS? All those stuck-up EU sons of bitches. We have a very difficult beat here. Ancient country, Portugal. Very ancient. Old ghosts. Old Roman gods. Monsters brought back from Africa and India.” She waved a hand around like the monsters had personally arrived in these old carriages. “ASS doesn’t fall down on the job but they treat us like we’re the awkward little brother. To shit with them, I say. ASS will help you. You did nothing to cause this. It’s not your fault. Why the hell should I arrest a mother who wants to save her son? It would make the Virgin Mary cry.” And she crossed herself.
I still hadn’t decided where on Earl’s scale of Asshole to All Right the Portuguese government Hunters fell, but this one at least seemed earnest.
“Then how about you give me the address of this businessman, and I’ll go take care of another problem for you?”
“Again, you misunderstand. This is my country. ASS will kill the vampires.” Lopes held up a hand to stop me before I could protest. “But I can take you with us to where this vampira resides, so you can help in rescuing your little son.”
Monster Hunter Guardian (ARC) Page 28