The Brimstone Betrayal

by Terence West

  "As a matter of fact,” Maynard breathed, “he portrayed you and Toby in a very negative light. He claims you nearly botched the entire operation and endangered the lives of his men. He says Toby went in without authorization and was gunned down by Vampires."

  "Really?” I couldn't hide the sarcasm in my voice. “I was under the impression Captain Peterson was a trigger-happy moron. None of the Vamps had weapons, at least none that I saw. And, Maynard,” I scooted out from beneath Toby's head and stood up, “the nest was legal."

  Maynard stepped closer to the cell and lowered his voice. “Don't even joke about that."

  "One of the Vampires had a current Brimstone ID."

  "Damn,” Maynard spat out. He took a step back and started to pace. “Can you substantiate that?"

  I started to bite my lip again. “Not yet. I lost the card."

  He stopped and stared at me. “I want you back at that nest at sundown. I want that card."

  I nodded.

  "This is both of our asses on the line, Rosy,” Maynard whispered harshly. “You're facing censure because of Peterson's claims. If you can find the card, we can turn the tables on him."

  I shook my head. “What about you? If I find the card, it paints you in a bad light. You gave the order to take down the nest,” I reminded him. “I don't want to ruin your career."

  "We'll cross that bridge when we get there,” he assured me. He took a breath and changed the subject. “How's Toby?"

  "He'll live,” I said, looking back at the wolf. “But he's not going to be happy with Peterson."

  Maynard smiled. “Seems like you two make a good team then. If he's up to it,” he already knew Toby would be much better by nightfall, “take him with you. You're going to need all the help you can get. You're on your own on this one."

  I'm sure the confused look I gave him told him the entire story of my emotions.

  He took a step back from the cell door. “I have to do this, I'm sorry,” he said, motioning to the guards and healers in earshot of our conversation. “Until a full investigation can be completed, I'm afraid I have to suspend your Seeker status."

  The iron bars rung as I slammed my hands against them. “What?” I wasn't acting for the benefit of the audience.

  "Sorry, Rose. It's procedure. I'm sure everything will be cleared during the investigation.” He lowered his voice. “Get me that damned card."

  Maynard turned and walked away without another word.

  Spinning on my heels slowly, I stared at Toby. His head lifted and he stared at me inquisitively. Making no sudden movements I strode across the cell and carefully sat down next to him. I was sure he heard the entire conversation. Resting his muzzle on my lap again, I lightly ran my fingers over his fur. “Are you up for this tonight?"

  Toby whined softly.

  "I know,” I tried to comfort him. Leaning my head back against the concrete wall, I tried to think of everything, anything I could do. My defense hinged on finding that identification card.

  Then it struck me. What if the Cleaner's Witch had already wiped the scene? Damn.

  There was too much riding on this. Brimstone wasn't a job you just up and quit. If I was relieved of my Seeker status, it was permanent. I would probably be expelled into the light. And Toby, poor Toby ... They claimed the most humane way to execute a Werewolf was by firing squad. Only one of the seven executioners would have silver bullets. That didn't sound very humane to me.

  I looked down into Toby's yellow eyes. “You need a bath. You're not going out with me smelling like this."

  Toby pulled his lips back and growled at me as if to say, Try it and you'll regret it.

  I wisely let the idea drop.

  Chapter 7

  "Didn't there used to be a house here?"

  I glanced around the neighborhood recognizing several of the houses I had spent the previous night staring at. It was all the same. I knew this was the right place. At least, I thought I did. I stared in awe at several neighborhood children playing on a swing set, merry-go-round, and jungle gym. They squealed in delight as they romped, wrestled, and played on the vast patch of green grass stretched out from the sidewalk to a high wooden fence at least two lots back. The rundown houses on either side of the park looked even worse compared to the brand new equipment and beautifully arranged, lighted, stone path that swept through it. A small pond was situated in the far corner of the grass with a wide, arched bridge spanning it. The park was absolutely gorgeous. No trace of the Vampire nest was left.

  The Witch had outdone himself.

  I could see the residue of magic with my preternatural sight, but that was the extent of it. I didn't know how much the Witch had actually changed, or specifically what spells had been cast. I had the feeling something remained of the house, but I couldn't be sure. Call it a gut instinct. There was still the lingering scent of old death here. I didn't know exactly what that meant.

  The sun had just set leaving an orange glow in the western sky. I knew it wouldn't be long before the children's mothers called them home then I could get down to business. This spell was way beyond anything I was capable of undoing. This was some serious magic. It almost seemed beyond the comprehension of a lowly cleaning Witch. I needed help. And I knew where we could get some.

  Sliding into my midnight blue coupe, I glanced across to the empty passenger seat. Toby was mostly healed, but he wasn't quite back to full strength yet. I left him with the healers for one more night. I couldn't risk bringing him with me. There will be other hunts. Let him take the night off. I could handle this.

  Sliding the key into the ignition, I listened to the engine rumble then settle into a throaty purr. I liked this car, but I was glad it wasn't mine. Part of the Brimstone motor pool, it had been “acquired” from an alpha Werewolf who didn't need it anymore—he didn't need anything but a pine box now. The story was the same for many of the sporty, high-powered vehicles in the pool. The Brimstone Syndicate was an organization dedicated to protecting humanity, but it wasn't exactly the March of Dimes.

  The sparkling, spinning, twinkling lights of the Las Vegas Strip loomed ahead of me. I couldn't help but wonder how much power this city consumed on a daily basis. The mob bosses weren't the only ones who were rich here. I imagine the power companies turn a tidy profit as well. Turning onto Frank Sinatra Drive, I could see the backside of the Strip. Across the way I could make out the Tropicana, the New York, New York, and the MGM Grand. I didn't like to drive on Las Vegas Boulevard thanks to the glut of tourists and the multitude of yellow taxis that seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was just safer, and quieter to stay on the backstreets.

  Before I could see my destination, I saw the banks of lights that announced its presence. Cutting across Tropicana Avenue, I slid begrudgingly into the traffic on Las Vegas Boulevard. Past the Luxor and Mandalay Bay, I spotted the monument growing out of the Las Vegas desert, and it didn't strike me as odd. Not even a little bit. This was Las Vegas. The Eiffel Tower was four blocks down the street.

  Rising four hundred feet into the sky, the Aztec is one of the largest hotels in the United States. The step-side pyramid-shaped hotel and casino boasts four thousand rooms in the two adjoining towers, a casino that's over one hundred thousand square feet, and a meticulous reconstruction of the city of Teotihuacán, or so the pamphlet read. Built from actual blocks transported from Mexico City to Las Vegas, the main casino was a recreation of the Pyramid del Sol, the Sun Pyramid, the second largest pyramid in the new world. Smaller pyramids, including scaled-down reconstructions of the Moon and Feathered Serpent, were situated in front of the main casino around a huge lagoon.

  It was also sinking. The designers, engineers, and architects couldn't understand why. It was built on the same soil as the Mandalay Bay and it was solid. They were looking for physical reasons. They wanted to understand the problem with their tiny, closed human minds. In reality, it was very simple: the Earth was reclaiming it.

  Pyramids, used by cultures all over the world
from Egypt, China, and Mexico, were powerful structures. The triangle shape gathered and focused the Earth's natural energy. To design something like the Aztec and make it a shrine to capitalism was considered by many Inhumans to be an affront to the Powers That Be. It was harnessing the Earth's power with nowhere to channel it, thus the structure was gathering mystical mass. This new weight, combined with the already hefty load on the porous desert landscape, was causing it to sink. The Earth wanted her power back, and she was willing to do whatever it took to get it.

  The casino was stained in human blood, even before the doors opened for the first time. By using stones from the actual temples, the designers had harnessed something they didn't understand. Human sacrifice was extremely common in the Aztec culture. Proud warriors, they would take the enemies claimed in battle and sacrifice them to their various gods high atop the temples. Early Europeans who first met the Aztecs claimed to have seen rivers of blood running down the pyramid's steps. Teotihuacán was literally translated as the “city where men became gods.” You can't channel all of that power and expect it to simply dissipate.

  There was a rumor when the Aztec was first being constructed that an Inhuman was acting as the architect because of the use of supernatural shapes and measurements. But one look inside proved this wasn't so. Only humans could be so egotistical.

  Still, I liked it here. I felt powerful here.

  The Aztec instantly became one of Las Vegas’ most visited casinos as soon as it opened its doors. Some visitors claimed they weren't sure why, but they were drawn here. They weren't the only ones. This lavish creation was a beacon for anything even slightly sensitive to such things. I've been told that psychics, channelers, and Witches could see the massive amounts of power the casino was generating. They said it looked like a pyramidal sparkler on the Strip as the energy was drawn in, but had no place to go. The Aztec had become a mystical hotspot in the city, and that was exactly the reason I was here.

  Pulling into the parking area, I handed the valet my keys and accepted the ticket to reclaim them. Adjusting my white blouse, I reached down and flicked a bit of lint off my black pants. Opening another button on my shirt, I made sure the black lacy bra that lifted and enhanced my cleavage was peeking out suggestively. I started toward the entrance running my fingers through my messy blond hair. I missed being able to sit in front of the mirror and style my hair. It had taken some practice, but I had become pretty good at doing it by touch alone.

  I reached instinctively to the back of my pants but let my hand fall away. Maynard had taken my weapon when he suspended me. I was so used to having it that I felt naked without it. I smiled devilishly. I guess I would have to rely on my fangs, claws, enhanced strength and speed to defend myself.

  A marble floor stretched out lavishly toward the registration area, which was always full. Moving past, the clerks paid no attention to me. To them I was just another person spending money in their casino. They didn't care. No one did. Humans, with rare exceptions, are fairly oblivious creatures. They claim to have open minds, but in reality are so set in their ways that they wouldn't notice an Inhuman unless it had a huge, blinking sign overhead advertising it. And they liked it that way. Humans felt they had a pretty good grasp on the world. They felt they knew how it ticked.

  Boy, were they in for a shock.

  It was getting harder and harder to hide. Inhumans would eventually be revealed, but Brimstone was working hard to prevent that. With modern science and technology, humans were closer to understanding the truth of their universe: that they understood nothing. The discovery was almost inevitable at this point. But at the moment, thankfully, the paranormal world was still the domain of crackpots and ghost hunting plumbers. I had no intention of being poked and prodded in a laboratory as they tried to unlock the keys of immortality or my perfect health.

  Slithering through the casino floor, I made my way around craps tables, slot machines, and overworked, underdressed cocktail waitresses. The Aztec had beautiful waitresses, but not the most exquisite in Las Vegas. That distinction belonged to the Mandalay Bay. Those women were gorgeous. Even I felt inadequate beside them.

  A blue neon representation of a plumed serpent advertised my objective. It was Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent deity of ancient Mesoamerica. The muffled thump of subwoofers could be heard through the walls. This was Club Toltec, one of those trendy destinations in Vegas that smugly turned away the common folk. Aztec styled hieroglyphs ran high up the surrounding walls while a single burly human in a dark blazer worked the door. Red velvet ropes stretched away from the entrance and around a corner corralling a line of hopefuls waiting to get inside. The club enforced a strict dress code and occupancy limit. Unlike some of the other Vegas nightclubs, they wouldn't pack people in like sardines.

  Skipping the line, I walked right up to the doorman. He was a Samoan male, probably in his early thirties, and built like a brick house. A pair of dark glasses clung to his nose while his dreadlocked hair spilled down around his face. He looked like he could easily handle anyone who caused trouble, but I wasn't just anyone.

  He didn't even glance at me as he continued to hold the line at bay. “Back of the line, lady."

  I stood my ground. Placing my hands on my hips, I waited until he turned his attention toward me. I stared, unblinking, at him. I was calm and collected.

  Taking a step back from the line, the massive man slowly turned and met my gaze. He pulled his sunglasses off. His eyes held a mixture of confusion and frustration. He was fighting me. “The line,” he breathed, having trouble articulating his thoughts. “You really need to stand in line.” He tried to look away.

  I didn't move. He was almost mine.

  His stare caught mine again. “I can't,” he stammered. “I can't make exceptions."

  He was strong-willed. Not that it mattered, but good for him. I continued to silently stare. He didn't realize it, but the battle was already over. I watched his eyes glaze slightly. His stare locked on me, unable to look at away. He was finished. He had put up a good fight, but his will was mine now. Or as the younger Vampires liked to say, he was under my thrall. I personally preferred calling it the whammy. Sounded more fun that way, less devious.

  The whammy was one of the cooler tools in my arsenal. No one was exactly sure how it worked—even other Vampires—but it was akin to hypnotizing someone. All in the eyes; if my gaze caught a human's for long enough, I could manipulate them. Some Vampires had the ability, others didn't, and it relied heavily on the emotion the Vampire was exerting at the time. If I was angry, I could make the human cower in fear before me. Now, however, I simply wanted inside.

  Stepping close to the Samoan, I placed my hand gently on his chest. Slowly I ran my fingertips down his muscular torso. He seemed to shudder in pleasure at my touch. There was a time when I would use the whammy on men much like him, or women, break their wills, and then take them home. After they spent the night pleasuring me in every imaginable way I would bleed them to death. It was my little game. It's amazing what you can do when you don't have to face yourself in the mirror. But that felt like a lifetime ago. I wasn't that Vampire anymore.

  I leaned in close, my lips brushing against his ear. “You're going to let me in and then forget about me.” I could feel his excitement growing as my body pressed against his.

  The Samoan nodded. Reaching behind him, he pulled open the door and stepped aside. I ran my finger across his lips, his dark skin making mine look even more pallid, as I walked past. I could hear the complaints of the humans still standing in line waiting for their turn, but I didn't care. I kept my gaze trained on the doorman until he pulled the door closed again. Finally turning away, I could hear him shouting at the people outside to shut up. He had forgotten me already.

  I imagined Club Toltec looked like Mexico two thousand years ago if space aliens had come down and swathed everything in neon. Swatches of glowing blue, red, and pink neon ran rampant through the mainly black space. The club was immense. A hug
e stage area at the front had numerous erotically dressed dancers working on silver stripper poles as they were showered in colored light. A DJ occupied the center stage with multiple plasma screens arranged around him. The screens shot snippets of music videos intermingled with live shots of the dance floor. The music was loud and pulsating, assaulting my sensitive ears, as hundreds of humans bumped and grinded to it on the dance floor.

  The multitude of perfumes, cologne, and alcoholic beverages tried to confuse my sense of smell, but I had already found my target. I smiled softly. He was here. I knew he would be. Moving easily though the crowd, I scanned the fringes with my Vampire vision. Though not quite making it as bright as daylight, a Vampire's eyes saw better in the darkness than a human's. Working across several booths near the center of the club, I spotted him.

  I started toward him when an obviously inebriated human grabbed my arm. “How about I buy you a drink, sugar?"

  I spun angrily and slapped his hand away. “Don't touch me,” I growled. That should have been enough.

  "Come on, baby,” he persisted, grabbing me again. “Let a real man show you a good time."

  Fine.

  My eyes glossed over black as I stared him down. I could feel the rage boiling just beneath my skin as I slapped him with the whammy. His once cocky demeanor disintegrated to fear as the blood drained from his face. He stumbled back and dropped his drink. He tried to hold up his hands in surrender, but only succeeded in tumbling over backwards. Skittering up on his hands, he turned and ran away as fast as he could amidst laughter and jeers from the surrounding crowd.

  "Asshole,” I breathed.

  Turning back, I caught my target again. He was watching me. Didn't surprise me much. That dirt bag of a human had just blown the element of surprise.

  Moving down through the crowd carefully, I stopped in front of his booth. He sat quietly, an array of empty glasses on the table in front of him. Two dark-haired women, obviously prostitutes, clung to his sides. I could smell sex on them. A pair of gold, oval spectacles hung low on his nose, while his short black hair was spiked straight up in all directions. A thick turtleneck sweater pushed up against his gaunt chin and a deep maroon leather jacket hung off his shoulders.