“Goddamn, you’re fine. Whenever I see you, I think you couldn’t possibly look better and then you do, girlie. How’ve you been, Rose?” The bouncer said beaming at me. His name was Phil, and he had been a loyal employee of Christian’s for at least eight years. Surprisingly enough, he was a werewolf and a big old teddy bear who really didn’t fit the whole atmosphere of the club. Granted he was twice the size of even Thorn, and looked like he bench pressed pickup trucks for fun, but he was entirely too happy to be the bouncer of Abaddon.
“Can’t complain.”
“New boyfriend? I don’t know how Christian’s going to react to that.”
“Not a boyfriend. But do you think he should wait out here?”
“Nah, he’s seen the kid already.”
“Fantastic. Right or left?”
“Left.”
“I’ll see you around, Phil.” I tugged on the lead and started into the club against the physical pulse of the music. It was so loud I could feel the bass on the back of my tongue. I was fairly certain it was intentional, some bullshit vampiric posturing, because why not.
“You seem tense,” Thorn whispered as we walked down the stairs into what kind of looked like the bowels of hell with the red-orange light reflecting up the hall—not to mention the heat.
The walls were twisted metal with scenes from Paradise Lost embossed onto them. Christian tried too hard. That was the number one thought that always crossed my mind when I was forced to visit him. He really heaped on those clichés and seemed to revel in being exactly what everyone thought when they heard the word vampire. Cells lined the room with cage-like walls and doors so anyone who came through could see everything that went on. Over the music, I could barely make out the crack of whips and the garbled cries and shouts from the debauchery that transpired in my periphery as I made my way to one of the few private rooms.
The two biggest were to the left or right of the hallway. The right was paradise, complete with a fake garden and mural that could have made the masters weep. The left was hell, the mural there, souls twisting in a lake of fire and the room more or less resembled some bizarre medieval torture chamber version of a box store, with various apparatuses strewn throughout.
The first thing I heard when I opened the door was a blood-curdling scream. Instinct took over, and I drew my gun. The safety was still on, but feeling the weight in my hand made those screams a little easier to bear. As always, I found Christian spattered in blood, beating someone who begged for more in spite of their devastating wounds.
It was a power play that had lost all effect on me. Christian was like a dog that learned to play by baring its teeth. He looked like a caricature of a vampire, long black hair, deathly pale skin, and an odd, surreal androgynous beauty. His body was all male, though, and you could certainly tell in the tight leather pants he wore—hell, you could even tell he was uncircumcised. His chest was bare and the bright candy apple red blood traced down between every dip of those muscles on his chest.
“Ah, my beautiful Rose,” he purred with a vaguely Slavic accent thick enough to walk on.
“Let’s cut the crap, shall we? I don’t want to play. I don’t have time to play. I just want to rip this band-aid off and get home to sleep.”
“You smell like him.” Christian dropped the bloodied whip to the floor and approached us, his dark eyes narrowed in scrutiny at Thorn.
“Does that matter?”
“Ah, my dear, dear Rose, we both know it matters a great deal.”
I groaned. “Can we not do this and just say we did?”
“Do what?”
“You're posturing because there’s a male here. Oh, my god, I’ve been touched by another man. Gasp, shock, and fucking awe.” The sarcasm was thick as I spoke with apathy dripping from my voice. He licked the blood from his fingers as he stared down Thorn but when he didn’t get the response he was after his mouth twisted.
“You’ll never be anything to her,” he growled at Thorn. “I see what you’re thinking. I know what you want.” He enunciated every word perfectly as he paced around Thorn. “His mind is full of sex, my dear. He’s desperate for you. Eager like a little whore seeking that last dollar from a John.” Christian’s voice made me shiver, and not in a good way. It was his tone. I didn’t get the magic that accompanied it, but I certainly got that hot anger, and it ticked every little primal response in my body that said RUN. I fought it. He whispered something to Thorn that I didn’t catch, but whatever it was made his face falter for a moment, and Christian jump back with a big shit-eating grin.
“Congratulations on marking your territory like a fucking dog. Can we please talk like people now? Or do I need to put a bullet in one of your playmates?” I leveled my gun with the tied up individual Christian had been playing with when we entered. He stepped in front of me.
“Fine.” He turned and headed to the back. Once there, he touched a panel that slid open, revealing a hidden room. We followed him, but I didn’t put the gun away. I had gone from thinking I could handle Christian’s hissy fits to fairly certain I was going to put a bullet in him before the end of the night. They were lead so they wouldn’t kill him, but they’d still hurt like a son of a bitch and therefore, get my point across nicely. Essentially, it was a case of two birds with one stone.
The chamber was so banal compared to the rest of Abaddon. It had a couch and a few chairs strewn about with expensive, fluffy pillows. The walls were covered in a maroon filigree, and the carpet was plush and black. It looked like a tastefully decorated living room. It was probably where he did aftercare with whatever misguided unfortunates he played with.
“Talk,” I barked at him.
“How charming,” he purred as I rolled my eyes and sat on the couch, Thorn followed though he dragged his feet. “You were the one who wanted to… talk like people.”
“You acted like a jackass of a jealous boyfriend.”
“It’s one thing to know you don’t open your heart to anyone, Rose. It’s another to know it was clearly just me.”
“You’re a dick, Christian. A big huge whopping bag of dicks.”
“Now you’re just saying things to be hurtful.”
“Whatever, okay. Did anything or one super powerful leave in the last six months.”
“There’s lots of comings and goings. You’re going to have to be more specific.” He crossed his legs and wiped his bloodied mouth with a tissue from a box on the table near the chair where he sat.
“This would have been a big deal. Someone or thing that was maybe keeping people in check for the last thirty years or more.”
“Take out your tits.”
With a sigh, I clicked the safety off my gun. “Don’t push me, Christian.”
“I’ll answer you, but I want to feed on you first. It’s amazing information, and I know its worth.”
“Fine,” I grunted out through clenched teeth.
“Not your neck. You know where I want to feed.”
Without another word, I pulled my top down, freeing my breasts to the air. My body told the tale that this had happened before. My right areola had two scars around it from when I was dumb enough to fuck him. I didn’t even look at him or Thorn, I kept my vision focused on the wall.
“You’d think your begrudging compliance would quell my ardor, but you just remind me of the servants I used to force into my bed. I loved a few of them, and though they never fought me, I knew they didn’t welcome the arrangement. Sometimes history repeating itself can be somewhat pleasant.” As he ended his little speech, I could feel his hot breath on the left side this time. I grit my teeth to stop from crying out as he sunk his fangs into the supple flesh of my breast. It fucking hurt. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes and my nostrils flared as I fought against myself. When he finished, he handed me a wad of tissues that I quickly pressed to the seeping wound—at least it’d match now. I quickly pulled my bra back up, wincing all the while.
“So, what is this amazing information?”
“Mommy’s no longer minding store, so the children are free to scheme and play.”
“What?”
“That’s all I’m going to give you for that little morsel you gave me.”
“Motherfucker! That’s nothing! That’s less than nothing!”
“Oh no, my dear Rose. It’s everything.” Christian collapsed back against the chair and grinned at me.
“Fine.” I nodded and pursed my lips, “fine!” Without a second of delay I leveled the gun at his chest and shot him. Thorn gasped and jumped.
“You shot him!” He screamed the obvious.
“Yup, and it’s not the first time either.” I stalked over to Christian and glared down at him, he was still smiling at me, even as he clutched at the seeping wound in his chest. Bright cherry red blood bubbled up in the corners of his mouth. “Awe, it looks like I nicked a lung this time. With my blood in your system, that’s going to hurt like a bitch for a good few days.” I dug the nose of the gun into the wound, it was his turn to sneer against the pain. “I want you to think about this next time you have the bright idea that I’ll ever and I do mean ever let you fucking touch me again. If you have information for me, we’ll exchange favors but from now on my body and my blood is off the fucking table.” I leveled the gun to his forehead. “Understood?” He nodded rapidly. “Good.” I slipped my gun back into my holster. “It was great catching up with you, Christian. Thank you for reminding me all over again why I fucking hate people.” I yanked on Thorn’s lead and started out of the club walking briskly.
Thorn was mostly silent until we got to the car. Once the doors closed, he started freaking out with a myriad of half-started sentences that never saw more than a half syllable, let alone a single word.
“Deep breath,” I said as I started the car. “In through your mouth, out through your nose.” I coached him as we pulled out of the parking lot.
“You just shot someone.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” I snorted.
“How could you just—”
“Shoot him?”
“Yeah.”
I shrugged. “It seemed the thing to do at the time. I wanted to blow Christian’s brains all over that nice wallpaper, but that tends to cross a line I’m not completely certain I want to cross with him. Yet.”
“Yet?”
“Mhm. He’s useful for now, but the moment he outlives his usefulness and gives me a fucking excuse that’s it. I’m done. Christian’s good for information, but he clearly thinks there’s more between us than there is.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t play coy, Thorn, it doesn’t suit you.” I pulled into the parking lot in front of my building. “Well, Christian kind of rained on the whole being able to pretend you’re not interested thing. I’m just going to tell—”
“You’re the monkey with the metal mommy, I remember.”
“Bingo.”
“I think you’re capable of more than you realize.”
“And I think you’ve known me for a whole two fucking days.” I beamed at him before slipping out of the car. When his door closed, I hit the lock button on the keys and started into my building eager to treat my wound and go to sleep. But he just wouldn’t fucking drop it.
“You’re a kind person, Rose.” I opened the door, holding it for him.
“Am I?” I slid the deadbolt in place. “I thought you just finished spazzing out over me shooting some asshat in the chest.”
“You are. You didn’t have to help Audrey, and you did, and you didn’t have to help me, and again you did.”
“I also didn’t need to shoot Christian in the chest, but I did. I need you alive to help find out what’s going on. And Davy would have been hard to work with if he knew I killed his sister.”
“But you don’t, so far all I’ve done is just tag along doing nothing.”
“So far. As I said before, it’s only been two days.” I walked into the bathroom and took out the first aid kit.
Being a minus null meant I was immune to things like Lycanthropy, and Vampirism. But that didn’t mean vampire bites and werewolf scratches couldn’t get infected by your everyday, run of the mill, and often underappreciated microbes. I took off my bra and peeled away the blood-soaked tissues with a grimace. It took a while but eventually I got the wound treated and bandaged with the pain subsiding to a dull aching throb.
“Can I get you anything?” Thorn asked leaning against the door frame.
“Nah.” I wrapped my arms around my breasts and walked into the bedroom, snagging a sports bra out of the top drawer. The pressure dulled the ache to something completely ignorable. “Ready for your first day in an actual job?” I asked stepping passed him, returning to the bathroom to wash off my makeup.
“I’m a little excited.”
“Are you really?”
“Yeah. Last time I had a real job, I was sixteen and running packages in the mailroom.”
“Wow, I think you’re in for a rude awakening. Busing tables and bar backing is hard work.”
“I don’t mind hard work. And I’ll only need to spend two days a week at the gym instead of three.”
“No personal trainers. You have to limit personal contact. If you think someone you work with, or meet at Castella’s is cute, or someone comes on to you, fucking them is fine, just don’t get involved.”
“I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”
“And if you have some sort of weird, screwed up transference with me, I’m shutting that down now. The moment I feel you’re getting too attached, I’m renting you an apartment in the Collins district.”
Thud. The collar and lead hit the floor at Thorn’s feet. He looked utterly crestfallen. I actually felt a little bad about being as cold as I was, but I didn’t know how to be any other way. I almost wished I was someone else capable of letting him in. It was a learned behavior. I wasn’t normal, and unlike others with my problem, I didn’t pretend to be. It was cruel to let people love you when unable to return the favor. I couldn’t do that. I might have been a bitch. I might have been a borderline sociopath numbed to violence, but I wasn’t cruel…unless someone pissed me off and then I’d just put a .38 through their chest. Was that cruel? I wasn’t very good at being consistent.
Five
SOME PEOPLE LIKE their jobs, I wasn’t one of those people. In fact, I didn’t think it’d be much of a stretch to say I hated it. One aspect that stuck out was the whole people thing. Human and non-human interaction wasn’t one of my strong suits. I only got my Private Investigator license because I already knew how to do the job—well without the whole people aspect.
After dropping Thorn off at Castella’s, I sat in the parking lot behind the 820 building at Main and Euclid. I didn’t want to go in. I had my first meeting at ten, and it was nine fifteen. That gave me enough time for coffee, and to smile through the normal office chatter. I hated small talk, but I knew I’d be treated to people asking how my two-month absence went, how the weather was, and maybe that unique corner of hell as someone tried to set me up with their cousin, brother, step-sibling, or friend—oh joy.
With a deep breath, I stepped out into the cold, pulling my black peacoat tighter around me. I entered the code on the back gate and took the elevator up to the sixth floor. Right away the doors opened on the tasteful marble lobby and reception. The building was historical, so it had a great art deco look to it, lots of marble and high ceilings decorated with an intricate pattern. The light fixtures were original even, ancient chandeliers of gold and crystal that seemed almost out of place. The firm did a lot of business—we had to just to afford rent.
To say the preternatural community got price gouged was a bit of an understatement. It wasn’t entirely unwarranted, the more dangerous a case, the more P.I.s tend to charge. It made sense that when dealing with Vampires or Werewolves you’d charge a little extra in the form of hazard pay. It was on a case by case basis, usually when they had a known record of violence. But overall the rates we charged th
em were a higher in general.
After I got coffee and narrowly avoided a conversation in the hall with one of my illustrious co-workers, I closed the door to my office and turned on my computer. By the time I entered my password, the clients were walking through the door. I knew what they were before they sat down and the receptionist could offer them coffee. They were Sidhe. Their beauty and perfection almost burned my retinas. He was tall, with bright blue eyes, blond hair like spun gold, and a positively succulent mouth. She was leggy and lithe, with hair the color of good rubies and irises of emerald. Both were disturbingly symmetrical and perfectly dressed. They looked like fashion models or movie stars. Thorn would have fit right in with them.
The male shifted a bit in his seat before he started speaking, “Ms. Black, we’re here because you’ve come highly recommended by some of our friends.” Oh god, that accent. It was all the best parts of British—soft, lilting, sultry. I just wanted to roll in it like a happy puppy.
“Which friends?”
“Caellach, you helped with his… situation.” Ah, document guy.
“Do you have a similar situation?”
“Our daughter is missing.” The female finally spoke, the words were kind of choked out and with them came tears that threatened her expertly done makeup. “She’s eight. And—” The male silenced her with a look.
“No, let her finish. I can’t help if you keep secrets from me.”
“We can’t say any more.”
Camera Obscura (A Novel of Shadows Book 1) Page 5