Angel Falls (Cassandra Bick Chronicles Book 3)

by Sinclair, Tracey

  ‘This opens up in the rooms behind the main areas,’ he explained, his voice low, as we approached what was clearly our destination. ‘I think it lets out into a utility closet.’ He waved a dismissive hand, almost looking embarrassed to admit vampires needed such a thing, but I suppose all those skin tight t-shirts didn’t wash themselves. ‘There are also sleeping quarters for humans, day quarters for vampires.’

  ‘On a normal night, how many people would be here?’ Seeing Laclos hesitate – Cain could be picky in his definition of people – he clarified. ‘Vampires, guests and employees.’

  Laclos frowned, clearly not happy at having to give away his secrets.

  ‘At present my nest is one of the largest in London, so it holds around 30 vampires – most acquired when I came to London, so only a few centuries old. A few older ones, but since you thinned out the ranks…’ Jonesy looked confused by that, and not thrilled by my ‘I’ll explain later’ face, since the amount of explanations he was owed was getting longer by the minute. ‘Probably a dozen or so guests, the same number of domestics.’

  ‘It’s not frigging Downton Abbey, Laclos,’ I grumbled, and he pulled an apologetic grimace.

  ‘Household… attendants,’ he fumbled for the phrase then scowled, almost petulant. ‘We do pay them, you know. Very well. A lot of clans don’t.’

  ‘Well, aren’t you the enlightened one,’ Jonesy muttered, and Laclos looked aggrieved at being outnumbered. I must admit, our introduction via brutal strangulation aside, I was actually starting to like this guy. He turned to Cain, though Laclos was included in the question.

  ‘So any idea what we’re going to be up against?’

  Laclos gave him an acid smile.

  ‘I assume either a bunch of heavily armed hunters such as yourself, or a pack of angry vampires hell-bent on revenge. Shall we find out?’ He stepped towards the heavy wooden door, then cast an acerbic look back at the two hunters. ‘Do try not to kill anyone on my side, though.’

  Cain flashed a lupine grin – I suspected that provided Leon and Mariko were OK, he wasn’t too bothered about any other collateral damage – and we crouched behind Laclos as he opened the door, ready for whatever awaited us. But we didn’t have to worry about that. There was no one left to kill.

  Chapter 17

  I sort of missed the first few minutes, what with all the being hunched up in the corner vomiting. Until they reach about a century old, vampires don’t disintegrate when they die – they bleed as much as we do, and just as messily, especially when their limbs have been torn off and scattered around the room like Halloween-themed confetti. There was plenty of vamp-dust here too, dyed red by the vampire and human blood that had soaked into it, but it was the wallpapering of gore that did for me. I’d seen death before – horrible, gruesome death – but it was still nauseating, so while the others did a quick recce, I made myself useful by puking my guts up. Katie, in human form, held back my hair and rubbed my back and murmured kind, soothing words that meant nothing in the face of such carnage but that I was grateful for, nonetheless.

  Cain and Jonesy, having assessed at a glance there was no one here to fight or help, headed to do a sweep of the back rooms, and when I finally had nothing left to throw up, I straightened up to see Laclos at the entrance to the main hall, frozen, paler than I thought even a vampire could look, staring at the lone figure in the enormous, empty room – the boy sitting on the bed.

  ***

  He really was a boy, too. Tiny and pale, barely pubescent, the scent and terror of his transformation making my Sense gag. He stared at us with wild, hollow eyes, as Katie and I staggered into the room behind Laclos, her pulling on some clothes as she did so. She instinctively went to help the boy, but Laclos put out an arm to hold her back. My Sense jarring, my eyes wet, I knew why: whatever monster had turned this child had not been careful or kind.

  Laclos stepped forward, cautiously, trying not to spook him.

  ‘Why isn’t he saying anything?’ Kate whispered, horror thick in her voice. ‘Surely he should… have a message or something?’

  Laclos turned back to us, inhuman in the tight coils of his fury.

  ‘He is the message.’

  ***

  Laclos was near the bed now, so he kept his voice soft, though his words were directed back at us, not at the shell of a being before him. Trying to make myself some fraction of helpful, I attempted to wrangle my Sense into behaving, pull it back from its terror and see if I could pick up anything useful in the room. I felt the trace of Alastair’s malevolence in the air, and with it, the merest hint of Amalthea, and I found myself praying that the last thing this boy had seen had been another child – even if only in outward form – not that giant, fearsome brute of a man.

  ‘I flouted the rules. I attacked other vampires. I attracted attention. So they break the rules in turn. They use fresh blood as cannon fodder, and they turn infants.’ Laclos turned back to me with a grim smile, though there was not an ounce of humour in it. ‘I believe it’s what you would call bringing a gun to a knife fight.’

  He was mere inches away from the child now, who watched him blankly. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be dragged from one existence to another then forced to witness such carnage, never mind at such a young age, and it was clear to my Sense that, whatever had been done to this young boy, what had been human inside him had not survived the transition.

  ‘It is alright, child. None of this is your fault.’ Laclos’ voice was honeyed, and the boy’s eyes widened – in fear? In recognition of one of his own? – as Laclos pulled him into a gentle embrace, murmuring sounds of solace. He held him for a moment, the child’s body relaxing instinctively into the protection of an adult. And then in one smooth, swift movement, Laclos ducked down and tore his throat clear out of his neck.

  ‘Jesus!’ Katie and I jumped together, and she, with faster instincts than I, lunged forward as if she could… what? Save the boy? Attack Laclos? But this time it was me that held her back. I was sickened beyond words by the callousness of Laclos’ actions, but I had seen vampires before, abandoned by uncaring Sires, lost in madness because they had been unable to negotiate those first, crucial hours. My Sense had picked up nothing but shattered pieces of consciousness in the boy: whatever Laclos had done to the young vampire on the bed, the child had been killed hours before, and it was the ones who had done that who deserved our fury.

  Laying the boy’s body down gently, Laclos wiped his mouth on the sheets, his dark eyes flint as he looked at us, daring us to protest at his actions.

  ‘We do not turn children. It is an abomination.’ He glared around the room, as if he could find something here on which to take out his anger. But there was only emptiness and air tainted with the stench of blood and fear.

  ‘Laclos! We found something!’ Cain yelled, and before Katie or I could move, Laclos had vanished from the room.

  ***

  The back rooms were a warren of closets and cubby holes, storage rooms and shadows. Being in an ancient space under one of the most sacred buildings in England was playing havoc with my Sense, which was already reeling from the encounter with the broken boy and the charnel house we’d had to walk through, so I had no clue what the hunters had found. But, the smell of meat and blood and death making my now-empty stomach churn, I followed the determined stride of Katie, who was managing to keep her own horror in check like the professional she was, though I suspected once she was back alone with Medea she’d be doing plenty of crying of her own. We found the three men standing in front of a large, heavy-looking wooden door that appeared to lead to another cellar.

  ‘There’s something in there. It looks like it’s locked from the inside, and I can hear… something.’ Cain said. ‘We could blow it, but…’ he trailed off. An explosion might hurt those inside, or dangerously weaken the infrastructure. ‘Any idea where it goes?’

  Laclos frowned. The downside of living like a king is the servants are the only ones who know what ha
ppens behind the scenes – it was clear such technicalities were beneath him. He leaned against the wood – it must have been seriously thick if it was impervious to vampire hearing – but as he did so, Cain caught sight of me. I must have looked like I felt because he lowered his gun, closed the distance between us in two long strides and pulled me into a tight, one-armed hug – ever practical, he kept his gun arm free. I let out a whimper as he buried his face in my hair, kissing the top of my head gently as I sagged against him, my body seeking comfort as ever in his strength and his solidity. Even when he turned back to Laclos, he still held on to me, and I was grateful for his concern.

  ‘Anything?’ he asked Laclos.

  Laclos straightened from the door and nodded. Calmed slightly by Cain’s reassurance, my Sense was picking up people somewhere beyond the door – vampires and human, I thought, but that was it. I had no idea if they were Laclos’, or if this was a trap, but Laclos seemed certain.

  ‘It is Laclos, and I bring friends,’ he said, loudly, into the wood. ‘You are safe, now. Open the door.’

  There was a pause, then my Sense rather than my hearing picked up a buzz of conversation, panicked and scared. Then I heard a murmur of a male voice, authoritative, and a familiar presence warmed my Sense. There was the scraping of heavy bolts being drawn back and Laclos stepped away from the door as Cain let me go and he and Jonesy stepped forward, weapons drawn. The door creaked open and Leon stepped out into the room.

  ***

  Although vampirism can lend a slightly ashy tinge to darker skin, in general non-white vampires have the same polished marble complexions of their pale comrades, just in darker tones. But Leon looked positively grey, like he’d been dipped in dust and ashes. The glasses he liked to favour were gone, he was in his shirtsleeves, his clothes torn, and he was cradling one arm. Someone had clearly attacked him with something like a silver-laced chain, because there were scorched welts along the flesh where he’d tried to defend himself, and they hadn’t yet healed. He limped forward, but stopped as he examined our faces and didn’t see the one he was looking for.

  ‘Where’s Riko?’

  We looked past him to the huddle of shell-shocked humans and vampires behind him, as if she would be hiding in there.

  ‘I held them off, got who I could to safety and she went for help,’ he explained, his voice wavering as he tried not to panic. ‘Didn’t she find you?’

  ‘How did you even know this was here?’ Laclos marvelled. Leon cast him an impatient glance that spoke volumes. However much Laclos thought of himself as Mr Good-Boss-look-how-much-I-pay-my-domestics, it was clear he lived a life of immense privilege where everyone else worried about the details. To avoid him getting a smack, I stepped forward.

  ‘We took the tunnel here. Maybe we crossed paths with Mariko,’ I suggested, as Jonesy and Katie pushed past me and busied themselves with helping the rest of the survivors, who were shuffling and limping out of the cramped room they had been hiding in. Some asserted themselves by straightening up, trying to look bold, but others were clearly traumatised by the attack, stunned into somnambulism. These were Laclos’ people: they’d lived a life of luxury and peace, utterly unprepared for such atrocities. Some, out of habit, started to drift towards the main chamber, but Cain stepped in their way. I wasn’t sure if he knew what had happened there, but it was clear he realised it wouldn’t help them to see it.

  ‘Do you have blood and food here?’ he asked Laclos, ever the pragmatist. ‘We need to get them into a condition where we can move them.’

  Laclos, looking pretty stunned himself by now, gave a nod, and gestured towards yet another corridor that led to some other part of the complex. Bloody hell: I’d thought this was a lair, but it was more like an underground vampire village. Katie nodded and started to steer people in that direction – Leon was preoccupied uselessly trying to get a signal on his phone – and Laclos went to follow but Cain laid a hand on his arm.

  ‘How at risk are we of the security forces finding this place? I assume the explosion was to hide the attack.’

  It was Leon who answered, clearly glad of practical distraction.

  ‘It was, but I don’t think the police will come looking. The big ginger Scottish guy – I’m assuming that was Alastair – and his vamps came in through the main door and blew it after them, but from the outside it’s just an unused door. All the cops will find is rubble. The attackers left through one of the tunnels.’

  I shuddered at that, at the prospect that we might have run into the people capable of doing this down there in the dark. But Cain, typically, saw an even more depressing side to that.

  ‘So they knew the layout,’ he said, with a weighted look at Laclos, who clearly understood the implications of that. But Cain wasn’t one to dwell, or allow anyone else to do so.

  ‘OK. Get everyone to drink fast. We need to move and we’re running out of dark.’

  ‘We need to find Riko,’ Leon insisted.

  ‘And we will,’ Cain agreed. ‘But not from down here where there’s no phone signal and where the bad guys know to find us. For all we know, they expected us to come running when we heard the news. We need to leave.’

  ***

  After a quick consultation between Laclos and Leon, we decided we weren’t going to return the way we came: a few people sneaking into a pub was easily hidden, a band of refugees emerging from one less so, but luckily there was another, rarely used route. While Katie helped patch up and feed the survivors – not a fast process, however badly Cain wanted us to be on the move – we followed Leon to yet more back rooms, where, with the help of Cain and Jonesy, he moved aside a bunch of boxes and crates, dustsheet-covered paintings and piled up furniture to clear access to another door, this one warped and grimy with neglect. Given the crap that was piled in front of it (which, given the magpie nature of vampires, was probably a hoard worth a fortune) and the veneer of dust and spider webs that covered it, we could be sure it hadn’t been used recently. In fact, the hinges were so rusty that it wouldn’t open even to Leon’s or Laclos’ strength. Laclos turned to Cain who, with a brief nod, stepped forward and the two men, in a move that was both impressively synchronised and, I admit it, insanely hot, kicked out in unison and the door fell to splinters beneath their boots.

  ‘This lets us out inside the church at Smithfield,’ Laclos explained, and I tried not to quail at the realisation there had been such a route, emerging almost on the doorstep of my office – the thought of my old enemies Taka, the Counsel or Sebastian being able to make such a trip unhindered wasn’t a cheerful one. But there was no point in worrying about that now. Laclos outlined his plans to a female vampire who was unfamiliar to me. Relatively young in vampire years, she was in human terms in her late forties or early fifties, slightly squat with strong rather than attractive features: she looked more like a PE teacher than the fantasy of a lithe and youthful vampire. Further proof, if it was needed, that while they could be shallow, vampires were as diverse in their tastes as humans, and didn’t just turn supermodels. I was starting to realise Laclos looked as much like a rock star among his own people as among mine.

  The woman – Nell, he called her – nodded briskly along to his instructions. It was obvious their bases were compromised and unsafe, but while nothing Laclos possessed could protect them, he was not a man without resources. He recited the address of some human contact who owned a luxury building where the humans could be stashed. Since this guy was, by the sound of it, some Russian oligarch who lived overseas, he couldn’t be easily found and forced to give enemy vampires access, and that, in conjunction with the kind of security employed by billionaire businessmen, would hopefully keep them secure. The vampires were to decamp to a hotel where Laclos had contacts, hoping that the encroaching daylight and the fact that they’d be in the heart of the West End – and so surrounded by witnesses – would protect them. Since Laclos’ enemies had been awfully casual about setting off an explosion next to one of the world’s most famous building
s, I wasn’t overly sold on this idea, but they weren’t my people, so it wasn’t my call.

  ‘But what about you?’ Nell asked, not unreasonably. Laclos laid a gentle hand on her cheek.

  ‘I will take Leon and go with my friends to try and bring a cessation to these hostilities. But I can only do so with the knowledge that you are all safe.’

  He kissed her, lightly, on the lips, but that just made her more plaintive.

  ‘But where are you going?’ she persisted, and Laclos’ gaze flicked towards me. Oh, fuck.

  Chapter 18

  Leon had his phone out the second we hit fresh air. Mariko must have texted him, because before he could even dial, relief sagged his shoulders, and he closed his eyes for a second in silent gratitude before calling her back. They spoke briefly as the vampires and humans were divided into their respective groups, and he came over to me as the others started to disperse.

  ‘She’s at your place. She got a little beat up in her escape so Medea wouldn’t let her come back to us, made her stay and wait and recover.’ The tone of his voice made it obvious he thoroughly approved of this decision, though I didn’t envy Medea having to convince the sword-happy Mariko not to come back to Leon’s aid. Whatever it was between them, it was a bond neither took lightly. Cain took off his jacket and handed it to Leon – the latter’s arm was still healing, and his clothes were a wreck, so although he was slightly broader than Cain, at least slinging the jacket over his shoulders hid the worst of the damage, even if it looked incongruous over his suit. But a black guy who looks like he’s been in a fight will always risk more attention from the authorities than a white guy in the same state, and there were likely still more police around than was comfortable. Luckily, though, the feeding and tending to the wounded had taken so long that it was so late now it was almost early: Smithfield was gradually coming to life, the up-well-before-dawn butchers and motorbike couriers milling about the market, the cafes and even pubs starting to open for their trade, so we had cover as we emerged from the church and headed back to my place.