He looked hopefully at Medea, but she baulked.
‘No, I can’t… I can’t do that anymore.’
‘The alternative is we tear the town apart looking for him. Surely the potential harm in that outweighs any Wiccan quibbles about being willing to off a bunch of homicidal witches?’ he asked.
‘Wow, your life really is never boring, is it?’ muttered Jonesy. I was suspecting he was very much regretting taking this job.
‘It’s not a conscious decision, Cain,’ Medea protested. ‘My magic has just… gone.’
‘Look,’ he knelt in front of her, and took her hands gently in his. ‘Laclos has my blood in him. We’re connected.’ He saw me open my mouth and scowled. ‘Not that kind of connected. But it’s like…’
‘A barium swallow,’ Jonesy supplied, which Cain didn’t look happy about – it sounded either rude or like a weird animal, and I doubted an angel had much truck with any medicine that went beyond stitching bullet holes, but it was the right analogy to make to the fiancée of a nurse. Cain’s blood would, hopefully, stand out to her tracking spell like radiation on a scan. But just because she understood it, didn’t mean she could do it.
‘So why can’t you track him, then? If you’re bonded in some way. The ang… your family seem always able to find you, isn’t it the same thing?’ I asked.
‘It doesn’t work like that, unfortunately. It makes us… hyperaware of the other, when we’re in close proximity. And it probably does create a connection – at least on his side – in ways I’m not thrilled at. But I don’t have that kind of ability any more. The… my comrades are drawn to our blood, but only in reasonable concentrations.’
‘So every time you… donate to him, he risks their attention? That seems a pretty big chance you took in there, then,’ I pointed out.
‘I thought you would want me to help him stay alive,’ he frowned.
‘I don’t think any of this is about what I want, is it?’
‘Look,’ interrupted Jonesy, impatient. ‘You two can row over who gets to pet the hot vampire later, but if we’re going to do this, we should do it now and get out of here.’ He turned to Medea. ‘Maybe you can give it a try? If we find their day camp, that puts us at a hell of an advantage.’
Medea looked unhappy at being put on the spot – I couldn’t say I blamed her – but nodded, reluctantly.
‘I can try.’
‘You can do it, I’m sure,’ Cain said warmly, with such conviction I almost believed him. But then again, he’d only just proven what a great liar he could be.
***
After several frustrating attempts, however, even Cain had to concede defeat. Medea simply couldn’t conjure up the magic, and was weakened by every attempt. Since Mariko and Leon were by now recovered, we decided to call it a night and they drove Medea home in one of the cars abandoned by Laclos’ vampires, taking Val with them, since clearly that odd little house share was happening for the duration. Medea seemed outwardly calm, but I could tell she was seething at Cain’s deception – and she was the one who liked him. I worried when she told Katie, her fiancée would turn into a lion and bite his head off. Though right at that moment, I felt like he deserved it, and the looks he was getting from Leon and Mariko – who’d been right on the frontline in this plan – confirmed they wouldn’t be rushing to his aid anytime soon.
Jonesy headed off to wherever he was staying – however much he seemed to trust Cain, he clearly wasn’t sharing that info with the rest of us – which left Cain and I to head back to my place in sullen silence. I could tell from the stubborn set of his jaw he was annoyed that I was questioning his actions, and this was made worse by the fact he had his own little set of helper monkeys who were on his side now, rather than having to depend on my friends. Val I thought I could read – biding her time for the big fight with the patience of an immortal – but Jonesy was a mystery to me. He seemed to know an awful lot about Cain considering they’d only done one job together (he knew he was married, for a start, which it had taken me years to find out) yet clearly there were some very big gaps in his knowledge. He seemed to think he owed Cain for something, but at the same time, he was still a hunter. I didn’t believe for one second that he wouldn’t sacrifice Laclos if it came to that.
***
We got back to my place, fed the cat and undressed in the huffy silence of two people spoiling for a fight but both knowing that we needed to hold on to some fragile détente until we saw this play out. I took a long time over my ablutions, hoping I’d come out of the bathroom and he’d be asleep, but no such luck: when I came back, he was sitting on the bed, looking serious, but also with the slight impatience of someone who knows something is inevitable and wants to get it over with.
‘OK, look, so that you don’t think I’m trying to kill the vampire at every opportunity, I think you should know that…’ He paused, scowling. ‘Laclos and I have a little more history than you’re party to.’
‘What kind of history?’ I demanded, shocked. What else was Cain going to tell me? The thought flared, inevitably. ‘Like…naked history?’
He shot me an exasperated look.
‘Of course not…’ he trailed off. ‘Well, in fairness, it’s Laclos, so yeah, bits of it were naked, but it’s not like you can blame me for that.’ He pulled a face, and I supposed I couldn’t argue with that. Laclos and clothes had a volatile relationship. ‘It’s just… when I left, last time… we ran into one another, a couple of times. Worked a couple of gigs together.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Honestly? Because I planned to come back and sweep you off your feet and I hoped he’d be out of the picture. Then things went kind of nuts, so I didn’t get the chance, and then with this whole ‘blood bond’ thing… I was worried you’d read too much into it.’
I stared at him, open mouthed.
‘So… does this mean, what? You’re friends now? Partners?’
He looked pained.
‘It means… we aren’t enemies. That’s probably as much as I can offer you. It means that although the guy gets on every last nerve, I won’t deliberately harm him and I will do my best, with certain caveats and exceptions, not to see him come to harm. Come to much harm.’
‘Jesus, Cain, is there anything else you’re not telling me?’
He let out another sigh.
‘Cass, both Laclos and I have been alive longer than you can imagine. We’ve lived lives and done things that no human could even process. There are lots of things we aren’t telling you, and there always will be.’
‘That’s consoling,’ I muttered, but in a way, it actually was. I had picked up several odd vibes between them even before this blood bond business: at least knowing what was behind it, I realised I wasn’t just being irrationally jealous. But I was still pretty pissed off about tonight, and he could clearly see that in my face.
‘Cass… look, I’m sorry. I made a decision on the fly and I should have told you about it. I fucked up. But this was Laclos’ call. It was his people, and I figured he had the right to try and fix his own mess. And… you’re human, Cass, and you care about him, which means we walk into there with you knowing the plan and your body gives you away a thousand different ways before you open your mouth.’
‘I’ve lied to vampires before,’ I reminded him, a touch petulantly.
‘It just seemed a pointless risk. And…’ he hesitated, knowing I wouldn’t like what he was about to say. ‘It doesn’t hurt if we convince people you’re left in the dark about things. I know you hate it, but the more we convince people that you’re just a human pawn in this, the safer you’ll be.’ Another pause. ‘If it’s any consolation at all, I thought it was a stupid plan as well. I half think Laclos figures he can charm his way out of it.’
I sat down beside him, disarmed by his honesty, and put my arms around his shoulders, resting my forehead against the back of his neck. He’s stripped to a t-shirt and his underwear, and as I leaned in against him I felt the woun
ds on his back pulse against my skin. I couldn’t tell whether this was his body reacting or mine, my Sense picking up on his pain, but for the first time, I realised how hard this was for him. He was a man trying to keep his feet in an earthquake, terrified of what would happen if he fell. He sagged back against me in exhaustion, and I held him, and the two of us sat there a long while, too weary even for sleep, neither of us wanting to think about what the morning would bring.
***
We arrived in work just before lunchtime the next day in a more reconciliatory mood, our truce having been sealed with a bout of mid-morning shower sex that left me glowing but a bit knackered. It’s hard to stay mad at a man who washes your hair, and if our physical relationship – the one area where we were never incompatible – was tinged with a sense of desperation, the fire sale 'everything must go' before he was hauled off to angel Guantanamo to undergo god knows what, both of us were making a sterling effort to ignore it.
Unfortunately, thinking about that rather took the shine off my morning. I dropped my half-eaten Pret croissant in the bin as we came in, appetite gone. Both Medea and Cain noticed and frowned – Medea because she knew I wasn’t a woman easily put off her food, Cain more, I suspect, because he thought he would be a better receptacle than the bin for anything I was done with (his noticeably increased appetite was leading me to believe whatever else it was, angel prison wasn’t catered). But Medea didn’t look thrilled to see us, either, and I couldn’t blame her. She and Cain exchanged curt greetings as he helped himself to coffee then leaned against the wall with the stance of a man who wouldn’t be moving any time soon, leaving Medea and me to make awkward smalltalk about the business, neither of us willing to tackle the bigger issues, particularly under his scrutiny.
***
I wondered whether Cain’s presence was necessary – it was full daylight after all, and though vampires occasionally used human messengers, we’d seen no evidence of these from our evil trio. But then the door opened and a man walked in. Not an unheard of event – we were open to walk-ins, as many of our clients were too nervous or embarrassed to make an appointment, and I regularly caught sight of people pacing up and down outside, working up the nerve to come in. But this guy strode in with a sense of purpose, looking like he owned the place – in fact, he had the air of a man who looked like he owned every room he entered – which made it all the more amusing when he took one look at Cain, turned on his heels and left at full speed without a word. Cain silently detached himself from the wall and headed out after him, seemingly in no rush. Medea and I exchanged glances, and our curiosity was further piqued when Cain came back 10 minutes later and we studiously tried not to notice him surreptitiously wiping blood off his knuckles onto his jeans.
‘Wrong address,’ he shrugged, topping up his coffee. A hunter, I assumed, who’d heard of our connection with Laclos and expected us to be easy pickings for information. Suddenly I wasn’t mad at Cain for insisting he came with us.
We must have looked a cheery bunch, because when Jonesy arrived an hour or so later, he let out a low whistle.
‘So, I’m guessing from the look on your faces there’s no sign of a plan? Unless you’re all sitting round waiting for tall, blonde and Viking to show?’
I started at that. I hadn’t even thought to ask where Val was, though Medea gave a small shake of her head, and I realised she had no idea either. And if Cain knew, he was neither concerned nor inclined to share. Jonesy held out a bag of pastries, offering to Medea first – a peace offering, maybe – and she accepted one with a wry smile, obvious she knew what he was doing. Cain and I fell on them gratefully; I’d been sorry for the last hour I hadn’t finished that croissant, and Cain was always happy to see food.
‘My wife is out shaking a few sources,’ he said, between mouthfuls. I tried not to wonder why he’d called her when he was out of my sight, since that was the only way he could know, unless they had some kind of immortals’ telepathy going on, which would really piss me off. ‘But mainly it’s a waiting game till dark. I guess we need to think about where in London – or at least near it – you could stage a vampire execution.’
‘Damn,’ Jonesy muttered. ‘And here’s me left my Lonely Planet Guide to Handy Execution Sites in England back in the car.’
Cain gave him a ‘not helping’ look – which was nice, as I was usually the one on the receiving end of that – and turned to me and Medea.
‘You’re the party organisers. Any suggestions?’
‘My parties don’t usually end in ritual murder,’ I pointed out, though in fact my last few parties hadn’t been that far off. This was why business was tough.
‘Uh, guys…’ Medea said, frowning at her computer.
‘But the principles are the same,’ Cain argued. ‘Somewhere vamp-friendly but discreet enough. They’d need to pretend it’s a normal party or… I dunno. A show, maybe? At least we’re too early for Guy Fawkes, or I could see them doing the old trick of sticking him on top of a bonfire.’
‘The old trick…?’ I echoed, horrified.
‘Uh, guys,’ Medea repeated.
‘I suppose I could look through my venues guide – I keep a file of all the places I’ve used, and considered using,’ I conceded. ‘See if anywhere pops out…’
‘Oi! Sassenachs!’ Medea snapped, furiously, so loud and Scottish that we all turned to her, astonished.
‘I’m not actually Engl…’ Jonesy began, but then he took one look at her face and trailed into silence.
Satisfied she had our attention, she indicated her computer screen.
‘I don’t think we need to worry about finding out where Laclos is being executed,’ she said, her voice heavy with disbelief. ‘I think we just got an invitation.’
***
‘This has to be a joke, right? I mean, they can’t actually be going to do this…’ Jonesy was voicing what we all thought, as we stared over Medea’s shoulder at her screen. The invite – sent to Medea’s email at Dark Dates – looked innocuous enough, the sort of thing a business like ours receives on a regular basis. Now everyone wants their entertainment to be immersive and interactive, plenty of places do it – you can go to the London Dungeon after dark and do sleepovers at the Natural History Museum, take Jack the Ripper walks through Whitechapel or Plague Tours round Tower Hill – so why not this? And in almost the same place where only a few years ago crowds had gathered to watch some American magician do absolutely nothing but stay in a glass box, the sender promised the next step up: Laclos the Conjuror would be doing his ‘vanishing vampire’ trick – buy your ticket to see him disintegrate at dawn! After a sufficient amount of late night canapés and cocktails, obviously, all in iconic surroundings. And in a nice nod to irony, 20% of the night’s profits would be going to a blood cancer charity.
‘But this is insane!’ I protested. ‘And it’s two nights away! How can you organise something like this in a couple of days? There’s venue bookings, council permissions, caterers…’
Cain shrugged.
‘I once saw Lac… a vampire pull off a sold out Edinburgh Fringe show in a matter of hours. You’d be amazed what you can achieve if you take the brakes off the compulsion.’
‘But this is a national landmark!’
Because their plan was as outrageous as it was genius. They would be using, as their location, Tower Bridge. Tower Bridge, the iconic, fancy looking bridge that non-Brits always think is London Bridge – because it’s far prettier and looks more historical, whereas London Bridge is bland and boring and bookended by Boots the Chemist and bike shops. Even if you’ve never been to London, you’d know it from a hundred different movies, from Sherlock Holmes to The Mummy, and the fact that it raises its bascules to let boats through means it’s always a popular choice for chase scenes keen to insert a bit of that ‘but the bridge is lifting!’ tension. It wasn’t new to events, nor stunts – only a few years ago the bridge had been opened at some ungodly hour of the morning to allow a motorbike rider to jump the
gap as it rose, and like many London landmarks, it boosted its coffers by hosting corporate events and parties. It had also recently fitted a glass floor to one of the walkways, so that you could look down on the bridge below from 200 feet high (this being Britain, it wasn’t without teething problems – someone, of course, dropped a bottle of beer on it in its opening week and cracked the glass). But I could imagine it would be an ideal vantage point to, for instance, observe a suspended glass box in which a man was made to disappear. The bridge had the infrastructure for such things – during the London Olympics the Olympic rings had been suspended from one of its walkways – so I couldn’t see this providing a logistical challenge to vampires who could compel who they wanted to help. I had no idea how the vampires would watch – tinted glass? Remote observation? Human helpers? – but no one would be able to argue that Laclos was alive if he was reduced to ashes in plain sight, especially if the human world was talking about this impressive new magic trick.
‘It seems so… elaborate,’ Medea frowned. ‘Like a James Bond villain set up.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Jonesy. ‘There’s definitely an air of “please come stage a daring rescue” about it.’
‘Of course it’s a trap,’ Cain shrugged, clearly unbothered by this prospect. ‘Draw out any remaining Laclos supporters – either get rid of them or force ‘em to watch. Remove the figurehead and most vampires will fall in line. London’s been at peace for years, and vampires are like any other rich people – they like the status quo. And I’m pretty sure that’s what they’re banking on. We – or anyone – storm in and stage a rescue, we’re all over the news tomorrow and then it’s game over for everyone. The very fact that they’re doing this in such plain sight makes it that much harder to counter it.’
‘Shit.’ I frowned, because he was right.
Angel Falls (Cassandra Bick Chronicles Book 3) Page 21