by Sharon Joss
“The victory dance was the best part.” Dave was grinning like an idiot. “That guy was bustin’ moves all over the place. The crowd went wild for him. Phelan told me people were using his moves on the dance floor tonight. You’re a sensation.”
“Can it, jerkbait,” he said, without heat. “I feel like a damn freak.”
Dave turned serious. “Well join the club, Mikey. Welcome to my world.”
Mike sighed and rubbed his jaw. It was the first time Dave had talked about his lycanthropy. “Sorry, man. That was uncalled for.”
“Don’t be weak. If you think like that you’ll drive yourself nuts. Somebody invited that guy to the party tonight. No strange vampire has ever been able to cross the threshold at Mythica. It shouldn’t be possible. I’ve never seen anything like the show your beast put on tonight. No one has. Even Vince was impressed. He didn’t punish you for shifting on duty. That’s a first, as far as I know.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you did your job. I’m saying you saved lives tonight. I’m saying our new Beta kicked ass and killed a vampire with his bare hands. That’s huge. Weres don’t get much respect, Mikey, and that kind of thing makes our whole pack stronger. When we’re strong, it pulls us together and we’re safe. Everyone has been on edge about the summit. We’ve been losing members right and left. There’ve been a lot of squabbles and fights. It’s almost like we have two factions now. With you here, all of a sudden Ambrose’s nest is in a much more solid position to expand into new territory. We’re united again. You’re a hero.”
Mike grunted. “Well I sure as hell don’t feel like it. The way you say it, I almost wish I could remember.”
“It’s all on tape, just ask Vince.”
He choked back a gag reflex. He’d never actually seen what Tehuantl looked like; only the bloody aftermath of his attacks. “No thanks. The nightmares are bad enough. I don’t know that I could stand to see him in action.”
Unhappy as he was to have his worst secret laid bare, Mike felt a curious lightness of spirit; an easing of the worry he’d carried around for more than half his life. People had seen Tehuantl. Seen what he was. Letting go of that secret was almost like saying goodbye to an old friend. The pack had accepted him as one of their own, even after they’d seen him at his very worst. Surprisingly enough, it felt good. He glanced at Dave. It wasn’t just Vince who’d changed his mind about werewolves. Dave was one, too.
From somewhere deep inside his mind, he heard echoes of Tehuantl’s manic laughter.
CHAPTER 23 : THE ODDITORIUM
Mike stood quietly in the back of the dim control room of the Mythica operations building. He’d spent the last three hours observing the action of the park on the monitors, praying that his fourth night on the job would be incident-free. Seated at the console, three figures hunched over the bank of video displays tracking the action for each sector in the park from multiple angles. Cobb Van Cleve spoke into his headset; redirecting a security officer from sector three to support a drunk and disorderly incident in the sector two beer gardens behind the park restaurant, The Bloody Fang.
It was close to ten o’clock when Vince arrived, and assigned Chaney to escort him over to the theatre sector. “I’m partnering you up with Silas, Mike. He can show you the setup. He and our old Beta, Tanner, worked the shows together. You ever see a vamp act before?”
“No.”
From his seat at the console, Phelan snickered.
“Can it, Omega,” Vince said. “I’ll tell you what I tell all the new guys. The fire codes restrict the number of people we can seat inside the theatre, and those are the only laws we’re bound to enforce. I expect you to keep your mouth shut and the guests happy, not stop the action. You got any issues, or see anything you don’t like, you can talk to Rafe or come see me after the show.”
“Yes sir.”
He and Chaney left the building and slowly wove their way through the central plaza, past a crowd of fifty or sixty people watching a pair of dancers doing a sexy tango near the fountain. An accordion and guitar were their only accompaniment.
The redhead wore a backless number that clung to her lean figure and was slit on one side clean up to her hip. She kept herself pressed up against her partner as they danced.
“Who is that?”
“Santino and Lyrissa. You’ll see them later at the theatre, too.”
Lyrissa slid a long coltish leg up and down her partner’s side as he bent her backward, nearly touching her hair to the ground. Their eyes locked into each other, as if they were the only two people in the world. Every step and movement was perfectly choreographed with the fiery music. The audience clapped along with the beat.
Santino pulled his partner around so that she had her back to him. Slowly, he ran his hand all the way up her inner thigh.
She wasn’t wearing any underwear.
“Don’t even think about it.” Chaney shoved him. “She’s one of those Fae vampires; very scary.”
After a final look, he followed Chaney away from the performers. The music faded behind them as they made their way down the street of red lanterns. “What is a Fae vampire?”
“Just what you think. A Fae made into a vampire,” Chaney said.
“So what’s the big deal? A vamp is a vamp, right?”
“Not for Fae vamps. Human blood doesn’t quench their thirst. They can survive on it, but it doesn’t satisfy,” Chaney explained. “The Fae consider them to be an abomination. Evil. They drink Fae blood to satisfy their thirst, but they feed off humans by draining their sexual energy as well. So that’s why I warned you about Lyrissa. Even us weres know better than to tangle with her.”
“If she’s so dangerous, why would Ambrose make her? ”
“He didn’t. The way I heard it, Gordon was in love with her, but she died. He persuaded Cobb to turn her, but when she rose as a vamp, she wasn’t the same. She despised Gordon for what he’d done. Rejected him completely. She made a big stink about how he’d been forsworn by the High Tor Fae for conspiring with the Van Cleves. She can’t stand him. If I were you, I wouldn’t mention Gordon’s name around her.”
“Sounds complicated. Thanks for the warning.”
“Besides, she’s Cobb’s woman, anyway. You ever work with vampires before?”
“Everybody keeps asking me that.”
“When I heard you used to be a cop, I just figured you worked Fang Patrol.”
He shook his head. “I worked narcotics. Undercover mostly.” Jeeze, his place spread rumors faster than the precinct. NYPD had its own bloodsucker division for hunting down and aggressively staking any vampire which fed on any human without a signed release form. A bite mark was all the evidence needed for a warrant of execution. Queens didn’t have many lycans, but it hosted a robust population of vampires.
“How many vampires actually ah, live here?”
“Nobody’s supposed to know, but if you work here, you get to know all of them. Ambrose has six offspring. Cobb, of course. Then there’s Orcas, who is a seamstress. She makes all the costumes for the street performers and actors. Gawl is the music promoter and his sister Roosa is the event planner. Tryffin is the mechanical genius that keeps all the equipment running. Varrick is a blacksmith. You rarely see him away from the forge or the theatre. He’s done a lot of the decorative ironwork for the park. Cobb created Willem, the acrobat, and Lyrissa. Rafe and Santino are independents.”
“Vince told me I’m to be assigned to Rafe.”
Chaney nodded. “Ambrose and Rafe are the only vamps assigned personal protection. Cobb wants his own guy too, but we don’t have enough guys in the pack who work security to give him his own body guard.” Chaney paused in front of two low buildings at the end of the street.
“The building on the left is the Odditorium. The one on the right is the theatre, but I want to show you the Odditorium first, since it’s my post and you and Silas are my backup. Come on.”
They stepped out of the cacophony
of the park into the hushed and softly lit atmosphere of the Odditorium. A sign just inside the door said, ‘Welcome to the land of Strange’, and as Mike looked around, he appreciated the warning. The place was set up like a modern art gallery, with white plaster walls, strategic lighting, and glass-fronted cabinets displaying fossils, bizarre artifacts, unusual objects, and peculiar relics. Jars of conjoined embryos and larval monsters decorated the shelves. A myriad of two-headed snakes, and four-legged chickens posed in life-like taxidermied splendor.
“It’s a freak show.”
Chaney laughed. “This is Gordon’s personal collection.”
The exhibits each followed a theme; each new display attempting to shock the audience more than the previous.
“Oh crap, these are alive.” A pair of birds slept on a branch inside one of the exhibits with their heads tightly tucked beneath their wings. He moved closer for a better look in the dim light.
“Those are blood doves.”
“Seriously?”
“They drink only blood. According to Gordon, they’re the only blood doves in captivity. The legends say their eggs can remove curses and enchantments. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but they lay eggs twice a year. Gordon and Ozzie always fight over them. Gordon insists that he needs them to power the blood wards. Ozzie says they’re the key to his research.” Chaney shrugged. “Who knows?”
The next glass-walled enclosure housed a large brown, feathered creature with a set of pronged antlers and a long tail like a pheasant. Mike read the sign, but didn’t understand.
“What in heck is a Piasa Bird?” Unlike the doves, the creature regarded the intruders with hostile red eyes, but remained fluffed up in a corner of its cage. “It doesn’t look like a bird.”
“It’s another Fae creature. An eagle, actually. The early Europeans called it the North American dragon, but it’s the thunderbird of the native American myth. They say it rules the coming of storms. I don’t know about that, but it’s got a nasty temper. Come on, I want to show you the Attorcroppes.”
Mike followed Chaney to the next exhibit.
Chaney tapped on the glass and the creatures swarmed up against it. “These little guys are my favorites.”
Basically, they were lizard people or snakes with hands and legs. Their eight-inch-long bodies were striped yellow and iridescent green. They stood upright on their hind legs, trailing half their body length in a tail behind them. Thin yellow arms with split fingers like a parrot’s claw enabled them to scamper up the twigs placed in their cage with remarkable agility. Several of them stood up against the glass; their wedge-shaped heads staring at him with great intensity; almost as if they were pleading with him. Mike couldn’t resist putting his hand up to the glass. They scrambled over to him; like they wanted to touch him, too. The sign said they were venomous.
“These guys are just babies. They’re Gordon’s pets, too. They get much bigger. Come on, I’ll show you the layout.”
“They don’t look very happy.”
“This way.” In addition to the museum hall, Chaney showed him the research library, the media room, and a large conference room. “That door there leads to Gordon’s private living quarters. The other leads to the warming room and vault, where the vampires sleep in the daytime. Access is controlled through the keypads. Vince is the only person authorized to enter the vault, but since you’re now Rafe’s guy, he’ll probably assign you a passcode.”
They headed back to the public area of the museum. “As you can see, this part of the park doesn’t get a lot of visitors, but if there’s a disruption over here, it usually has to do with the vamps, so if you get a call to the Odditorium, it’s got priority, unless you’re working a guest problem.”
“Got it.”
CHAPTER 24 : A PAIN IN THE ASS
They stepped outside the Odditorium and Mike paused to read the sign outside the whitewashed wooden building next door.
Mausoleum Theater
and
Blood Donation Center
He frowned. “Is this a joke?”
“Not at all.” Chaney pulled the door open for him. “See for yourself.”
Inside, the large foyer seemed to take up the entire front half of the building. Art deco murals covered the walls and the deep brown and maroon paisley carpeting muted the acoustics of the room. On the far side of the room, three dozen patrons reclined on individual upholstered fainting sofas as attendants in crisp white uniforms monitored the ongoing donations of blood. The far left side of the room was set up with café tables, benches and chairs as a lounge area. A large group of people chatted quietly amongst themselves; a sense of quiet eagerness pervaded the atmosphere.
“Hey, Mike.” Rafe came toward them, wearing a charcoal brocade suit that probably cost five grand. A frilly-front white shirt frothed out from behind a black suede vest fastened with silver buttons. The slim walking cane in his hand was obviously an affectation.
“Look at you,” Mike grinned. “You’re all duded up like a rock star.” Charcoal eye-shadow around Rafe’s blue contacts and the natural sneer of his mouth deepened Rafe’s resemblance to Elvis. They could have been cousins.
“Thanks, Chaney. I’ll take over from here. Come on, Mike, the show will be starting soon, and I want to show you around.” He spread his arms expansively. “Welcome to my domain. This is the one place where I am able to indulge myself completely.”
“Pretty fancy, if you ask me.”
“Ambrose, and his kin are driven by responsibility and a need to succeed; to expand their territory, their family, and their span of control. I, on the other hand, have no such ambitions. I don’t want the responsibility. This theatre is my little corner of the world, and I am perfectly satisfied to indulge my passions within these walls. I prefer to stay out of Ambrose’s business entirely. We like to have fun too, you know.”
Mike thought about the Mythica motto. No kidding. “I thought you and Ambrose were partners.”
“I suppose you could say that, although I confess I have very little interest in the running of the estate. I have my little corner, and he has the rest. When Ambrose came to America, he intended to start a vineyard. He was looking for a business partner, but I wasn’t interested in farming. I introduced him to Felix, who found him the land. Ambrose got it cheap because of proximity to the High Tor Fae.” Rafe lowered his voice to a confidential tone. “I’ll tell you a little something about Ambrose. His people were frugal. He is very careful with his pennies. I, on the other hand, have always depended on my wits for survival. I believe that you have to spend money to make money.”
As he looked around the lobby, Mike could see that Rafe was telling the truth. While the park couldn’t be called neglected, the inside of the theatre was posh in a very old-world way. The carpet beneath his feet was thickly padded; the walls were adorned with tasteful, hand-painted murals depicting art deco motifs. The overhead lighting was an artful blend of Baroque chandeliers and modern spotlights.
“You two don’t seem to have much in common.”
“Ambrose and I have always had very different priorities. When I first met him, his entire focus was his family. Cobb and Orcas were still newly minted, so to speak. He was obsessed with the need to secure a permanent source of sustenance. In those days, Ambrose’s only ambition was driven to provide his family with a stable blood supply. I am much more the catch and release type, if you get my meaning.”
“Except for Taffy.” The words slipped out unintended.
“He told you?”
“No, I was stupid and he set me straight. I thought blood stewards weren’t much more than spit junkies. I was wrong. I appreciate what you’ve done for Taff.”
Rafe brushed a fleck of imaginary dust off his sleeve. “I count Taffy Bane as one of my closest friends, Mike. As long as he will allow me to help him, I will. I would appreciate it if you would keep the matter quiet. In the old days, blood stewards were slaves, and they didn’t have a choice.”
He ten
sed. “Ambrose was a slave-owner.”
“It was a different time. Slave ownership was not uncommon, even in the north. And in the south, even poor whites sold their children into slavery. I was of those.”
Deep emotion flashed in the vampire’s eyes. “I was four when my parents sold me to an evil man who abused me in every way imaginable. I ran away dozens of times before I finally escaped him. It was the best day of my life. That was the day my maker killed him as I lay dying of an infected knife wound. Needless to say, I cannot tolerate the idea of slavery in any form. Fortunately, my maker felt the same. After he lost interest in me, we parted ways. Ambrose, on the other hand, has a very different view, and always dreamed of fathering a legacy. He was determined to have his own nest, which required a permanent supply of donors. It wasn’t until well after the civil war that he released his slaves. Of course by that time, his blood stewards were just as bound to him as if they were still chained.”
“Why partner with him at all?”
Rafe shrugged. “The past is the past. Times change. Ambrose changed, too. When the original homestead burned, Ambrose was in a tight spot, financially. I told him I would consider partnering with him in a private gaming club. Eventually, he built this theatre for me. This lobby was the original grand salon and gaming room. After seeing a Ferris Wheel at the Chicago World’s Fair, Tryffin wanted to build his own, and bit by bit, the park expanded. At the end of the second World War, we started a blood drive, and after that, everything took off. It’s the land and vineyards that Ambrose loves the most, but it’s the theatre, the blood bank, and the amusement park which have enabled Ambrose and I to fulfill our dreams and live the way we do. Our partnership works because Ambrose does all the hard work. He provides me with the stage and my little troupe of performers and I repay him in blood.”