by Declan Finn
Amanda smiled. “Your heart has spiked,” she said teasingly.
“Can’t imagine why.”
“Perhaps you are allergic to me.”
Marco gripped the arms of the chair so he wouldn’t grab her. “If so, I’ll live,” he said lightly. “Let’s get out of here, shall we?”
Amanda slowly slinked into the aisle. Her boneless, flowing movements made his blood boil. When she stepped towards the front of the plane, he said, “Wrong way. I’ll go ahead of you. I’d hate to accidentally hit you with the luggage.”
Amanda furrowed her brow prettily, then shrugged, and moved back, taking his suitcase down from the overhead bin. Marco got up and out, grabbing his carry-on briefcase from under the chair in front of him. He awkwardly sidestepped his way down the aisle, with the vampire behind him the entire time.
Marco kept moving, focusing on the space in front of him. He had insisted that Amanda stayed behind him for one simple reason: if her movements just stepping into the aisle could set his blood burning, he didn’t want to imagine what his reaction would be if she walked in front of him the whole way.
Marco’s hold on the luggage turned into a death grip by the time he got to the ramp. The temptation to turn and embrace her was so intense, his chest tightened with his level of restraint.
Get off the ramp. Then get out of the way of the people going to board. Get out of the way of general traffic. Recalculate molestation of Amanda when you see conditions on the ground.
By the time he wheeled out the suitcase, Marco thought about something he hadn’t really taken into consideration. Amanda had been showing signs of telepathic abilities.
A hand touched his back, and Marco had to restrain himself from reacting.
Amanda gently guided him through the airport, and whispered, “Yes, Marco. I can hear you.”
Her fingers curved, and she gently raked them down his spine—she didn’t break the skin or rip the fabric of his shirt, but he had to restrain himself from flinching or shuddering at the sensations pulsing through him.
Amanda’s hand slid around Marco’s waist, and she brought them hip to hip. She brought him to a stop, went tiptoe for a moment, placing her lips next to his ear, and whispered, “We’ll get to that later. I promise.”
“Trust me,” he replied, moving forward with her. “We’re going to want to stay in public as long as possible. I don’t want to have to go to confession the day after I get back. I already went before I got on the plane.”
“Hmm?” Amanda … mewed. He couldn’t think of a better word to describe it.
“I’m trying to avoid explicitness even in my thoughts,” he explained.
“…Oh. Then it is a good thing that we are not going to be anywhere private for some time.”
“How do you figure?”
Amanda gave him a gentle squeeze. “I got a ride from a friend.”
The black Hummer wasn’t as ostentatious as the standard stretch model that looked like a limo and a Humvee had had a baby. A man came out of the passenger side and picked up Marco’s checked luggage like it was nothing.
“Friend of yours?” Marco asked.
“Not quite.”
The door of the black Hummer opened. The back had two seats, facing each other. In it sat a blonde that Marco had never seen before. She was prim and proper in a crisp black business suit. Her legs were crossed neatly, her hands clasped around her knees. She smiled with thick blood-red lips, her wide mouth baring plenty of teeth. If Marco had never met Amanda, she would have been attractive. She had large broad eyes that shined brightly.
“You must be Marco,” she said in a refined British accent. “I am Jennifer Bosley, The President of the New York City Vampires Association.”
Marco smiled and gave a slight nod, being polite but not too polite. On the one hand, she was objectively beautiful; on the other, she was a vampire he didn’t know directly. “I am. I’ve heard of you.”
Bosley grinned. “Good things, I hope.”
He shrugged. “I know you’re on our side and considered pragmatic. Should I know more?”
She arched a brow. “Really? Good for you, Amanda, you haven’t even shared anything with your pet here. Though I think he really would make a good minion.”
Marco chuckled. “Only half-right.”
Bosley cocked her head and waved them both in to take the seat across from her. Marco shrugged and moved in ahead of Amanda. He reached back and offered Amanda his hand.
Bosley’s man closed the Hummer door, and the car pulled away smoothly.
President Bosley looked at Marco. “What do you mean ‘only half-right’?”
“I’m already her minion,” he said casually. He put an arm around Amanda and drew her close. “I would do anything for her. No fluid transfer required.”
Bosley laughed. “Oh, dearie, just wait a little.”
Marco blinked and wondered what the heck Madam President meant, but decided to move on. “I find it interesting that you’re giving us a lift. I thought you couldn’t help us, or even, be seen with us in public. Something about your pragmatic nature saying it was a bad idea?”
Bosley nodded, still smiling. Her big round eyes sparkled as she studied him. “True enough.” Her face and smile hardened. “But that was before the buggers tried to blow me up.” She looked from Marco to Amanda. “As you can attest, I’ve done nothing for you except suggest that you go and look a little deeper here and there. Aside from that, what have I done?”
Amanda thought it over for a moment. “Mostly? You sent me out digging for what was behind Mister Day.”
Marco nodded. “Which brought Amanda to San Francisco in time to save my hide last week.”
Bosley nodded. “Indeed. Your assassin, that Nuala, must have suspected someone tipped you off. Since you went on a tear after leaving my place, it wouldn’t have been too hard to conclude that I had something to do with it.”
Amanda frowned. “You were being watched?”
President Bosley shrugged. “It’s not too much of a leap. They also could have been watching you. Either way, I’m not concerned about hiding my intentions anymore. They made one move against me. They won’t get another try. I haven’t gotten where I am by being stupid.”
Marco nodded slowly and carefully, trying to think three moves ahead in this conversation. “In which case, how many of your people can we rely on in the near future?”
A corner of Bosley’s mouth quirked in a smile. “How near are you thinking?”
Marco and Amanda exchanged a look and then shrugged. “Days? A few weeks?” He looked back to Bosley. “They know I’m alive, and I can only imagine that these people will want to step up their plans. They were in such a rush to kill me they just took a swipe twelve hours ago.”
Amanda poked him. “About that. Do you know who was behind it?”
Marco sighed. “Believe it or not, Mikhail’s brother. Well, that’s what he called himself. I didn’t get a good look at him, but he was about the size and build of Mikhail. Though even uglier … except …” He closed his eyes and tried to picture the vampire’s visage. “Someone had taken a bite out of his face.”
Amanda froze. “Really?”
He nodded. “In any event, he’s seriously bad news. He has magic. He projected an image of Yana in my room. His minions were supercharged enough to blow up when they died.”
Amanda and Bosley quietly exchanged a glance.
The silence went on for more than ten seconds. At which point, Marco raised a brow. “What am I missing?”
Amanda: “Vampires who use that level of magic are … rare.”
Bosley scoffed. “More like unheard of. To be that level of evil, the sins involved go beyond killing someone for food or because you want something from their death. You’d have to be complicit in …something much worse.”
Marco cocked his head to one side. “Really? Joy.” He looked at Amanda. “Remember that rumor we were talking about when Mikhail showed up the first time? There
was a rumor of him at Tunguska?”
Amanda and Bosley winced. The Tunguska event was the equivalent of a thirty-megaton explosion—and the atom bomb that hit Hiroshima was around fifteen kilotons.
Amanda saw where Marco was going. “Perhaps they met this brother instead.”
Marco nodded. “Exactly. In which case, I’m fortunate to be alive. If this guy had used his total power…?”
Bosley held up a hand. “If this is the same bloke behind Tunguska, he couldn’t do the same trick today without massive repercussions. If a satellite sees him in the act, it’s an excuse to nuke wherever he is. He’d be classified, rightly, as a Weapon of Mass Destruction. Anyone who could field the forces to do it would destroy him. He’s evil, not stupid. You’re not important enough to risk being wiped out in nuclear fire.”
Marco laughed. “I wish to high Heaven I knew why I’m as important as they think I am. The enemy has blown two massive resources on me, Day and Nuala.”
“And,” Amanda added, “all of Day’s political contacts. As well as Nuala’s minions.
Bosley arched a brow. “Indeed. Someone thinks you’re important.”
Marco rolled his eyes. “Lucky me.”
Amanda ignored his response. “Did he say anything in particular?”
“We didn’t have an intimate discussion. He did make a reference that I’m surprised he knew.”
Bosley arched her brows quizzically.
Marco explained, “I once told Yana that I am whatever I needed to be. This new vampire? He echoed it back to me. I’m a little concerned that he knew that much about me in the first place.”
Bosley raised a finger, as though raising a point of order. “Would you like to explain your initial statement to … whoever this Yana person is?”
Marco shrugged. “When I focus on a problem, I try to adapt myself to it. I become the solution. I’m not saying I’m a changeling, but I can mold myself—my thoughts, my posture, my actions—to what can solve the problem. In some cases, it’s glorified acting, but just ask some actors about how their biochemistry looks when they fall too deep into a part.”
Amanda said nothing and merely sat back as though she was hearing about this for the first time. Months ago, during the initial recruitment of the gangster known only as Enrico, Enrico had held Marco’s father hostage. Marco became a pure thug. Even his scent had changed. It was like he had become a different person right in front of her, only wearing the same fiery blue eyes. But instead of burning hot, they burned cold. Certainly, that sort of thing could happen with emotional shifts, but she had never smelled someone change their biochemistry before.
Bosley mulled that over a moment. “Interesting. I’d like to see you do that trick sometime.”
Marco’s smile became sly. “No. I don’t think you would.” He leaned forward and looked her straight in the eye.
Bosley grinned. She met his gaze without hesitation. Very few humans wanted to meet her eye once they knew what she was. Because, really, who wanted to meet the eye of a vampire? But Bosley had no problems humoring Marco if he wanted to play chicken like this…
Suddenly, without any warning, more noise than she’d heard outside of a rock concert bombarded Bosley. Behind Marco’s eyes existed a solid scream—three different Gilbert and Sullivan patter songs at the same time, a selection of death metal, and what she thought was Fermat’s last theorem.
She pulled back. Was it Amanda’s imagination, or did Bosley look… paler than before? She gave a sidelong look to Amanda. “You have a very useful pet here, love. You should hold onto him.”
Amanda nodded. “I intend to.”
Chapter 8
Home
Marco Catalano watched Bosley’s man unload the last of the luggage on the top of the brownstone’s stoop. He looked back to the NYC-VA President, and she gave him a wide grin. “Don’t worry, friend. In a few days, you and I are going to have a conversation regarding our plan of attack. You have allies you don’t know yet.”
Marco arched a brow and looked to Amanda, who shrugged. “No idea,” she told him. She looked to Bosley. “Who did you have in mind?”
“An old friend. You’ll meet him soon enough. But I’m not going to try and pull everyone together tonight.”
He threw her a casual salute. “Have a good evening, Madam Bosley.”
She nodded, leaned back in the car, and her man closed the door for her.
The car drove off, leaving Marco and Amanda alone.
Marco looked to Amanda, his omnipresent smile of amusement growing just a little. “Oh, look. We have no one else around.”
Amanda smiled, showing just the slightest hint of tooth.
Marco took a step forward and—
The front door of the brownstone burst open, Doctor Robert Catalano in the doorway, arms outstretched to welcome home his son. “Marco! You’re home!”
Marco’s head snapped around, shooting daggers at his father. “Hi, Dad. Hold on a second.”
He turned back to Amanda, and they launched themselves into each other’s arms, coming together in a clash of lips and tongues. They held each other close, kissing for all they were worth. Despite the cold night air, and that he still wore a light windbreaker for San Francisco weather, all he could feel was Amanda’s warmth. He breathed her in, and he swore that warmed him even further.
Marco held her in his arms, tasting her, loving her, and was, at long last, home.
After the first minute, Doctor Catalano merely sighed, grabbed the nearest piece of luggage, and dragged it inside, muttering, “About time.”
Amanda and Marco pried themselves away from each other about five minutes later, and entered the house, holding hands. They walked past the front sitting room and went straight to the living room. As usual, it looked like one part living room and one part office. Bookcases lined most of the walls, with a few exceptions of artwork and a television. Doctor Catalano had a desk against one corner, keeping it for himself.
A couch sat in one corner of the room, and Marco headed straight for it, Amanda beside him.
Doctor Robert Catalano was slender, stopping a few pounds before “thin” could settle in. His short hair had once been a solid black but was now heavily salted. His features were sharp, and the only hint of the Italian in him was his generally dark coloring—coloring which had skipped Marco entirely. He looked up from the book on his desk, gave them a little smile, and said, “Decided to come in out of the cold?”
Marco shrugged. “Didn’t really feel that cold.”
“Indeed.” Robert closed the book and folded his hands on top of it. “Should I ask how long this has been going on?”
Marco looked at the ceiling, doing some math. “Total? Maybe an hour. If you want the starting point, about two weeks?”
Robert smiled. “I can appreciate the difference. What happened? You finally figured it out, and something immediately came up?”
Amanda nodded. “That is correct, sir.”
Robert rolled his eyes. “It’s still me, kids.” He paused, then frowned, realizing that he had called a woman twice his age a “kid.” He shook his head, moving on. “Usually, my first question would be to ask if you two have thought this through. On the other hand, your mother and I—and Father Rodgers, and Bram, and Merle Kraft, and even Enrico—have been waiting for you two to get together for nearly a year now.” He looked off to one side. “Come to think of it, Enrico thought that you two were an item since day one. I can’t really blame him for that.”
Marco and Amanda both chuckled at that. When they had first met Enrico, Marco had played the tough guy, and Amanda the “Russian sex kitten”—both were lucky that they had kept a straight face.
On the other hand, Marco was a little thrown that his father was casually referring to a spy a mobster and a SpecOps agent like that.
“Though I should ask,” Robert continued, “did Madam Bosley pick you both up, or did you take a taxi here?”
At that, Marco’s eyebrows shot up. “I’
m sorry, did you say—”
“Jennifer Bosley?” Robert prompted. “President of the local Vampires Association?”
Marco leaned forward. “I’m sorry, but how—?”
“She and Enrico have been helping with the reconstruction of the hospital,” Robert said as if this was perfectly normal. “I’m not sure which is stranger, the vampire or the mobster, but Enrico has shown himself to be competent, and she’s been quite generous.”
Marco furrowed his brows and looked at Amanda quizzically. She didn’t say anything. He knew that Enrico had proven himself useful—when his father had come under attack last week, Enrico had been right alongside him. It had been around the same time as the attack on Bosley…
“Bosley left out some details,” Marco concluded.
Robert and Amanda looked at him strangely.
Marco leaned forward, onto the edge of the couch. “How long have you been meeting with Bosley?”’
Robert shrugged. “Once a month since the original hospital bombing. Maybe a little more.”
“Ever since she showed up after the bombing,” Amanda concluded. She looked at Marco. “She and Enrico collaborated to get me out of the rubble, remember?”
He nodded. “Exactly. We wondered how the Council knew that Bosley was helping us. I guess she thought she could pass off the hospital as community support.”
“I can believe that,” Robert said, “Perhaps they had spotters when they attacked us all at Enrico’s house.”
Amanda and Marco both looked at him. Robert shrugged. “What?”
“You were attacked twice last month?” Amanda asked.
Robert nodded. “Yes. Though the RPG attack on the hospital was far more dramatic. Heck, Kraft and Bosley dealt with most of them at Enrico’s. I don’t think I even saw those attackers alive.”
Amanda frowned. “But they knew you were there. They saw you go in. The attackers were minions, and their master saw what they saw. That’s how they knew that Bosley was working with you and Enrico.”
“And Merle Kraft,” Marco added darkly. “That’s why all three of you were attacked later on. We should have seen this coming. The first attack was to wipeout Enrico, maybe Merle. The attack at the hospital was definitely to kill you, dad, to get at me. And getting Bosley was a priority because they didn’t know exactly what she was doing.” He smacked himself in the forehead. “Idiot. I should have known what was happening.”