by Anne Bishop
“What?” Jowly Man blustered. “You would just throw us out of the hotel?”
“We would dispose of whatever wasn’t consumed, yes.”
He was glad neither Stavros nor Vlad was around to hear him talking like some vampire gangster in a human-made movie, threatening his would-be victims. Vlad might be appalled. Stavros probably would laugh himself silly before applauding. Then again, Stavros had often played to the vampire stereotype found in human books and movies as a way to deflect prey from realizing what his being called the Toland Courtyard’s problem solver actually meant.
The four businessmen hustled out of the room, and Tolya expected them to be on the next train out of Bennett.
Parlan Blackstone gave him a measuring look and remained seated.
Feeling a hum of anticipation, Tolya waited.
* * *
* * *
I played the wrong hand, Parlan thought. Should have come in on my own, playing the first respectability card, instead of using those blowhards as straw men. Now the deal might be soured past saving.
A clan of Intuit gamblers and outlaws had every reason to avoid dealing with the terra indigene. Too much danger with little or no profit. So he’d never met any of the Sanguinati. Had heard plenty of whispers, sure. But that wasn’t the same as looking across the table and having the chance to judge your opponent.
“You had a question, Mr. Blackstone?” Tolya asked.
Parlan met Tolya’s eyes. If he were sitting across the poker table from this . . . man . . . could he bluff his way to a winning hand or would he acknowledge a dangerous adversary and fold? He had a strong feeling that it wouldn’t take more than a hand or two for the vampire to be able to spot the most subtle kinds of creative dealing—and he suspected that the response to anyone caught cheating would be lethal.
He should call Judd and Lawry and arrange another place for a rendezvous. But, damn it, this was the only viable town in the whole area that had access to the railroad as well as highways. It was one of the few towns in the northern Midwest Region that had a growing population and opportunities to own a business without any capital required. It was the only place he’d seen lately where he felt they had a chance to disappear into the rest of the population for a while—after they found the person who had connected Dalton with Cooke and Webb and was responsible for his name being on that damn poster.
“You’ve traveled around the Midwest, Mr. Blackstone?” Tolya asked.
“A professional gambler is like a professional entertainer,” Parlan said with a smile. “Moving around is part of the business. Was part of the business. I’m looking to settle down now, have my own place.”
“Running it with those other men?”
“Running it with my family. Those men were looking for an investment. I didn’t have the cash to purchase a business, so . . .” Parlan shrugged. “But it sounds like it’s elbow grease that’s needed, not cash.”
Tolya nodded. “I understand.”
Did he? Parlan wasn’t sure what the vampire understood.
“We’re trying to identify two men who came to Bennett recently,” Tolya said. “Would you be willing to look at pictures? Perhaps you’ve crossed paths with one or both of them during your travels and could supply a name.”
“I’ll give you what help I can.”
Tolya opened a slim leather case and removed a folder. “These are police photos. You understand?”
Parlan nodded. Had Judd anticipated the body would be found this soon?
“There is this one.” Tolya took one photo from the folder and set it on the table in front of Parlan.
Charlie Webb. Just a head shot, so there was no way to tell how he died, but that had to be Judd’s work.
“Don’t recognize him. Sorry.”
“Then there is this one. We know he attacked the daughter of a rancher who lives north of Bennett. He also threatened a young woman who lives in town.”
Parlan prided himself in having no tells—at least none a mark could detect—but he couldn’t stop himself from sucking in a breath when Tolya put the other photo on the table. The half a head positioned on the hood of the car spoke of a savagery even Judd couldn’t match.
“Do you know him?” Tolya asked.
“No.” Parlan swallowed hard. “What happened to him?”
“Namid’s teeth and claws found him.”
“What was he doing that far away from the town?”
“He wasn’t that far away. He was still within the town’s old boundaries but outside of the new boundaries. Here, you can cross into the wild country simply by crossing the street. And as soon as you cross that line, you’re prey.” Tolya tucked the photos back in the folder. “Of course, even within the town, where human law does apply to some extent, humans who misbehave are seen as prey.”
It was said so casually, Parlan wondered if Tolya Sanguinati knew who he was and was hoping he’d slip and indicate in some way that he knew Cooke and Webb—because if he knew those men, he would also know Dalton Blackstone.
Blackstone wasn’t a common name, but if forced, he could admit to some distant kin named Dalton Blackstone—someone who was a decade older and had a son named after him. But that meant his own son definitely needed to change his looks and arrive in town using an alias.
He needed time to get a feel for this place, to get a sense of what he should do. He needed to find out if Dalton was in danger of being hunted by whatever had killed Cooke.
“I’d like to take a look around and think about reopening one of the saloons on my own,” Parlan said. “I noticed the Bird Cage Saloon was open for business, so am I right in thinking you don’t object to the business itself?”
“You are correct.” Tolya said nothing else for a moment. “You’re still considering relocating to Bennett, Mr. Blackstone?”
“I am. Thaisia has changed, and, as I said, it’s time to settle down. As a professional gambler, I can make sure games of chance in my saloon are run clean, and my brother can handle the bar.”
“Would you like to see the saloons that are available?”
Parlan shook his head. “First I’d like to spend a little time in the saloon that’s already up and running, get a feel for the kind of entertainment the town is looking for.”
“Our entertainment will seem quite small to you.”
He forced himself to smile. “Perhaps. Then again, small can still be profitable for everyone.”
“I understand you have your own railroad car.”
“Yes. The men on the train moved it to a siding before the train went on to the next station, but no one working at this station knows anything about pumping out the waste tank or filling the clean-water tank.” Or so they said. Then again, he’d seen only two people working in the station—one dealing with the deliveries and the other handling the ticket counter and the little shop. “I’d like to rent a room at the hotel, if that’s all right.”
“I’ll inform the hotel’s manager that you’ll be checking in.” Tolya pushed back his chair and stood, a clear signal that the meeting was over. “Did you leave your luggage at the station? Nicolai will bring it to the hotel for you.”
“Thank you,” Parlan said as he followed Tolya’s lead.
Maybe this was for the best. The blowhard businessmen—to say nothing of their wives—would have become tiresome very quickly. If they hadn’t already bolted back to the train station, trying to buy tickets on the next train to anywhere, he’d sever their business arrangement by forgiving their debt as long as they left town. Then he would spend a few days considering the possibilities while he got acquainted with the town and its officials.
He’d consider other things too. After all, there weren’t many places for someone to run anymore.
“Is there a jeweler in town?” Parlan asked.
“There is,” Tolya replied. “H
is store is down the street, next to the bookstore.”
“Glad to hear it. I have a couple of family pieces I’d like evaluated.”
“It’s good to evaluate family pieces from time to time.”
As Parlan walked down the street to the Bird Cage Saloon, he had the uneasy feeling that Tolya hadn’t been talking about jewelry.
* * *
* * *
Tolya stared out the window, thinking of this latest group of ill-informed humans. How could they understand so little and still manage to survive? Or had they understood so little about Bennett because the deal wasn’t of interest to them to begin with? Was the plan to grease the right palms, make the deal, and then disappear, leaving their “associate” to run the saloon?
Might have worked if they’d been dealing with another human.
A fight for dominance. He’d seen that flash of interest in Parlan Blackstone’s eyes when that was mentioned. If Blackstone really intended to settle in Bennett, it wouldn’t take long before he chafed at the town’s restrictions and began to think, as humans so often did, that he could change things to suit himself and his pack.
If someone believed that a human form meant thinking like a human, if someone didn’t understand what would happen to this town if the Sanguinati and Wolfgard didn’t rule here . . .
It would be simple enough to eliminate Blackstone. The Sanguinati could slip into his room tonight and feast while he slept. But this was the adversary they could see. The other members of the pack might be harder to find once the leader was killed. And if they killed one member of that pack, they needed to kill them all.
Tolya thought for a moment.
* * *
* * *
The humor in Tolya’s voice made Virgil growl.
But the wolverine was the dominant female in their pack.
Virgil sighed. Mixed-species packs were harder to handle than Wolves.
He stopped at the sheriff’s office and took Rusty across the street to her piddle spot. When he brought her back to her crate and the pup looked at him with sad eyes, he gave her a scritch. “You and I will go out on the square and have a good run before your mom takes you home.”
The office door opened. Rusty tried to rush past him to welcome the person standing in the doorway.
“I took her out,” he said, holding the pup. He heard boots moving across the floor, and he felt her at his back. The wolverine walked quietly for a human—except when she didn’t, and that, he suspected, was deliberate. “She should have a good run. Been in the den too much lately.”
The wolverine sighed and crouched to give pats and accept licks. “I know. I wish I could take her with me when I ride Mel.”
“Why don’t you? The horse that is not meat wouldn’t fear a puppy.”
She looked like she was going to argue with him about the horse, but she didn’t. A passive wolverine? Should that worry him?
“You think she would be okay, would be safe, off the leash? There isn’t that much traffic on the square, but there are the buses and taxis and some personal vehicles.”
“Pups follow the adults. That’s how they learn.” Virgil shrugged. “You ride. She and I will run. And she’ll learn.”
Jana nodded. “Okay.” She nudged Rusty back into the crate and closed the door. “The person who killed the man we found the other day . . .”
“Is nearby. So is the Blackstone called the Gambler.”
“The Blackstones are Abby’s family.”
Virgil nodded. “She needs to hide.”
Jana looked at her watch. “I’ll call Barb and see if she knows where Abby is working this afternoon. But if someone spots her before I find her and follows her back to her house . . .”
“Kane is watching the Maddie pup. If a stranger appears on the street, he’ll howl for us.”
Virgil waited a minute after Jana left. Then he walked across the square to the jewelry store to see if he could flush out his prey.
* * *
* * *
Heart racing, Abigail ducked around the corner and pressed her back against the wall.
Oh gods, oh gods, he was already here. Her father was at the registration desk, checking into the hotel.
It had been so easy to talk the young man who had been assigned to clean the transient guest rooms into letting her help. He usually did other kinds of maintenance in the hotel, but they were short staffed today because two of the girls had called in sick. One girl really was sick and had been at the doctor’s office when Anya had called to confirm there was actual illness. The other girl hadn’t wanted to come in that day and was now scrambling to find some other employment before she was put on a train heading for an arbitrary destination.
The young man told her this in a voice filled with hushed awe. What had seemed like a harmless fib to have an extra day off had become a hard lesson in how the terra indigene differed from human employers.
Abigail made sympathetic noises, but she wondered how many times the girl had played the “I’m sick” card to get out of work. It sounded like it had been one time too many if Anya was calling the doctors to check on employee health.
The cleaning service she worked for was run by a human, and a good worker would be given some leeway, mainly because there were more jobs than workers right now. Still, sweet Abigail wouldn’t shrug off her job unless a friend needed help.
Six rooms. Six stones. While the young man took care of the bathrooms, Abigail used a penknife to slit each mattress near the headboard and shove one of the black stones into the slit before making up each bed. The dissonance in the stones would wrap around the person as he slept, and even something that looked like good fortune would have a sting.
They had finished up and she had been about to leave when she saw her father.
So close. A few minutes earlier and he might have seen her coming out of one of the rooms. Now . . .
Her mobile phone buzzed. She pulled it out of the pouch she used for personal items—a shapeless embroidered thing that suited sweet Abigail.
“Hello?” she whispered.
“Ab
by? It’s Jana. Where are you?”
Where was she supposed to be this afternoon? And where could she say she was now? “I’m . . . I’m at the coin-operated laundry near the hotel.”
A moment of puzzled silence on Jana’s end of the line, but it was the only place nearby that Parlan Blackstone wouldn’t visit and Abigail could hide.
“Stay there,” Jana said. “And stay out of sight. I’m coming to get you.”
So the wannabe deputy knew Parlan was in town and he meant danger. She could work with that.
After all, she didn’t have to fake being afraid.
* * *
* * *
The jewelry store looked more like a pawnshop that specialized in glass being passed off as real gemstones and baubles that no self-respecting thief would bother to take. Oh, pretty enough for women who couldn’t tell the difference, but a disappointment to him. Still, if that’s what they were selling in Bennett, Lawry wouldn’t even have to run a con in order to swap junk for high-end pieces of jewelry.
Parlan studied the man who stood behind the back counter—the one place that had a few decent pieces with actual gemstones. Early thirties, thinning blond hair, carrying a bit too much weight for his frame. A soft man.
But in other hands, the store could be a useful way to move jewelry and jewels that were acquired by less than legal means. Lawry might prefer that to working in a saloon, and it would be a place to stash goods for associates. Yes, that might be better than all of them working in the same business. Diversify to establish roots quickly.
“Do you sell pieces on commission?” Parlan asked.
“Those two cases all have jewelry that was brought in by the salvage company. They get a percentage from the sales.”