* * *
“Honey, I’d like you to meet Mr. Kennelsbeth,” my father said brightly. I forced a smile as he made his customary introductions. Unfortunately, I’d seen the brief shadow cross over his face as he walked in the door, performing a cursory once-over in my direction. “Mr. Kennelsbeth is a very important investor in my firm.”
“Potential investor, Roger,” the man chuckled. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He was tall and thin with neat black hair. I didn’t know much about men’s fashion, but even I could tell his suit must’ve cost a lot more than the brown slacks and sport coat my father wore. He had very alert eyes that seemed to take in everything and everyone at once. On a lesser man they might’ve been considered shifty, but I was sure Dad would insist that a man of Mr. Kennelsbeth’s caliber should be considered shrewd instead.
He extended a hand to my mother. “Please, call me Colin.” My eyes opened wide. I’d never seen such neat hands before, not even when Linda and Mom treated themselves to manicures.
“It’s rude to stare, Lucinda.” My father's tone was jovial but his gaze icy.
“Nonsense,” replied our guest as he turned toward us. He gave my sister a quick glance before focusing all of his attention on me. For just the barest of moments, a blush rose to my cheeks. “Lucinda, was it? A pretty name for an even prettier girl. Why, you look just like a Hollywood starlet.”
My blush deepened. “Thank you, Mr...” I stammered.
“None of that,” he corrected. “As I said, you may call me Colin.”
“Thank you, Col...” I stopped as I caught my father’s glare.
“Mind your elders, Lucinda. I’m sure Mr. Kennelsbeth was just teasing.”
“Hardly,” the man replied with a chuckle. “I flew in just last night from Los Angeles. Believe me, your little Lucinda here has fashion sense that would make the girls in Beverly Hills jealous.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “How about a compromise, Roger? I dare say, having met your charming family, I find myself warming to the idea of our partnership. How does Uncle Colin work?”
My father gave a nod and smiled, obviously far more pleased with the business prospect than whatever I would be calling our visitor.
“Excellent!” Uncle Colin beamed. “Now why don’t we sit down to that meal you raved about earlier and you can tell me all about your plans to shrink those machines down. The thought that they might one day fit into something as small as a closet intrigues me greatly...”
Chapter 8
Present Day
I stood in front of the small private terminal in La Guardia. I’d weighed the pros and cons of making a quiet entrance into Vegas, but finally said fuck it. Flying commercial was about as much fun as being gang-staked. Though it might’ve been smarter to do so, this way had its advantages too. With Bill on the lam, I was officially on the books as the master of Village Coven. Being that my little group had gotten far more attention than usual as of late, there was a bit of status afforded me.
Chartering a private jet through official channels would send a message to Marlene that I was on equal standing with her. Though nobody on our end would be giving her a call to let her know I was incoming - least of all me - I was also well aware of how she ran things. As leader of the most powerful coven in the City of Sin, she made it a point to know when to expect company. It was her way of maintaining an edge. Ranking vamps would be shown the time of their long lives, no invitation necessary. Potential rivals would be kept a close eye on and dealt with accordingly.
She was smart. I needed to keep that in mind. She was also a lot older than me. On her home turf, nearly every advantage would be hers.
So we’re fucked. What else is new? a small voice in the back of my head replied in Bill’s voice. It was almost enough to make me crack a smile. While I fought down a grin, a car pulled up.
“Aren’t we missing someone?” I asked as the cab’s lone occupant disembarked with her bags.
“Tom’s not coming,” Christy said as she approached. Her eyes spied the dark, seemingly run-down building behind me. “We are flying, aren’t we?”
Alas, one can’t bullshit a bullshitter. Though not exactly sorry to hear that I wouldn’t have to listen to him stupiding up the entire four hour flight, I was curious nevertheless. “So does he hate his sister or something?” I could definitely relate to that concept, even if it did annoy me to have something in common with the meatsack.
“When are we leaving?” She tried to walk past me. Heh, good luck with that. Anyone trying to step foot uninvited into a vampire-owned facility like this would soon find themselves wishing for a TSA full body cavity search. As amusing as that might be to watch, I decided it was probably best saved for another time. Before she could sidestep me, I nimbly placed myself in front of her.
“Spill,” I commanded, folding my arms across my chest.
She sighed. “He doesn’t know.”
“Doesn’t know? Doesn’t know what? That you’re flying Vamp-air? That you invited me on this little expedition? That...”
“Any of it!” she snapped. “He doesn’t even know that his sister is in trouble. As far as he’s concerned, I’m just going on a business trip for our firm.”
I raised a questioning eyebrow. “Really? Isn’t he going to be a bit pissed? I mean, we’re talking his sister, his pregnant girlfriend, and not to mention several potentially unfriendly vamps.”
“Mad is better than dead.”
“I’ll give you that. You mucked with his head again, didn’t you?” My admiration of her raised a notch.
“There was no need. He’s otherwise occupied.”
“How so?”
“I put him to work setting up a baby registry. That’ll keep him busy for days.”
“Slick,” I said. “Although choose carefully. I have to warn you, you’re talking to someone who doesn’t shop at any place below Nordstrom.” She smiled a bit. Gah, I needed to watch it. I really was slipping. Used to be I’d gut someone as soon as look at them and here we were acting like this was fucking Thelma and Louise.
Before we started singing Kumbaya, I steered us back to business. “What about anyone else? I mean, aren’t his parents going to...”
“They don’t know either.” She averted her eyes.
“How? Didn’t you say...”
“I never said I didn’t muck with their heads.”
Damn! I couldn’t help myself with that one. My cool demeanor collapsed into a chuckle. “Way to deal with the in-laws. I don’t think that one ever happened on Bewitched.”
“It was necessary.”
“You don’t need to justify these things with me. Aren’t they going to notice her gone, though?”
“Nope. They’ll think they see her out of the corner of their eye and will remember talking to her...after the fact, of course.”
“Pretty slick.”
“Thanks. Mind magic has always been one of my specialties. Harry used to say I had a real knack for it.”
“Harry used to call me a diseased trollop.”
There was a momentary awkward silence. “I guess we saw different sides of him.”
Stone-faced, I turned toward the entrance of the terminal. I’d seen a different side of him, all right. Hell, I had a part of his inside sitting on my desk back in Manhattan...not that she needed to know that.
“I’m surprised you haven’t asked about him,” she said to my back.
“Decker?”
“No, Ed.”
My hand paused on the door handle. “How is he?” I asked nonchalantly.
“Good. Settling into his new role nicely.”
I didn’t ask anything further. She, likewise, didn’t need to know that I was well aware of that. I’d kept Bill’s apartment under surveillance ever since he’d disappeared. It was entirely for the purpose of keeping an eye out for his return...
...or so I kept telling myself.
* * *
“Care for a drink?”
“Red win
e, please.”
I cocked an eyebrow. I’d have figured Christy for the no smoking, no drinking type while pregnant.
“One won’t hurt,” she said. “And I sorta don’t like flying.”
I burst out laughing next to the wet bar of the private Boeing 737.
“Why do you think I use my magic so much?” she asked, buckling herself securely into one of the leather seats.
“Guess that means not much flying on broomsticks.” I found a nice Merlot for her then opted for something a little stronger for myself. Ooh, make that stronger and more expensive. I picked up a bottle of thirty year old Cognac. Yes, that would do nicely. It’s good to be a coven master - one who understands the concept of pulling strings. Poor, Bill. One of these days he was gonna figure out...
I let the thought drop. Worrying about where he was and in what condition wouldn’t do me any good right at that moment. Regardless of the style in which we were flying, we were still heading into a lion’s den. Distractions were never a good thing when dealing with the vampire nation. Fortunately, Christy was there to pull my focus back on track.
“What can you tell me about Pandora’s Box?” She closed the blind to the window closest her, despite it being pitch black out. Damn, she really was skittish about flying.
I handed her the wine glass and sat down opposite her, feeling the slight tilt of the cabin as we continued to climb toward cruising altitude.
We had about four hours to kill. That was more than enough time to fill her in on Marlene and the Pandora Coven, as they were unoriginally named. The only questions in my mind were where to start and how much to tell her.
* * *
“Take off your top.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. And before you ask, yes, right here. This is the gig, so you’d best get comfortable with it.”
“Oh...okay.”
“You’re going to have to get over it if you want to survive here, girl. If not, go back home to the farm or wherever you came from. Either way, it’s no skin off my teeth...There, see how easy it was? Move your hands out of the way. That’s better. See, not so hard, is it? Very nice, very nice indeed. Oh, relax already, they’re just breasts. I’m going to let you in on a secret. They’re both your greatest asset and best weapon here. Don’t be shy about using them. Now, let’s see the rest...”
* * *
The choice was clear, but I didn’t like it. Hell, I’d have put my fist through the wall to vent some frustration if a little thing called explosive decompression wasn’t a concern.
Some days I envied Starlight and Firebird. Though they had radically different demeanors, they had one thing in common - an overabundance of heavy thoughts didn't weigh down either of them. There were times when I thought that would be a minor blessing. Sure, I’d be destined to forever remain someone’s minion, but others could handle the heavy lifting and I could just keep the party going until such time as our enemies overran us.
Alas, I’m not so lucky.
Christy and I were on good terms for the time being - a minor miracle considering her former coven almost completely wiped out mine recently. Still, she didn’t have anything to do with it, and I was willing to overlook that matter. Even so, I didn’t see us ever going out for pedicures together. At the end of the day, we ran in different circles. Also, she was fucking someone I considered to be a base idiot at best.
The problem was, despite being knocked up by a moron, she wasn’t one herself. I had little doubt she’d notice if I held back on anything important. There was also the possibility that doing so might inadvertently screw us over during a critical juncture in this endeavor. I let out a heavy sigh. There really wasn’t much choice.
“What I’m about to say stays between us.”
“Sure...”
“No, you don’t understand. I mean it. You don’t tell Tom, you don’t tell Ed, you don’t tell your baby one night as a bedtime story, and you especially don’t tell Bill. This is pain of death stuff. I don’t need to remind you that when vampires decide you’re going to hurt...you’re going to hurt.”
She glared, obviously not appreciating the threat. I could respect that, but I sure as shit wasn’t afraid of her. On a good day, any throwdown between us would probably have an even chance of going either way and she knew it. Right now, the advantage was mine. She wasn’t in peak physical condition and she needed my help.
Christy finally nodded. “Does everything with your kind have to end in a death threat?”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s what we do.”
“Very well. If it will help, then I swear by the White Mother what is said here is between us and us alone.”
I had no fucking idea who the White Mother was, but I broke the tension with a smile anyway. “What happens on the way to Vegas, stays on the way to Vegas.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Who cares? You want to hear this story or not?”
Chapter 9
“I worked for the vamp that runs Pandora’s Box. Her name is Marlene.”
“So she used to be in New York?”
“No.”
“Did you...somehow transfer covens?”
“Not quite. I worked for her back when I was still human.”
“Oh!” Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “I never knew. I just sort of assumed...”
“I was an East Coast girl? Yeah, I could see how you’d get that idea. What can I say? New York living has been kind to me.”
“So...what did you do for her?”
I stood to walk back to the bar as the jet passed through some slight turbulence. Grabbing the Cognac, I refilled my glass, but decided to bring both back with me to my seat. The memory I was dredging up required a three drink minimum.
“I did what I imagine Tom’s sister...”
“Kara.”
“Fine, Kara, whatever. Anyway, I did what I imagine she’s doing right now.”
Christy waited for me to continue. I’ll admit, the pause was purposeful. I can’t help but have an overdeveloped sense of drama.
“Pandora’s Box is a strip club, although you probably already figured that part out.”
She shrugged uncomfortably.
“You are familiar with strip clubs, right?”
“Not really. I mean, I’ve never been in one. The concept is kinda...gross.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Hold on a second. Aren’t your people the ones who popularized dancing bare-assed under the moonlight?”
“We call it communing skyclad.”
“A rose by any other name...”
“It’s different. It’s a spiritual experience, opening ourselves to the magic around us. We allow the power that flows through the Earth to cover our bodies.”
“Uh huh, and I’m sure the cops would still call it public nudity.”
“Maybe,” she snapped, “but at least we aren’t letting men touch us for money.”
“I think you have your Vegas professions mixed up.”
“Are you telling me none of that goes on at this Pandora’s Box?”
She had me there. Marlene and her staff would often turn a blind eye to such things for those who cared to make a little money on the side.
* * *
“How can you just...do that, Betty?”
“How? It’s pretty easy how. It’s the difference between going home with five-hundred in my pocket and two-thousand.”
“But how can you just let them...”
“Are you really that naïve, Lu? Don’t tell me you’ve never just lain there and taken it with that boyfriend of yours. I’m doing the same thing, with the exception that they pay me to leave afterwards.”
* * *
“If she’s just dancing, then she’s probably okay. That’s the least of what goes on there. The problems begin when you start to slip further down the rabbit hole.”
“Vampires?”
“Eventually. Especially if she catches one’s eye.”
“Her boyf
riend...”
“We don’t know shit about him. He could just be a lackey or he might be a player like...”
“Like?”
“Like Jeff.”
“Who’s Jeff?”
“Nobody anymore. Let’s not worry about him at the moment. Bottom line is we don’t know what we don’t know.”
The silence grew between us for several seconds.
“So, how’d you end up there?”
“That one is easy. It was the late seventies. The world was flip-flopping between being one big party and completely losing its shit. Carter was busy screwing up the economy. It was a good time to be aimless.”
“Bad family life?”
“Nothing like some of the horror stories you hear. But it wasn’t great. My dad pretty much browbeat any sense of ambition out of me by then. In his eyes, a woman shouldn’t look forward to anything more than finding a good man to settle down with and get knocked up by. Reading, writing, and arithmetic were just distractions to keep us out of trouble until Mr. Right came along. I might’ve managed to escape that, but my mother was a jellyfish. Then there was Linda. She was more than happy to play the ideal woman for dear old dad. She was all about cheerleading, helping with supper, and thinking no further ahead than the edge of her bra.”
“Linda?”
“My bitch of a sister. What a pair we were - Linda and her bookworm of a baby sister, Lucinda. God, what the fuck were my parents thinking with those names?”
“Bookworm? Wait, your name is Lu...”
I glared at her. “My name is Sally. That other girl died a long time ago.” I leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “This is one of those pain-of-death moments, in case you were wondering.”
Christy held her hands up in a placating manner.
“Anyway, I had given up on bettering myself, having long since swallowed dear old Dad’s Kool Aid. However, I still had enough teenaged rebellion in me to want to get the hell out.”
“Where were you headed?”
“Nowhere...everywhere. Maybe I had some grandiose plan of hitchhiking across America. I don’t know. Made it about fifty miles before my babysitting money ran out. Care to guess where I ended up?”
Sunset Strip: A Tale From The Tome Of Bill Page 4