Deceived: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Unturned Book 3)

by Rob Cornell

A brief flash of darkness took me in, but quickly released me.

  The plastic sunglasses lay on the other side of the table, broken in half. Either I had wrenched them off without realizing, or my magic had blown them off my face.

  I came out of the vision gasping as if from a nightmare. I would have taken a real nightmare any time. I still felt a lingering hunger for blood even though I was out of the vampire now. Hot bile burned its way up from my gut and caught in my chest.

  I jumped when I felt the cool hand on the back of my neck.

  Mom hushed me, pressing her hand more firmly. She slipped another calming dose of her magic into me.

  My heartburn and bloodlust faded almost instantly. Once I had my own senses completely back, I checked in on myself, expecting to have blown all my power on this spell like last time. Instead, I felt the same amount as I had gotten used to after the magical brand on my shoulder had cut me off from enough of my magic to keep the vampire blood in my system from turning me into one of the undead.

  Despite how sick it had left me, the spell worked just like it was supposed to.

  “What did you see?” Mom asked in a whisper.

  I stood up on shaky legs and turned to face her. “A damned nightmare.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I had to call Sly to get his Wi-Fi password. Then, with a little Google-fu, I managed to discover that Canton Summers had once co-owned a company that manufactured and distributed medical equipment. The company had lasted a scant year back in the early two-thousands, and further research told me the building, located in an industrial park in Troy, hadn’t been occupied since. At least not by any company. Unsurprisingly, the building’s owner did not have it up for lease. The owner was some corporation going by the name Stoker Industries, which had purchased it a little over a year ago. Pretty obvious the vamps owned it now, and they’d had a sense of humor when it came to naming their shell corporation.

  And while all this ancillary information was interesting, the most important information I got was the building’s address.

  At this point, it was after dusk. Visiting a vamp nest at night was the worst idea of all ideas. But if the vamps were awake and out on the prowl (or mindlessly ransacking the metro area again), we could use the opportunity to rescue the people the vamps had hung up for meal time.

  Mom and I discussed our next move while sitting at Sly’s kitchen table. We’d cleared the stuff from the spell—dumped the blood, water, and bits o’ vamp down the sink, and thrown the rest of the stuff in the trash, including the towel around my hand and the paring knife. I had pushed enough magic into my hand to heal the superficial slice across my palm, so I didn’t need the towel anymore. And, with my blood all over it, I doubted Sly would want it anymore.

  “They’ll have the nest guarded,” Mom said. “Even at night.”

  I nodded. “Nothing we can’t handle, though. Right?”

  “A nest as big as you described? I’m not sure. We’ll have the element of surprise, I suppose.”

  “But they’ll have home court advantage.” I frowned. Nothing about this sounded good, but I couldn’t leave those poor people in there, slowly bleeding, yet not allowed to die, not until the vamps could milk them for all their hearts were able to give.

  Mom crossed her arms and leaned back. “We need to think like vampires.”

  That proverbial light went off in my head—though, in retrospect, it should have been a shadow.

  “We don’t need to,” I said and stood. I checked the cuckoo clock on the wall—which never cucked or kooed, since Sly had dismantled that part of the clock. (I have no idea why he didn’t just get a new one without the bird.) The Black Rose was due to open in a couple hours. And I was overdue on picking up my apprentice. I was surprised Toft hadn’t already called me to bitch about it.

  I held my hand out to Mom. She took it with a whimsical smile and stood. “Where are we off to?”

  “Do you like jazz?” I asked.

  Chapter Nineteen

  We arrived at the Black Rose not long after a line had formed at the door stretching half the length of the club’s facade. A velvet rope held the line in check for the moment, though Mortimer’s presence in front of the door probably did the bulk of that work.

  I had to park two blocks over, and the walk left both me and Mom shivering in the fall chill by the time we reached the club. There was more winter than fall in the air. I would have to give in and buy a thicker coat sooner than I had hoped. The only reason Mom hadn’t turned blue in just her sweater had to be because she was expending magic to stay warm. A complete waste of energy, but I figured she could afford it.

  I, on the other hand, suffered the cold. I didn’t want a single drop of my power lost before we tackled that vamp nest.

  Mortimer unclipped the rope and waved us right in to a chorus of groans and muttered curses from the mix of bearded hipsters with their crunchy girlfriends and the genuine jazz lovers in formal jackets and little black dresses.

  The dense silence of a club only moments from opening greeted us and sent an involuntary thrill through me. I preferred rock to jazz, but I could appreciate Charlie Parker as easily as Jimmy Page. In any case, the tension of a pending live show stirred me almost as much as foreplay. Almost.

  A jazz trio stood on stage, looking over their instruments—an upright bass, a saxophone, and piano with a microphone propped on it. They exchanged words in low voices, possibly discussing which piece to start with. I wasn’t sure if they’d do mostly covers or if they composed their own stuff. Toft brought in both kinds of artists. The only guarantee was that they would be damn good. The Black Rose’s reputation was built on Toft’s superior taste.

  I don’t know if he heard or smelled us, but the moment Mom and I stepped into the club proper, Toft came out from the back with Odi close behind.

  Odi wore a pair of faded jeans two sizes too big for him. Thankfully he didn’t wear them with the waistband on his hips like some kids did. In fact, he had a braided leather belt wrenched so tightly around his waist, the sides of his pants sort of puffed out around the pockets. He had on one of his signature plaid flannel shirts, untucked and unbuttoned, with an AC/DC t-shirt underneath.

  The two vampires made a funny pair. Odi looked like Toft’s older teenaged brother, only Toft was better dressed in a black suit and red bowtie. Toft’s slicked blond hair also contrasted with Odi’s scraggly, over-moussed nest of red. The irony, of course, was that Toft had over four-hundred years on Odi, and Odi looked exactly his own age. It wouldn’t last, but for now the only thing that made Odi different than the average teen was that he was a vampire and untrained sorcerer.

  Which, yeah, was a pretty major difference.

  I still found it easy to forget sometimes.

  “What’s the haps, yo?” Odi said with a quick smirk and a sideways glance at Toft.

  Toft made a face. “I try to stay modern,” he said. “But sometimes I think this boy speaks a different language.”

  I traded smiles with Odi. “I think he’s pulling your leg.”

  Odi chuckled like a kid stuck in detention with the teacher’s back turned. Metaphorical spitball incoming. “Check that, brah. I’m radically stoked to chill with my home cheese the Toftinator.”

  That got a surprise titter from Mom.

  Toft came to a sudden halt, making Odi almost plow into him. “You two realize this city is on the brink of a paranormal implosion, correct?”

  “Fo’ shizzle my—”

  Toft’s hand turned to a blur one instant, and was clamped across Odi’s mouth a half-second later. Odi’s eyes went wide, his ginger eyebrows making a run for his hairline.

  “Enough.”

  Odi held out his hands in surrender.

  “Go easy on him,” I said. “He’s one of the only vampires I know with a sense of humor. Don’t ruin it for him.”

  Toft removed his hand. “Give him another hundred years and he won’t find frivolities so humorous anymore.”

&nb
sp; Odi crossed his eyes. “I just hope I don’t start talking like you. Frivolities? Seriously?”

  “Please,” Toft said to me with his lip curled. “Get him out of here before I defang him.”

  Odi played hurt. “Not cool, dude.”

  I waved Odi over. “Come, padawan. Don’t let Darth here lure you to the dark side.”

  I expected another scoffing remark or disgusted grunt from Toft, but his attention had left me and Odi so quickly, we might as well never have been there to begin with. Instead, his gaze had locked on Mom. The glassy shine in his eyes looked like awe, but I had never seen Toft awed by anything. Besides, though they had never met, he knew who my mother was, not only from what I’d told him, but by the reputation of her name.

  He bowed his head. “Madame Light.”

  My jaw dropped so low, I would likely need surgery to get it set back in place. Toft did not bow to anyone.

  Based on Odi’s own slack jaw, he was as surprised as I was.

  Mom cleared her throat. “Mr. Kitchens,” she said with peculiar restraint. The admiration was sure as hell not mutual. Probably my fault, seeing as I had told her all about Toft, including his scheme of having me train Odi for dubious reasons.

  “I would invite you stay for the show—”

  “But you know I won’t accept.”

  “Be that as it may—”

  “Oh, please.” She turned to me. “Can we go now?”

  I tilted my head, beckoning Odi to come with us. He started to, but Toft grabbed his wrist. The four-hundred year-old boy’s gaze burned into me. He should have looked petulant, like the child he appeared to be. He didn’t. He looked positively deadly.

  “Remember your focus,” he said.

  “Yes, Toft.”

  “By your blood, you swore.”

  “Yes, Toft.”

  He glared at me a couple seconds more, then released Odi. “Odi, on your way out, tell Mortimer he may begin letting guests through.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  As we left, Mom grumbled something I couldn’t make out. She knew a lot of ancient languages, and how to swear in most of them.

  Chapter Twenty

  I filled Odi in on the way to the vamp nest. He sat in the passenger seat, Mom in back. He listened attentively until I had told him all I knew.

  “So,” he started slowly, “I fit in how?”

  “I need an inside vamp.”

  He scrunched up his face. “You know, Toft says vamp is a derogatory name for us. Kind of like the N-word.”

  Mom snorted. I glanced in the rearview and caught her pressed back against the seat, arms crossed, and shaking her head. For a second I wondered about her open derision that had started at the Black Rose and hadn’t faded since we’d left. I even felt some of it directed toward me.

  But, not too long ago, I would have acted the same way. I had gotten too used to dealing with vampires. Even the ones who had tried to turn me or kill me had sort of normalized their presence in my life. Once upon a time, the only time I thought much about vamps was when I had a contract to dust one.

  Odi was different, though. He was such a fresh turn, he hadn’t yet let the lifestyle of the pasty and bloodsucking taint his innocence. He was a good kid. And, at times, my heart freakin’ ripped open for him, because that innocent version of him was an undead man walking.

  “Sorry, kid. I need an inside vampire.”

  He gave me a wary look. “You think I can just walk in there, no issue? Won’t they realize I don’t belong there?”

  “Toft hasn’t explained anything about nests to you?”

  He shook his head.

  Can’t say I was all that surprised. Toft, like any “parent,” would raise Odi in a similar life to his own. A tame vamp like Toft had no use for nests, which belonged to a more primal realm in the vampire’s collective psyche, a holdover from undead pre-history.

  “A nest,” I said, “is not an exclusive club you need a membership for. No secret handshake or ritual hazing. They sort of build and grow on their own. Certain types of vampires are wired to prefer nests. Safety in numbers and all that.”

  “So I can just walk in?”

  “You’ll be welcomed, in fact.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “It’s not as common in the modern age. Vampires don’t have to hide in caves or dank basements anymore. There are plenty of good hiding places in big cities.”

  “Do they have bunk beds or something?”

  “Not these vamps…er…vampires. They sleep on the floor.”

  Odi blinked a few times. “Wow. Totally old school.”

  I nodded. “Totally.”

  Thankfully, the industrial park where the nest was located had a number of other, similar looking buildings, many of them seemingly as vacant. It was easy to park in the shadow of a squat brick machine shop with dirt-fogged front windows and a sign out front (Zinctech, Inc.) that was tilted diagonally because one of its supports had broken.

  I felt a little depressed looking at the place. Places like this had once offered Detroiters and their suburban middle-class neighbors a living wage without dumping thousands into college. They could afford good homes, could raise children without straining to spoil them during the holidays, could own two cars, American made, and still keep evenings and weekends open to spend time with family instead of working a second job (or third).

  Those days seemed gone forever now. Bad governing and broken unions had left the Motor City with serious engine trouble.

  The business formerly known as Zinctech, Inc. was a couple lots over from the nest. The second the three of us got out of the car and started heading over, I realized how out of place we would look to anybody who happened to see us. A teen, a thirty-something man, and an old lady walking through a mostly abandoned industrial park after dark would definitely earn a second look.

  Since most of the surrounding locations looked as defunct as the rest, I wasn’t too worried. But I made sure we stuck to as many shadows as possible, avoiding the cast of the phosphorescent, antennae-shaped streetlights that hadn’t yet burned out.

  As a matter of fact, the shadows were thick enough that Odi disappeared suddenly from my side. It startled me to see him there one second, and then seemingly gone. Only I knew he was still with us. Vampires, for the most part, could bend the darkness so deeply around them, they became invisible to the naked eye.

  The first time I had seen Odi shadow walk, he had failed miserably. But since then he had gotten awfully good at it. I wished he’d taken to the magic I was trying to teach him as quickly. Not that he was a total slouch as a sorcerer. He was a quick learner in a lot of ways. He, unlike me, could work some small spells with confidence. The bigger stuff, though, tended to blow up in his face.

  Hence Sly’s poor scorched basement wall.

  With Odi out of sight, Mom decided to act like he really wasn’t there and offer a few critiques.

  “He’s cute,” she said. “But Kitchens is going to corrupt him with ease.”

  I glanced toward where I had last seen Odi. He might not have been next to me anymore, but I doubted he’d run ahead. “Mom, maybe now isn’t the best time.”

  “I see how the two of you act together. Like buddies.”

  “So what?”

  “He isn’t your buddy.”

  I stopped walking and turned to her. “Sly already gave me this talk.” I felt warm around the collar. I barely noticed the cold air trying to blow its way through my coat. “You need to drop it.”

  “Sly’s right, then. This whole arrangement is—”

  “Enough,” I snapped. “It’s not like I have a choice. I’m bound by blood. I’m stuck with the kid.” I realized the cold wasn’t the only thing I’d forgotten about. But too late.

  Odi let the shadows fall away so that I could see him as clearly as Mom. His eyes shined in the distant glow from one of the streetlights behind us. Vampires couldn’t cry, but I could clearly see he was hurt. He had his hands jammed
in his pockets, his head down, but looking at me from under his brow.

  I expected him to say something, but he just stared at me like that for a handful of seconds, then he sighed, turned his back to me, and slipped into the shadows again.

  I threw Mom a nasty look.

  She averted her gaze and pulled the collar of her sweater closed against his throat.

  “See?” I said. “You wonder why I treat him like a friend? Because there is still more human than vampire in him, and if I can somehow help him hold onto that humanity, maybe…”

  I threw up my hands. We had more important things to deal with. And I didn’t owe Mom any explanations. I had gotten myself into this commitment to Odi, so I would deal with it how I wanted. Even if that meant treating the kid like a young man instead of a monster.

  And if I really meant that, then I needed to apologize to Odi once we’d finished our job here.

  We walked the rest of the way in silence. I didn’t see Odi again until we crouched in the shadowy entryway of the building across the street from the nest. A row of mostly dead shrubs offered a little additional cover without obscuring our view too much. They had a piney smell that randomly made me think of a Christmas when I was twelve and I got a pocket edition of Spells to Entertain Your Friends. All the spells in the book mimicked parlor magic tricks and card tricks, but used real magic instead of illusion. Unfortunately, I could never master any of them except for one that involved snapping my fingers to light a dollar bill on fire without actually burning it. Even as a kid, I’d done better with fire than most everything else.

  None of the streetlights on the same block as the nest worked. The vamps had probably broken them all. They could see fine in the dark, so they didn’t need them.

  Their building was another single story brick block slapped onto a slab of blacktop behind a small, overgrown strip of lawn. Glass lined the length of its facade, from both windows and the wide entryway with two pairs of double doors. And while all that glass remained intact, the vamps had hung boards behind them, blocking any sunlight from slipping through.