by J. T. Bock
“All right, kid,” Reyes added, as if they’d never been interrupted, “Her name is Catrionella Monsignac, and she works alongside Claude Toussaint as an Enforcer for House Toussaint, which is still officially run by his uncle, Henri Toussaint. You’ve studied the Families, Mousey, so why don’t you tell me about them.”
“I thought when you finally underwent the turn to vamp all these little on-the-spot tests would end, boss.”
“I’ll tell you what, kid, when you take the Turn in eight to ten years I might stop testing you – but no guarantees,” Reyes said with a laugh.
“If I decide to take the Turn. Don’t forget I have a choice.”
“Like you’re going to say no,” Reyes responded. “By the time it’s your turn, there will have been so many advances, this chip I’ve just had surgically embedded in my head will be yesterday’s news. Of course,” Reyes added, no doubt thinking about his protégé’s lady-stalker, “you also may not be alive by then…”
“How is my chip?” Moused asked.
“Your chip? You may have developed it, but it’s inside of me now. Technically that makes it mine.”
“You know what I mean, smart-ass. No signs of rejection? Any pain?”
A short internship while at M.I.T. had introduced Moused to some military-bound technology that had never worked due to the fact living, human hosts would reject any potential non-organic implants linked directly to the brain. However, a vampire wouldn’t reject the software – or at least that was Moused’s working theory. Reyes was his first trial. The master chip inserted in Reyes’ brain was mission control to the minute devices inserted in his right eye and right ear. In theory, if the chip worked, Reyes would be able to access the web, send emails, take photos, store data – do just about everything a computer could do with some limitations – all in his head. With the chip inside Reyes as the central processor, his phone and glasses as the screen and keypad, Reyes was the computer – or would be. The beauty of the project was that if it failed, with Reyes now a vampire, there was no danger of it killing him.
“I’m too busy trying to keep my frenzied blood cravings at bay to worry about the chip. I haven’t been allowed to leave this room for seven months, Mousey,” Reyes added.
“Hey, at least they let you have your computer. Could be worse.”
“Ah, there you are little Mouse. Wave politely to the camera above you,” Reyes said with a deep chuckle.
“You just hacked into Macy’s system, didn’t you?’
“You know it. Nice coat, by the way.”
Moused looked up at the security camera and showed it his middle finger.
Ignoring the gesture directed at him, Reyes continued. “I’ll check for this vamp chick to see if she really is on your tail. Though why any smokin’ hot babe would want to…”
“Anyway,” Moused interjected, ignoring Reyes’ warped sense of humor. “Getting us back on track, the Toussaint Family is the oldest vampire family in the United States. The House, which is very small, is still run by Henri Toussaint, as you’ve already stated. I can’t remember reading much, if anything, about a Catrionella, but I do remember reading about Claude. If I remember correctly, Claude is a little…touched…? Is that right? He was like that before being Turned. His unpredictability and psychopathic tendencies have caused concerns and made him the focus of many Council meetings, but Uncle Henri won’t agree to any suggestions of having him placed under twenty-four hour surveillance. Officially that is. Henri has his own people with him at all times, more or less. Perhaps Catrionella Monsignac is one of those people?”
“Yeah, Henri dotes on his psycho cousin as he’s his last male blood relative,” Reyes added.
“Based out of New York,” Moused continued, “I believe the Toussaints were one of the first Houses to shun the Segher House when Hendrick and Oscar joined forces with the Nowhere Wolf Pack. Many other Families followed their lead. Although they do carry a lot of influence in vampire society, they, like many of the other Houses, have fallen on some hard times over the years. That’s about all I can recall from memory. How did I do?”
“Not too shabby, Mousey. We might actually make a Ret out of you yet. Right now I can’t maintain the focus I need to really go through the Toussaint files with a fine toothcomb, but I’m forwarding them to you to read and study at your leisure. Which reminds me, did you get around to picking up those suits I ordered for you?”
“Whoa, boss, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. I got the haircut you suggested and I’ll get around to making the appropriate sartorial changes sometime soon. I promise. Let’s focus on the more important stuff for now…like…did you say ‘enforcer?’ Isn’t that just vamp for ‘assassin’?”
“Wait a minute,” Reyes said incredulously, “are you telling me that you just represented me – and the Segher House - at the Wainwright Museum wearing your ripped up jeans and a vintage metal T-shirt?”
“Come on, boss,” Moused laughed, “Give me some credit. The jeans are new, not a rip in sight.” Moused threw open his long winter coat to show Reyes via the security camera what he had on underneath: dark blue jeans and a cashmere sweater. It wasn’t a business suit, but it was definitely a step up from what Moused usually wore down in his basement workshop, a.k.a. mission control.
Reyes gave a heavy sigh. “To answer your question, funny boy, yes, enforcer can mean assassin. If this Monsignac woman is a Toussaint Enforcer then she’s possibly their head of security and then some. Watch your back, kiddo. She’s definitely much more than a pretty face and we’ve no idea what it is she wants exactly.”
“Or more specifically, Rey-Rey, what the Toussaint Family wants from us. Perhaps all they want is a little financial advice,” Moused said hopefully. “Or maybe they just want to beg our forgiveness for snubbing us for all these years.”
“You could be right. Although the ‘she just wants to drink your blood’ option isn’t completely off the table either,” Reyes said with another chuckle. “It says in this file that she’s rarely seen without Claude Toussaint. Since he’s one step away from Crazy Town, I’m going to guess Henri Toussaint has her keeping an eye on his beloved nephew. Claude’s last… caretaker… ended up being accidentally decapitated.”
“How does one get decapitated by accident exactly?” Moused asked with genuine curiosity.
“I swear that’s what I saw when I glanced through the file,” Reyes answered. “You can read it more thoroughly yourself. Maybe he fell onto a chainsaw or one of those wood-cutting tables.”
“Where did this ‘accident’ supposedly happen?”
“In Queens.”
“So, random chainsaw mishaps are a little unlikely…”
“Unless of course they’re being wielded by Crazy Claude, and you’re having a bad hair day and he’s determined to fix it,” Reyes said, laughing heavily now.
“You’re really enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”
“If Catrionella Monsignac is following you, then be assured Claude Toussaint is nearby. In all seriousness, kiddo, just make sure that if this Catrionella, or any other chupa sangre, approaches you, or arranges for a face-to-face, that it be in a public place. Don’t put yourself in a position to be left alone with one of them, okay?”
“You do realize that now you’re more than halfway through the process of becoming a vampire yourself, you aren’t allowed to call them ‘bloodsuckers’ anymore? That includes in Spanish too.”
“You’re hilarious, kid,” Reyes deadpanned. “Just do what I tell you and watch your back. You do have your security detail with you right now, don’t you? I’m not seeing the entourage on my monitor here.”
“Spencer is with me,” Moused answered. “Well sort of with me. Which means he’s more with the car at the moment than actually with me, with me. I let the others go back home to Nowhere a couple of days early for the holidays. They’ll all be returning with me tomorrow night after Christmas dinner.”
“You did what?” Reyes exclaimed in disbeli
ef. “Are you crazy?”
“Stop worrying, grandma. You have nothing to worry about. You’re the one all safe and sound in the penthouse suite of a Las Vegas Hotel and Casino. I’m the one who currently looks like lunch. I live with three wolves, Rey. I also have a werewolf driver and bodyguard. What could possibly happen?”
“Haven’t all your roommates already gone home for Christmas?”
“Not Theo. He opted to stay in New York to keep his girlfriend company while she works on some biological experiment she couldn’t leave unattended over the break. Worse than that, Reyes, they decorated our house. I might have expected something like this from my gay roommates, but even Nap and Sixten just shook their heads in disbelief before they left two days ago. I’m talking fake snow on everything, a Christmas tree with flashing lights, and twinkly, dangly things hanging from… well… everywhere! It’s a horror show in there right now. I came up from the basement one day and stepped straight into Santa’s Grotto! My parents have the right idea by getting away from it all and high-tailing it to Cabo San Lucas every year. That’s what I should’ve done.”
“Have you finished your whining yet? There went a few minutes of my life I’ll never get back,” Reyes said, this time with exaggerated sarcasm.
“All joking aside, Mr. Vampire-In-The-Making,’ Moused said looking straight up into the security camera above him that he knew Reyes was monitoring, “we can’t eliminate the possibility that this stalker of mine is looking for info on the chip.”
“How would another House even know of its existence, though, Mousey?”
“I know Hendrick inherited a team of world-renowned scientists when we overthrew Dorian. I also know Hendrick is of the mind that it’s not the scientists that are evil, but the man that is hiring them to do his work. But if you wanted to be one-hundred percent certain not a single leak would get out about this particular project, you should’ve fast-tracked me through medical school right after M.I.T.,” Moused answered. “I made the chip but it took a medical team to insert it and its satellites.
“On the bright side,” Reyes replied, “even though it took a medical team to put it in, there are only about three people that actually know what this chip you created can actually do… or rather, hopefully do… once it’s activated.”
“Which is probably the reason why, being one of those three, I have a rival House stalking me,” Moused said with a sigh.
“Hendrick’s giving me the international signal for ‘wrap it up,’ so I’ve got to go. It’s Christmas Eve, kid. Pull that bah humbug stick out of your ass and do something fun with Theo and Amelia. The Gulfstream is ready and set for you at noon tomorrow. You better make sure you’re on it. If you miss Christmas in Nowhere, Pierce will no doubt skewer you with that very sharp sword of hers. She’s been cooking for days and apparently everyone will be there – except yours truly, of course. I’ll still be in lockdown until I can control myself around others.”
“And here I thought it was because she had a strict ‘No Cyborg Vampires’ policy at her Christmas table,” Moused teased.
“Hilarious, Mousey, hilarious. Never fear my little pipsqueaker, ‘I’ll be back’,” Reyes said in his best Schwarzenegger accent.
“If you get any headaches, just remember... ‘it’s not a toomah!’” Moused countered, laughing along with his mentor and friend.
“When you drive into Nowhere tomorrow, remember to check if… ‘the bridge is out, the bridge is out!’ ”
“All right, all right,” Moused said trying to gain some modicum of control over his fit of the giggles in the middle of the ‘World’s Largest Store.’ “Go drink some blood or something and I’ll talk to you in a few days.”
“Bye and Merry Christmas, Mousey,” Reyes said with a snort, as he too tried to control his laughter.
A click sounded in Moused’s ear as they both disconnected.
Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
From now on
Our troubles will be out of sight.
The song playing had changed, but the bustling crowds coming in and out through the revolving doors did not seem to be lessening any despite the late hour. Late by normal work day standards, not by vampire Retinue standards, of course.
Looking around his immediate vicinity again, Moused couldn’t see his mysterious stalker anywhere in sight. The inside of his tinted glasses flashed, alerting him that he’d just received a text from Reyes.
Reyes: I have her on a north side camera leaving the building about ten minutes ago.
The words flashed across the inner side of his right lens. That particular exit put her across the store from his current position. He sent a text to his driver Spencer to pick him up at the south entrance.
Ten minutes later and Moused was comfortably ensconced in the back of the company limousine as it slowly made its way through the heavy Christmas Eve traffic on Broadway. He grimaced at all the Christmas-themed window dressings, relieved that his ordeal of being forced to negotiate the bedlam and chaos of the crowded sidewalks was now thankfully over.
Pulling out his laptop, Moused brought up the photos of Catrionella Monsignac that he’d sent to himself as well as Reyes. Of the two he’d been able to take; one was a little blurry, and of her looking slightly to the left, most of her body obscured by the frenzy of shoppers passing between them at the time. The second one showed her looking directly into the camera - she couldn’t have known was there - essentially looking directly at Moused.
Piercing dark eyes seemed to stare directly out at him, the right corner of her mouth twitching up into the beginning of what could only be described as a killer smirk.
Yep, Eerie just called in his good friend Scary.
Catrionella sported a short, immaculately straight, bob haircut à la Louise Brooks. Jet-black hair, thick eyelashes framed dark, kohl-lined eyes, and pale skin further complemented the look. Despite this, her clothing took her away from that 1920s vibe and placed her right into the Twenty-First Century. Shiny black vinyl pants, red wool coat with a purple, faux fur-trimmed hood and knee-high, lace-up, five-inch heeled boots completed the ensemble. In human years she looked about ten years older than Moused, putting her in her early thirties when she’d made the Turn.
He began to sift through the information Reyes had forwarded to him about his new assassin stalker – and the vampire House she was a member of. Moused couldn’t help being intrigued. In the five years since he discovered that such a thing as vampires even existed, he’d met none outside of the Segher House – his House now.
“Home or office, Mr. Thurman?” Spencer’s voice asked through the speaker from the front of the car.
Thinking about the winter wonderland waiting for him back at the town house, Moused responded with: “Office, Spence, most definitely the office; and put on some Stones will you, I have a bit of reading to get through before we get there and all this Christmas music is killing me.”
Chapter 2
“Good evening, Mr. Thurman – and happy holidays, sir.”
“Thanks, Charles. The same to you too,” Moused replied to the security guard on duty in the lobby of this Segher-owned building. “I’m just going to put some finishing touches on a little paperwork upstairs. I shouldn’t be too long.”
“Ah, but you always say that, sir,” Charles chuckled. “Merry Christmas if I don’t see you before midnight.”
Moused smiled then winked at the older man as he turned the corner and headed toward the bank of elevators.
Glancing up, he noticed that someone had hung a piece of mistletoe from the ceiling in the alcove above him. It’s funny how he had just noticed it today, even though the Christmas decorations had been up and in full swing for at least two weeks now.
It’ll all be over soon and we can get back to normal, Moused thought, rolling his eyes at the thought of any of the stuffed business shirts that worked in the building actually making use of the mistletoe. No doubt it was an over-worked se
cretary’s idea of being funny or something.
Stepping into the large, luxurious, compartment reserved for the executive suites, Moused pressed the button for the forty-fifth floor. He rolled his eyes…again… in response to I’ll Be Home For Christmas, which was currently wafting down from the speakers above.
By the time he realized he wasn’t alone, the doors had already closed and the elevator had started its ascent.
Leaning nonchalantly in the corner across from him – the one that had been hidden from his view from outside the elevator doors – was Catrionella Monsignac.
Neither one of them moved as they returned stares.
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light gleams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
Glancing up at the security camera in the top corner, Moused noticed a small device had been attached underneath. No doubt she had set it on a loop that would show him going up – alone – and exiting the elevator on his floor.
Interesting.
“I am curious, Monsieur Thurman, as to how you are managing to control your heartbeat and breathing in such a manner. Someone who finds themselves alone – potentially trapped - in an elevator with a vampire should feel a lot more worried than you apparently do.” Her voice was husky, sultry and had a delicate French accent that seemed to caress each syllable of every word she uttered.
“If it helps at all, my mouth just went bone dry…? And, am I trapped? I don’t think…”
Before he could finish his sentence the woman moved so fast she became a blur for the fraction of a second it took to reach his side of the compartment. Now physically cornering him with her body, their faces only inches apart, she reached out with one hand and pressed the stop button, halting the car between the thirty second and third floors.
“You are now,” she smiled, flashing her fangs as she ran her tongue along her bottom lip.
Moused hoped she was going for sultry and mysterious, over hungry and thirsty. Either description fit the way she was looking at him now.