“Where do you get the Slush?” I asked yet again. “Don’t answer one more time and see what I do for my next fucking trick!”
Jorgensen glanced at Annie B, who had a content little smirk on her face. There I was—someone else’s monkey again. “Don’t look at me, Marquess, but do know that if he manages to kill you then I’ll be eating the remains.”
Foot to the face didn’t do it, but that threat registered. “Your kind,” Jorgensen spat, more blood coming with the words, thanks to a broken nose. “We’re the biggest customer of the Rejuvenation Society. They know it too! You mancers, you’ll sell yourselves for the lowest costs! Throw your mundane at us as food and look the other way! And I’m supposed to pretend you’re more than livestock? You’re worse than livestock! You’re the infection in the herd that we’ve never been able to eradicate!”
I clicked open a tiny lever on the side of my SDR. I might be sending ESLED the perfected older models but I kept the most experimental of them for myself. The SDR Mark 3 had a double charge in it. I pumped another one into the mighty Marquess Jorgensen.
YOU GOT KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT . . . BY LIVESTOCK!
“Thanks for the info, Jorgie,” I told him, even though I doubted he could hear me in La La Land. “Think I’ve seen enough of the horror show. We’ll be moving on to the important shit now that doesn’t concern your ass. And about your ass? If I ever see it again, then it ain’t gonna be long for this world and I’m not gonna eat you, pal, I’m gonna pull you out one strand at a time, then I’ll leave you in the street to drown on air.”
Annie B was so happy by the performance that I half expected her to moan in pleasure as we walked away. Woman’s got some seriously fucked up turn-ons. “I want to be mad at him but he keeps massaging me . . . so very thoroughly,” she whispered to herself, tongue flicking out to lick her lips.
[CLICK]
Annie B filled me in better than Jorgie could have about the security of the Great Bank. “All computerized, all very modern. Vampires are always portrayed as set in our ways in your fictions, but we’re chameleons first and foremost—blending into the herd—so we’re rather adaptable to new trends. Every inch of hallway is filmed and stored on a master server. Every opening of a sarcophagus triggers a flag check at the front desk that must be explained away within twenty-four hours. An unexpected opening of a private vault triggers an immediate response by security.”
“Haven’t seen any of them.”
“They’ve been ordered to give me space,” she explained sweetly. My beat down of poor Jorgie had swung her back around to be on my side, my relationship with Val and my stupid insistence to not have crazy-vampire-sex forgotten. “Normally a random sweep takes place every fifteen minutes.”
“I take it all this failed?”
“Spectacularly. Someone was able to sneak in, break into the Divine Eresha’s private vault, and steal six shells worth hundreds of millions at auction, all without being seen in the moment and afterwards managing to delete every single byte of data stored on the day of the theft.”
“Electromancers?”
“No. Security codes were used.”
“An inside job?”
“At least partly.”
“Guess that means you get to eat some vampires.”
“Yes,” she whispered, still touching her top lip with her tongue, like every step of our journey towards the crime scene intoxicated her, “if they’re unlucky.”
Not just violence, cannibalism turns her on too. Me, crazy ones, why?
Might have just been the cold, like usual.
It was just as cold in the hallways of the Great Bank as it had been outside the Divine Chamber. Got to keep them bodies pine-fresh. Cold and hydro-anima. The Rejuvenation Society was kind of like the hydromancer equivalent of the Guild of Artificers. They controlled all hydro-anima slushes and salves outside of those produced at the Asylum for the students.
And they sold hydro-anima solutions to the Vamps, so the Divines and their lessers could keep their extra shells fresh. Hydro-anima solutions that could’ve instead been used to save lives or cure colds or anything else.
Some really fucked up shit.
But then . . . who am I to talk? I’m selling floro-seeders to a drug kingpin. What could he possibly use them for?
Yeah, making sure there’s more pot in the world, ain’t I a terror of society? I’d been ‘round back then, Hostess never would have gone bankrupt! If Vega was using them for pot . . . and not opium or cocaine. Nah, I’m sure he’s using it for his grandma’s apple trees.
“Who has the codes?”
“The Divines, various counts included in security, various gentles in charge of the servers.”
“So this could be a pissing contest between the Divines?”
“Officially, the Divines don’t have pissing contests. Unofficially . . . we’ll see. I have doubts. Divines are rarely this subtle, vampires as a whole too. This feels like a human’s work.”
“The last time we were together it was a vampire behind it and the theft was to lure you into a trap.”
“I haven’t forgotten. It wasn’t about the trap. It was about the one-on-one confrontation between the countess and myself. Stealing bodies to embarrass a Divine? Not a vampire’s plan. Vampire plans end in death.”
“Still not over yet. Plenty of time for the Reaper to make a showing.”
“Put your money on the Divines if you will, I’ll put mine on humans out for riches . . . riches that will get them killed.” Her tongue worked across her lips as she glanced sideways at me.
“Annie, could you please stop staring like you’re going to rip my clothes off and ride me to death? I’m not a piece of meat, you know. I got feelings and stuff.”
Her tongue returned to her mouth. “That was purposely ironic?”
“Just a little, yeah.”
“Because it’s exactly how you looked at me when we first met.”
“. . . That’s the joke.”
Even without her tongue making an appearance, the look she gave me would’ve finished most guys off on the spot. “Your little blond princess doesn’t know what she has in you. She’ll let the monster inside of you whine itself to sleep every night . . . me, I’ll wake him up and work him for hours at a time.”
“Still tempting . . . still no.”
“Right here in the hallway, we’ll make Eresha wait.” She just did it to tease and wasn’t serious about the offer, but I also had a hint that if I accepted she’d do it. Grunting and humping in the hallway of the Great Bank. Think Val would understand if I claimed it was just to make a political statement?
Nah, didn’t think so.
“Guess it’s true what they say,” I said instead, “once you go mancer, there’s no other answer.”
[CLICK]
The Divine Eresha’s private vault was guarded by four vampires in body armor, including helmets and visors, each armed with a sidearm and an overlarge truncheon. Sidearms would handle humans but for vampire thieves you’d need something heavy to beat them down.
Surprised they don’t have stakes . . . suppose it’s too much of a reminder that they ain’t completely immortal, just mostly indestructible.
Behind them was a heavy duty vault door, no gold or wood or show here. The kind you expect to be guarding Fort Knox . . . or an Apple store from hipsters on release days. One of the guards knocked on the door at our appearance around the corner. Gears turned. Pressure locks released. It swung open slowly, despite being perfectly balanced so the hinges took the weight and despite a vampire being the one opening it. I’m pretty sure the thing was made of depleted uranium, not steel. Radiation: something else vampires don’t give a shit about.
One more reason I don’t need kids: after today they might have a third breast or a crooked cock or something.
Today.
Wasn’t even day yet.
The next day from when it all started but not even a few gulps into this new bottle of crazy. I was starting to ge
t tired. Asking Annie to stop by a coffee joint is out of the question, I suppose. Way she’s been this time, I can’t anticipate what she’ll do next. She was moody; her personality was all over the place. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was on the rag—but that’s another one of life’s little fuck you’s that Vamps skip over.
Maybe she’s getting ready to split out a new vamp or something . . . or going through vampire menopause or puberty or some crazy vampire life cycle shit. She was over five-hundred, was that old enough to start the change to being able to leave your shell? Didn’t have a clue. My education was pretty shit when it came to vampires, I found that out more every hour I was around them.
The guards slid out of the way for us to pass through.
On the other side of the door was a vault like expected . . . just, bigger than expected.
It was circular, made of white stone instead of black, and had the feeling of a Greek temple, complete with white columns that ran in a ring around the middle of the room. At the center were a series of descending steps leading to a circular pool that one could walk right into. A bathing pool I suppose you’d call it.
I imagined Eresha picking out her body for the day and submersing herself immediately, washed limb by limb and then clothed by awaiting handmaidens. Two were present now, naked from head to toe, marked with a large E upon their foreheads where Meal had worn the sigil of Moshi’s Stables. They were beautiful and full of youth, too much youth. If I made a move on them, I’m pretty sure some journalist would pop out of a hidden compartment to tell me to pull up a seat for the latest Catch a Predator.
I felt my anger rise again, studying them. Trained but not experienced. Lovely creatures, but not perfect. Not sure of themselves. They didn’t have the bearing of a vampire in a shell and no vampire could fake such innocence, not even a competent manipulator like Annie B. The girls were human.
More humans . . . trained to serve their purpose. To be young, pretty, bathe, and dress. I doubt these even made it to thirty before they were retired. Eresha had her own coin for favors just like Moshi did.
I’m not a peaceful guy. I almost started a war with the Coyote Nation over a little misunderstanding. It took everything I had in me to be ‘civilized’ and make my deal with Vega. And I’ve never seen war, especially a war with the supernatural involved, never seen the cost it would have to my friends and allies. So maybe I’m not the guy to understand this. Maybe I’m not being fair.
But . . . how can the Learning Council know about this and Moshi’s Stables and the Great Bank and all the horrible shit Vamps do to humanity, horrible shit beyond just snacking on the non-mancers of the world, and make peace with them?
I don’t get it. It’s not in me. Defiance is in me. Defiance until the end. The earthquake, the retribution of mankind, whatever the Price. How can the Lady let this stand? How can Ceinwyn let this stand?
I’ve questioned before, but seeing those poor girls exposed like that among all the monsters . . . knowing they were a few short years from something even worse . . .
Maybe Paine’s not all wrong.
Maybe Vega wasn’t all wrong either.
Ceinwyn was raised by one of them . . .
“You look like you’re sucking on something sour,” Annie whispered at my shoulder, frozen on the threshold of the vault next to me.
“I always expect the world to kick me in the balls, but even I’m not ready for how hard the world kicks sometimes.”
Annie B’s face softened. “They’re well-cared for little things; intelligent, sharp, Eresha likes them best when they can entertain her with jokes and stories. I know what you’re thinking and you couldn’t be more wrong about it. She has her faults, but she doesn’t share Moshi’s philosophies about your species . . . or Inanina’s. We’re monsters, but we aren’t uniformly monstrous.”
Vamps were teaching me one thing: Val’s right. No matter how pugnacious and violent and don’t-give-a-crap I can get at times . . . I ain’t a monster. But there are monsters . . . and someone will have to say enough one of these days and stand up to them.
No matter the fucking Price.
“Let’s get this over with.”
The only other person in the room was a man. Biggest man I’ve ever seen. I went to school with Jason Jackson, so that’s a serious statement. This guy was over seven feet, over four-hundred, maybe even five-hundred pounds. He was huge. Huge arms, huge neck, huge hands. Face him off against Romans back in the day and he’d have stood alone against whole companies of legionaries. If he introduced himself as Goliath then I would nod my head and accept it as fact.
He looked out of place—mostly because he took up so many places, but also because he wore a tuxedo of all things, white-tie. The most formality possible. Golden cufflinks, shoes worth more than my house. A face without a bit of stubble despite the late hour. A thick mane of blond locks flowing down his back all the way to his shoulder blades. Perhaps Goliath was wrong, perhaps Samson was correct.
Annie B approached him and kneeled, making me realize how wrong I was about him. “Greetings again, Divine Eresha,” the baroness whispered.
Vampires, they just don’t stop mind-fucking me.
Eresha . . . giant, now male, Eresha smiled down at her for a moment before meeting my eyes. “Do you approve of my warrior’s shell, King Henry Price?” she . . . he—fuck me, this has to make for complicated relationships—asked in a voice so deep it could shatter pottery.
Given that Eresha could grab both my ankles and split me like a turkey wishbone with this shell, yeah, I was ruefully impressed by it. “I wouldn’t want to fight you.”
She . . . he—fucking vampires—Eresha enjoyed my reaction, like my admission actually meant something to her despite the whole fifty-billion-year-old vampire god thing. “And the Great Bank, do you understand the glory we convey to your species now?”
“It’s a . . . very complex operation you have here,” I bullshitted.
Given how sensitive she’d been to lies in the Divine Chamber, she probably smelled every turd in my words, but didn’t make comment on them . . . or this shell wasn’t as sensitive as the last. “Rise, Baroness Boleyn,” Eresha ordered, “do your job. You as well, King Henry Price.”
I glanced around the vault again, finally stepping all the way inside. It was . . . big. Hundreds of sarcophagi, row after row of them, all the way over your head, ten to twelve a stack. There was some type of machine lift across the room, which was probably used to reach the higher ones. It threw the vibe of the vault off, but function is function.
“You stepped up security, I see,” I said to distract Eresha from watching me too closely.
“More than that,” Eresha said from three feet over my head, sounding pained, “I plan on moving my most prized shells to my private residence for better safekeeping. This insult cannot repeat itself. Even with more guards . . . until you find the source and means of this theft, the entire Great Bank is at risk.”
“Momma always said money’s safer in a bank than a mattress. Thieves might make a run at your home if you create too tempting a target.”
Annie B, studying the sarcophagi, found something funny in the idea.
“I hope they do,” Eresha rumbled. This shell sounded like I imagined most bears would if they could speak English.
Make a note: for some reason Divines are extra scary when at home. That’s some information I’d need to dig out of Annie B . . . especially if I ever plan on killing one of them. Did I plan on killing one of them? I don’t know. Not until I fixed Anima Madness. That was first, the most important part of my life.
It’s why I made peace with Vega, not war.
One of these days you might not be able to back down, Price. Last time, the only reason you managed was because it wasn’t Vega himself, just that fucktard nephew of his. Eresha eats on one of these poor girls in front of you, think you’ll be able to make peace then?
Not even Ceinwyn would be able to stop me.
I need t
o get this job done quick or something really bad will start here.
I glanced at the girls. Forty degrees and not a stitch of clothing. “Think you can get them coats or something? They look damn uncomfortable.”
Eresha smiled at them like they were loyal pets. “My handmaidens are bred to never know want for themselves, to honor serving my needs above all else. They would consider an attempt at placing their comfort above their readiness a grave insult. Clothing them against the cold would shame them.”
“Focus on the crime scene, King Henry,” Annie B reminded me.
Yeah, crime scene. Not the child slavery. Got it.
Thanks for relieving the buildup, Jorgie, without you being such a douchebag I would’ve snapped by now. Suppose what I’d done to Jorgie was snapping.
I joined Annie B by one of the sarcophagi. She pointed out three of them, all with red lights. “Bodies are missing.”
“Open them up?”
She did. It was the same as the one Jorgie had shown us, minus the body and minus the hydro-anima too. “Have these been cleaned or did they take the solution?”
“They took everything,” Eresha rumbled.
“Be worth some serious money in its own right,” I said, “hard to store though.”
Annie nodded. She went around opening all the other red marked sarcophagi, all of them on the lowest two levels, right at a height you wouldn’t need the lift to move the bodies. “These were the only six tampered with?”
“Yes,” Eresha informed us, “there were no other flags triggered on the system.”
“Check ‘em just in case,” I told Annie B.
“All of them? You’re welcome to spend the next month of your own time,” she complained.
“At least one.”
“You just want to see who’s inside,” she mocked.
“Not at all, I just don’t trust Fate enough to not check,” I explained.
Annie B clicked open a nearby sarcophagus really quick, made sure the body was still inside, and shut it. “Satisfied?”
“. . . Was that Elvis?”
“Please do something to justify your price tag,” she told me, “or I’ll be forced to whip you into usefulness.”
The Foul Mouth and the Headless Hunny (The King Henry Tapes) Page 16