Forsaken By the Others hi-5

by Jess Haines

  Chapter 17

  “. . . stinks, man. Are you sure we have to help them? We’re never going to get enough karaoke spots for all of us if we don’t leave now.”

  “Shut up, Leewan. Pick that one up.”

  “Damn it, why do you get to carry the pretty one?”

  The “pretty one”? Meaning Sara, not me. Awesome. Duly noted: Leewan was an asshole.

  “Because I’m the boss of you. Now be quiet and get the other one.”

  Cold, strong fingers slid under my arms, and the sensation of being dragged across the concrete woke me up a bit more. I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes yet.

  Pavement heat soon changed to a grave-like chill, and Leewan’s grip shifted as he picked me up off the ground. “Cripes, they stink. You sure you want to bring them into the hideout?”

  Thrane didn’t answer him. I squinted my eyes open as Leewan grumbled under his breath, taking the steps with a gait so jarring, my teeth were rattling. He glanced down at me as I groaned, giving me a fangy grin.

  “Wakey, wakey!”

  I gave him the most irritated glare I could muster under the circumstances. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an asshole?”

  He shrugged and dropped me. I wasn’t expecting it and voiced a little shriek that cut off as soon as my butt hit the couch, some of the air knocked out of me as my spine connected with the arm. Owww.

  “Every day, but for you, I’ve trotted out an extra side of—”

  “Leewan!”

  Leewan looked up, frowning, then abruptly skittered out of Thrane’s way with inhuman speed, giving the other vampire room to place Sara with a little more care on the cushions next to me. She was still out like a light. Thrane dusted his hands off and glanced at me.

  “Normally I don’t care much for anyone who threatens me and mine, but seeing as you got attacked by zombies on my doorstep, I figured I’d offer you two a hand.”

  “Yeah, right, Jimmy. You’re just hoping the blonde will give you her number.”

  Thrane glared at Mac, but didn’t dispute it. He turned back to me. “The gang knows they’re not allowed to eat you. I’m going out. You can stay here until your partner wakes up. Bathroom’s over there if you want to clean up.” He hooked a thumb in the direction of a door with chipped, peeling paint and a black and yellow “Caution: Hazardous Area, Authorized Personnel Only” sign tacked on.

  Some of the other vampires got off the couches and floor cushions to follow Thrane out of the basement and into the night. He started belting out “Panic Switch” by the Silversun Pickups once he reached the top of the stairs, spreading his arms wide and tilting his head back like he was howling the song to the heavens.

  Half of the ones following him soon picked up the song, too, the pack of singing vampires disappearing into the night, the sound not quite fading entirely as the door slammed shut behind them.

  I wondered if maybe I was dreaming. Really weird dreams as a result of the mage’s dark magic or something.

  “Don’t mind Thrane,” Shannon, the girl in the nice clothes, said, glancing at me over the top of a very outdated magazine. “He’s not totally right in the head, but he means well.”

  Lifting my hands to rub at my temples, I leaned forward, doing my best to ignore the twinge in my back. “That’s great. I don’t suppose you have any idea what the hell happened out there?”

  She shrugged and tossed the mag aside, lifting her legs to cross them at the ankles and let them dangle over the side of the couch Thrane had been on when we first got here. Her dark eyes examined me with curiosity, her lips quirking upward. “You going to be able to make it back to wherever it is you’re staying?”

  “I have no idea. If the car is still out there, maybe, but we’re not from around here so I don’t know if I can find my way back without directions.”

  “Clyde’s place in Santa Monica? I can write it down for you.”

  I nodded thanks, scrubbing my palms over my cheeks and doing my best not to start crying. Across the country from my friends and family, lost in Los Angeles, and stuck with a bunch of lunatic, fringe-hobo vampires. If I saw Clyde again, I just might throttle the guy for putting me in the middle of his mess. That’s assuming he hadn’t been murdered by zombies by the time we got back to his place.

  Sara groaned and shifted, bringing a hand up to her temple. “. . . The fu . . .”

  I patted her shoulder and scooted forward, getting a bit shakily to my feet. Shannon rose far more gracefully than I did, rolling to her feet and offering me an arm. Waving her off, I headed to the bathroom, hoping washing some of the zombie bits off of me and splashing some cold water on my face would help me get over whatever the mage had done to mess with my head.

  My trembling fingers slid up to my neck, closing around the gold chain there. I tugged the charm out from under my shirt, glancing down. The black and gold rectangle the size of my pinky nail was still there. Why the hell hadn’t it blocked the necromancer from messing with my head? The tiny runes etched into it still had a dim glow. What the hell was wrong with it?

  Whatever. I’d ask Arnold the next time I talked to him.

  The bathroom was tiny. A toilet was sandwiched between a leaky sink and a shower stall, and the towels hanging over the stall and from a rack were threadbare. At least it was clean.

  I ran some cold water and cupped it in my hands, splashing my face. It didn’t do much to wake me up, but at least I felt a bit cleaner. The smell of zombie was probably going to stick with me until I showered, and that wasn’t something I was about to attempt in this nuthouse.

  By the time I was done, Shannon had some directions for me and Sara was looking groggy but awake. She got up from the couch and rushed into the bathroom as soon as I got out of the way, and the sound of running water soon followed.

  “Thank you,” I said to Shannon, giving her a wan smile.

  She returned the smile and handed me the paper. “Anytime. Sorry if Thrane or any of the others gave you a scare. If you end up stranded in our neck of the woods again, just call me and I’ll take care of it.”

  I nodded, lifting a hand to rub at my eyes so I wouldn’t lose it. My emotions were too much in flux for me to control myself right then.

  As soon as Sara was done rinsing her face (and I hoped to God managed to get out whatever the heck that had been in her hair), we thanked Shannon once more and headed back out into the night.

  The area still stank of zombies. No one had called the cops, which didn’t surprise me too much considering the quality of the neighborhood. What remained of Trinity was a pile of parts and meat in a puddle of black and red congealing blood. The car sat unmolested at the mouth of the alley.

  When we tried the doors, they didn’t open.

  The keys were somewhere in that mess.

  Sara and I leaned against the car and contemplated walking back to Clyde’s. All twenty miles or so, mostly uphill.

  In the end, I lost our impromptu game of rock-paper-scissors and had to fish around in the mess for the keys. The squishy feeling was the worst part. Though I couldn’t say I was too torn up about Trinity’s fate, this was quite possibly the most disgusting thing I had ever done.

  My fishing resulted in $0.87 in change, a cell phone that still worked despite being liberally doused in goo, and the car keys. The clicker didn’t work until I smacked it against my palm a couple of times; then it unlocked the car. We found some napkins stuffed in the glove compartment and used them to wipe off the phone and the keys.

  As badly as I wanted to get away from Thrane’s hideout, I wanted to get away from Los Angeles even more. As soon as Sara was done cleaning the phone, I dialed Royce’s cell, pacing in front of the car. She leaned against the hood and watched me, eyes wide and arms wrapped around her ribs.

  It didn’t take him long to pick up. “Hello? Who is this?”

  “It’s me. Royce, please, you’ve got to let us come back.”

  “Ahh,” he said, dropping his initial guarded tone. “Why a
ren’t you calling me from the phone you were given? You’re lucky I picked up; I usually screen my calls.”

  “It’s Clyde’s fault. He had someone go through our stuff as soon as we arrived. They confiscated my phone, and this is the first time I’ve been able to get my hands on one when I didn’t have one of his people breathing down my neck.”

  He voiced a low growl that still managed to carry over the line. “I see. That was not part of the arrangement I made with him.”

  “When can Sara and I come back? Can you get us a flight tonight?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that yet, Shiarra. There are still problems—”

  “You have no idea, Royce. None. Sara and I were just attacked by a fucking necromancer.”

  He made a sound—maybe a cough—before replying. “You—are you certain? An actively practicing necromancer in Los Angeles?”

  “Well, gee. He only had some glowing green eyes, some weird star-shaped tattoo thing on his palm, and, oh yes! Directed some zombies around. Come to think of it, I’m not sure.”

  “Sarcasm won’t help matters. Where is Clyde? I’ll speak with him about it.”

  It took an awful lot of effort not to scream at the phone. I was getting the idea that maybe my emotional state was a bit more raw than I had initially gathered. Before I might say something I’d regret later, I took a couple of breaths and counted to ten in my head. Then answered him.

  “He’s the asshole responsible for our running into the mage. He told us that we had to find the guy if we wanted to continue to stay with him. We can’t do this, Royce. Please, forget talking to Clyde—can you send us somewhere else? Anywhere but here?”

  “Unfortunately, not on such short notice. Pulling you out of there now would be an insult to Clyde’s hospitality, and the only other person I’d feel you might be safe staying with has been experiencing difficulties with Max Carlyle recently. I don’t want to send you out of the country or I might have placed you in Luxor with my eldest.” He cursed softly, the sound barely carrying over the line, then quieted. I wasn’t sure what to say in reply. The growl that came next was somewhat distorted, but he was obviously displeased with this turn of events. “Damn Clyde. He was paid well to keep you safe. If I’d had any idea . . .”

  “Don’t coulda-woulda-shoulda,” I said. “I’ve already done enough of that for the both of us. Can you please just try to think of something?”

  “Yes,” he replied in a hiss, his anger palpable even through the phone line. “I should have destroyed him when I had the chance. . . . For now, try to stay out of trouble. I didn’t want to bring you back here until I had matters with the police in hand, but it seems I have little choice. Give me a day or two to smooth things over with Clyde and make arrangements. Can you manage?”

  As much as I wanted to get in the car and start driving back to New York right that minute, that wasn’t a good idea. Hopefully the necromancer would stay away for another couple of days.

  “I’ll do my best. Sorry to—you know, I’m—”

  “Don’t. Don’t apologize. This was my error. It was a snap judgment, and I should have gathered more information about what was going on in California before I sent you there. Just stay safe, and try to be patient. I’ll get you out of there.”

  “Thank you,” I said, giving Sara an exaggerated nod to answer her questioning look. “I found an old friend. Maybe we can stay with him until it’s time to go home. Or go to Sara’s sister’s place—”

  “No. Not yet. The complications of insulting Clyde are too numerous for me to go into right now, but trust me when I tell you it is a bad idea. Let me call him. Just stay with him for now. I’ll get you out of there as fast as I can.”

  We said our good-byes, and I hung up, shoving the phone into my pocket. It would probably come in handy later.

  “We have to stay here for now,” I said to Sara, moving around the car to take the driver’s seat, “but he’s going to get us out as soon as he can.”

  She pushed off the hood and kicked the nearest tire with a curse, then got in the passenger side. “Seriously? Why can’t we just get out of town right now? Stay at Janine’s place in Malibu?”

  “We can’t risk upsetting Clyde. Some vampire political bullshit.”

  She cursed again, but more quietly, resigned. “What are we going to do? I don’t want to go back there. What if the necromancer follows us or shows up while we’re there?”

  I tilted my head against the headrest, closing my eyes. There were no easy answers—though an idea occurred to me. “Maybe we can pretend like we’re still on the case for Clyde, but slip away and hang out with the White Hats for a while. Devon probably wouldn’t mind having us around.”

  Sara snorted. “White Hats. Since when did they become the better option?”

  That got a small laugh out of me. With a resigned sigh, I opened my eyes. Time to go face Clyde and see what he thought of this mess.

  I handed her Shannon’s directions, my fingers tight on the steering wheel as I stared at the street ahead of us. Having a meltdown would have to wait until I was somewhere quiet and alone. The temptation to drive somewhere—anywhere—else was eating at me like a cancer. I put the car into drive and peeled off, tires squealing, as I made for the freeway.

  “This sucks,” she whispered.

  My answer to Sara, when it finally came, was as much for me as it was for her.

  “You’re telling me.”

  Chapter 18

  After a few wrong turns and a little bit of trouble from the security guard at the gatehouse guarding the entrance to Clyde’s community, we managed to make it back to the vampire’s home in one piece. I parked the car as close to the guest house as possible, intending to hold on to the keys and make use of it later—hopefully without a babysitter the next time we went out.

  Though I knew Clyde needed to be informed about what had happened to Trinity, I wasn’t looking forward to being the bearer of bad news. Without her around to let him know we were coming, we were going to be dropping the bomb on him with no advance warning. Who knew how he might react?

  When we got up to the house, the security guards let us in, asking about Trinity and exclaiming about the stink clinging to our clothes. Since one of them was the guy who had led us to Clyde the first night we showed up, I didn’t think it would be such a bad idea to tell him what was going on.

  “We were attacked. She didn’t make it.”

  The guy gaped. “Are you—she’s—wait, but then why are you—”

  “Alive?” Sara spread her hands. “We’re not sure. But we really need to talk to Clyde. Is he around?”

  The security guard held up a finger for us to wait while he turned away and muttered into the speaker of his earpiece. He waited, then said something else. Nodding to no one in particular, he took off at a trot, gesturing for us to follow him. “Come on. He’s going to meet you in his parlor downstairs in a minute. After you talk to him, I’d like the whole story, and some directions so I can find whatever is left of Trin.”

  “You’re going to need a garbage bag,” I muttered, though I followed him without protest. Now wasn’t the time to start annoying the other guards. Not if we wanted to be left to our own devices. I was starting to formulate a plan for how we might lose any tail Clyde was intent on keeping on us while we continued our “investigation” on his behalf.

  Soon we were back in the room where we’d first met Clyde. The moon was still mostly full, this time gleaming over the ocean, casting a glimmering reflection over the waves. The lights were low, and Clyde was shirtless, pacing in front of the windows. Fabian was sprawled on one of the couches, also shirtless, watching us with narrowed eyes as he stirred some thick liquid in a bowl on the floor with a finger.

  They both made faces when we arrived, though neither commented on the scent of Eau de Zombie that clung to us like cheap perfume.

  “Well,” Clyde said, not bothering to look at us, “I hear you have some unpleasant news for me. Care to explain w
hy you returned without your bodyguard?”

  I frowned at him, though he wouldn’t see it considering how he was so busy pacing like a jungle cat and staring out the window. “We didn’t have enough plastic baggies to bring all of her back with us. Sorry.”

  That jarred him. He stopped, one hand on the glass, and tilted his head to look at us. The moonlight cast an eerie reflection on his eyes, making them appear colorless. Lifeless. Like the zombies. The thought alone made me shudder, but there was no point in being worked up about it. Royce would get us out of here soon—I hoped—so maybe Clyde’s problems wouldn’t seem like such a big deal once we figured out how to keep out of his way until then.

  “You ran into Gideon.” At our blank looks, he clarified, the strange lack of color in his eyes being replaced by the glimmer of red. “The necromancer. Did he kill her?”

  Sara and I both nodded.

  “Damn it, Fabian, can’t you reason with him?”

  Well, this was a new development. We both looked at Fabian, and I’m pretty sure Sara was exhibiting as much shock as I felt.

  The other vampire lifted his finger and sucked off the liquid he’d been stirring in the bowl, the look he gave Clyde so heated that I’m shocked the guy didn’t burst into flames then and there. I suspected that the stuff Fabian was playing with was blood, but either way, this didn’t feel like the right time to be interrupting these two. The air was charged with some kind of bad juju, and I wasn’t too sure sticking around to find out why was such a good idea.

  “I’m afraid not. He’s quite incensed. I did tell you this might become a problem.”

  Clyde hissed, leveling a finger at Fabian. “You did not tell me he would start picking off my people, one by one.”

  “How was I supposed to guess that he would take it so personally?”

  Clyde shook his head, turning those red eyes back on us. “Tell me what you’ve learned, and make it quick. ”

  I stepped forward, letting Sara use me as a makeshift shield so she wouldn’t have to meet his burning gaze. Even if the charm wasn’t at full strength, if Clyde lost his temper, I was in a better position to defend myself against it than she was, however marginal that “better position” might be. My mind was racing, wondering just how much Clyde had kept from us, and just what kind of test not telling us what he knew about the necromancer—like his name—had been.