New Order (Bo Blackman Book 2)

by Helen Harper

  ‘Bullshit,’ I whisper.

  He starts to smile. ‘You’re challenging a Kakos daemon? Ms Blackman, you are either incredibly brave or incredibly foolhardy.’

  Damn it. He must have plucked my name out of my mind. I feel violated – it’s like he’s gained absolute control. I’ll never learn what he’s called but he already knows everything about me.

  ‘X.’ The tattoos continue to snake around his skin. ‘You may call me X.’

  ‘Catchy,’ I mutter.

  He smirks. ‘The truth is I have a certain admiration for Mr Templeton. We have never met in person but he knows what I am and he was still brave enough to steal from me. Some humans just can’t stop themselves from playing with fire.’ His black eyes gleam. ‘Some vampires too.’

  I stand my ground. ‘Is Dahlia dead?’

  He tuts. ‘I told you, I don’t have her. I don’t know where she is and I don’t care.’

  ‘You don’t care that her husband was stealing from you?’

  ‘I expect a certain amount of underhandedness. It’s useful. It means I know where I stand. Besides, money doesn’t interest me. We have far grander plans and, as long as Stephen Templeton doesn’t involve himself in those, I will allow him to do what he wishes.’

  I wonder about his use of the word ‘we’. The Kakos daemons must be planning something. The thought of what that might be is beyond frightening.

  ‘The thought of big, bad scary monsters crawling out of the shadows disturbs you.’

  ‘It would disturb anyone.’

  He gazes at me with interest. ‘Really? We’ve decided to re-enter your society and act in a manner which you would describe as civilised and you think that’s disturbing?’

  ‘Civilised? You’re homicidal maniacs!’

  ‘Perhaps. However, I’m not the one illegally breaking into a private office building.’

  I stare at him mutely. The alarm continues to peal while, far below, there’s the siren of a fire engine. X lifts a hand and inspects his fingernails. ‘Do you know what Google’s motto is?’

  ‘Don’t Be Evil.’

  The corners of his mouth rise. ‘Indeed. It’s virtually a challenge. Especially when you consider the vast opportunities for sin provided by the internet.’

  ‘So that’s why you’re working for Streets of Fire? You want to manipulate the internet?’

  He laughs. ‘I don’t work for Streets of Fire. I am Streets of Fire.’

  ‘The CEO…’

  ‘Is the palatable human face. His history and identity are known and accepted. His strings, however, are pulled elsewhere.’

  I may be uncovering the greatest conspiracy the world has ever seen. It’s a damn shame I’ll never be able to tell anyone about it.

  ‘The other people in this building. They’re human. And they’re okay working for you?’

  ‘Watch.’ His features twist, melding into a benign, respectable human face. The tattoos vanish and his eyes, while still dark, look benevolent.

  ‘They don’t know,’ I whisper. ‘You mask your true self.’ How many more Kakos daemons are posing as humans right under our noses?

  He gives a little bow. ‘Most people have the sixth sense when something isn’t quite right.’ His face returns to its original form. ‘They can’t work out what it is though.’

  ‘Why does Stephen Templeton know the truth?’

  I receive an unpleasant smile in return. ‘I wanted to see how he’d react. He was planning to steal and I was interested in finding out if he still would when he knew I was a demon.’

  Stephen Templeton is a sodding idiot.

  ‘Yes,’ X says, ‘he is.’ He looks at me thoughtfully. ‘You are not. How were you planning to get out?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You broke in. In about sixty seconds’ time, security will burst through that door. How were you going to avoid them?’

  ‘I wasn’t,’ I say shortly. ‘I just had a good excuse for being here.’

  He reads it in my thoughts. ‘The right to be forgotten?’

  ‘It’s a new thing. Maybe you’ve not heard of it.’ It’s a stupid jab, but I make it anyway. Anyone in the tech industry – even a Kakos daemon – will know about it. I put on a slightly patronising tone for effect. What else do I have to lose? ‘People can make a legal challenge to have their name wiped from search engines. Vampires cherish anonymity once recruitment is over. Erasing their virtual presence is the next logical step.’

  ‘It’s a reasonable excuse, I suppose. But it does beg the question of why not make a legal challenge? Why break in illegally?’

  ‘Because approaching the courts makes the petitioner more famous. I was going to let myself get caught and use the right to be forgotten law as an excuse.’

  He nods. ‘If you couldn’t persuade in-house security to let you go then the police would. It’s not yet public knowledge that you’ve left the safety and immunity of the Families.’

  ‘And when it is, the press will believe I’ve gone rogue so the Families won’t be censured for my actions.’

  ‘You know,’ he says slowly, ‘I rather think you’ll be wasted on the Lord of the Montserrat Family.’

  I stare at him wide-eyed while shouts and the sound of a slamming door echo down the corridor. Several security guards burst in from the fire escape. X smiles at me, his face again re-forming into its human version. Then he turns. ‘Everything’s fine,’ he calls out.

  ‘Sir…’

  His gaze hardens. ‘Leave us.’ Even as a human, he’s intimidating.

  The security guards mutter but do as they’re told. The daemon turns back to me, tattoos flickering their return.

  ‘I have decided,’ he announces.

  ‘A wooden box or a padded cell?’ I ask bitterly.

  He smiles, reaches out with his fingertips and touches my temples lightly. ‘Hold still. This will only hurt for a second.’

  There’s a blinding attack of pain. My mouth drops and I scream in both pain and terror. I collapse to my knees and he pulls away.

  ‘If you tell anyone about this meeting, I will change my mind.’ The darkness in his eyes sucks me in. ‘And not just about you. About the child. The vampire Lord. Your grandfather…’ His voice drifts away, although the threat remains in the air. ‘Come back and see me when you learn about the cure, Bo Blackman. And throw away those pills.’

  Suddenly I’m alone in the corridor with the lingering pain in my head and the continuing shriek of the fire alarm. I touch my forehead gingerly. I’m still alive and I don’t feel insane. My thoughts are tinged with clarity. The weight inside me that’s been growing since the day I pulled O’Shea’s fading body from a blood-soaked room in the suburbs of London seems to have disappeared. I feel lighter. The sadness and anger remain – perhaps they always will – but they no longer possess my soul. Unconsciously, my hand reaches into my pocket and I pull out the topiramate which Doctor Love gave me. I gaze down at the innocuous white bottle. X is right: I won’t be needing it any more.

  I have no idea why the daemon did what he did; I’m just glad to be alive.

  I stumble out of the building, taking the lift down this time. The narrowed eyes of the security guards in the lobby follow my every move. A fire engine sits by the revolving doors, its red bodywork muted by the night shadows. I’m tempted to knock on the window and tell the firefighter inside to get his buddies and go home but I’d probably land myself in more trouble. I’m sure they’ve worked out it’s a false alarm by now.

  I drag myself across the street to the car. There’s no clamp or parking ticket, but someone with too much time on their hands has drawn a crude penis in the dust coating the side door. I stare at it for a moment, shrug and get in. For once, I have hours to go until dawn breaks, but I’m completely drained. I don’t know if it’s because of the adrenaline leaving my system or if it’s a side-effect of X’s Jedi mind-trick. Either way, I don’t have the energy to keep going for much longer. I didn’t promise Michael I’d st
ay at his place but he’ll be worried after what I said on the phone. Not only that, but his massive bed is more comfortable than O’Shea’s sofa. I drive to Michael’s, almost running three red lights along the way.

  The apartment is too close to the inner city for me to get away with more illegal parking, especially as both my car and I will be stuck here during daylight hours, and it takes time to locate the entrance to the underground car park. The guard on duty must have a high definition camera and be able to see the red in my eyes because the automatic barrier lifts and I drive in. Annoyingly, however, once I park and get out, I can’t open the door into the building. Like the front entrance, it’s protected by a thumb sensor. I try it anyway, on the off-chance that Michael has had it keyed to me, but it buzzes an angry red. I sigh. There’s not much point in demanding I stay where he can see me when I can’t even get inside. Thank goodness for the car park. I’m not sure I’d survive if I had to drive anywhere else to find shelter. I unlock the car again, clamber into the back seat, curl up and fall asleep.

  Chapter Twelve: Playing with Fire

  A loud noise wakes me some time later. My body clock seems to know instinctively that it’s daylight outside, even though the car park remains dark. I dimly register raised voices and open one eye. I can’t see a damn thing from my position but to open both eyes and sit up would take too much energy.

  Words drift over. ‘Are you sure she’s not with the lawyer?’

  ‘Positive.’

  ‘Have you been to his house?’

  ‘My Lord, she’s not with him.’

  ‘What about Soho? The daemon said they were there yesterday.’

  ‘We’ve got people out looking.’

  ‘Goddamnit!’ There’s a slam. ‘What about this Templeton guy that keeps phoning?’

  ‘He wants to talk to her too.’

  I think about getting up but my brain isn’t sending the right signals to the rest of my body and my limbs won’t comply. I hear a door close. I’ve missed my chance. My eye droops and slumber reclaims me.

  When I come round again, I feel more refreshed. I sit up and yawn, rubbing my eyes. It feels much later and I wonder how long I’ve been asleep. I kick open the door and ease myself out, then stretch to shake off my grogginess. I feel grimy. There are spots of oil all down my dress, probably from my antics in the Streets of Fire lift shaft. I wipe my palms down the front of it. I really need a sodding shower.

  An engine rumbles and I see an expensive sports car drive in. Its owner parks it neatly next to my rusting heap. I glance from the gleaming bodywork on one side to the filth on the other and it’s hard not to giggle at the contrast. I’m still amused when the driver gets out without looking in my direction and struts towards the inner door. He presses his thumb against the keypad and enters. I scoot up, my fingers grabbing the door before it closes again, and squeeze in, then follow him to the lift.

  Once the doors shut, his eyes flick in my direction. He sidesteps away from me. It’s a bloody lift; it’s not like he can actually escape. If I wanted to sink my fangs into his stupid neck, I would. When we reach his floor and the doors open, he sprints out. I roll my eyes heavenward. The other inhabitants of this building must know they share the space with the Lord of the Montserrat Family. It doesn’t make sense for the guy to be so spooked by one little girl vampire.

  Shrugging to myself, I dismiss him. I step out onto Michael’s penthouse floor and knock loudly on his door. There’s no answer. I press my ear against it. Silence. I knock again. When the door still doesn’t open, I eye it speculatively. The allure of fluffy towels and hot water is strong. He’ll be pissed off but, to be fair, he did invite me. I stop prevaricating, take a step then leap up and kick, aiming for the lock. Unfortunately, the door opens open at exactly the wrong moment and my foot connects with Michael’s chest instead of solid wood.

  There’s a snarl and, before I can react, I’m thrown backwards against the far wall. A fist comes flying towards my face. Rather than smashing into my nose, however, it lands just to the side of my head, sending bits of plaster flying in all directions. Another arm shoots out on my other side, hitting the wall and effectively trapping me. Michael’s face looms over me.

  A muscle jerks in his cheek. I stare back. He’s shirtless, his broad chest and winged tattoos bared. The red mark where I struck him is already fading. I hope I’m not about to be done for treason.

  ‘Bo,’ he grates.

  ‘My Lord.’ My voice has an unusual breathy quality.

  He slowly licks his lips. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Er…’ I can’t tell him about X. ‘Working,’ I say finally.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘We’ve already had this conversation. If I’m going to be your independent bridge with the humans then it’s better if I don’t tell you everything that I do.’

  ‘If you’re looking for a damn cure that doesn’t exist, then it’s nothing to do with the humans and I should know about it. If it’s the Arzo thing, then you said it had nothing to do with vampires so you can tell me about it anyway.’

  ‘Probably,’ I say. ‘It probably has nothing to do with vampires.’ I aim for insouciance. ‘You didn’t mind not knowing before.’

  He leans in closer. ‘That was before.’ His eyes drop to my mouth.

  I swallow. ‘Before what?’

  His shoulders tense and a shadow crosses his face. He pulls back, freeing me. ‘There was an attack.’

  ‘What? What kind of attack? Where?’

  ‘Gully. A group of their vampires were set upon by some humans.’ His jaw hardens. ‘There were some casualties.’

  My stomach drops. Oh, shit. ‘Human?’

  ‘And vampire.’ He folds his arms and gazes at me. ‘Tempers are flaring, Bo. It’s not safe to be out on the streets alone.’

  ‘I’m fine. I’m not about to get into an argument with a bunch of pissed-off humans.’

  His eyes harden. ‘You were frightened. When I spoke to you on the phone, you were fucking scared. And then your phone was dead.’

  Guilt floods me. ‘It broke. I dropped it.’

  ‘You’re lying.’ He lowers his voice until it’s dangerously soft. ‘Who were you with?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I can’t tell you.’

  He snarls and punches the wall, then turns and stalks back inside. I stare after him, wide-eyed. I’ve never seen him so tense, not even when Nicky was weaving her Machiavellian magic. Relations with the humans must be far worse than I thought.

  ‘Can I come in?’ I call after him.

  For a moment I think he’s not going to answer. Then he growls, ‘It looks like you were going to anyway. Were you seriously trying to break down my door?’

  ‘Um…’ I step gingerly in. ‘I need a shower.’ I’m aware of how pathetic that sounds.

  ‘The door is reinforced steel, Bo. About the only thing you’d have broken is your foot.’ He walks to the window and stares out at the skyline. ‘At least tell me where you spent the day.’

  I relax slightly. ‘Here.’

  ‘I was here. You were not.’

  ‘I was downstairs. In my car,’ I explain. ‘I couldn’t get in because of the keypad.’

  He turns to face me. His face is blank. ‘You’re kidding me?’

  ‘Uh, no.’

  Comprehension dawns. ‘Hold on. You mean that rusty piece of…’

  ‘Don’t,’ I interrupt. ‘Don’t you dare denigrate my car.’

  ‘Does it even work?’

  ‘I’m not going to deign to answer that. Can I use your shower or can’t I? I’ve got things to do.’

  He waves a hand towards his bedroom. ‘Feel free. The doctor will be at the mansion soon, so be quick.’

  Except that, thanks to X, I no longer require his services. ‘The thing is…’

  Michael’s eyes narrow. ‘What?’

  I think better of it. ‘Nothing,’ I say hastily. ‘I can’t wait to get started with the therapy.’

  He growls so
mething under his breath.

  ‘What was that?’ I ask innocently.

  ‘Nothing.’

  I shrug and head for some heavenly scrubbing bliss.

  ‘By the way, I got you some clean clothes,’ he calls out after me.

  I pause. ‘I can’t wear the Montserrat uniform. I’m not with the Family any more.’

  ‘As you say.’ There’s the faintest hint of amusement in his tone.

  I frown suspiciously, but don’t turn round. My nostrils are assailed by the deep masculine scent of his bedroom. I glance towards the bed. It doesn’t look slept in.

  ‘Stop it, Bo,’ I whisper to myself.

  I go into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. I don’t look any different. I prod my temples. There’s no visible sign that a Kakos daemon has been messing with my mind. X’s face swims into my mind and I shiver. I wish I could tell someone what happened. I think of Michael’s tense frame and sigh. Life seems to become more complicated, not less.

  * * *

  I take my time getting clean, standing with my back to the searing spray and letting it hit my neck and cascade down. The heat turns my skin lobster red but it definitely makes me feel better. When I finally step out, I feel renewed. Then my eyes fall on the clothes hanging on the back of the door. I’m sure they weren’t there when I came in. I look around as if I expect Michael to be standing there, leering at my naked body. Chance would be a fine thing.

  I take down the clothes and gape. There’s a short, fitted black dress made of heavy, expensive material. It allows for movement so my actions won’t be restricted if I do something stupid and end up in a fight. It’s also a perfect match for my trusty leather jacket. It’s not the dress itself that makes my stomach squirm though‒ it’s the lacy underwear next to it. Both the bra and panties are my size. I can’t imagine Michael Montserrat picking out the set for me in La Perla. No, he must have asked Ria or someone to do it.

  I get dressed quickly, towelling off my hair. When I pick up my jacket I realise it feels rather bulky. I pat it down and pull out a notepad from the inner pocket. I frown for a moment then remember it belongs to X. I look at the first page; there’s an odd indentation in the middle. As far as I can tell, it’s a diamond shape with a weird squiggle inside. Much good that’ll do me. I shove it back into my pocket. I’ll have to dispose of it later. The further away I stay from the Kakos daemon and his belongings the better.