Red and Manny exchanged looks.
Now Red’s eyebrows arched high up his forehead.
“Look,” Black said, exhaling. He rested his hands on his waist, looking between the two of them. “Just kill the damned things. You’re wasting your time, trying to negotiate with them. Call in the Colonel. Have one of his special combat teams deal with it. If you don’t want him involved for some reason, because it’s native land or whatever, and you don’t want the U.S. military here, I have another person I can call for you. A private outfit. He’s discreet, and he’d be happy to take care of the problem, too.”
“But you won’t look at it?” Manny continued to frown at him, perplexed. “Or talk to it? Or even tell us if we’re right about what it is?”
Black gave him a flat look.
“If you think it’s a goddamned vampire, Manny, then it’s probably a goddamned vampire.” He pointed at Red without looking at him. “Unless this guy’s laced the local water supply with peyote, I’m going with vampire. What the hell did you think I could tell you about it, other than to kill it?”
Manny was frowning now, his eyes shrewd.
“You really have come across these before,” he observed. “Recently, too.”
“Yeah,” Black retorted. “I have. And once was enough. Twice was way too many times. As this would be the third time, I’m going to have to take a serious fucking pass. I made that crystal clear to the Colonel too, by the way.”
He scowled, giving Manny a colder look.
“I’m breaking a promise to my wife even fucking being here. The Colonel was wrong to have you call me. Dead wrong. Wrong enough that I’m going to have to have words with him about it.” He gave Red an equally hard stare. “…And you should have told Nick what this was about. It would have saved us all some time.”
Still looking at Red, he scowled, hands back on his hips.
“I’m going back to my Jeep. I’ll walk if I have to, but I’d rather not.”
Manny was already frowning though, shaking his head.
“Absolutely not,” he said. “You’ll stay the night here, at least. We’ll take you back to your car in the morning.”
“I don’t want to go back in the morning,” Black growled. “I told you. My wife would fucking kill me if she knew I’d come out here for this.”
Manny’s voice hardened.
“Sit the hell down, Black… and calm down. You haven’t broken any promises. You said yourself you never would have come if you’d known. I’m not making Red ride you back out there this time of night, not with those things running around. He left too late to get you this afternoon as it was. My daughter was worried sick about him, knowing he’d be out there after dark. I only figured he was safe because he was with you.”
Black glared at him, then at Red.
Manny glared right back, his gaze unwavering.
“You’ll sit,” the old man said, his voice a command. “I’ll bring you a beer, and some steak, and we’ll talk. And that’s the end of it. We’ll take you back in the morning.”
Black didn’t move for another few seconds.
Then, exhaling in irritation, he stalked back to the cowhide armchair where he’d been sitting before, and threw his weight into it.
“You got anything harder than beer?” he grumbled, stretching out his legs.
Manny just looked at him for a moment, then chuckled.
3
BREAKING PROMISES
“SO EXPLAIN TO me again, why you’re not just killing these fucking things?” Black said, chewing on the piece of steak in his mouth.
He had to admit, the steak was really damned good.
Manny had always been a good cook.
The thick chunk of meat was cooked to medium-rare perfection, with a smoky flavor and some kind of sauce he’d never had before, but that made the meat positively melt in his mouth. It verged on seer food, in terms of the subtlety of flavors, and that was damned rare in the human culinary world.
Everything on his plate was good, from the roasted squash and steamed greens, to the meat and mushrooms coated in that unbelievably flavorful gravy.
Truthfully, it was probably as good if not better than whatever he would have gotten in the restaurant of the five-star hotel and spa where his luggage currently sat, even though the chef there had a Michelin star by his name. Lizbeth had an unfailing knack for finding him the best chefs, whether in restaurants or cities he visited, or for his own properties.
It was one of the things that made her completely fucking invaluable as an assistant.
Still, something about food cooked out here, by someone who probably killed the damned steer themselves, or watched it being done, was different. He’d have to compare it to Lizbeth’s Michelin chef at the White Eagle Resort and Spa, if he ever made it there.
He hadn’t even seen his new property yet, apart from in photos.
It was one of those he bought from his recent earnings on Wall Street.
He’d been trying to diversify into more states, and more countries, so he’d had his real estate people look for properties in a bigger variety of locations this time. Most of what they’d bought had been office buildings in major cities, but they also bought a few resorts and hotels.
Black took another bite of steak, once more fighting not to sigh at how good it was.
“So?” he said, chewing. “Why are you playing footsie with these things? Just invest in some swords and a few flame-throwers. Use drones to find them.”
Despite the quality of the food and the relative decency of the whisky, his voice matched the scowl on his face, maybe because they were fucking talking about this, and he really, really didn’t want to be talking about it.
Even so, he couldn’t blame Manny and Red for the shift in conversation, not totally.
He didn’t seem to be able to help himself from asking questions.
Worse, the more he drank, and the stronger the drinks, the more questions Black seemed to have for both of them.
“…They’re coming down out of the mountains and picking off your people,” he grumbled, still scowling as he cut another piece of steak off the chunk on his plate. “They’re picking off your damned friends, your friend’s kids, your own relatives and loved ones. And you’re not killing them. Because… reasons. Some kind of rule of this special, super-secret, supernatural-hunting police unit of yours?”
“Correct.” Red frowned. “Well. Sort of.”
Black considered pursuing that too, then didn’t.
“So how many are there?” he said. “How big is this coven? You never did answer.”
“Maybe one hundred?” Manny looked to Red for confirmation, who nodded.
“Roughly that,” Red said. “They’re not local.”
Black grimaced, clicking under his breath. “Not local. Your vampires are tourists. Lovely.” Thinking about Brick, about what just happened in New York, he scowled all over again. “Could they be hiding out, do you think? Trying to avoid the Feds?”
Manny shrugged. “No idea. We have no way to talk to them, remember?” Chewing his own mouthful of steak, he tilted his head thoughtfully. “Although, if they’re hiding out, they aren’t exactly being inconspicuous about it.”
Black grunted, using a piece of homemade bread to sop up more of the gravy before chewing on the crunchy crust.
Fuck, the food was good.
“Can’t you just try to talk to him?” Red said, chewing his own steak and exhaling in obvious annoyance. “You’re already here. What could it possibly hurt?”
When Black didn’t answer, Red looked at his father-in-law.
“Jesus, Manny. We can’t hold the thing for much longer. His people are going to come for him eventually, and then we really will be in a load of trouble. Elsie’s at the jail tonight. We don’t have the firepower to fight them off, not if they come in big enough numbers. Not if they really tried to force their way in, instead of avoiding our buildings like they have been.”
He jerked
his chin towards Black.
“We’ve already lost half a day and a night on this jackass. We need to call in someone else. Maybe one of the Colonel’s people… or this ‘private contractor’ your pal here keeps alluding to.”
Manny held up a calming hand, giving Red a look that told him to be quiet.
Black frowned as Manny faced him, his near-black eyes calm.
“You can read me,” the old man offered. “If you want to know more about the vampire in that cell, or anything else that’s been going on here. It’s fine, Black. At least then you can get a look at him, decide if you’d be okay with trying to––”
“I already have read you,” Black cut in, annoyed. He leaned back in the cowhide chair, taking another long drink of whisky. “I told you. I can’t read the vampire. Their minds are just a lot of static to me.” Thinking, he lowered the glass, muttering, “The only way I could read anything at all off the fucking thing, is if I let it…”
Trailing, he bit his tongue, then grimaced.
That time, he bit himself hard enough to draw blood.
Manny frowned, looking between him and Red in puzzlement. “What, Black? How could you read it? If you let it do what?”
Black shook his head, tilting his mouth back to take another long swig of whisky.
“Forget it,” he said. “There’s no way in fucking hell I’m doing it, so there’s no point in even talking about it.”
“But there is a way?” Manny insisted. “What is it, Black?”
Black gave him a hard look.
Manny only blinked back, his expression bewildered.
When Black remained silent, the old man shook his head, returning to his plate.
He carved a piece of steak off the chunk on the metal disc he balanced in his lap, putting it in his mouth and chewing energetically. After a few beats, he swallowed down that mouthful with the help of his beer and shrugged, shaking his head.
“You seem a bit off on this whole thing, Black,” he observed, sawing into his steak with a serrated knife as he raised his eyes. “Truthfully, I’ve never seen you like this. It’s starting to worry me a little.”
Pausing another beat, his expression hesitant, he tilted his head back for a swallow of beer, his eyes still on Black’s face.
“You talked to your wife about this?” he said. “The Colonel said she’s some kind of big-time fancy shrink, works with criminals and vets.” Resuming sawing on the piece of steak, he added, “…He said she did her time out in the desert, too. That she has experience on the front. She must know about this stuff. About trauma and whatnot.”
Black stared at him, fighting not to say what the whisky and his anger-fueled brain wanted him to say. He knew it wouldn’t exactly convince Manny nothing was wrong with him, and more to the point, he knew he shouldn’t say it.
He looked away instead, clenching his jaw briefly as he stared into the fire.
“Can we stop talking about my wife?” he said.
He took another drink from the rocks glass he held, still staring into the fire.
From the couch, Black felt Manny shrug.
“Wasn’t aware we were,” he said. “Thought we were talking about vampires.” When Black turned, the old man gave him a half smile, glancing up from his plate. “And your obvious PTSD around anything vampire-related… although I’m beginning to think this particular problem might be wife-related, too.”
Seeing Black’s scowl deepen, Manny broke out in a chuckle, as if in spite of himself.
At the same time, he raised his hand in a peace offering.
“Hey, Black,” he said. “Relax, okay? Don’t get pissed off.”
Smiling wanly, he plucked his beer bottle up off the rug below the couch.
“I’m just surprised, is all. You were the guy who never got rattled. Out in that damned jungle, you didn’t get rattled even when you should have got rattled.” Still smiling, he shrugged, “All in all, I think I’m liking this more human version of you. I just can’t say I’m totally adjusted to it yet, so you’ll pardon me if I’m still picking my jaw up off the floor.”
At Black’s annoyed look, Manny winked at Red, taking another swallow of beer from the long-necked bottle.
“…Then again, I never in a million years thought I’d hear of you getting hitched, either.”
Seemingly indifferent to his father-in-law’s observations as to the changes in Black, Natani sawed at his steak with a blunt-looking knife, his mouth curled in a frown.
“I don’t know why you won’t just talk to the damned thing,” he grumbled. “You’re all the way out here. Seems pretty stupid to me.”
Black didn’t say anything.
He took another drink of whisky, scowling at the fire.
A few drinks later, his stomach full, the plates and forks and knives all disappeared into the other room, where he was waved off the kitchen sink by Manny, Black found himself scowling at those same words muttered from Red’s mouth.
Two drinks after that, and he found himself agreeing to go look at the thing they had in the cell of the local jailhouse.
“I’m only fucking looking at it,” he growled, knowing he was verging on drunk. “I’m not talking to it. And I already told you, if it is what you say it is, I can’t read it.”
Manny was already standing by his front door, wearing a beat up jean jacket and motioning towards an even more beat up leather duster hanging on a hook by the door for Black to wear.
“Come on, you degenerate.” He motioned towards his son-in-law as well, who continued to regard Black sourly. “Red… come on. Stop needling him. He’s all right. Let’s just get this over with, like you said. At least then we’ll know. If we have to release the bloodsucker after this, we will. Then we’ll figure out whether we need the Colonel or Black’s contractor people to come take care of the problem for us.”
Black grumbled under his breath, but not in a language either of them would understand. He tried to ignore the fact that he was borderline slurring as he did it.
Fuck it. Clearly he’d decided to circle the bowels of hell with this little trip.
Maybe he could get Manny to drink more, too. They could go out shooting in the middle of the night, scare the hell out of some coyotes… or maybe some vampires. Manny was always a scary good shot, even with a handgun. Actually, come to think of it, if there really were a hundred vampires in these hills, going shooting might be a really bad idea.
They could just get drunk, play poker, stare at the fire.
Maybe he’d even tell Manny about Miri, ask his advice.
Manny had been married a long time. His friend mentioned earlier that evening over dinner that his own wife died of cancer a few years back, but still, they’d been married for over forty years before she got sick. They’d been married while Black knew him in ‘Nam.
Manny had to know a few things about pissed off wives.
He had to have spent a few nights on that cowhide couch over the years.
Glancing around the small house, he found himself wishing Miriam was here, almost before he caught himself going there. She would like Manny. The two of them were even alike in some ways, now that he thought about it.
Maybe it was that Native American thing.
Manny was opening the door now, though, so Black shoved Miri from his mind.
Following after his old friend, he left the cozy house and its squat adobe fireplace, pulling the leather jacket over his shoulders, even though it was tight and constricted his arms and back. He brought his rifle too, more out of habit than any specific thought around why he might need it. Even with the duster, he still shivered as he walked down a dusty street between buildings, his night vision flickering a bit now that he had so much alcohol in his system.
Despite that fact, he put his sunglasses back on as he walked.
He saw Red’s youngest daughter notice and gape at him, and at the assault rifle he wore crosswise across his back. Red held her in his arms now where he walked in front of Black. She s
tared over Red’s shoulder sleepily at him, watching him as she bounced in her dad’s arms.
Black looked away.
He’d forgotten she was coming with them, truthfully.
He fought to push some of the effects of the alcohol out of his light now that he remembered they had a kid to protect, hoping he hadn’t been talking shit in front of her.
Only the main road through the center of town was paved, as far as Black could tell––if it could be called a town at all. Nick told him it was, but he’d also said it was well off the beaten track of the main Navajo settlements, most of which were more like normal desert cities, with paved streets and schools and mini-malls and satellite dishes and whatever else.
This corner of the nation looked like it might have been modernized only a handful of times in the last sixty or seventy years.
They walked to the largest building in the downtown area.
The downtown area itself started a good two kilometers from where Manny’s sky blue mailbox and gravel driveway hit the main road, and consisted of handful of small shops, a hardware store, a feed store, a convenience store, a few family restaurants, and a taqueria.
The brick building in the center of town looked old, more like something from an old Western than anything from Black’s immediate personal experience. There were a lot of lights on inside, and when Red knocked on the door, someone unlocked what sounded like at least two heavy bolts to let them in.
A woman opened the door, maybe in her early forties.
Good-looking in a hard kind of way, with a faraway look in her eyes, she looked like she’d spent a little too much time staring at distant horizons.
She cooed at the little girl in Red’s arms as he brought her inside in front of them.
Unlike Red, she wore the uniform of the Navajo Nation police.
When Manny put his arm around her briefly, murmuring to her, and Red smiled at her, that harder look fading from his expression for the first time since Black met him, Black figured she must be Manny’s daughter.
Black To Dust_A Quentin Black Paranormal Mystery Page 5