“And then you came to my house the next night and started something you didn’t finish,” Art said. He ambled over to the door, blocking it with his body. “You act like this is all about you, but let’s not forget who has the money. You want my bid at the Date Auction. Maybe it’s time to show me how bad you want it.”
“Art, get out of the way. I’m in no mood for this and I won’t hesitate to kick your ass.”
“I like it when you talk tough,” Art said, slinking closer to her.
“Last warning, Art. Get out of my way.”
“You say that, but I know it’s not what you really want.”
Nicky had her foot off the floor and was ready to kick him in the groin, but decided at the last second to go easy on him, and threw a quick jab to his gut instead. Art yelped and doubled over.
“What the hell, Nicky?” he moaned.
Typically, she would follow up this punch with an uppercut to the jaw, but with Art, a simple push was sufficient, so she put one hand on his shoulder, another on his waist, and flung him out of her way. Art stumbled back into the galley, crashing into a trash can and spilling plastic cups all over the floor. Nicky flung open the door, intending to run outside and make a beeline for the woods.
But Melissa Mayhew was standing on the other side.
“Good evening Nicky,” she said. “Let’s talk.”
*****
Seven tenths of a second. That’s how long it took Melissa to gain a complete understanding of a person’s physical state when she looked in their eyes.
In seven tenths of a second, she saw many peculiarities in Nicky Bloom.
Most people were in the early stages of fright when Melissa approached them. Even if they didn’t know who she was, their bodies instinctively understood that this was a predator capable of killing them on the spot. But Nicky had no such fear. To the contrary, her body actually seemed to relax at Melissa’s appearance. It was almost like Nicky was relieved to see her.
Like that was her purpose all along.
“Who else is in here?” Melissa said.
Nicky glanced off to the side, where Art Tremblay was writhing around on the floor. His heart was beating rapidly and his breathing was sharp. Melissa could hear the blood coursing through his dilated veins.
“What’s happening here, Nicky? Art appears to be hurt.”
“I came here so you and I could talk,” Nicky said. “Art followed me and got a little too frisky.”
Melissa laughed. “It’s such a shame you and I aren’t on the same team, Nicky Bloom. I have a feeling I would like you.”
“Who says we’re not on the same team?”
“No games tonight,” Melissa said, stepping inside the camper and closing the door behind her. “I’m going to ask you some questions. If I am happy with your answers, I might let you live.”
Over in the kitchen, Art stumbled to his feet. “What’s going on?” he said.
Melissa walked up to him and looked in his eyes.
“Nicky and I are going to talk now,” she said. “You are going to leave the camper and will not remember seeing me here. Should somebody find Nicky’s dead body in the woods later, you are going to confess to having murdered her. You are going to tell the police you wanted to have sex with her, she resisted, you fought, and she died. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” said Art.
“Good. Off you go now.”
Still hunched over, his hand on his stomach, Art walked to the door and left. Melissa turned to Nicky.
“Finally we can talk,” she said.
*****
So that was how she was going to play it. Nicky’s dead body found in the woods, Art eagerly confessing to the crime. Plenty of witnesses who saw Art chase her into the cabin and heard her yelling at him to go away. A history between the two of them including a strange night at Art’s house where Nicky showed up and Art dismissed all his servants. A morning after where Art’s butler found half empty bottles of wine and pills on Art’s nightstand.
An airtight case that would allow Melissa to kill Nicky Bloom and get away with it.
“We’re going to try again, Nicky,” said Melissa. “Just as we did in the limousine.” Melissa’s eyes drifted down to the bandage on Nicky’s little finger. “Whatever Falkon has done to regain control of you, I will undo it to learn the truth. But this time I won’t make the mistake of letting you go. It’s silly for Falkon and me to toss you back and forth like a hot potato, don’t you think?”
Falkon? Melissa still thought Nicky belonged to Falkon?
Nicky’s mind raced with the implications. She had been so certain that Melissa had gotten to Jill and knew the truth, but if Melissa still thought Nicky belonged to Falkon, if Melissa didn’t know about the Network--this changed everything.
Maybe Jill was somewhere safe. Maybe Annika’s lost time didn’t mean anything. Maybe Nicky, drunk and sad and emotional, angry about her father, frightened for Frankie, had blown all of this out of proportion. Maybe there still was a chance to get out of this alive.
“Don’t bother,” Nicky said. “You never had control of me.”
She was winging it now. She had no idea what she was saying or why. She was being too bold—the liquor and adrenalin making for a potent combination in her blood. She wanted to taunt Melissa. She wanted to find some way to hurt the vampire.
She wanted revenge for her father.
“I was faking it in the limousine,” Nicky continued, “just like I was faking it on the Farm. You will never see inside my head. You are incapable of it, no matter how many fingers you break.”
“Is that so?” Melissa said, stepping closer. “Is this Falkon’s latest trick? Is he scared to let me look inside you again and doesn’t even want me to try? Does he think me a fool? I had control of you in that limo, Nicky. I saw it in your eyes.”
“You never had control. I fooled you Melissa. Plain and simple.”
Melissa reached for Nicky’s left hand. “I’ll be the judge of that. Shall we start with the ring finger this time?”
Nicky pulled her hand away and thought of something to throw her off track.
“Falkon wants to talk to you,” she said. “He admires your skill and wants to work together.”
Melissa creased her eyebrows. “Of course he does,” she said. “He’s desperate. But what would Falkon Dillinger ever have to offer to me?”
Nicky had no clue what Falkon would want to offer Melissa, but she did know a few facts about the two of them. It was time to toss one of them out there.
“We know about your side business,” Nicky said. “We know you’re selling slaves to the highest bidder.”
At this, Melissa was taken aback. Nicky had struck a nerve. She’d have to run with it.
“We know you are acting against Daciana’s direct orders and we will gladly let her know about it if you become a problem for us,” Nicky continued.
“And how are you going to do that if you’re dead?” Melissa said.
“Did you know Merv Tremblay stuffs all his human kills and mounts them in his house?” Nicky said. “He has a secret room where they are all on display. My master would be glad to tell the others in your clan where to find this room should you force him to.”
Melissa stood in place, not saying a word.
She’s shocked that I know, Nicky thought. I should charge ahead with more. But what to say?
She could talk about the letter from Falkon in Merv’s drawer, using words direct from Falkon’s pen to deceive Melissa. The “chemistry project,” the way he wanted to “take out the queen and be rid of the nest once and for all.” She could impress Melissa with more intel the Network had, from the locations of her immortal fantasy camps to a detailed record of their clients and finances.
“You’re a very unusual slave,” Melissa said. “Fluidity of thought, critical reasoning, emotional control—none of my slaves act this way.”
“I am Falkon Dillinger’s greatest creation,” Nicky said. “A
whole new kind of servant. As obedient as anyone from the Farm, but with all my critical faculties intact, and, perhaps most importantly, a mind that is completely closed.”
Melissa’s eyes opened wide on that one. This is it, Nicky thought. This is how I will get out of this camper alive. She continued with the lie.
“Oh yes, Melissa, there are secrets in my brain. Secrets I don’t even know. Secrets that would blow your mind. I am here at Thorndike to do great things in the name of Falkon Dillinger, and I am completely secure. No vampire, not even you, can look in my eyes and see in my brain.”
“Why would Falkon ever share such an amazing creation with me?” Melissa asked. Her entire tone had changed. She was humble now. She was in awe of the idea of Nicky Bloom, the perfect slave.
“He sees the profit potential of your business,” Nicky said. “He understands that you think bigger than the rest of your clan. He admires your vision.”
“Of course he does,” Melissa said, almost whispered. “He is so much older.”
“Daciana’s experiment in the New World seems grand to someone who will live and die in the span of a century, but to someone like Falkon, she and her many daughters are no more than a pile of ants,” Nicky said, quoting verbatim from the letter she found in Merv’s secret room.
Nicky felt confident using Falkon’s own words, and Melissa could sense that confidence. She stepped away from Nicky. She wasn’t the aggressor now. Nicky was in control of this conversation.
“I have to know what he is doing,” Melissa said. “I cannot consider a partnership with him unless I know his plans.”
“You can speak with him yourself,” Nicky said. “At this very moment he is in Washington. I live in his house. Go there now. You will be welcomed.”
Melissa looked at the floor. She was thinking about it.
Yes, think about it Melissa. Let your greedy little mind latch onto the idea. Let your hunger for even more money and power bring you to my house where we can kill you.
With a swiftness that took Nicky’s breath away, Melissa moved across the floor and got right in her face.
“Tell your master I will consider his offer,” she said. “He is not to contact me. When I am ready, and only when I am ready, I will visit him. Do you understand?”
Nicky felt a stab of pain in her broken finger at Melissa’s final three words, the same question she had answered over and over at the Farm, the same question Melissa pushed at all her slaves.
Speaking with as much confidence as she could muster, trying desperately to control her emotions despite the vampire who was inches from her face, Nicky said, “Yes, Melissa, I understand.”
Melissa became a blur of fast motion. The door of Winthrop’s camper opened and shut with blinding speed, and she was gone.
Nicky took a deep, calming breath. She pulled out her phone and called Gia.
“I’m alright,” she said. “Melissa has left the field. I’m going to be okay.”
“What happened?” Gia said.
“I’ll tell you later. Right now get everyone prepped. Melissa is coming.”
“She’s coming here? Now?”
“It might not be tonight,” Nicky said. “I don’t know when she’s coming, but she’s coming. She thinks Falkon Dillinger is waiting there to talk to her.”
Chapter 21
Nicky left the camper and stepped back onto the damp grass of Sutter’s Field. The moon loomed large in the sky now. The air was cold. A wall of sound--shouting voices, loud music, and laughter, all of it having blended into the background when she faced Melissa—hit her hard as she rejoined the party. She had the strange sense of being both alert and absent all at once. It was as if she had stepped into someone else’s body, like she had control of someone else’s limbs, like she was seeing out of someone else’s eyes.
“There you are,” Annika said. She was carrying a red plastic cup in her hand. “I’ve been looking for you. We made this drink special for you after Marshall won his match.”
Annika pushed the cup into Nicky’s hand.
“Marshall won?” Nicky said.
“Nicky, where have you been?” Annika said. “Yes, the final fight between Marshall and Brian starts in just a few minutes. Did you miss the last fight?”
“I…had to go to the bathroom,” Nicky said.
Annika let out a hearty laugh. “Oh Nicky, you’re too much! Sometimes you just don’t give a shit, do you? Or maybe you do!” Now she was cackling, her body hunched over with the strain of laughing. “Give a shit, get it? You do give a shit!”
Nicky looked past Annika and took in the scene all around her. Absolute bedlam. Throbbing groups of dancing bodies, all the guys were shirtless, some of the girls too. Couples were chasing one another through the crowd, falling to the floor in giddy laughter when caught. Paths of clothing dotted the landscape—socks and shirts and pants and underwear--all of them leading to the forest like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs.
To Nicky’s left, two boys from the junior class were in a fistfight. To her right, a group was chanting, “Go! Go! Go!” while a dozen guys lifted a car off the ground and tipped it over. There were people on the hoods and roofs of cars, there were girls sitting high on guys’ shoulders, there was a mosh pit on the far side of the field…
“Come with me,” Annika said between laughs. “Everyone’s waiting for you.”
Nicky followed Annika into the crowd, thinking through the implications of her meeting with Melissa. Things were looking a lot better than they were before she stepped in that camper.
She knew Melissa was going to let her live through the night. She knew Jill was alive. She knew the mission was back on track. She knew that Melissa was headed for the Bloom mansion some time soon, which was exactly where they wanted her to go.
Eric, Mattie, Jenny, Shauna, Jake, and the rest welcomed her back to their space in the crowd, and cheered at her to chug her drink.
The mission is back on track, she thought. It’s time to quit wallowing in your own sorrow and get back to being Nicky Bloom, the confident new girl who is going to win the Coronation contest.
She raised her cup high in the air, tilted her head back, and gulped it down. A mixture of sugar, fruit, and liquor warmed her chest as it went down.
As Nicky watched the final fight between Marshall and Brian, a fight that lasted all of two minutes before Marshall knocked Brian out cold, she congratulated herself on a job well done. It had taken all her courage to go into that camper alone, all her wits to fool Melissa a third time, and all her stamina to keep her cool in the presence of a vampire who wanted to kill her.
She remembered how she and Frankie used to find some place to buy ice cream whenever they pulled off a successful heist.
“You’ve gotta treat yourself sometimes,” Frankie said to her once over strawberry sundaes. “You have to be good to yourself or else what’s it all for?”
Nicky looked around the field, her mind in a happy drunken haze, and she pondered the wisdom of Frankie’s words. When was she ever good to herself anymore? When did she ever allow herself a treat?
The crowd was in a frenzy now that the Brawl was over. Most of them had bet on Brian to win and were beginning to realize that all the money they had gambled would go to the few people, like Nicky, who had picked Marshall. Catcalling, booing, throwing their cups at the ring—using all the mayhem as cover, Nicky stepped away from the group and walked to the back of the crowd, where she found Ryan sitting on the hood of his car.
Ryan shook his head as she approached, telling her with his eyes to stay away.
“No, don’t tell me to go,” Nicky said. “I have something to say to you and you’re going to hear it.”
“Really? You have to tell me something now?” Ryan said. “Have you looked at what’s happening behind you?”
Nicky turned around to see that total bedlam was breaking loose. A chant of “Bull shit! Bull shit!” had broken out in the crowd. Some students had stormed the boxing ring and were
tearing it down.
Ryan hopped down from his car and came to Nicky.
“I’m getting out of here,” he said. “I suggest you do the same. This place is about to get dangerous. Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”
As they headed in the direction of Nicky’s limo, Ryan stepped to the inside, positioning himself between Nicky and the chaos that occupied the center of the field. Nicky grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him closer to her.
“We can’t do this, Nicky,” he said. “It isn’t fair to either of us.” He started to pull his hand away but Nicky tightened her grip.
“I don’t care about what’s fair,” she said. “I care about us and I’m tired of letting all these assholes at school get in our way.”
“It’s bigger than some assholes at school,” Ryan said. “You’re a girl wearing black.”
“This contest doesn’t define me,” Nicky said. “It’s just something I have to do. It’s not who I really am. Ryan, when I read that letter you wrote to me, it broke my heart.”
“I know,” he said. “I felt the same thing when I wrote it.”
“Then why are we pretending we don’t have feelings for each other?”
“I’m not pretending anything,” Ryan said. “You know why we can’t be together. You laid out the entire case for me at the Masquerade.”
“Maybe I was wrong,” Nicky said. “Maybe we should have gotten in your car and run away like you wanted to.”
“Don’t tempt me, Nicky. You’ve had a lot to drink and you’re not yourself.”
“So what if I have! It doesn’t make what I’m feeling any less real.”
“I wasn’t thinking clearly at the Masquerade, and you’re not thinking clearly now. We can’t be together. It doesn’t matter what we want. There is more at stake here than our feelings.”
They were at the back end of the field where the stretch limos that had brought the girls wearing black were parked. Rockwell Transport, the same company that provided Nicky’s car for the Masquerade, had taken her to the Brawl on this night, and her driver was waiting patiently in the front seat for her.
The Festival of the Moon (Girls Wearing Black: Book Two) Page 18