Alucard stared at me for what felt like a minute before chuckling to himself. “I don’t know where they hide you girls, but if I meet one more woman who sends shivers up my spine, I think I’ll retire.”
“Does that mean you’re gonna tell me why you’re here?” I asked, my anger still leaking through my voice.
“Nope. C’mon, let’s go have a chat with Othello. Maybe I can talk some sense into her, instead.”
I hurried to catch up as he took off towards the VIP section. “I thought ye were avoidin’ her?”
“Not at all. I just didn’t want to draw attention to myself. Sitting up high, chatting with you two? Pretty conspicuous.”
I bit back a comment about his shirt, which seemed pretty damn eye-catching to me. Hell, for all I knew, he was color blind. I wondered if vampires were drawn to shades of red, like bulls. I was about to ask him when I noticed Othello had company—a disturbingly tall man in a dark suit, his flaxen hair long and tied back in a neat ponytail with a silk ribbon.
He turned to face us as we approached, and I saw Alucard stiffen in recognition. I did the same, but for an altogether different reason. It seemed the owner had arrived earlier than expected. Which meant I was looking at The Master of New York City—a vampire I’d met before.
His name was Magnus.
Chapter 26
I’d first met Magnus outside the House of Blues in Boston almost a month ago. He’d surprised the shit out of me in an alleyway after I’d used a Super Soaker full of holy water to douse a naughty bunch of vampires who’d needed to be punished. In the end, they’d been staked to walls like butterflies on display.
That last bit wasn’t me, I swear.
Magnus had taken an immediate interest in me—you know, my likes and my dislikes, my hobbies, my blood type—and had gone so far as to chase me down the alley. A few days later, the pushy bastard had done me a solid by taking out the wizard who’d kidnapped my aunt, the same wizard who’d decorated the walls with vampire corpses. I hadn’t heard from Magnus since, although I’d heard rumors about what he’d done to the wizard.
Let’s just say karma is a bitch.
In hindsight, I wasn’t that surprised to find out he was the vamp in charge; I’d known Magnus was a Master vampire who owned a mansion in New York State, and there probably weren’t too many Master vampires out there. I simply hadn’t connected the dots until now.
Sometimes I’m a little slow, but I always get there in the end.
“Miss MacKenna,” Magnus said, rising to his full height, towering above me by about six inches—and I was the tallest of us there. “I never would have expected to see you here. And in such,” Magnus paused to eye Alucard up and down before dismissing him in an instant, “interesting company.”
If Alucard was rankled by the insult, he didn’t show it. If anything, he seemed to shrink in on himself, sidestepping into the shadows to let us continue our conversation uninterrupted. I considered dragging him back, but it didn’t seem worth the effort. If he wanted to chicken out in front of the big, bad Master vampire, he could.
Wuss.
“I didn’t realize ye were the one pullin’ the strings around here,” I replied. “It’s an interestin’ place.” I emphasized the word exactly as Magnus had when smack-talking Alucard.
Othello’s head weaved slowly back and forth between the two of us, trying to figure out how we knew one another. Her eyes were glazed over, which made no sense; the bottle of champagne had barely been touched since our first pour, and she would have known better than to look in Magnus’ eyes, whether she knew he was a vampire or not. “Are ye alright?” I asked her.
“Quinn?” Othello asked, staring two feet to my right.
“Miss Othello here was just telling me all about your missing friend. Terry, was it? It seems she’s under the impression that one of my people is responsible.”
“What did ye do to her?” I growled. I knew Othello would never willingly share that sort of information.
“Nothing permanent, I assure you. Ordinarily, I’d have my own means of interrogating her, but it seems she has experience with my kind. Fortunately, you humans have a few tricks of your own. The wonders of pharmaceuticals. She was too busy avoiding my gaze to watch her own drink.”
I gasped. “Ye roofied her?” I took a step forward, my fists clenched.
“That’s far enough.”
A pair of men stepped out from the shadows to my right—sort of the go-to vampire entrance, in my experience. Neither of the two men frightened me, vampires or not; I could probably take either in a one-on-one fight. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be one-on-one, and it wouldn’t be a fight. Between the two of them, they could probably stop me from making it to Othello without causing a big scene, and I couldn’t risk her getting caught in the crossfire. I held up my hands. “Fine, what do ye want, then?”
“It’s not so much about what I want. I believe you’ll recall the wizard I took out on your behalf? Mr. Gladstone?”
I scowled at his description of events. “Ye mean the wizard who killed the band of vampires and hung them up like trophies? The one I handed to ye on a silver platter?”
Magnus shrugged. “Semantics.”
“What about Gladstone?” I asked, tersely.
“Well, I tortured him, obviously. No one gets away with what he did to our kind without being punished. But the more he raved, the more I realized that—behind that puggish face of his—there was a rather brilliant mind. A fixated mind, to be sure. But nevertheless.” Magnus took Othello’s hand and helped her to her feet. She wobbled precariously, struggling to stay upright. “He’s been very useful, you see. Did you have any idea how badly he hates Nate Temple? Ironically, Othello had all sorts of praise for the man. I think maybe they should compare notes. It’s time I reward Gladstone for his good behavior. Even wizards like to open presents.”
“Ye get your fuckin’ hands off her before I snap your throat, you filthy blood monger,” I cursed, practically spitting from anger. The idea that Gladstone was still among the living after what he’d done to me and mine made me furious. The idea that Magnus thought to use Othello as a bargaining chip to please the bastard enraged me even further.
Basically, I was in full-on Boston mode.
Magnus shook his head and waved to his guards. “I hate vulgar women. So unattractive.”
The two guards moved in on either side to take my arms. I realized I would have to fight—that, if I didn’t, Othello would end up getting hurt, anyway. Or worse. I had two guns on me, one holstered alongside each calf, obscured by the voluminous pantlegs of the jumpsuit I wore. I wondered if I’d have time to draw them, fire, and run to Othello’s side. I judged the distance and cursed. There was no way.
That’s when Alucard made his move.
Chapter 27
The two guards fell as one, twitching on the ground, with Alucard standing over them. He held something dark and squirming and wet in both hands. I squinted, then gasped as I realized what he held.
Hearts. He was holding their fucking hearts.
“Magnus, Master of New York City,” Alucard said, tossing the hearts to the floor and rubbing his palms clean on the smooth leather upholstery of the nearest booth. “You have violated Council law.”
“The Council has no laws, you fool,” Magnus replied, disdainfully. “At least none that apply to a Master in control of his territory.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Alucard began the laborious process of licking his fingers clean, eyeing Magnus as he did it. You’d think there’d be some weird sexual thing going on, but objectively it was downright creepy. “The Council has one law that everyone, even Masters, adhere to. Don’t. Rock. The. Boat.” He emphasized each word with a step forward, until he was directly in front of me.
Magnus considered this and shrugged. “Fair. But I don’t—”
“Let me stop you right there. You, Maggie…can I call you Maggie? Word’s out,” he continued, before Magnus could respond, “and word is yo
u’ve gotten a little reckless. Played things a little loose. You’ve drawn attention to yourself, and—by extension—to the Council. Maggie,” Alucard said, in a piteous tone of voice, shaking his head in disappointment, “you rocked the boat.”
Magnus sneered. “Tell the Council I’ll pay their little tithe. I know that’s what this is really about. The Council could care less about whether or not I play with my food.”
Alucard shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that. Above my pay grade. But don’t worry, I don’t play with my food.” Alucard indicated the two guards, who’d gone still at some point during the conversation.
“Please. As if they’d send a rogue vampire after a Master. That’s a nice parlor trick you pulled off with my men, with their backs turned, but I won’t give you the same opportunity.”
“Maggie, when I’m done with you, you’ll give me anything I want. Like that woman you’ve got there. Tell you what, hand her over and I’ll let you live another night. I had my eye on her from across the bar.” Alucard licked his lips.
I scowled at Alucard’s back. What was he playing at? Was he really trying to pretend he didn’t know Othello and that he wanted her for a late-night snack? I realized for this to work, I’d have to play along.
“Neither of ye miserable bastards are goin’ to lay a finger on her,” I growled.
Alucard glanced over his shoulder at me. “Hush, the adults are talking.”
I pursed my lips.
He was definitely going to pay for that later.
Magnus scoffed, ignoring me altogether. “You think you’re even going to walk out of here alive after all this? I own this bar. I own every living soul inside it. If you try and leave, my men will tear you into pieces and kill everyone here just to cover it up. You think the Council is unhappy with me now? I’ll carve through this city until the sewers run red with their blood.”
“Is that so? Well then, let’s—”
“Alucard?” Othello whispered, seeking out the voice of her friend. “Alucard is that you?”
Magnus flinched and the grip on her arm tightened. He searched Othello’s face, then Alucard’s. “You’re him, aren’t you? Temple’s Daywalker.”
Alucard reached back and mussed up his hair. “Well dammit, Othello,” he sighed, sounding mildly annoyed. Then he shot forward, so quickly all I saw was his afterimage, his coat flying back behind him like a cape. Magnus moved with the same frightening speed; he tossed Othello over one shoulder and leapt down among the crowd, which panicked and spread in a loose circle. Before I could blink, six or seven vampires emerged from among them, guarding Magnus’ retreat. Alucard took a slow look around the room at all the people who’d end up getting caught in the crossfire if he tried to give chase. His shoulders tensed; he was going to do it, consequences be damned.
So, I fired a round into the air.
I wasn’t about to let him have all the fun.
Chapter 28
The crowd ducked for cover as one, then bolted for the exit, nearly trampling each other as they fought to get out of harm’s way. The vampires Magnus had left behind to cover his retreat remained, facing Alucard, except now there were no innocent bystanders in immediate danger. The music died with a squeal as the DJ fled.
Alucard shot me a questioning look. “Did you do that on purpose?”
“Ye were goin’ to tear through them to go after her,” I said. “This seemed like a better solution.”
“We have to get her back.”
I grunted. “Obviously.”
One of the vampires launched himself at Alucard, fangs gleaming, hoping to take advantage of the momentary distraction. I put a bullet in the fanger’s shoulder and sent him howling across the dance floor.
“Excuse you,” I said, mimicking Alucard’s accent. “The adults were talking.” I glared at Alucard. “And don’t ye ever say some sorry shit like that to me again, ye hear?”
The vampire I’d shot wailed and began tearing at the flesh of his shoulder, which was smoking. He was most likely hunting for the bullet, which had lodged itself in the pulp of his arm and was inexorably searing through his tissue. Magnus’ crew of vampires watched their companion writhe, their faces slack with shock and fear.
Alucard didn’t even bother to look at the fallen vamp, let alone respond to my threat. “He’ll be too far away by now to run him down.”
“I know where he’s headed,” I replied, with more confidence than I felt. It was likely that Magnus would hole up in his mansion upstate…but that wasn’t a guarantee. Still, it was a better alternative than inciting a bloodbath.
I hoped.
The vampires were growing restless, spreading out to encircle Alucard and make themselves harder targets. The one I’d shot had finally fetched the bullet fragment and torn it free, flinging the shattered metal shard across the room with a hiss. That was the problem with carrying small caliber pistols—they were easy to conceal, but lacked that extra oomph.
Alucard spun on his heel. “Cover me,” he said.
Three of the vampires, including the one I’d maimed, turned their attention to me. “I t’ink I’ll be a little busy,” I replied. I raised both guns and aimed, prepared to finish what I’d started; I could agonize over our options later.
Right now, I had cockroaches to kill.
I loved guns.
Not in the hardcore gun aficionado way—you know, like those collectors who got their rocks off by firing an obscenely large, loud automatic rifle into the sky, Rambo style. My love was purer than that, not to mention more practical. I loved guns the way some people love the outdoors. The sharp, brittle sound they made going off, the acrid stench of the smoke wafting from the barrel, the kick that threatened to rock me back—all of these contributed to an incomparable experience.
Maybe that’s why, when I use them, I always have a manic grin on my face.
Which really freaks people out.
The first vampire to come at me saw that grin and—in the instant before I put a bullet through his nasal cavity and brain—turned a whole shade paler than I thought was inhumanly possible. He dropped to his knees, cradling his ruined face, then slumped over.
The other two were more cautious. They approached from two directions, ducking low as they ran up the stairs so I couldn’t pick them off. I didn’t bother wasting the bullets. Clipping them wouldn’t do me any good. I needed to hit them in their most vital areas if I wanted to keep them down permanently.
One of the vampires, a woman, came from my right, streaking low with her hand outstretched as if to yank my leg out from under me. The tactic made sense—if she were up against another vampire or a shifter, the battle would be a test of speed, endurance, and strength. Taking out my legs was the safest bet. But she wasn’t up against either of those. She was up against me.
At the last possible moment, with her fingers mere inches from my leg, her speed gave out and her gravity-defying lunge became a graceless slide. I drew back and stomped on her hand, smashing it into the floor with a satisfying crunch. She yowled, eyes pinched shut in pain.
The man, on the other hand, had gone high. He ran nimbly across the railing, his balance perfect and poised, arms wide as if he were about to give me a hug. He leapt at me, prepared to tackle me to the ground and use his prodigious strength to squeeze me until I popped. I ducked and he flew overhead, his graceful dive ending in a belly flop that shattered the table and our bottle of champagne.
“If there’s one t’ing that pisses me off,” I said, “it’s alcohol abuse.” I fired at the man’s back, putting three bullets center mass. He screamed until his lungs filled with blood he’d stolen from someone else. I stomped on the woman’s hand again. She wailed. I knew from experience that, this close to me, she’d be as helpless as anyone else with a shattered hand. As pitiful and in as much pain.
I drove my heel down on her fingers, this time.
A quick look around showed that of the three who had come after me, two were down, probably dead. That lef
t four others for Alucard. I didn’t envy him those odds. But when I sought out the fighting below, I found him staring at me, standing among a pile of bodies, their blood lapping against his shoes.
“Took your time,” he observed, wryly.
“Oh, go fuck yourself.”
He grinned, flashing fang. “You need help interrogating that one?” Alucard asked, nodding towards the woman huddled on the ground at my feet.
“Nope.” I dragged the woman to her knees and flung her against the railing. Her right arm flew between the bars. I rested the block of my heel against her shoulder where it met her torso and applied a little pressure to that joint, pinning her. She groaned, eyes fluttering as she fought to stay conscious. “Stay with me, dearie,” I said. “I have questions and you’re the only one left who can answer them.”
If Alucard was bothered by my approach, he didn’t seem inclined to say anything. If anything, he appeared interested in my technique. He went to the bar and fiddled around, hunting for something while I plied the female vampire with questions. She was in the process of telling me everything she knew about Magnus, his mansion, his security, and even about the missing girls, when the sound of sirens heading our way interrupted us.
“Shit,” I said. I looked around. There were dead bodies everywhere. Even if they were vampires, no Regular would be able to tell the difference until they ended up on the autopsy table—and even then, it was unlikely they’d be disregarded completely.
Alucard returned and approached. “Did you find out where they took Othello?”
“Aye.”
“Good.” He reached through the bars and snapped the woman’s neck.
I felt my stomach roil, but said nothing. They were his people. If he wanted to play judge, jury, and executioner, who was I to interfere? Alucard met my eyes. I could tell he was prepared for a tongue lashing, but—when that didn’t happen—he grinned in relief and waved for me to follow.
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