by RJ Blain
“I trust Dr. Yasolovic to handle her.”
I found that interesting; trust was an odd word when it came to vampires.
“I don’t suppose you can enlighten us about those doctors, can you? Dr. Yasolovic and Dr. Valentine, no matter how human they look, don’t smell like humans.” As much as Dad was growling, I worried he’d lose control before Mom did.
A moment later, Dad yelped. “Behave,” Mom ordered.
The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
“They’re no threat to Shane or Miss Peterson. That’s all you need to know.”
I missed being able to communicate in English. I yipped my annoyance, twisted on Quinton’s lap, and bit his wrist.
“Something tells me Gibby’s not happy,” Ernesto’s son reported.
Vampires tasted terrible, but I kept gnawing on him, using my paws to hold his hand steady while I took out my frustration on his wrist. If I turned my head sideways and squinted, I could pretend biting was similar to kneecapping. Vampires liked when I kneecapped them. Quinton could handle a few bites. He wouldn’t even notice the marks after a few hours and some time with one of his girls and his succubus partner.
Mom laughed. “Considering how much Shane enjoys running his mouth, he’s probably upset he can’t contribute to the conversation or make himself useful. He’s never happy unless he’s doing something productive. Shane, darling, you can help investigate things at the crime scene. Stop trying to separate your friend’s hand from the rest of his body. That’s rude.”
With a low, rumbling chuckle, Ernesto said, “You should see him with a gun. He always goes for the knees first. It’s so charming. Quinton, work with your sister and keep an eye on him. I’ll work with the Gibsons to thoroughly check the restaurant. Pierina, I’ll be meddling in your affairs. You can suitably punish me later.”
“Of course, Papa. The office computers at the restaurant weren’t damaged, so you can access the call records there. You may need to take them to your office; power was out the last I heard. You’ll be able to get the phone number of the caller from the system. If that takes too much time, I’ll call the phone company and get the number personally.”
“Good. Quinton, once we’re at the restaurant, give your uncle a call and fill him in. Go on a walk around the block, get a good sniff of those who’ve been around, and hit the other side of the canal. If you can get a closer look at the damage to the grate, do so.”
Quinton stroked my back with his free hand. “A suggestion, Papa?”
“It always worries me when you strive to prove you’re capable of independent thought.”
“We should extend our apologies to our friends below for having disturbed their evening. I might be able to retrieve Gibby’s things, too.”
Vampires made a variety of sounds, but Ernesto’s growl came close to a werewolf’s in its intensity. “You want an excuse to go down the slide.”
“I thought Gibby might appreciate a chance to experience it in a more controlled fashion.”
Ernesto sighed. “Talk the cranky werewolves into it. I don’t care. Maybe you can bribe those below for help. I might forgive you for being capable of independent thought if you do something useful for a change instead of causing me problems.”
I was glad I wasn’t the only one with a crazy family.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Quinton had no trouble convincing my parents the safest place for me was the most dangerous place in all of Chicago. Instead of making a break for freedom and finding a good place to hide, I went along with the stupid plan to take a swim in the canal’s fetid waters and descend into the abyss.
Of course, my parents didn’t know monsters lurked beneath the streets of Lower Chicago, and I couldn’t make my uncooperative tongue speak English. Quinton presented our venture as exploring a rather large cave most people avoided because they were afraid of the dark.
Dad fell for it hook, line, and sinker. I doubted he’d ever confess a single fear to vampires—or anyone else for that matter.
Before our side trip into the abyss, Quinton and I took a long walk around Pierina’s restaurant, crossed to the other side of the canal, and investigated every spot with a view of the balcony. We weren’t able to access two possible locations, second story balcony and several third story windows and another balcony, which Quinton regarded with a frown.
So many scents clogged my nose I couldn’t make sense of them, and I lashed my tail instead of squealing my frustration, which would draw unwanted attention to us.
“You’re as bad as a pissy cat, Gibby. The balconies up there are possibilities, but I doubt it. I’m betting it was a one-person job. There’s enough foot traffic if he used a sticker and a short-delay fuse, no one would have noticed, and if he used a long enough fuse, he’d have plenty of time to get in position to drop the grenade against the grate after you fell in the water. On this side, he would’ve been able to judge where you’d fall in and hit the grate. One easy toss and all his problems are solved.”
I hated stickers; the adhesive clung to just about everything, and bomb makers loved being able to set their devices anywhere they wanted. Someone with good aim could plant a grenade and walk off without worrying their explosive would come loose.
Stickers had one saving grace. The damned things were expensive, which deterred the hacks, and the pros preferred more sophisticated methods. The nastiest pros enjoyed playing lethal games of cat and mouse with the police, using innocent lives as the prize.
I’d never qualified to serve on the bomb squad, but I’d done my research. If someone had used a sticker, he was better than an amateur but not as good as a pro, or he’d been paid enough to ignore his professional pride and take on a quick, dirty job.
Most of the real professionals wouldn’t touch ex-cops, not without leaving their mark.
I could only nod in agreement with Quinton’s assessment.
“Papa would have my head on a platter if I did such an inelegant job.”
Of course Ernesto would. When Ernesto made people disappear, he went to extremes—or had Donovan go to extremes. If he found out who’d been responsible for the destruction of his daughter’s precious restaurant, the panty incident on the Franklin Street bridge would pale in comparison. The bodies of all involved would be found, and their guilt would be made known in as humiliating a fashion as possible.
I wanted to find the bomber myself. I could deal with someone coming after me, but he’d hurt Marian. Her choice of career told me she could take care of herself.
I didn’t care.
Someone had hurt her trying to get me, and I couldn’t forgive that. In that, I was my father’s son. It began to truly sink in that someone hadn’t just tried to kill me—they had succeeded. Without the magic of my first shift, I would have died.
If the grate hadn’t broken, I probably would have drowned. Even if it hadn’t, I’d heard Dr. Valentine’s assessment.
Magic had kept me breathing, and I wouldn’t get so lucky a second time.
“All right, Gibby. You’ll want to hold your breath for a moment. I’d rather not have to explain to Papa you drowned. Since someone conveniently left the grate open, I see no need to take the harder way.”
Curiosity consumed me as the vampire’s words confirmed there was a way to the third level without going through the canal. I supposed it was better I didn’t learn what it was.
I had a rather bad habit of poking my nose in places I didn’t belong.
Quinton strolled along the canal to the hole in the grate. While the police had set up a tape cordon, but no one guarded it. I found their negligence both tiresome and amusing. No one in their right mind deliberately went into the abyss, so why waste manpower guarding a hole in the canal’s grate? The locals knew corpses rotted in the water, no one in their right mind wanted to fall in.
I suspected Quinton used some sort of vampire magic to keep people from noticing us. He held me to his chest with one hand, his grip firm enough I
couldn’t escape if I wanted to. “Hold your breath.”
I took a deep breath and bobbed my head.
Quinton speared into the water feet first, angling for the canal’s side to avoid the jagged, blasted metal. The chill water closed over us, and we emerged on the other side moments later. Smacking into the concrete slide feet first, the vampire took the full force of the landing, and his laughter rang out.
Unlike my haphazard descent, Quinton shot down the slick slope. My second trip down the spillway reinforced my initial impression a mad scientist and an engineer had gotten together to design the damned thing.
After the first loop-de-loop, I was glad Quinton had suggested I wait to eat until after our descent to the third level. The second loop left my head spinning, and by the time Quinton shot out of the third one into the air, I swore to get revenge on the entire Saven brood.
No net broke our fall, but Quinton entered the water feet first at an angle and lost his hold on me, leaving me to fend for myself in the utter darkness. I had no idea how an otter swam, but I discovered I could use my paws, tail, and long body to cut through the water after a few strokes.
I didn’t go far before a hand grabbed my tail and yanked me out of the water. I yowled once and writhed before the vampire flipped me over to hold me under my forelegs. “Sorry. Didn’t want to lose you in the current. Wasn’t that fun?”
We bobbed in the water, and I slapped my head in the universal expression of disgust.
“You can’t see a thing down here, can you?”
Flipping my middle finger might become my default mode of communication.
“All right, keep your pants on. Unless you want to take a one-way trip straight to hell, you should ride on my shoulders until I get us to shore. I can see down here. You’d probably find the one way to get sucked into the underground river and get killed. I can’t tell if you’re cursed or lucky sometimes.”
Dumb vampires and their magical talents. Resenting him for his vision was ridiculous, but I couldn’t help my feelings. My awareness of what I couldn’t do as well hung over me every day. Grunting, I wiggled in his hold and scrambled along his arm to his shoulders, clinging to his jacket with my claws.
Quinton reached the shore and walked out of the water, one hand pressed to my back to keep me from falling from my perch. “We’re close to the end of the darkness zone, so you may want to shut your eyes. It’s rather bright on the other side.”
I closed my left eye since the light wouldn’t bother my fake one.
“It’s really creepy when you do that. Have I told you that? While the color is rather interesting, knowing you can’t see with it makes my skin crawl when it’s the only one open. Have a little mercy.”
I stuck my tongue out at him and left my right eye open.
“No wonder Papa likes you so much. You’re an irreverent fellow sometimes. Ah, well. It’s good for Papa to remember there are those who don’t fear him as they probably should—and that there is someone who can beat him at his own game. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Papa thinks men like you are catalysts. You bring people together. You divide them. Wherever you go, things change. Papa enjoys the challenge you create for him. You changed the nature of our game with the CPD. You changed the nature of our hunt for prey. Papa gets bored.”
Of course Ernesto got bored. He’d been alive since the dawn of humanity, dead long before anyone had thought to write their history down in words rather than pictures. I didn’t know exactly how old he and his children were, but they played at being Etruscans, as the world had moved on without them, erasing their existence from the history books.
Pierina’s restaurant, her bewitched ceilings, and the stories they told were their true history, the one forgotten by everyone else. Maybe one day I’d ask for more of their truth, but part of me hoped Ernesto would share it on his own.
I liked to think he understood me; he’d been a vampire long before humans had believed in magic.
Quinton was careful to keep his stride smooth, which made it easy for me to hold onto his shoulder so I wouldn’t fall and add to my collection of bruises. “Papa will be angry, but I’ll warn you now. I won’t be surprised if our hosts ask for you to become human. It’s their nature to be curious. They possess the skill to force you to shift. They also possess the skill to help you heal better than those hospitals.”
The vampire spat the word as he would a curse, something I found interesting. I borrowed from my father’s silent language and bumped my nose to Quinton’s neck, giving him a brisk rub to indicate my approval. He laughed. “Your whiskers tickle. We’re almost to the barrier. You will feel strange. Most humans claim it tingles. For me, it burns as though I’ve stepped beneath the noon sun; it doesn’t harm me, but it’s uncomfortable. Don’t be alarmed at my hissing.”
One day soon, I needed to have a long talk alone with Quinton. Vampires didn’t drink alcohol, but I thought he’d be the sort I’d enjoy taking to a bar for a good bottle of Scotch.
I’d never think of Scotch the same ever again. It had brought Marian into my life.
Before I pulled a Dad and ripped Marian’s kidnapper to pieces, I’d thank him for bringing her into my life, although I’d have to fight with Marian for the right and privilege of shredding the participants in the sex trafficking operation.
“Here we go,” Quinton warned.
Lightning zapped me, and I yowled at the unexpected pain. I jerked so hard I toppled off Quinton’s shoulder, and the vampire caught me with a hissed curse. I shuddered, my body twitching. Light pierced my eyelid, and I cracked it open.
Golden crystals jutted from beds of blue and black opal, reflecting the light of chandeliers swaying from the cavern’s domed ceiling. The whisper of wind and tinkling of chimes teased my ears.
Quinton straightened, placed me on his shoulder, and lifted his chin, making no effort to disguise the pride and arrogance of someone who’d withstood thousands of years. “Welcome to Babylon, the City of Gardens.”
Gripping his shoulder with my hind paws, I stood, stretching so I could get a better look at the vast cavern, so vast I couldn’t imagine how it fit beneath Chicago—or how it had gone unnoticed. The ceiling peaked at a hundred feet, which put it near the surface.
“It has been long since you have darkened our doorway, Shepherd.” The grind of stone on stone accompanied each word, and I twisted around in search of the voice. I dropped to all fours on the vampire’s shoulder.
We were alone.
As though aware of my unease, Quinton rested his hand on my head. “I see you, Abil Ili. Please forgive my companion. He is still learning his second nature.”
“I see you and yours. I would welcome you, but you always welcome yourself, so I will welcome yours instead. May you walk in peace in our gardens, friend I’ve yet to have the pleasure of meeting.”
At a complete loss, I looked to Quinton for guidance.
“Abil Ili, this is Shane Gibson. Perhaps when he decides to stop being clever, Abil Ili will properly introduce himself. You know full well you can’t hide from me with your trickery, but it’s unfair to play such games with a youngling with but one eye and not yet taught to see you.”
“So I am rebuked.” Abil Ili chuckled, and one of the golden crystals moved. At first, I thought him human, but his similarities to a human began and ended with his pair of arms and legs. With the slow fade of a chameleon exposing itself, the golden crystal dissolved away to reveal a tall figure.
A mosaic of rainbow mirrors separated by thin bands of silver formed a carapace over an almost human chest. What I had initially mistaken to be arms were tentacles, tentacles that branched into seven curved claws, each one tipped with a glistening black hook. Fluid dripped off one, fell to the floor, and was absorbed by the stone at its feet, ridged with scales and taloned like a bird of prey’s.
The crystals nearby glowed, and the sweet scent of flowers filled my nose. For a long time, I couldn’t tear my gaze from the ground, which shimmered
as though granted life.
“What has happened for you to darken our doorway, Shepherd?”
I jerked my head up and yipped at the close proximity of a mouth full of sharp fangs, the largest at least six inches long. A curved beak promised a quick death if Abil Ili decided he wanted an otter snack. I figured I’d be two decent bites. A crest of feathers rose from his head and, like his carapace, they were covered in prismatic mosaics.
“First, I wanted to notify you that the grate to the spillway has been damaged.”
“Damaged?” Abil Ili reared his head back and hissed. “Who damaged it? Why?”
“It’s a long story, and most of its telling belongs to our friend, but I think the intrigue of his words may be worth the price of his shifting and the soothing only the Babylonians can provide. I think you’ll find him an even more intriguing patient, for he’s a human who is nearly not.”
If Quinton kept speaking in riddles, I’d have a headache in no time, but I wouldn’t complain. For the moment, the pair spoke in English, allowing me to follow their conversation.
“What else do you desire from us?”
“I’d rather wait to discuss that until you’ve heard his story. It’ll influence your decision, and I don’t want you to make a decision in ignorance. But, I will say this. Someone has tried to murder him twice for the sin of helping another.”
“It has been long since we have been amused by a human—especially one who is almost not. Very well. A bargain made and struck. Our soothing for your story.” Abil Ili paused. “And I shall invite you to partake of our gardens, only because it will chafe your sire’s nerves he cannot taste the flavors of his youth.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Thirty chameleon-like Babylonians emerged from their crystalline hiding places and overwhelmed my ability to handle the new and strange. Burrowing into Quinton’s jacket was rude, but hiding in a soggy vampire’s clothing seemed a lot safer than facing a group of predators as dangerous as werewolves.