I frowned. “Ellis said they can do it to some vampires too?” I remarked and Voshki nodded.
“Unfortunately, yes,” she confirmed with some reluctance. Vampires are not keen to have their weaknesses known by humans. “The Children of Judas were cast out by the larger vampire community because their penchant for bringing misery and despair was only slightly less dangerous to us than their tendency to gorge upon humans wherever they found war, famine, natural disaster…anything that causes humans to plunge into the kind of despair that can lead to suicide. Such uncontrolled feeding risked exposure of our kind. So we distanced ourselves from them.”
“How did they take that?” I asked.
“Not well,” Voshki replied dryly. She perched upon the desk. “They were far fewer in number than the rest of us so waging war against us was out of the question. Instead they retreated to the shadows of the Old World, and that is where they have remained since. Until now, it seems.”
Two thousand years, give or take, and now they had apparently decided to come out of hiding and stir up some trouble. I would wager they hadn’t made that decision on the spur of any moment. “Why now?” I wanted to know.
Voshki shrugged, shook her head. “I don’t know. I can only guess that someone is leading them to this. They were always very loosely organized, never really a cohesive bunch. Perhaps a new leader has united them?” Her eyes glittered once more, but this time the anger was directed inward, to whatever thoughts she might have about her new enemies.
“There have been other incidents,” she added. I looked up in surprise.
Voshki nodded. “That’s why I have had Armin in New Orleans this past week.”
Armin Bedrosian, as I said, Voshki’s No. Two, or her lieutenant—whatever you wanted to call him. His loyalty to Voshki is unshakable.
“There have been…deaths in New Orleans,” Voshki added darkly.
Deaths. That was not a word I liked hearing. I wished Voshki had stuck with “incidents.” “Human or vampire?” I asked.
“Vampire,” she replied, “mostly.”
Mostly. I wished now that Voshki would stop being so fucking cryptic. “How many human deaths?” I ground out.
She sucked a breath in. Drama queens, every last one of them. “A dozen or so,” she said.
It could have been worse. Okay, it also could have been a whole lot better. I was nonetheless about to breathe one of those sighs of relief when Voshki added; “That would be a dozen or so in New Orleans. There have been other human deaths in other places. I’m concerned that if the death toll continues to mount, covering it up may become…let’s say difficult. Right now, suicide is explaining a lot, but too many of these ‘suicides’ all at once and eyebrows may start to raise.”
They may indeed. I stared at the vampire leader. She shrugged, reminded me rather crossly that vampires had been dying too. Oh, well then. Pardon me.
“So this modern day Charlie Manson gang is creating quite the bloodbath across America,” I remarked. I beamed like the fucking insane maniac I was beginning to feel I was for letting myself become mixed up in this shit. “That’s wonderful. And we have no idea what…or who…might be motivating these Children of Judas to lead a happy mass suicide drive. Fantastic.”
Voshki raised one perfectly manicured dark eyebrow. “Working on the assumption that the bloodthirsty little ginger bastards have indeed become united under a leader who intends to challenge us…challenge me… I would say that by killing both vampires and humans in my employ and making the investors I steered toward The Right Guy nervous about their investments, they are attempting to discredit me as an effective leader.”
“And draw you into a conflict,” I added. Voshki thought that over for a moment and then nodded. And worse begat dreadful begat fucking catastrophe. I scowled at the carpet, for no reason feeling a misplaced animosity toward it.
“We need to find out who is leading them,” Ellis suggested.
We both looked at her. Voshki nodded agreement. “Where in hell do we start doing that?” I asked. I shrugged. “I assume he…or she…isn’t going to be sitting around waiting to be found.” You can always trust in me to provide rain on the day of the parade.
Then something came to me, something Voshki had just said that reminded me of something. “You called them ‘bloodthirsty little ginger bastards?’” I said.
Voshki twitched a frown at me, and nodded. “The Children of Judas are said to be all red-haired. It’s a mark they must bear of their notorious father.”
“Judas Iscariot was a redhead?” I hadn’t known that. I suppose it could account for the often near-superstitious dislike and distrust people have of redheads. I don’t have anything against redheads, personally. Hell, I dated one—Caitlin Harris. For one awful moment then I did wonder if Caitlin could be one of these Children of Judas… But no. There was no way Caitlin was a vampire at all, let alone a murderous bloodthirsty one. She was a lot of things—including whiny, selfish, crazy, infuriating, none too bright, temperamental and eerily good in bed—but she was not one of the Undead. Trust me. I would have noticed that.
What had come to me a moment ago now returned, and Voshki must have seen it in my face. She leaned forward. “What is it, Dante?”
“Last night. I was eating dinner and the sheriff up in Holly Bush Junction joined me. A woman came by to talk to her, the wife of the Mayor. She had this blood-red hair…” I shook my head. I had no way of knowing for sure. There were literally tens of millions of redheads in America, in the world, and I had absolutely no reason—other than that she was redhead and she’d put on shades before leaving the diner, and let’s face it, this is California, everyone wears shades—to even imagine that Marjorie Tucker was a vampire. Besides, I had thought Marjorie’s hair was dyed.
“You had dinner with the sheriff?” Ellis demanded.
Trust her to pick up on that part. I sighed annoyance. “No. She just happened to come in while I was eating dinner. I had breakfast with her though.”
Ellis spluttered something unintelligible. I swear Voshki sniggered. I glared at both of them in an attempt to convey that now was so not the time. Ellis gave me a wounded expression. I rolled my eyes. She was going to love it when I announced that the sheriff had asked me to have dinner with her.
“This woman?” Voshki interrupted impatiently.
“Marjorie Tucker,” I told her. “High-line Boston WASP, looks like she’d have a nervous breakdown if the cutlery wasn’t shining to her satisfaction.”
Voshki smirked. “Did you have any reason to suspect she was a vampire—other than the fact she had red hair and a mania for perfection?”
“Not really,” I admitted. “But then I only spoke to her for a matter of seconds. And honestly, I wasn’t thinking about vampires at the time.”
“Hmm. The Children of Judas are very good at blending in. They have at least adapted that much.”
I decided to spill the last bean. “The sheriff, uh, asked me to have dinner with her tomorrow night,” I said. I felt rather than saw Ellis’s rage. So did Voshki. Although she was apparently a good deal more amused by it than I was. I was terrified. I did not dare to even glance at Ellis.
“Oh, put your fangs away, Ellis,” Voshki told her.
“You are not having dinner with the sheriff,” Ellis grated.
It took a moment for me to realize that she was addressing me and not Voshki, which confused me a little. I did look around at her then. Yes, her eyes were glowing, very brightly indeed, and her fangs were still out despite Voshki’s telling her to put them away. “Are you telling me what to do?” I inquired. From the corner of my eye I saw Voshki sit back, smiling, as though she were settling in to watch an episode of her favorite soap opera.
“You’re not having dinner with her,” Ellis repeated darkly. “You’re my girlfriend. You shouldn’t be having dinner with other…women.”
I smiled. “Since when am I your anything, Ellis? We had sex. Big difference.”
I
was being deliberately cruel and I struck a bulls-eye with it. That made me feel bad. That annoyed me even more.
“I will not allow you,” Ellis stated.
Now I started to laugh. I know it was probably a foolish thing to do—well, okay, a suicidal thing to do—but I just had no control over it. Ellis was being all 1856 on me. What else was I going to do but laugh, since I didn’t have a sharpened stake handy? And laughter is very good at remedying terror. Better even than a stake. I hardly even saw Ellis move. There was just a blur of movement and the next thing I knew Ellis loomed a mere fraction of an inch from me, her eyes blazing red as a house fire and her fangs all the way out. I had not seen her move from the desk at all.
“Don’t be a fool, Ellis!” Voshki snapped. It might sound like a melodramatic thing to say but the cold in her voice as she uttered those words really was a visceral thing. If an iceberg had a voice it would probably sound like Voshki did right then. Had I not known the vampire leader so well and been pretty sure that she would not kill Ellis or otherwise do anything so rashly violent—well, not right then—I might have been a whole lot more terrified. I mean, between that and the rage that was coming off Ellis in radioactive waves. All the same, I quit laughing and stood very still, hardly even daring to breathe now.
“Stand down,” Voshki commanded her underling. Ellis was physically seething, the way an animal will seethe when it is cornered and either very, very scared or very, very angry. Either way, it is at its most dangerous at that moment.
Instead of doing any such thing, Ellis stubbornly pronounced that I was not having dinner with the sheriff. Unbelievable! A vampire’s jealousy could transcend even their survival instinct. An underling might get away with stealing the leader’s chosen human out from under their nose, by dint of that leader’s graciousness, but disobeying a direct command…and in front of a human? Frankly I did not know whether to pity Ellis or admire her right at that moment.
Then Ellis added, “If that sheriff is aware of vampires, and I think she just might be, Dante could be walking right into a fucking trap.”
I realized that her insistence that I should not dine with the sheriff was as much based in a concern for my welfare as sexual jealousy. Admiration won. Then I thought maybe she figured nobody would want to have dinner with me for any other reason and I got mad at her all over again. No, I wasn’t being rational at all.
“I am aware of that,” Voshki said. Although she had her fangs out and a glow in her eyes too—in reaction to her underling’s near loss of control—she was able to rein-in her emotions and remain calm and rational. Clearly I was of less personal value to Voshki, even if I was an asset to her. That did not win my admiration quite so much.
“Dante will keep her date with this small-town sheriff and you will be nearby the whole time,” Voshki explained. She cast a glance at me. I shivered. That mix of fear and lust again. Voshki saw it and her mouth curled in another quick smirk before she added; “Dante will never be out of your hearing, if not your sight, not even for a moment. Is that understood?”
Ellis thought it over. Nodded. I think I saw reluctance, however. I was still kind of admiring her.
“Now, stand down,” Voshki told her in that cold, quiet voice again. This time my shivering was all fear. I was beginning to get an idea of the scope of the risk Ellis had just taken. She might have almost attacked me, which was kind of disturbing obviously, but she had done it in the presence of her own leader who had made her interest in and prior claim to me well known. Attacking the vampire leader’s pet human in her presence is a bit like kicking one of the Queen’s corgis whilst she watches.
Ellis retracted her fangs. The boiling-lava glow of her eyes died to a simmer. She glanced briefly in my direction, then looked away, shoulders stiffening with tension as she said to Voshki, “Very well. I’m sorry about…that.”
“No harm done.” Voshki aimed a bright smile my way. I managed to raise a sickly one in return. She looked at the Rolex watch on her wrist. “You should get started if you want to get back to…where is it…Rose Bush Cross?”
“Holly Bush Junction,” I corrected.
She shrugged gaily. I frowned. “Do you really want us to go back there tonight?” I asked.
Voshki considered, then nodded. “I’m concerned about Amelia’s safety,” she explained vaguely.
I doubted that. Amelia is a very capable vampire. I tried to catch Ellis’s eye but she was resolutely looking everywhere but in my direction. At the moment some potted plants on the windowsill were apparently of great fascination to her.
“In fact, I may come with you,” Voshki announced then.
Ellis turned her head. I raised an eyebrow. Voshki beamed at both of us. “Yes. I think I’ll do that. You two should return to Flat Bush Bridge and I’ll follow you up there in the morning.”
“Holly Bush Junction,” I reminded her again. She waved it off. I shook my head. I was tired, frankly, and more than a little freaked out. I needed some time to compose myself, and maybe a few stiff drinks in human company. The kind of company Lydia Diamond could be relied on to provide.
“I’m sorry, Vosh,” I began, shaking my head, “but I am not going to drive all the way back there with Ellis and fucking Aerosmith. Not tonight.”
Ellis threw another glance at me but it skidded off again before I could catch it. I got a sense, however, that she was wounded. Well, boo fucking hoo. Voshki, on the other hand, seemed quite pleased with my decision.
“Then you can ride up there with me,” she decided. She beamed again at me and the protest I had been about to deliver died in my throat. That smile. Those eyes. Never mind that I was supposed to be with Ellis, never mind that Voshki had just volunteered me to walk into a potential Sheriff Bartlett-shaped trap, never mind that I wanted time on my own. Never fucking mind any of that. I could not have refused her right then if there had been a gun to my head. Hey, you can learn to live without a brain, right? Half of Hollywood has made a great success out of doing so. “We can take the Viper. It’s time I gave it an airing,” she added.
The Viper of which she spoke is a 1996 Dodge Viper, a truly classic muscle car. It has a metallic midnight-blue paintjob with a silver-white go-fast stripe from the hood grille to the rear bumper and custom-made tungsten headlights that make it look a bit like something out of Knight Rider. It can accelerate from zero to sixty in under ten seconds and reaches speeds of up to 180mph on straight roads. Riding in that beast with Voshki is either a truly terrifying or exhilarating experience, depending on how much you trust in her driving skills. I have ridden in it, and several other high-performance cars, with her on a number of occasions, and I am still alive.
“Fine,” I agreed. I could at least keep up the pretense of having a choice.
Ellis walked out of the office. She did not quite slam the door, but she did not close it quietly either.
In the aftermath of her departure I looked hard at Voshki Kevorkian. “You knew these Children of Judas were in Holly Bush Junction all the time, didn’t you?” I demanded.
She didn’t deny it. I was glad for that. It restored my respect for her. “Yes, I was pretty sure there were some of the ginger bastards around. I didn’t know for certain though.”
“Did Ellis know?”
Voshki raised an eyebrow. “Would it make a difference to how you feel about her if I told you that she did?” she inquired.
I glared at her until she sighed and shook her head. “Ellis may have had her suspicions but she didn’t know anything for sure,” she admitted.
“Tell me, Vosh…” I tilted a look at her… “Is there anything you won’t do to get what you want? Anyone you won’t use?”
If my accusation stung her in the least, she hid it well. She smiled. The tip of a fang protruded from the left corner of her mouth. I felt a moment of unease, wondering if I’d pushed too far. Voshki moved toward me until she stood close enough for me to see the amber flecks in her eyes and the tiniest pinpricks of red very faint at t
he dead center of her pupils. I could also feel the heat radiating off her body. It never fails to jolt me—vampires actually being warm to the touch. Sometimes they can be warmer to the touch than humans. I tried to hold Voshki’s unblinking stare and at the same time keep my mental barriers up. Not easy. Even less easy when she leaned in and put her lips close to my ear.
“I am very determined when I want something,” she whispered.
I had a feeling she wasn’t just talking about ridding herself of the Children of Judas either.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I called Lydia from home whilst I undressed to take a shower. She was still in her office, a rarity for Lydia who usually arrives for work around eleven and departs again around two. People as high up the food chain as she is do not need to work all the hours of the day. They have minions to do that for them. But there had been a series of new season show meetings with writers that ran late, and a problem in accounting, all of which required Lydia’s personal attention and kept the poor woman at the office past Bloody Mary o’clock.
“Fucking writers,” she carped to me whilst I shed my clothes, sticky from the road trip. “Tell me again, Dante, why do we have writers in the first fucking place?”
“Because producers are just not creative at all and directors are way too busy viewing the world from the perspective of halfway up their own backsides to write anything decent,” I told her. Raucous laughter blew down the line.
“I’ll come over in around two hours, how’d that be?” Lydia asked.
“That’d be fine.”
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