by Greco, Karen
The super-sized demon pushed open the door to Bertrand's office, and Frankie and I pressed into the sleek, Zen-inspired room. The lush cherry wood office furniture mixed sublimely with muted moss green and sandy beige, hints of forest and ocean. Directly in front of me, the sleepy city of Providence was slowly awakening, with lights flickering on along College Hill and city buses and garbage trucks kicking off their routes. Since I was last here, Bertrand had added a waterfall along the opposite wall. The sound of the cascading water should have been soothing, but it only made me feel like I had to pee. Great.
The smell of really good coffee and bacon perked me up. My eyes darted around the room, looking for the source of the deliciousness.
Bertrand was behind his enormous desk, with Tavio sitting in his usual spot across from him, a marked up Daily Racing Form opened in front of him. A shockingly pale woman, her hair in long black dreadlocks, reclined on Bertrand's couch. She wore skintight black pleather pants and a tank top that was two sizes too small, cleavage spilling out. Her lazy eyes were rimmed with kohl liner, and her lips were painted garish red. They were slightly smeared, like she was at the tail end of a really good night out.
I hoped I wasn't related to her, too.
No bacon or coffee was anywhere to be found. I seethed silently at its absence. Maybe being a coffee-deprived grump would work in my favor.
Tavio, of course, was the first on his feet, crossing the room with vampire speed that was completely at odds with his stocky, old-man appearance. He rushed at me, arms outstretched, playing the ever-loving uncle. I swiftly lifted my hand in the internationally understood back-off signal, and he came to a dead stop.
"We are not that kind of family," I growled.
Keeping his distance, he nonetheless grinned and gestured us into the room. "Please, come in. Meet your cousin."
A slight young man, hidden from behind the languid woman on the couch, shot up, his jet-black, Morrissey-style emo hair spiked in twenty different directions. He rubbed sleep from his violet eyes, and glanced out the window.
"Is it time to go underground?" he croaked.
"Matteo, no, not yet," Tavio said. He looked slightly annoyed. "Your cousin, Nina, is here. Remember? You were going to meet her this morning."
"Underground? Why don't you do a little of your demonic mumbo jumbo so the poor man can daywalk?" Frankie asked, puzzled.
"Did you speak, vampire?" Bertrand drawled from behind his desk, his hands steepled under his strong chin.
My face flared and I glared at Bertrand. Demons considered vampires beneath them. Truthfully, they considered everyone beneath them.
I crossed my arms and scowled. "Frankie's got a very good point. Why didn't you jack him up with your demon mojo like Frankie and Tavio?"
Bertrand flashed a small, cold smile. "That's not for me to say."
Matteo yawned and gave a small wave and a broad smile, barely exposing his fangs. "Okay, hey, what's up? You're Nina? Yeah, hey, I don't wanna daywalk."
He sounded more like a stoner than a vampire. His accent was pure Chicago Midwest without a trace of the Italian that thickened his father's speech. I uncrossed my arms and stepped a bit closer, squinting to get a better look at him, fascinated by his ability to smile without flashing full-on fangs. Could he be...? No, no way.
Frankie's arm shot out in front of me, stopping me from moving any further forward. He shook his head slightly in their direction and mouthed "Beta" at me, and then shrugged. Guess Frankie didn't want to embarrass him.
I turned my focus away from Matteo's teeth to the broader scene on the couch. The woman in front of him sat bolt upright, her arms extended, effectively blocking Matteo from the rest of the room. I noticed she had a rattlesnake tattooed around her chest and back. The snake's tail ended on her neck. A slight rattle sound seemed to emanate from it as it shivered with vibration. That's when I noticed her eyes turn black.
My fangs pushed through my gums, and I curled my lips just enough to show them off. The rattle was a threat, and a bold one at that. I didn't like her.
"Whoa, ladies, relax," Matteo flopped back on the couch behind the snake charmer and rubbed her back. "You got a smoke, babe?"
"Are you security?" I eyed the woman up and down, flashing my fangs through my sneer.
She turned, placed a cigarette into Matteo’s mouth and lit it by blowing gently on it, a self-satisfied smile on her face as she reclined back on the couch again.
"Who's the freaky demon girlfriend, Bertrand?" I asked our demonic mayor, who grinned from behind the safety of his expensive cherry wood desk, clearly enjoying the show. At least Tavio had the good taste to look slightly mortified.
"There is only one demon in here, Ms. Martinez," Bertrand said, his mellifluous voice sliding around the room. It eased listeners into a kind of agreeable stupor. I ground my teeth to get his vocal notes out of my head
I jerked my thumb towards the woman on the couch, who was now writhing suggestively in Frankie's direction. "So, you're saying that's not a demon?"
"Me? A demon?" she thrilled. Her high-pitched voice was almost childlike, which I found grating. But judging from the testosterone I felt surge through Frankie, it had the opposite effect on the men. I visibly shuddered. Sometimes this binding was simply TMI: too much information.
"And you are?" I pulled myself together enough to ask.
"President of the Matty Purefoy fan club! Duh." She stretched her arm and protectively slipped it around Matteo's head.
"Oh for fuck's sake. Demon groupies?" I turned on my heel, ready to walk right out the door.
Tavio cut me off before I reached for door. For an old man, he moved damn quick.
"Please, Nina, stay," he pleaded. And damn it all if he didn't tear up when he said that.
I sighed, my hand on the doorknob. "He has a gaggle of demonic groupies to protect him. What do you need with us?"
"We're not demons," she purred.
"The problem needs to be dealt with," Tavio said calmly, ignoring the demon on the couch. Despite his calm voice, his face barely masked his fury. The tips of his fangs just peaked out from under his lip.
Even Bertrand stared at him warily. "Matteo, put out the cigarette. Kittie, why don't you check on Matteo's room. Make sure no sunlight can get in."
"Youse didn't do that already?" Between her voice and her crappy grammar, I was ready to jump out of my skin.
"It doesn't hurt to double check," Bertrand said. His voice could charm the chastity belt off a medieval nun. Damn demons.
Kittie stood slowly, sulking. At full height, she was over six-feet tall with a solid frame. Between her size and her nutty outfit, I had to admit she was pretty intimidating.
Frankie, on the other hand, was enthralled. I punched him in the arm to shake him out of it. He shot me a dirty look.
"Demon!" I mouthed and punched him again, this time harder. At least he had the sense to look chagrined this time.
"Dominic will show you to his room," Bertrand called after her as she swept out the door, leaving a trail of cheap perfume.
"You guys really find that attractive?" I asked as the door closed behind her.
Bertrand laughed. "She's a siren, Nina. Of course they do."
"That's a siren?" I asked, incredulous. I'll admit, I wasn't exactly up on my siren lore, but groupie-as-siren made no sense. Killing Haley's fan base was primarily female. Sirens enchant men, so they rub most women the wrong way. Talk about excluding their prime demographic.
"Wouldn't sirens trailing the band turn off their core female fans?" Frankie asked, echoing my thoughts exactly, which surprised me. I didn't know he was up on the Goth/Emo scene.
"Actually, it's been the opposite," Matteo perked up again, cigarette still dangling from his bottom lip. "I didn't think it possible either, but once Kittie and her girls started showing up to the gigs, things just went wild."
"No doubt," I deadpanned. "So want to talk about the post-show riots?"
"Not really," he r
esponded. "Dad, go get Elias for this. I feel the sun coming up."
He threw an arm over his eyes dramatically.
"Oh this is bullshit," I groaned. "You cannot feel the sun come up."
"Actually, Nina," Frankie said with a slight nod, "maybe we'd be better off discussing this with someone else."
"Good man." Matteo nodded at Frankie as he rose unsteadily to his feet and stumbled to the door. With a small wave and sloppy smile, he fell into the anteroom, yelling for Dominic.
I cracked my knuckles and shifted my glare between Tavio and Bertrand. It was six in the damn morning, there was no coffee in sight and my cousin was a petulant pain in the ass diva who was afraid of sunlight. Ain't family grand?
A knock at the door stopped me from laying into the demon and his sidekick. Tavio uttered a polite excuse me and ambled over to the door. In the dim light of Bertrand's office, I could only see the outline of a tall, lanky shadow stepping into the room. Tavio gave him a warm welcome.
My breath caught in my chest when his face moved out of shadows. His delicate features were partially hidden behind a mop of curly black hair, streaked through with electric blue. His face was ghost-pale and he was noticeably thinner since the last time I saw him, but there was no mistaking him. It was my Chicago fling.
About a year ago, Frankie and I took a long weekend trip to Chicago for a little R&R. We had a rough time clearing out a nest of vampires from a Texas border town. They were crossing over from Mexico, hell bent on getting into the U.S. Once we cleared them out, a whole new crop would show up. It was a good 60 days before we were finally able to stem the wave of vampires crossing over. We finally decided to call in the priests and consecrate the ground on the border line. But even that didn't stop them. They preferred imploding to remaining on the other side. It was one of the strangest jobs I’d ever worked.
It had been a fierce two months, so Frankie and I decided to blow off steam in Chicago. That's when I met Elias. I knew he was a drummer in a band, but that was about all I knew about him. Just one wild weekend. What else did we need to know about each other?
"Elias?" I blurted, before I could stop myself. I was shocked to see him.
He came to a dead stop in front of me, looked me up and down. Absolutely no look of recognition crossed his face. He continued to the couch, where he settled into the cushions.
"What's up?" he said with a raspy voice. He sounded a lot older than he looked.
"You two know each other?" Bertrand shifted forward slightly in his chair, a cold smile spreading over his handsome face.
"Nina?" Frankie looked at me, puzzled.
"We met before. In Chicago," I responded evenly, but my heart raced.
Frankie raised his eyebrows. "That's Mr. Chicago?"
"Chicago?" Elias echoed. He shifted in his seat and the confusion cleared for a moment from his face. "Chicago, yes." He smiled and cocked his head. For a minute, it looked like he remembered our wild weekend in Chicago, but then his face clouded up again.
Bertrand laughed heartily. "What happened in Chicago?"
My face burned. I could not believe he forgot about me and the weekend in Chicago. I mean, it wasn't anything serious, but it was really fun. And we weren't that drunk. Maybe he picked up a drug habit over the past year.
"We met in Chicago," I snapped at Bertrand, my pride wounded. "Are we going to talk about the job or what?"
"The job?" A cloud of confusion hung over Elias. My ego slowly started to mend. The guy was clearly on something.
"Yes, did you know a demon was running your fan club?"
"Kittie? She's a siren," Elias said, his voice slow and monotone.
"No, she's a demon," I insisted.
Bertrand laughed. "You are a woman, Nina. To you, a siren is a demon!"
"No," I pushed back. "A demon is a demon."
Tavio chuckled, and Elias let loose a noise that could have been a laugh. Frankie just looked confused, like he was still trying to place Elias.
"I have to open the bar in less than six hours, and I still need to get some sleep, and apparently there's no coffee here. So what's the purpose of this, Bertrand?" My exhaustion made me more punchy than usual.
"You met your cousin." Bertrand leaned back in his chair, a Cheshire-cat grin spreading across his face. "And we reunited you with a lost love."
That did it. I leapt forward and landed lithely on the top of Bertrand's immaculate cherry wood desk. With one movement, I pulled from my boot the witch-killer athame that I inherited from my father and held it to Bertrand's throat. His smile faded into a cool grimace.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the old vampire angling toward me.
"Come near me, dear uncle," I said, "and the blade goes straight in."
Bertrand didn't even break a sweat. "Do you think you know how to kill a demon, Ms. Martinez?"
"I'll have a hell of a good time trying, Mayor Bertrand." I flashed my fully extended fangs at him. I'd happily turn full vampire to take this miserable demon out.
Bertrand, himself moving with near-vampire speed, pushed me down onto the desk and leaned into me, his hands closed over my throat.
"Do you want to test your theory, Ms. Martinez?" Bertrand’s eyes glassed over to pure black, and his face contorted into something not quite human.
"I'd be happy to. Want to try me?" I was flat on my back but my arms were still free. I held the point of the knife to his throat. One strong shove would push it right in.
"Drop the knife, Nina," Frankie said calmly.
"It could be over, Frankie," I muttered. "Get rid of the demon and everything goes back to normal."
"Is that what you think?" Tavio's voice shook with anger. "That demon is the only thing keeping others worse than him from taking over this town."
"Bullshit." My hand remained steady, my eyes focused on the point of the knife making a small indent in Bertrand's neck.
From the back of the room, Elias snickered. With a heavy sigh, I dropped my hand away from Bertrand's neck. But instead of letting me go, he leaned closer into me. His breath caressed my ear as he whispered, "Don't test me, little witch. I am not that easy to kill. You, on the other hand...."
He pushed off me and settled back into his oversized leather chair. "Let's get back to business, shall we?"
I rubbed my neck where his hands squeezed, glaring at him.
Frankie cleared his throat. "Right, let's get on with it. The first show is the night after tomorrow. Elias, could you talk us through a typical show?"
"Typical show?" he echoed, staring blankly at Frankie.
I sighed loudly, choosing to wear my frustration rather than hide it. "Yeah, you know, you set up at what time? Go on stage at what time? What time do the riots generally start? What's the atmosphere of the show? When does it turn? We don't know what to look for, Elias. We need guidance here."
He blinked. "You're our security detail?"
This was definitely not the Elias I met in Chicago. Something was not right with this guy.
Frankie had enough. "This isn't going to work. Let the city burn," he said as he stalked to the door. "Nina, you coming?"
"Right behind you!" Keeping my composure under check, I followed. It was all I could do to keep from giggling and running after him. I could not believe he was dissing the demon that gave him the ability to see the sun again.
Frankie and I strutted over the plush carpet of the anteroom and only when we made it into the stark white hallway did we dare breathe.
"Do you think the sun is up yet?" Frankie quickened his pace, the first sign of worry creeping over him.
"I think we can make it back to your apartment." I tried to sound more certain than I actually felt. Time was not on our side. We were about halfway between Babe's and the old factory building where I had built an underground apartment for Frankie.
We could try to hole up in the Biltmore, but I was worried that Bertrand would send some poltergeist thugs after us. I wasn't sufficiently witched up t
o deal with them.
The sound of a door cracking open just ahead jarred both of us out of our reckless near-sprint down the long hallway. Our pace slowed in unison, and Frankie motioned slightly ahead and to the right. His hearing was more acute than mine. Where I just heard the sound, Frankie could pinpoint the exact location.
Frankie pressed himself against the wall while I continued moving forward. We were partners long enough to know how to work a surprise threat together, even without speaking. Of course, the binding made it even easier to anticipate what Frankie was going to do, and I guessed he could sense the same from me. Even though I wasn't happy about it at all, it did have some advantages.
I paused quickly to slide my father's knife out from my boot sheath. It was the only weapon I brought with me. I silently cursed myself for trusting Bertrand and Tavio enough to show up insufficiently armed. I vowed not to make that mistake again.
Frankie inched along the wall while I charged down the center of the hallway with purpose. Right in front of Frankie, a hooded figure rushed out from behind the door and almost barreled into me. Whoever it was let out a Scottish Highland battle cry, and I would have laughed save for the shock of a human projectile landing in front of me.
In one smooth move, Frankie stepped away from the wall as his arm shot out. He grabbed the figure at the throat, lifted him off the ground and pressed him against the wall. My adrenaline surged with Frankie's as the binding made our heightened emotions one. Fangs out, his eyes glowed brilliant cerulean. He looked deadly. And, to be honest, kind of hot. Ew.
Dropping the Highland screamer to the floor with a thud, Frankie turned and stared at me wide-eyed. His pale cheeks flushed slightly, and his mouth softened into a small smile.
Well, crap. Did he feel that last thought? And did he think it meant anything?
Deciding to ignore the whole thing, I turned my attention to the figure on the floor. Using my foot, I nudged the hoodie down from his face, and let out a sigh. It was Matty.
"What the hell, Matty?" I was sorely tempted to give him a swift kick in the face and damage some of his perfect features. But Bertrand and Tavio were already pissed at us. Messing up the rock star's face would make it worse. Anyway, he'd heal.