Vigilante Vampire (Bo Blackman Book 5)

by Helen Harper

  When we pull up in front of Medici’s place, there’s still plenty of them milling around. I had briefly considered keeping myself out of sight but tabloid journalists are a canny lot. They’d figure out I was involved, and staying hidden would only create more questions. I need them to focus on Rogu3. Fortunately, they all recognise him; his near-death experience at his school placed him front and centre of most newspapers. The fact that he’s with me causes a rush of sudden excitement.

  ‘Alistair Jones!’

  Before I manage to turn off the engine, we are surrounded. I feel Rogu3 tense up at my back. ‘I’m not sure about this,’ he mutters in my ear.

  ‘You can do it,’ I soothe. ‘It won’t be that hard. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’

  He expels an irritated breath. ‘I am not a child.’ He jumps off the bike and faces me, his arms outstretched. ‘I’ve had enough of you keeping me in the dark. You think you can order me around as you please. Who the hell was that guy we just had dinner with? You shut Maria up pretty fucking quickly when she asked.’

  ‘Don’t swear,’ I say automatically.

  ‘Fuck you.’

  I wince. That was a bit uncalled for. The journalists stare at us, absolutely agog. For once they’re more interested in watching our argument play itself out than asking any questions. Rogu3 registers their interest and gestures at the lot of them. ‘Check it out, ladies and gentlemen,’ he says with a sarcastic edge. ‘Bo Blackman, the supposed saviour of the streets. You call her the Red Angel. Well, let me tell you, she’s no angel. She saved my life but she’s still a vampire. Still a freak.’ He injects enough sneer into his voice to make me step backward.

  I stare at him with a mixture of hurt and confusion. ‘Rogu3…’

  He ignores my plea. ‘Do you want to know why she brought me here?’ He throws out a hand towards Medici’s mansion. ‘To make it clear to you all what I think of him. Lord fucking Medici who thinks he can turn the whole of London into a city of bloodguzzling murderers. She’s not wrong – he’s a monster and everyone should wake up to that fact. But she’s a monster too. All vampires are.’ He gazes back at me with cold eyes. ‘I should know. I almost became one.’

  ‘If it wasn’t for me, you’d be dead.’

  He towers over me. ‘And how many others are dead because of you? You make this big show of cleaning up the streets and solving crimes. Of getting rid of the shitheads who can afford good lawyers to beat the system.’ He leans in towards me. ‘But how many of those have you drunk blood from? Is your self-righteousness because you really care about what’s happening to society, or are you just after your next meal?’

  ‘There are plenty of vampettes…’ I begin.

  ‘Screw the vampettes. It’s the chase you like. You enjoy it when humans act as prey. That’s all we are to you.’ His voice rises. ‘Aren’t we?’ He starts shouting, spittle flying onto my face. ‘Aren’t we?’

  One of the journalists gets too close, thrusting a camera so close to my face that the photo will probably pick up every damn pore. I snatch it out of her hands and smash it on the ground. She lets out an inarticulate howl, no doubt in direct proportion to just how expensive the stupid thing was. To shut her up, I let my fangs lengthen. I snarl at her and she backs off.

  ‘You see?’ Rogu3 yells. ‘You see what she’s capable of?’ He jabs his thumb in my chest. ‘Stay the fuck away from me.’ He thrusts his hands into his pockets and spins round, marching off down the street. Several of the journalists follow him, throwing out questions which ricochet off his rigidly straight posture. The braver ones stick with me, although I notice that this time they keep their distance.

  ‘Is he telling the truth, Bo?’ one of them asks.

  ‘How does it make you feel to have a teenager talk to you like that?’ throws in another.

  I let all their questions bounce off me. With a narrow-eyed look of hatred towards the Medici fortress, because there’s no doubt Medici has been enjoying the show, I turn my back and get back on the bike. I gun the engine and the journalists scatter. Then I screech off into the distance, in the opposite direction to Rogu3.

  ***

  I come to a halt several streets away, sliding the bike into Mile Stop Alley. It’s dark enough here that I finally feel safe. I tilt my head upwards towards the clouded sky. Even the moon is obscured from sight so there’s no chance that I’ll see any stars. All the same, the expanse helps calm me down, reminding me that I’m nothing more than a tiny speck in the universe. I inhale and exhale several times.

  ‘Very Zen, Bo,’ I mutter to myself.

  ‘Talking to yourself? Are you going senile already?’

  I drop my head and glance over. ‘You got here quickly. Are you sure you weren’t followed?’

  Rogu3 grins at me. ‘Duh. They gave up on me ages ago.’ He gives me a huge, dramatic bow. ‘I was pretty awesome, wasn’t I?’

  ‘You were alright,’ I admit grudgingly.

  ‘Alright? Even you half-believed me! I could see it in your eyes.’

  ‘Okay,’ I allow. ‘You were pretty convincing.’

  He beams. ‘I knew it! I’m a far better actor than anyone ever gives me credit for. You know, when we did West Side Story last year, Mrs Thomson put Mike Allan in the lead role and I ended up in the chorus. She had no clue what she was doing. It serves her right that he got mono the night before the first performance and…’

  ‘Rogu3.’

  ‘Sorry.’ He doesn’t look contrite. ‘That was just so much fun. Can we do it again?’

  I frown at him. ‘No. Besides now you have to go home.’ I raise my eyebrows pointedly. ‘Your home.’

  ‘Oh come on, Bo Peep…’

  ‘It won’t work unless you’re with your parents. Do you really think none of those journos will attempt a follow-up? If anyone discovers you’re staying with me, all this will have been a complete waste.’

  ‘I’m a world-class hacker and I didn’t find out where you were staying until you emailed me directly.’

  ‘You still found me. And we have no idea what resources these tree people have at their disposal.’

  ‘Fine,’ he grumbles. ‘You shouldn’t call them tree people though. If they really are as bad as you think, making them sound like they belong with Greenpeace hardly fits.’

  ‘Well,’ I say firmly, taking him by the shoulders and propelling him back out of the alley, ‘when they contact you and tell you who they are, I’ll call them something else.’ I flag down a passing taxi and virtually throw him inside.

  ‘I’ll phone you,’ he promises.

  Something prickles along the back of my neck. ‘Good,’ I tell him. ‘Now go.’ The door closes and the taxi speeds off. I cross my arms, ready to meet whatever fresh new hell is about to descend.

  ‘Come on,’ I whisper as Rogu3 disappears round the corner. ‘Whoever you are, show your face.’

  No one appears. I narrow my eyes. I wasn’t imagining things ‒ someone is definitely watching me. I lick my lips and bend down as if to tie my shoelace. As I do, I catch the flicker of movement up on the opposite rooftop. There you are.

  I pretend to fiddle with my shoe then stand back up again, looking casual. I stroll across the street until the angle of the buildings above conceals me from sight. The moment I reach a shadowed spot, I leap upwards. I don’t like being spied upon.

  Whoever is up there is definitely a triber. No human would hang around on the top of such a high building at this time of night. I’m betting vampire. When I pop my head above the parapet, my arms barely straining against my own body weight, I know I’m right.

  It’s a woman, dressed in black and peering down to the street. Obviously she’s still looking for me. Ha! I enjoy watching her scanning up and down, her brow furrowed in confusion. Let her take that back to Michael, I think dismissively. He can’t send minions to follow me around and not expect me to notice. I’m not that green.

  She turns away with a half shrug, apparently giving up. That’s
when I spot the flash of bright red round her wrist before it’s swallowed up by the cuff of her jumpsuit. Not one of Michael’s, then; Medici has sent her out. That causes problems.

  Rogu3’s little show wasn’t for Medici’s benefit; I needed him to publicly disavow vampires. It’s the only way that the tree people will reveal themselves. It doesn’t mean that openly berating Medici wasn’t a benefit though. I know from past experience that he has a short temper. Pissing him off with so many people watching might encourage him to step out from his fortress ‒ but he won’t do that if he knows it was a trick. Worse, he might even tell them all that it was a trick and I can’t let him do that.

  I gnaw at my bottom lip. The only sensible recourse is to slice off the bloodguzzler’s head and make sure she has no way of talking but that’s a bloody course of action and she’s not yet done me any wrong. Then I shrug to myself; what’s one less Medici vampire in the world?

  I pull myself up, standing spread-eagled on the rooftop just as she realises she’s not alone. She turns to face me, her stance showing that she’s preparing for attack.

  ‘Oh happy days,’ she sneers. ‘It’s the dwarf. I was just looking for you.’

  Any trace of guilt I might have felt vanishes. Just because I’m short doesn’t mean I’m going to let people push me around or use my height as a weapon against me – even a verbal one. I sweep a glance over her. She definitely exudes power. Outwardly she appears to be in her mid-twenties but I’d put her guzzler age at closer to fifty. That means she’s got a lot more power at her fingertips than me but it doesn’t mean I can’t beat her. I just need to be smart about it.

  She circles me. I keep my distance, matching her step for step.

  ‘Come on,’ she purrs, ‘what are you afraid of? If you can beat a Kakos daemon, surely you’ll find it easy to beat me.’

  I sigh. She’s referring to the little show X staged months ago when I supposedly killed him on live television. I’m starting to wonder whether anyone in the world was fooled by that. It certainly doesn’t make my adversaries afraid of me.

  I save my breath and don’t answer, watching her carefully to make sure I avoid her first blow. We continue to edge round each other like feral cats in a staring contest. It’s not going to last like this for long.

  She’s much taller than I am. That’s no great surprise, most of the world is taller than me, but it puts me at a distinct disadvantage. I make sure I’m out of reach of her long arms so that when her fist flies towards me in a punch, I can duck and weave, shifting my feet to compensate. When she fails to hit me, she wobbles slightly and starts to lose her balance. I snap out a thrust towards her solar plexus and manage to achieve contact, but not hard enough. She gasps in pain but she’s still upright. Bugger.

  She recovers quickly. Rather than continue the standoff, she launches a flurry of punches. Although I do what I can to keep out of her reach, she manages to hit me several times. The pain doesn’t make me to falter, it simply galvanises me into action.

  Realising that my fists aren’t going to do much damage, I vault upwards with a scissor kick, ready to smash the heel of my boot into her face. She’s too fast for that and she grabs my ankle and twists. The only reason I avoid a broken bone is because I allow my body to move with her action but it hurts all the same. It really bloody hurts. I land back down onto the flat roof with an oomph. She laughs.

  ‘Did that hurt?’ she enquires, bending over me.

  ‘On the contrary,’ I snarl. ‘I enjoyed it.’

  Before I can scoot away, she lunges forward, taking hold of my ears and dragging my head upwards and then slamming it back down again. Pretty little lights dance in front of my eyes. Damn it. I roll to my right; I’m too vulnerable right now and I need to give myself some breathing space. Unfortunately little Miss Medici knows it. She’s got her prey in her sights and victory on the horizon so she’s not about to let me get away.

  She snatches the back of my shirt and pulls me backwards, then hefts me into the air. For a brief half second, I feel a cooling breeze on my face, then I’m spinning out of control. I twist my body to halt the spin. There’s not a lot of space on this roof and, if I go too far, I’m going to fall off the edge. I have excellent recovery skills but if I land badly, I might not get back up again.

  My fingers scrabble as I start to fall downwards. I catch the edge of the roof while my legs crash into the side of the wall. I just need to pull myself up – ordinarily an easy feat – and then I can attack her properly. She’s not stupid, though. I’m halfway up and about to prop my weight onto my elbows when she steps over and stands on my hands, one heavy foot on each. I collapse again. Her weight is crushing my fingers. The second she lets go, I’m not going to be able to hang on.

  ‘You should go on a diet,’ I gasp. ‘You’re heavier than you look.’

  She laughs and crouches down. ‘Say goodbye,’ she smirks. She lifts up one foot. I try desperately to hang on but I don’t have the strength; my hand is too bruised and broken. My arm drops, swinging uselessly in the air.

  She starts to lift her second foot, amusement written all over her face. ‘Medici wants you alive,’ she says. ‘I think he wants you to come to him. It’ll be easier for all of us if that doesn’t happen.’ She moves her foot away.

  I have one chance. Before I drop, I heave up one hand and then the other and grab both sides of her skull. I use her ears to gain purchase. Then I open my mouth.

  It’s a little-known fact that the masseter muscle, located in the jaw and used for biting, is the strongest one in the body. I have Kimchi to thank for giving me this knowledge. With one vicious move, I bite into her neck. This isn’t the delicate nipping of a typical feeding, I’m ripping away her flesh. She screams, a sound that’s abruptly cut off as I tear out her windpipe. I release my hands and use one to hold onto the edge of the roof and the other to yank the front of her shirt and pull. Her body sails over my head.

  ‘Is it a bird?’ I gasp as I hurriedly return my other hand to the safety of the roof and pull myself up. ‘Is it a plane?’ I roll over, bringing myself to safety. ‘No. It’s the incredible flying vampire.’

  There’s a loud thump as she hits the ground. Not so good at flying after all. I shrug and stand up, gently flexing my aching fingers. I snap three of the bones back into place with satisfying clicks, as easy as one, two, three.

  My skin is tingling: I enjoyed that far more than I should have. Adjusting my ponytail, I smile slowly to myself. I’m not stupid enough to believe that I’m invincible – or that I’m strong enough to take on Medici himself yet. But that felt good. I stretch my arms out as if I’m Christ the Redeemer on top of Mount Corcovado. There’s nothing redeeming about me, however.

  I smile to myself then head for home.

  Chapter Thirteen: Crime Doesn’t Pay

  In my state of exultation, I forget that I still have to deal with Maria. I see her the second that I unlock the door to my apartment. She’s curled up in a corner of the sofa in a tight ball. I can only imagine that Kimchi has been terrorising her with his unyielding desire to lick every inch of her body. It’s difficult to know for sure because he’s already bowling towards me with frenzied yips. He leaps up, placing his paws on my chest and assailing me with a cloud of doggy breath. Whatever good manners he learnt with Beth and Matt are quickly going out of the window. I tell him sternly to get down, which he takes as an invitation to jump upwards several times like a yo-yo.

  ‘Sit,’ I command.

  Kimchi immediately turns and runs off, returning with the mangled remains of what I think was once a shoe. He deposits it at my feet, wagging his tail even more vigorously as if he’s as proud of himself for killing it as I am for dispatching the Medici vampire.

  I sigh irritably and pick it up. It’s covered from head to toe in slobber. Thank goodness X gives me a large allowance; if Kimchi’s going to stick around, I’ll need it to make sure I have something to wear.

  Tossing the destroyed shoe in the bin, I w
alk towards Maria. Kimchi continues to bounce up and down by my side. The sensible thing would be to lock him away so he doesn’t scare Maria but if she’s going to hang around, she’ll have to get used to him sooner or later.

  Maria hugs her knees tighter.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I tell her. ‘He’s just a dog. I know he’s not exactly well trained but he wouldn’t hurt you.’ My feet crunch on something and I look down at a pile of large wooden splinters on the floor. What the hell? I glance at the ornate Chippendale table in the centre of the room. Oh no.

  I glare at Kimchi. ‘Was this you?’ I bend down to inspect the table leg. There are definite teeth marks and I doubt it was Maria gnawing on a piece of priceless furniture.

  Kimchi pants enthusiastically and sits down next to me. His tail thumps on the floor as if he’s proud of his achievement. I roll my eyes. ‘You killed the table. Excellent work,’ I say drily. I suppose that’ll teach me not to leave him at home when I go out.

  I leave him to admire his handiwork and return to Maria. She’s not moved an inch. ‘You can sit down to dinner with a Kakos daemon,’ I say softly, ‘but you’re scared of a fat dog who likes chomping on wood?’

  Her wide eyes meet mine. They are no longer the bright green they were before; oddly, they’ve darkened to a murky, less arresting shade. Interesting. I sit down next to her. For a long time she doesn’t say anything. Then she licks her lips and speaks.

  ‘I understand daemon,’ she says. ‘Dog, I do not.’ She throws Kimchi a baleful glance as if she’s expecting him to launch himself at her at any second.

  ‘How did you know?’ I ask.

  ‘About daemon?’ she shrugs. ‘I just know.’

  ‘And he doesn’t frighten you?’ She just shrugs. Save me from teenagers. ‘You can’t tell Rogu3 about him.’

  Her nose wrinkles. ‘You mean Alistair?’

  I nod. ‘He isn’t supposed to know.’