I clambered up from the floor and headed over to her. “A guy’s gotta eat. How did you get in here? And what are you wearing?” I’d never seen Sabrina in a dress before, and this one didn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination. The skirt was short, the top was clingy and red and she had on a pair of heels that I bet were borrowed from a pal in the Vice department.
“One—you’re disgusting. Two—you left the door unlocked. And Three—this is called a skirt, and I’m wearing it to the club to keep you two social misfits out of trouble.” She went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. “Want one?”
I nodded in the affirmative, and she brought two beers over and set them on the coffee table.
“Judging from Greg’s ensemble, it looks like my services will most definitely be needed.” She sat down and twisted open a Miller Lite.
“Yeah, we weren’t much for the club scene when we were alive, and loud music really plays havoc with our hyper-hearing nowadays, so we don’t spend a whole lot of time shaking our groove things.” I sat next to her on the couch and propped my feet up. I put my arm along the back of her shoulders, and she didn’t shoot me. I took that as a good sign and left my arm there.
“Huh. I hadn’t thought about that. How are you going to deal with the noise tonight?” she asked.
“Wax earplugs,” I answered. “Greg came up with the idea. They look a little bit like hearing aids but they’ll cut enough noise out for us to be able to function. And it’s not like I’m looking for a date.”
“I thought all of you guys were bi” Sabrina said, looking at me out of the corner of her eye to gauge my reaction.
I didn’t give her the satisfaction, just muttered “racist” under my breath and took another sip of my beer. We sat there in easy silence for several seconds. She smelled nice, like lavender with an undertone of spice. I let my hand drop softly onto one shoulder and listened as her heartbeat sped up just a little.
“How’s your cousin?” I asked.
“No change. Still unconscious. The doctors don’t know why, either. His wounds are pretty bad, but they say he should have woken up by now.”
“I’m sorry. We’ll find who did this, I promise.”
“I know. And thanks. I appreciate everything you’re doing.”
I tightened my arm around her shoulder in an awkward one-armed hug and just held her. It felt good, then I heard the door to Greg’s bedroom creak open, and we jerked apart like guilty teenagers. I smiled at Sabrina, and she gave me a rueful grin in return. I turned to my partner, now resplendent in a flannel shirt and work boots.
“You’re a lumberjack and you’re okay. Let’s go, baby bear,” I said, then stood up, and we headed to the car.
We took my car to the club, just in case there was anyone paying attention to the parking lot. Nothing says, “ignore me” like an imported economy car, and we didn’t exactly want trumpets announcing our arrival.
The bouncer was wearing a shirt that looked a lot like the one I’d mocked Greg for wearing originally, and he shot me an I-told-you-so look. I didn’t bother making any remarks about their respective physiques, just paid the cover and went inside.
It was a good thing Greg had come up with his earplug idea, because I can’t stand Lady Gaga at low volume, much less the ridiculous level it was blaring at through the club. The lights were dim everywhere except the dance floor, where the strobes and colored light flashed in time with the music. Everywhere you looked there were ridiculously fit men dancing together, and in the corners of the bar you could see men talking with their heads close together, sometimes holding hands, sometimes just talking. All in all it looked just like a straight dance club only with no women, and I felt just as out of place. Come to think of it, there were never any women in my experience at straight dance clubs either. At least not until they became dinner.
I headed over to the bar and waved the bartender over. He gave me a quick once-over and said “Domestic beer in the bottle?”
“How did you know?”
“It’s what all the straight boys drink. It’s like a billboard.” He smiled and grabbed me three Miller Lites, twisting the tops off into the trash can with a practiced flip of the wrist.
“Who says I’m straight?” I was a little offended that my cover had been blown so quickly.
“Everything about you, sweetie. Don’t worry, we don’t mind your kind coming in here, just don’t start any trouble.” He flashed me a smile that I bet got him a lot of second dates, and turned to go down the bar. I waved him over with a couple of twenties, and suddenly his attention was mine and undivided. Some things work with every bartender in the world, no matter the venue, and pictures of Andrew Jackson are a good conversation starter pretty much everywhere.
“Since you know I’m not here looking for a date, I might as well just ask you some questions,” I started, but he waved me off right away.
“Sorry, sweetie, not a chance. You’ve got ‘PI’ written all over you, and the last thing I need is to end up in some frustrated closet case’s divorce hearing.”
He started to turn again and I went ahead and brought out the big guns. “I’m investigating the assaults.”
He stopped cold and turned back to me. “Really?” He had an eyebrow climbing into his hairline, and I could almost see the wheels turning as he tried to figure out exactly who we were.
“Yeah, really. Our friend in the miniskirt is a CMPD detective, and you were right about my partner and I being private investigators. We’re trying to find out more about the victims, and we’re starting here.”
“Why here? I don’t even know a couple of the guys that were beat up, and I know everybody that comes in here more than twice.” He looked around and waved the other bartender over. “Come with me. I can’t talk to you out here. No. They stay. Just you.”
I waved off Sabrina and Greg, and followed him back to the office behind the bar and sat with my back to the door. Not my favorite seating arrangement, but I figured I could out-muscle and out-maneuver anything in a human bar, so I let it slide.
The office was small, but nicely appointed. I was in a nice leather side chair that matched the desk chair pretty perfectly, like it had been part of a set that included the heavy mahogany desk and credenza. Several flat-screen monitors lined the wall to my left, showing various areas of the bar, while certificates and plaques from various charities and arts organizations lined the opposite wall. All in all, it looked a lot like a lawyer’s office, if you could ignore the autographed photos of drag queens and Broadway stars that dotted the shelves and walls.
“Alright, what do you want to know?” he asked as he sat behind the desk.
I might not be the sharpest fang in a mouth, but I was starting to get the idea that this guy was more than just a bartender. “Let’s start with some introductions. I’m Jimmy. And you are?” I passed him one of my cards, and he tucked it under the corner of a blotter on his desk.
“I’m George. I’ve been the manager here for the past five years. And I know for a fact that my customers have nothing to do with these attacks.”
“And exactly how do you know that?” I asked, turning my chair to at least give myself a little peripheral view of the door.
“Because, like I said out there, some of those guys have never been in here. Or at least have only been in once or twice. They’re not regulars, and our regulars are good people. Sure you’ve got the occasional tweaker and more than the occasional stoner, but most of my boys are just out looking for a good time.”
“What if the person doing the attacking was finding his victims here?” I asked. “We don’t really think that your establishment has anything to do with the attacks, but a flyer for tonight’s drag show was found in the alley at the last attack.”
“Well, yeah, it would have been. We papered the hell out of the Spirit Square lot last night. It was kinda our target demographic, you know?”
“No, I don’t know. In fact, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Help me out a li
ttle.” I had this sinking feeling in my gut that our best lead so far was going to turn out to be a complete dead end. Sabrina was not going to be happy.
“The play going on at Spirit Square last night?” George went on. “They were doing Jeffrey, a total gay comedy. Probably every car in the parking lot belonged to a queen, so I sent one of my bar backs out to put a flyer under all their windshield wipers, so when they came out of the play, they got invited to keep their weekend going here. It’s guerilla marketing, baby, the only kind we can afford nowadays. Somebody probably took the flyer off their windshield and tossed it on the ground, then it ended up in the alley.”
“Crap. That was our best lead so far.”
“Sorry. Wish I could help more, man.”
“Yeah, me too. Guess it’s time to earn the itty-bitty retainer the CMPD has me on for this case. If you come up with anything else, please let me know.” I stood, turning toward the door. I’d just reached my hand out when the door flew open. A twenty-something boy with bleached hair and teeth ran in like the devil himself was outside. Which given my luck, wasn’t out of the question.
“George, you gotta come quick. There’s this huge guy at the front door and he’s fighting with Otto,” the boy gasped.
“Otto’s a black belt in three different martial arts. I don’t think I need to be there to help him.” George looked about as concerned as if he’d just been told the floor needed mopping at the end of the night.
“No, you don’t understand. He’s kicking Otto’s ass! We need an ambulance! Call 911, quick!”
The kid was almost hyperventilating, and I shoved past him to get back to the club. I ran past Greg and Sabrina, shouting for them to follow me. We headed to the door at top human speed, still trying to stay under the radar. Any hope of staying incognito flew right out the window when we saw what was waiting for us in the parking lot.
Chapter 10
There was mayhem just outside the front door, and it took me a couple of valuable seconds to figure out exactly what was going on. When I finally got a good look at the scene, I still didn’t exactly believe what I was seeing. Otto, the bouncer with Greg’s taste in clothing, was bleeding from the nose and mouth and circling a giant on the porch leading to the club’s entrance.
Giant is probably a vast oversimplification, but I couldn’t come up with a better description for a beast that topped out at about nine feet tall and somewhere in the range of four hundred pounds of solid muscle. This thing had greenish skin, arms bigger around than my waist with claws at the end of each finger and a face that not even a mother could love. Otto was a big dude, and obviously had some hand-to-hand combat chops, because he was still alive, but I knew if we didn’t do something fast, that was about to change.
“Do you have a gun hidden somewhere in that outfit?” I asked Sabrina as Greg and I started to fan out and try to flank the giant.
“It’s called a handbag, you idiot, and yes,” she muttered, knowing she didn’t have to speak loudly for me to hear and not wanting to terrify the crowd any more than they already were.
“All right, then get George, the bartender, and tell him what you’re going to do.” I was moving out of her earshot as I got around behind the beastie.
I saw it freeze and start to sniff the air, and I knew our cover was about to be blown. Vampires have a unique scent, kind of an old blood smell, and creatures that have enhanced senses can pick us out in a heartbeat. That’s one reason we don’t hunt in the suburbs—too many dogs. This guy obviously had a good sniffer, so our element of surprise was blown. Because it can’t ever be easy.
“And what exactly am I going to do?” Sabrina asked.
“Make the crowd ignore this,” I yelled as I drew my Glock and leapt for the giant’s back.
Greg saw my move and went in from the side at the monster’s knees. Otto saw that the cavalry had arrived and launched a flurry of roundhouse kicks at the monster’s face to give us a chance to land our best shots.
That didn’t go nearly as well as it had in the movie in my mind. The giant took a couple of kicks in the face, but they had about as much effect as peeing on a forest fire. And of course the monster was faster than I expected, so as soon as I landed on its back, it reached over one shoulder and grabbed me by the back of my neck. The thing swept me over its shoulder and right into the path of my flying partner. I crashed into a couple hundred pounds of flying vampire, and my body and my gun flew in opposite directions.
Greg and I thudded to the ground in a tumble of arms, legs and unfortunate wardrobe choices, and I looked up to see a shoe that had to be a size twenty-seven coming down at my head. I flashed back to my fight with Baal a couple of months ago and mentally swore to stop getting stepped on so much.
Greg and I rolled in opposite directions and managed to avoid being stomped into paste. We got up on opposite sides of the creature. I kicked the thing in the knee, and it backhanded me off the porch into the parking lot. I skidded through the gravel for several feet before coming to a halt against a BMW convertible. I struggled to my feet and leaned against a dent in the fender, thinking about all the Twilight jokes I was going to have to listen to over that one.
Greg was standing toe-to-toe with the monster, landing huge haymakers on the monster’s midsection. I thought I heard a rib crack, and the thing reared back in pain. Then it lashed out with a foot and caught Greg square in the gut. He flew several feet through the air and landed right behind me in the windshield of the Beamer.
I pulled him free of the shattered glass and said, “You okay?”
“No. You?”
“Not really. Let’s go.”
With that, we ran back at the monster, Greg going low for its knees while I went for a flying clothesline. The thing just jumped straight up into the air, making Greg miss entirely and swatting me out of the air like a wobbly Frisbee. Which is how I landed, too. I got to my feet, wiped a little blood out of my face, and circled around to the monster’s side. Greg went in the opposite direction, and to my surprise, Otto the bouncer flew in with a dropkick that rocked the thing back on its heels. He landed in front of the monster in a combat stance, ready to throw down, if a little unsteady on his feet.
“Get out of here,” I growled at the bouncer. “You’re just gonna get killed.”
“Not tonight, friend. But I do appreciate your assistance,” the bouncer replied. Then he made an odd gesture with his right hand. Suddenly a gleaming sword with a three-foot blade appeared out of thin air, and Otto launched himself at the giant, sword raised high above his head. He moved almost faster than I could see, and that’s really saying something.
“I hate surprises in the middle of a fight,” I muttered, dropping to one knee under a backhanded blow from the giant. While I was on one knee I pulled my backup pistol from an ankle holster and emptied the clip into the giant’s crotch.
The beast screamed in pain, and Otto’s sword flashed down lightning-quick, cleaving the monster’s head from its shoulders and splattering greenish-black blood all over Otto, Greg and me. I licked my lips experimentally, but apparently giant blood has no nutritional value, so I was just grossed out.
“Ick,” Greg said, wiping giant blood and whatever else out of his eyes.
“Ick indeed,” I agreed, looking around for Sabrina.
The porch, which had been crowded with onlookers just seconds before, was curiously empty. Only the four of us and the corpse of a green-blooded behemoth were outside the club. I looked over to where Sabrina was leaning against the closed door of the club and asked, “What did you do?”
She smiled back at me and said, “I held up my badge and gun and shouted ‘Raid!’ as loud as I could. You’d be amazed how many guys are flushing little baggies of things down the toilet right now. But you probably still want to clean this mess up pretty quickly. And put that away.” She pointed at the glowing sword Otto was holding.
He waved it in another curious gesture, and the blade disappeared.
“That was effec
tive. You wanna tell us exactly what the hell is going on here?” I asked the bouncer.
“No, but that probably isn’t an option, is it?”
“No. It’s not.”
“Okay, then. Help me get this mess out of here before anybody notices, then we can go somewhere and I’ll explain everything.”
“All right. What do you drive, because there’s no way this beast is gonna fit in my Camry.”
“I’ve got a truck. I’ll bring it around,” Otto said as he started off toward the parking lot.
“Way to buck the stereotype,” I said to his back as I started picking up arms and legs, trying to figure out how we were going to get the monster into the back of a pickup.
Otto just flipped me off without looking back, then went around the building toward what I assumed was the employee parking lot. He came back a few minutes later in a small panel truck with the club logo painted on the side, and backed it expertly up to the corpse. He jumped out and grabbed the beast under the arms. With a strength that belied his human appearance, he picked up the creature’s torso and stood there staring at Greg and me.
“You two going to help me, or do I have to do everything?” he asked.
We each grabbed a thigh and together we wrestled the giant into the truck. Otto tossed the head in beside the body, slammed the door down and said, “I’ll take care of this. Meet me at Landmark in two hours.” Without looking to see if I had any objections, he got into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the parking lot.
“I don’t think I want to know what he’s going to do with a headless giant in Charlotte at 2 A.M. on a Saturday night,” I said as I headed down the hill to my car.
“Yeah,” Greg agreed, squelching along beside me, oozing monster blood with every step. “And I don’t want to know how much it’s going to cost to clean your upholstery after this ride home.”
Chapter 11
After a quick trip home to clean up and contemplate burning our clothes, Greg, Sabrina and I headed to The Landmark, a twenty-four-hour restaurant famous for decent food and interesting atmosphere, especially after hours. Greg and I were in our more normal garb, while Sabrina was still in her club wear. I’d offered her some of my clothes, but apparently Sandman T-shirts and sweatpants were not her style.
The Black Knight Chronicles Page 24