High Stakes

by Helen Harper

  ‘Yes. Whoever it is has a gold tooth.’ I turn and glance at Kimchi for a moment. ‘Have we heard from the vet yet?’

  Connor nods. ‘The dog is not a vampire.’

  ‘Surprise, surprise,’ I say drily.

  ‘He is sensitive to light though. Photophobia. And he has pigmentation in his irises. That’s why he’s got the red in his eyes. Other than that, he’s perfectly healthy.’

  ‘It’s almost a shame,’ Arzo comments. ‘With those symptoms, he’d make a perfect pet for a vampire like you.’

  I look at Kimchi fondly until I realise that in the space of about three seconds he’s managed to get hold of a suspiciously familiar looking pair of knickers. He couldn’t have gone upstairs to the flat and brought them down here so he must have taken them earlier and hidden them somewhere like he was guarding a bone. Eurgh. I quickly retrieve the ripped and saliva-soaked underwear and stuff it in my pocket. Peter, Connor and Matt are gracious enough to look away; Arzo appears amused and my grandfather is horrified.

  ‘I’m going to take him back to his owner,’ I mutter. ‘It’s late but I’ve got a question or two that Mr Brinkish might help us with.’

  ‘About these girls? How? Bo, it’s not a vampire matter. Leave it for the police.’

  I put my hands on my hips. ‘Why? Because we’re so run off our feet here that we can’t spare the time? You didn’t see her. You didn’t see what he did to her.’

  ‘Who’ll talk to the police then?’

  ‘Matt. He can speak to Foxworthy.’

  Matt grins and nods, obviously happy to be useful. He’s also probably relieved to not have to go back to Brinkish’s place and be asked again to take off his shoes.

  I give the little gathering a hard look. ‘The rest of you should go home and get some rest. Tomorrow you’ll need to start looking for evidence of similar rapes.’ I pause. ‘Or worse.’

  *

  Before I leave, my grandfather beckons me into his office and carefully closes the door. ‘You should leave this to the police,’ he growls.

  ‘That’s not what you really want to say. Spit it out. Tell me off again for arguing with Michael.’ I fold my arms. I’m a big girl; I can deal with it.

  ‘From what I heard, you had some reason to be angry.’ I blink in shock. Is he agreeing with me? ‘And,’ he continues, ‘I’m pleased to see you’re standing up for yourself as far as he’s concerned. It’s certainly better than fawning all over him like a lovesick puppy.’

  ‘I wasn’t doing that!’ I protest.

  He ignores me. ‘But I meant what I said before. You should apologise for the sake of propriety. And, for heaven’s sake, Bo, next time either go somewhere you won’t be overheard or keep your voice down. Airing your dirty laundry in public is such a lower class thing to do.’

  I cannot believe he just said that. ‘Well,’ I say, ‘there’s nothing like a spot of bigoted snobbery to start the conversation off.’

  He throws me a disparaging look. ‘Have you made any progress with Medici yet?’

  ‘I’d have told you if I had.’

  ‘There’s no need to get snippy.’

  I throw my hands up in exasperation. ‘As you said, it’s taking a lot of time. At the rate I’m going, he’ll be chucking a fully brainwashed Dahlia in Arzo’s face before I’ve managed to reach the heady heights of small talk. And he’s fully aware that I’m regularly turning up at his club.’

  ‘Good. We want him to think he knows everything that’s going on.’

  ‘He does know everything that’s going on,’ I point out.

  ‘For the moment,’ my grandfather says. ‘It won’t last.’

  ‘Are you going to let me in on the plans?’

  ‘I’m still finessing the details. Patience, Bo. Patience. You can chase a butterfly all over a field and then, the moment you sit quietly in the grass, it’ll land on your shoulder.’

  ‘Medici is hardly a butterfly. He’s more like the snake in the grass that’ll come up and bite you in the arse when you’re not looking.’

  ‘Except we are looking. We are looking very hard.’

  I bite my tongue. As far as the Lord of the Medici Family is concerned, I don’t think we’re doing nearly enough. On this matter at least, however, I’ve promised to adhere to my grandfather’s wishes. He is the spymaster amongst us, after all.

  I change the subject. ‘The police have still got my bike. Anyway it’s not practical to drive it when I’m with Kimchi. Can I borrow your car?’

  ‘Absolutely not. I won’t have my vehicle stinking of dog.’

  He doesn’t seem to mind it reeking of cat, I think sourly. Then I realise I’ve not seen his stupid moggy today. I look round the room suspiciously, wondering if it’s eyeing me up somewhere and waiting for the right moment to pounce. Bloody thing.

  ‘Peter’s heading in that direction,’ he continues. ‘You can catch a lift with him.’

  ‘How do I get back?’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Bo. Do I have to think of everything?’

  I swear, if he wasn’t elderly I’d slap him around a few times. Then I notice the corner of his mouth twitching. Well, at least one of us is having some fun.

  *

  The journey to Brinkish’s house is almost silent. I try to make conversation a few times with Peter but his answers are monosyllabic. Eventually, I give in so the only sound in the car is Kimchi panting. The dog takes great joy in squeezing from the back seat to my lap, where he sits happily for five minutes, then returns through the narrow gap between the front passenger seats for another five minutes.

  I’m tempted to fiddle with the radio but I sense that Peter wouldn’t appreciate it. When he drops the pair of us outside the house, he looks relieved. I wave a friendly goodbye but Peter barely notices before he speeds away. I chew my lip as he disappears round the corner. He doesn’t seem to enjoy being Sanguine any more than he enjoyed being human or a vampire recruit. I don’t mean to feel bitter – it’s not his fault I didn’t make it to Sanguine – but I can’t quite avoid it.

  Sighing, I walk up the path to Brinkish’s front door. I’m halfway there when I realise Kimchi isn’t following. I turn back. He’s lying down on the pavement, his large brown eyes watching me. He lets out a small whine. ‘Come on, Kimchi,’ I say. He doesn’t budge. I try again. ‘Kimchi! Here boy!’

  Slowly, as if it’s a great effort, he drags himself up and lumbers over to join me. He looks at me as if to say that I’m betraying our friendship by bringing him back here. Then I wonder if I’m merely projecting my own thoughts.

  I ring the doorbell and wait. After a few minutes the door opens a crack and a bleary-eyed woman peers out. She’s wearing a brightly coloured floral nightgown that hangs around her large figure like a tent. This must be Mrs Brinkish.

  ‘Hello!’ I say cheerily. ‘I’m bringing Kimchi home.’

  Her gaze flicks from me to the dog, then back again. ‘You’re the vampire.’

  I nod. ‘Yes. We’ve had the results from the vet and I can confirm that the dog’s definitely not a vampire. Truthfully,’ I say confidentially, ‘there’s really no such thing.’

  ‘You’re not coming in. I’m not going to invite you.’

  It’s probably wise not to mention that her husband has already done that deed. If I wanted to offend my eyes again with their clashing home interior, I could. ‘No problem.’ I keep my smile fixed to my face and gently push Kimchi forward. ‘Off you go.’

  He whines again but does as he’s told for once. Mrs Brinkish holds up her hand and he stops in his tracks. ‘Barry!’ she yells. Then, ‘Get your arse down here. It’s the bloodguzzler.’

  She turns round, disappearing into the back of the house but leaving the door wide open. When Brinkish appears, he’s wearing pyjamas made out of the same m
aterial as his wife’s nightgown. It’s an arresting sight.

  He frowns at me. ‘Oh, it’s you. You do realise it’s the middle of the night?’

  ‘I’m a vampire, Mr Brinkish.’ I shrug amiably. ‘I can’t help it.’

  He grunts. Kimchi thumps his tail and starts forward. Brinkish scratch his head, then suddenly withdraws his hand as he thinks better of it. ‘So?’ he asks.

  ‘Kimchi is one hundred per cent dog.’

  ‘Oh.’ He seems slightly disappointed.

  ‘He has photophobia, which is probably why he doesn’t like going out during the day. The red in his eyes is nothing more than pigmentation.’

  ‘You can keep him.’

  I keep my expression blank. I was afraid this was going to happen. ‘He’s your dog, Mr Brinkish.’

  ‘The wife wants a cat.’

  ‘All the same, I don’t live the sort of lifestyle that’s conducive to having a dog.’ Actually, despite the destruction of my belongings and the slobber, I’d quite like to keep Kimchi. He’s a great dog. That would, however, make it too easy on the couple, especially considering they now want to get another animal. If you want to be a pet owner, you can’t change your mind a few years down the line. It’s a lifetime commitment. ‘You can’t just dump him, Mr Brinkish. He’s your responsibility.’

  He starts to say something but the expression on my face changes his mind and he backtracks. ‘Fine,’ he snaps. ‘Get in here,’ he says to the dog.

  Kimchi gives me one last forlorn look and pads inside.

  ‘Three months,’ I tell him. ‘Keep Kimchi for another three months. Try to remember why you got him in the first place.’ I’m not about to let the poor dog be ignored or thrown into the nearest shelter. ‘If you can’t manage that, then I’ll take him.’ My eyes harden. ‘In the meantime, if you don’t look after him properly we will talk again.’

  To remind him that I can enter his property now whenever I wish, I step into the porch. I’m barely an inch inside but my point is made. Brinkish swallows.

  ‘There’s one other thing,’ I say.

  He glares at me. ‘What?’

  ‘Your tooth. Where did you get it done?’

  For a second, he looks confused then he touches his gold molar. In one swift movement he yanks at it and it comes off. He holds it out to me in the palm of his hand. ‘Go on,’ he smirks. ‘You can touch it if you want to.’

  I look at the tooth, then at his mouth. There’s no missing tooth: it is nothing more than a removable gold cap. Shit. I’d no idea such things existed. If Corinne hadn’t confessed that her attacker was human, he could have been a bloodguzzler after all. It would be a pain in the arse to keep taking a gold cap on and off, but it would be possible. What Brinkish has is nothing more than jewellery.

  ‘Where did you get it from?’

  ‘Shipped from the States. I bought it via a local distributor.’

  ‘Can you give me their name?’

  ‘Some internet company.” A flicker of pride crosses his eyes. “They custom made it to fit my tooth exactly.’

  ‘How lovely,’ I murmur. And what a waste of time. Both his, in getting the damn thing made in the first place, and mine for thinking he could help us track down the serial rapist. I didn’t need to trek all this way, I could have gone downstairs and spoken to Drechlin. He’d no doubt have told me how easy it is to get hold of such things.

  I try to recover. ‘Thank you. And remember, three months, Mr Brinkish. You need to treat Kimchi like a king or there will be consequences.’

  I step backwards, keeping my gaze fixed on him. He mutters something under his breath and slams the door shut. I cross my fingers and hope I’ve done the right thing.

  *

  It’s late by the time I get back to my flat. I’d been forced to piggy back on a delivery van heading into the city in order to make it home before sun up. I’m tired and grouchy, so when I reach the top of the stairs and realise my door is wide open, my mood doesn’t improve. I tense and crouch low, ready to face the idiot who has decided to break in. I needn’t have bothered; he’s already heard me coming.

  Michael steps out of the doorway and my stomach drops. I genuinely intended to offer my apologies to him for going overboard with my accusations, but I wanted to be prepared first. Instead, I’m covered in dirt and dust from the delivery van and my hair is sticking up as if searching for a satellite signal. Michael is wearing an immaculate, midnight-blue, v-necked t-shirt that clings in all the right places. He doesn’t have a single hair out of place; the only suggestion that he is tense is the hooded expression in his eyes.

  ‘Bo,’ he murmurs. It sounds like an invitation.

  I keep my voice steady but my reaction to his presence is clear from my words. ‘How the fuck did you get into my apartment?’ As soon as I’ve spoken, I berate myself. It’s hardly the cautious opener I should have aimed for.

  ‘You left your window open,’ he responds smoothly. ‘I wouldn’t have used it normally but you weren’t in. I figured you’d prefer if it I was inside rather than hanging around in the corridor where your colleagues might see me.’

  I think of the anxious faces I’d dealt with earlier. He’s probably right.

  ‘I’m going to be optimistic,’ he continues, ‘and think that your words about me never coming near you again were spoken in the heat of the moment. After all, it will be difficult for me to avoid New Order for the rest of time.’ He dips his head and I get the impression he’s suddenly nervous.

  ‘Um, yes.’ I shuffle my feet.

  He throws me something that glints in the air and I shoot my hand up to catch it. I open up my palm and look. It’s a tarnished badge with the words Metropolitan Police inscribed around the outside. Puzzled, I look up at him.

  ‘Medici and I were in the police together.’ He says it stiffly, as if he’s uncomfortable. ‘We worked undercover. Chinese immigration was at its height and there were concerns about some of the more,’ he pauses, ‘criminal elements. Not to mention the long reach of the Kuomintang. We infiltrated their network and established ourselves as bootleggers. To prove our allegiance, we were asked to witness some executions. The smiles you see are part of our cover.’ His mouth curves upwards, entirely without humour. ‘Of course, I have no proof of this beyond the badge. The records are hidden away in some long-forgotten vault.’ He runs a hand through his hair. ‘Do the press have the photo too?’

  I’m confused then I realise what he’s getting at. ‘No. I got it from O’Connell, the ex-CEO of Magix. I burned everything else. There aren’t going to be any tabloid shocks.’ I look away. ‘At least not unless Magix does something with the originals. Their new CEO…’

  ‘I know him. I’ll sort something out.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Do you believe me? About the photo?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  He bunches his fists up. ‘Yes,’ he says quietly. ‘It does.’

  ‘I met Cheung. He’s…’

  ‘One of the Triad leaders.’

  ‘He was afraid of you, Michael.’

  ‘Our covers were blown. Mine and Medici’s. It’s the reason we both ended up being recruited as vampires – it was the only place left to hide. When the gangs realised they couldn’t get to us, they took their revenge elsewhere.’ Bitter anger flashes across his face. All this may have happened more than ninety years ago but I realise that, for Michael, it’s as if it were yesterday. ‘When I was strong enough, I went after them in return.’ He meets my eyes. ‘It’s not something I’m proud of. But some people have long memories and pass warnings along to subsequent generations.’

  I take a deep breath. ‘Okay.’ Whatever he did was no doubt bloody and brutal. I don’t need to know the gory details.

  Michael lifts his chin. ‘I’m not going to apolo
gise for what happened with the prostitute. I had to do what was best for us. For the Families.’

  I nod my head. ‘I understand. I don’t agree with it, but I understand. I should have thought more about your obligations before I laid into you.’

  He moves closer until he’s barely a foot away. ‘Is that an apology?’ he asks softly.

  I shake my head. ‘No. But it is a peace offering.’

  His eyes rake over me and a shiver runs down my spine. ‘I can live with that.’

  ‘Look at us,’ I say, trying to sound light-hearted, ‘all chatty and polite and getting along.’

  He doesn’t smile. ‘Do you trust me, Bo?’

  I can no longer meet his eyes. I’m not going to lie, though. ‘No,’ I eventually answer in a small voice.

  He reaches out and brushes my bottom lip very gently with the base of his thumb. ‘I can be a patient man.’

  ‘I don’t think this is going to work, Michael.’ I take a deep breath. ‘You’re in a different place to me. We’re different people. The mutual attraction is just because you bit me. Or this is just that recruit rebound thing you were talking about before.’

  I see a tiny flash of rage in his face. ‘Is this the part where you tell me you only want to be friends?’

  I stare at him. I’m not sure we can just be friends but anything else simply won’t work. Not if I can’t bring myself to trust him. ‘Friends sounds good,’ I say eventually.

  He watches me. I wish I knew what he was thinking. ‘Friends then,’ he agrees. ‘With benefits.’

  I gape. ‘Um … I don’t think…’

  ‘Benefits of working together to achieve the same goals,’ he interrupts. ‘Peace across the Families.’ He gives me a wolfish smile. ‘Why, what did you think I meant?’

  ‘Nothing! Working together is good. Peace, yes.’ I nod, aware that I’m starting to babble. ‘Those kinds of benefits.’

  He leans in. ‘Fucking friends,’ he mutters. Then he grabs my shoulders and pulls me towards him. His mouth descends in a hard kiss. Despite my better judgment, lust uncurls through my body and I squirm. The moment I yield and respond he breaks away, breathing hard. ‘For old times’ sake,’ he breathes. ‘It won’t happen again. Not now that we’re friends.’ He emphasises the last word so that I’m not sure whether he’s laughing at me or not. Then, before I can respond, he whirls past me and disappears in a flash.