“Who’s calling, please?” he heard Red ask, as if she were his social secretary.
She nodded to him, and he nodded for the phone. She handed it over. “Cade. What do you want, Nathan?”
“I heard about your troubles. I want a meet. I think I can help you.”
“Why does the BOS want to help a vampire? I would think you’d be celebrating the news of my woes.”
“We’ve had our differences.”
That was the understatement of the century, but Cade understood that with the acknowledgement, they could move on.
Nathan continued. “But with Deborah Dayton we had a common ally. Her influence went a long way in suppressing the police department Goon Squad.”
Cade knew what Burnham was referring to. CPD’s Intelligence Unit had long kept files on those they considered enemies and routinely spied and harassed political independents and dissident groups. During the past twenty years the list of enemies had grown to include both the undead and the Brothers of the Sun. “Go on,” urged Cade.
“With Dayton gone, the old power structure will rise again. There’s no doubt in my mind that when that happens both my people and yours will suffer.”
“I buy that. But how can you help?”
“We have someone on the inside.”
“Who?”
“No, Kincade, it’s not that easy. You meet with me first.”
Cade laughed. The BOS, in addition to starting Hell, were famous for the subsequent popularization of the vamp-killing rounds called Claws. The Claw was a black bullet having six serrations on the rim of the hollowpoint cavity and six “claws” that deployed when the bullet expanded. The claws were jacket petals with perpendicular tips, and they looked and acted exactly like their name. A Claw could sever the spine, and if it did, a vamp was toast. “No. You or your cohorts could ambush me too easily. What greater notch on the belt could there be for a Brother than a dead doyen?”
“Tonight’s news is proof that we have a common enemy. The police killed a vampire. A female. And not with just cause. Am I right?”
“You’re right.” Cade wasn’t about to add that he’d been there in person to witness the incident.
“My people are already being harassed, too. Look, Cade. It’s a matter of trust. If we meet in person, you know you can trust me, and I know I can trust you. But it’s your decision. I’m making the offer. If you decline, we’ll do what we have to do without you.”
“Where do you have in mind for the meet?”
“You pick the spot. Make it as public as you want.”
“I’ll call you back.” He ended the call and looked at Red.
She stared back at him. “Who was that?”
“Nate is a member of the Brothers of the Sun.” He doubted Red had any inkling of what Hell had been. She was too young.
“They proved the existence of vampires.”
Was that the extent of what was taught in the schools? “They killed thousands of us. And burned down a good part of the city in the process.”
She nodded, but he knew she had no understanding of the horror of his words. “He wants to meet with you? Why?”
He cocked a brow. “He says he can help. He says he has someone on the inside. I assume he means someone in city government.”
“But you don’t believe him, do you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve made deals with him in recent years to keep the peace between his people and mine. But my death would be a huge coup to him and the Brothers as a group. On the other hand, I believe him when he says we have a common enemy. Phryne’s death is evidence of that.”
“So what are you going to do?”
He had no idea. “What do you think I should do?” Maybe her innocence and objectivity could come to a better decision than his world-weary skepticism.
She studied him, as if he needed scrutiny instead of an answer to the question he’d posed. “Well . . .”
“Keep in mind that you’re coming with me, and whatever fate befalls me will likely befall you as well.”
She looked him straight in the eye. “I think you should go.”
She surprised him. Not many mortal females, especially young ones, would willingly put themselves in danger on behalf of a bloodsucker. “Why?”
She pointed her nose at the ceiling as if the answer was obvious. “I think it’s pretty clear you need help. And you’re going to have to take some chances. You’re not going to solve the mayor’s murder by playing it safe and hiding out. If you’ve had dealings with this Burnham guy before and he’s been straight with you, I think you should take a chance and trust him.”
He rose and moved to the window, where he drew aside the drapes and gazed at the street. Take a chance. No, never again. When he turned back to Red, it was with a glare. Her face fell, as though he’d just sucked all the air out of her enthusiasm.
“Don’t look at me like that. You asked for my opinion. Haven’t you ever taken a chance before?” Her voice was as somber as her features.
He had. It had been over a hundred years ago, a third of his immortal lifetime. Yet even now hardly a night passed he didn’t think about what had happened. And her. “I have. It’s why I don’t take chances anymore.”
Her mouth rounded in a silent “oh.” All she said instead was, “I still think you should go.”
“And if I do, any ideas for a meeting place? Now. Tonight.”
“Tonight? I’m not sure I can stand more excitement tonight.”
He walked over and sat next to her, grabbing her chin until she looked him in the eye. “Tonight.”
She put her hand over his. “Okay. Well . . . there’s Midnight Oil. It’s a twenty-four hour cyber café on Magnolia. A lot of college kids go there to study, but they have lounge rooms with sofas and easy chairs for just hanging out. I used to go there when . . . well, just to get away. There’re always people in there, no matter how late it is.”
He nodded. It was as good as any place he could think of. He called Nate Burnham back. “Meet me in an hour at Midnight Oil, a cyber café on Magnolia. I’m sure you can find it. Oh, and Nate . . . I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to come alone.”
“Agreed.” The phone went dead.
His gaze traveled from Red’s face downward. She still wore the ruined makeup and lace. Appealing, but not the best outfit to look inconspicuous among the college crowd. “Go take that vamp makeup off and put on something that makes you look collegiate.”
She stood. “Yeah, and I have three minutes to change. I know.”
He showed his fangs. “Two.”
THOR ARRIVED AT a safe house in Wrigleyville. Safe house indeed. He wanted to laugh at whoever thought up such a name. As if four walls and a roof could banish the dread that had driven him here.
He hid the Panther in the garage and moved the safe house car to the street, then roamed the neighborhood on foot, preferring the openness of the outdoors to the confinement of the house. A cool drizzle fell, magnified by the light of each street lamp to an illusory downpour, but he didn’t care. Phryne was dead. It could have happened to him or any vampire. It wasn’t that he feared the cops or any man. As a boxer, he’d never been afraid in the ring, no matter what the size or skill of his opponent. He’d always known he could win, and that any pain he suffered was just temporary. But this was an enemy he couldn’t see. It was an unknown foe, as silent and disembodied as a spirit, but he felt it. It was a shift in attitude that he’d sensed in the city as a whole, from mortal and undead alike, from the moment of the mayor’s death. It was change. Disruption. Hatred.
The fine rain bathed his face like sweat, and strands of his hair grew sodden and stuck to his skin like his fears, clingy and cold.
Was his doyen afraid? Had Cade ever feared anyone or anything? He’d been Cade’s tyro for
nearly twenty years, but had known him for the better part of a century, even before Thor had become one of the undead. During those early days Thor—or Peleg Sweet as he was named then—had seen Cade almost every night, for Cade had been a fixture in the Levee, gambling and whoring until dawn. Cade had declared more than once that if he lost at the tables, he’d kill that night, and that if he won, he’d make some harlot’s night one to remember. Everyone dismissed the talk as talk, but Sweet, even before he knew what Cade was, believed. He’d looked into Cade’s eyes and seen a void of emotion blacker than that possessed by those who prowled the opium dens.
Cade had once told him that he no longer bet on Sweet’s fights, for Peleg Sweet always won, and Cade preferred someone’s waning life in his hands to a whore’s quivering flesh. The remark had chilled him, for Sweet had believed it utterly.
Thor looked up at the sky. The hoary clouds, lit by millions of city lights, looked as pale as a corpse, and even with the rain, the night looked more like day.
Could he challenge such a man? Phryne had said that peace had made Cade soft, but had it?
Thor pushed the wet hair from his face, and when Cade called moments later to see if he was okay, he responded with renewed confidence. He knew how to subjugate fear. He’d always known. When the right moment came, he’d seize it, for if Cade wouldn’t give him a chance for greatness in his own right, perhaps fate would.
TEN MINUTES LATER they were at the café. Red had performed another fashion miracle, this time dressed in boots, jeans, and a collared black sweater that managed to cover both her shoulders and most of her neck. Without the heavy makeup she looked innocent and young enough to pass for a student.
There was a bar at the front that sold coffee, sandwiches, and what Red assured him were late night favorites for “munch and crunch,” the all-night food-filled cram sessions students loved to hate to resort to. Tables for laptops and notebooks filled the front room, but after Red ordered and picked up her chai latte and bagel, she led them to the back room where they staked claim to a comfortable sofa. Low conversation and New Age music filled the air, and no one paid any attention to them. She leaned into him, and he put an arm around her. His mouth turned down at the irony of playing a young mortal in love.
“Tell me why someone like you hangs around the clubs looking for someone like me,” he whispered.
She sipped at her latte. “I had a boyfriend. He told me he loved me. That we had a future.” She looked down at the latte, tugged her straw up and down, then raised her head. “But he cheated on me,” she whispered. “When I confronted him, he hit me.” Her voice lowered even more, but he heard her. “Oh, he apologized, sent me flowers, the whole bit, you know.”
He didn’t know, but when he said nothing, she went on.
“About a month later, he hit me again. Harder. I don’t even remember what I did to set him off. I know I should have left him then, but he apologized again, and for a while things were better.” She sipped again at her drink, but the bagel went untouched.
“And then?”
“He beat me pretty badly. He didn’t apologize at all afterward. He said I had it coming.”
He didn’t feel pity for mortals, and he knew Red’s story wasn’t unique, but he drew her head to his shoulder and kissed her hair. “You haven’t answered my question.”
She gave a short laugh. “I figured vampires wouldn’t tell me they loved me. They wouldn’t promise me a future. I figured I’d get great sex without lies.”
He’d never heard his kind described like that. “If I were you, I wouldn’t expect truth from the undead,” he whispered.
She pulled away and looked at him. “You’ve been truthful with me, haven’t you?”
“Only because it hasn’t been in my best interest yet to lie.”
She wiggled farther away from him. “I hate you.”
He smiled. “Eat your hunk of dough.”
She nibbled at it, and he reflected on the strangeness of conversing with a mortal female that didn’t involve blood, sex, or politics. It had been a long time since he’d had such a conversation, but he didn’t have to rifle his memory to remember. He knew exactly when it had been. Eighteen ninety-four. Charlet. His mind was there in an instant, with her, but just as quickly he forced his mind to the present. It wasn’t the pain that drove him back. He was used to that. It was because he was waiting for a Brother of the Sun. He couldn’t afford to get lost in the fog of the past.
But the thought of Nate Burnham sent his mind reeling into the past again—to Hell, twenty years ago. The fanatical vampire hunters calling themselves the Brothers of the Sun had been the first to burn out a house full of sucklings on the city’s west side. More burnings had followed, some by the BOS, some by citizens whipped into a frenzy of fear by the fire and brimstone rhetoric of the Brothers. Thousands of sucklings had perished, and thousands more had fled the city. Masters like Boston Ackerman had also died trying to help their brethren.
Hell. It had been every vampire’s nightmare, but especially Cade’s, for he alone was responsible for Chicago’s undead. He’d wanted to fight back. It was his nature. But if he had, so many more would have been destroyed. Twenty years ago he’d shed his war chief paint and became a peace chief, and he’d fought for peace ever since.
But Hell had done more than force him to change his ways. It had stripped him and every other vampire of immortality, for the Claw had become the great equalizer. No more could vampires oppose humans with no fear of the true death.
Cade glanced around the room. There was a fire exit to the rear, but no other way out. His own heartbeat was louder in his ears than Red’s, and he knew it was a signal that his own inner fears were stronger than the outside stimuli of mortal flesh and blood. The room felt like a closet, and his emotions, likewise with no escape hatch, grew until he thought he’d suffocate.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “I’m going out front.”
She nodded, and he rose. He turned into the short corridor connecting the two rooms and walked into a wall of flesh.
Cade took a step back and acknowledged the wall. “Nathan.”
His nemesis was well over six feet tall, built like a wrestler, and wore his dark hair tied back in a ponytail. The severe hairstyle showed gray at the temples, but other than that, he looked the same as Cade remembered.
Nate nodded. “Kincade.”
Cade assumed his best poker face. “Have a seat.”
The man eyed Red. “Who’s she?”
“Red. She’s a friend. She can be trusted.”
Nathan remained standing.
“Red, go get Nathan a coffee. And a sandwich.”
“Black.”
Red nodded and left the table.
Cade cut right to the quick. He didn’t want to be here all night. “You have someone on the inside?”
Nate nodded. “I won’t say who, but he’s a councilman, and he’s a ‘clean.’”
“A ‘clean?’”
Nate smiled. “Just what it says. No skeletons in the closet. No bribes taken. No hinky-dinking around. Nothing he can be charged with or used to connect him to us.”
Cade was impressed. “How did you manage that?”
“Planning. We’ve had this in the works since Midnight Storm ended. Our guy worked his way up from precinct gofer.”
“And what exactly can your friend do for me?”
Nate tilted his head. “For right now, listen. We’ve already learned plenty. CPD’s Intel Division has already been assigned new missions.”
Cade nodded. “The raids on the vampire clubs.”
“It’s more than that. The cops are already jacking up my people. Four were arrested last night on bullshit charges. And it’s not just the cops. You can expect all Deborah Dayton’s pro-vampire initiatives to be reversed.”
“But who killed her? Did someone in city government do it, or are they merely taking advantage of her death?”
Nate shook his head. “No one is saying.”
Cade leaned forward. “I need to know, Nathan. I need to know if this has its roots in the mortal world or my world.”
“The mole will keep at it. Something else you need to be aware of. If someone in government is involved, they won’t dirty their own hands. Expect mob involvement.”
Cade had already guessed at that when he’d seen the professional job done on Deborah. “And what do you want from me in return?”
“You owe me. That’s enough. I’ll call in the favor when I need it.”
Cade’s gaze stayed locked on Nate’s, even when Red returned and quietly slipped a tray in front of Nate. “I won’t do anything to hurt my people, no matter what it is you want.”
“Fair enough. Are we agreed?”
Cade’s mind reached for Nate’s and plundered it, searching for the truth behind the words. It was there, but he wanted more. “Are you alone on this, or do you have the support of others?”
Nate smiled. “I’m in the minority, but I’m not alone.” He picked up his coffee and took a swallow. “Twenty years ago there wouldn’t have been a single Brother giving a rat’s ass about you or your troubles, but it’s different now. We’re older. We have wives and families. No one likes you, but we don’t want war again. Are we in agreement? We help you, you help us.”
Nate had summed up his own feelings pretty well. He hated to do it, but he had no alternative. He looked at Red, and her brows were raised in expectation, a silent plea for accord.
“Agreed.”
Chapter Fifteen
Chicago, Illinois
August 18, 1835
CHE KINCADE WOKE at dusk to the heat of a late summer evening. Humidity hung heavy in the air like rain too fearful to fall. He, too, should have been fearful, for this dusk was a new dawn in Illinois, one that should have frightened him.
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