She gripped my wrist. "Are you saying . . ."
"I killed Dore. And now Rinaldo's going to kill Aileen for it."
I convinced Lily to go back to the newspaper and file what she had in time for the morning edition. It didn't take much convincing, to be honest--she had been unnerved by the casual power and ruthlessness of Rinaldo's gang, and the thought of confronting them directly apparently scared her as much as it scared me. The only difference between us was a certain level of personal stupidity and the certain knowledge that someone I loved would die if I didn't find Rinaldo to night and stake him. And Amir? Well, I just couldn't think about him.
For the first time in nearly two years, I was hunting with intent to kill. I might regret it later, but I didn't have time now. I borrowed money from Lily and hailed a cab to the Gramercy Park Hotel. It seemed especially awful that Aileen had been kidnapped so close to help, if only Daddy or Troy had seen her. But they'd have their chance to help her now. I barreled past the concierge and into an open elevator.
"Pent house," I told the operator, and he took one look at my face and closed the doors.
I'd expected to see preparations for the strike tomorrow, but when I entered the pent house I was nearly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of weapons and armor and the volume of quickly shouted instructions. They even wore the practical black jean and canvas clothes that served as the de facto Defender uniform. Were they having a dress rehearsal? I counted eight men total, including Daddy and Troy. I recognized a few of them from my Defender days, but they didn't pay any attention to me. Mama was sitting by the couch, shouting into the telephone. Daddy wasn't making it any easier for her to hear, since by far the loudest noise in the din was his deep bass chanting one of his favorite warped mining songs. I think he liked to imagine himself as a soldier preparing for war, and of course every soldier needs a marching song. This song had started life as "The Avondale Mining Disaster," but was now the story of one of Daddy's and Troy's more colorful vampire hunts near Helena.
I rolled my eyes. A poet my daddy was not. "Daddy!" I shouted, cupping my hands over my mouth to cut through the din. "We need to talk!"
He was sitting near the window, strapping on his weapons, and called my name in near unison with Mama when they saw me.
"Don't start that do-gooder crusade of yours again, you hear? Your mama said she couldn't find you anyway." He twisted his lips. "Don't know what's gotten into you women lately. I told your mama I'd send her back to Yarrow if she kept on about it."
I rounded on her. "Mama! You told me I had until tomorrow night!"
She shook her head, and I realized that these preparations must be last-minute. Short of hog-tying them, she couldn't stop the Defenders from fulfilling a contract any more than I could. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I tried to call you."
But I had been asleep. I felt a wave of terror powerful enough to make my knees shake. I rested against the edge of the couch, closer to Daddy. "What happened?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Funds came through. Ask your boy over there, Zeph. I don't bother with the details."
Troy shrugged. "The client paid us this afternoon. I was told that plans had changed, and it was imperative for us to move against the Turn Boys immediately." He grinned. "And the Defenders never disappoint our clients, as you well know."
Christ, but I wish I didn't. "Who is this client, Troy?"
"You know I can't tell you that."
"This is not any time to mess with me! My best friend has just been kidnapped by Rinaldo's men, you're about to kill the Turn Boys and I need to know what in sucker-bleeding hell is going on!"
The room had suddenly gone silent. "Zephyr!" Mama whispered. I could never understand how she managed to live with Daddy and still be sensitive to "unladylike" language.
Troy even seemed taken aback. "Giudo. That's all I know. We meet on different street corners around Little Italy. Thick accent, but he wears a cowl like a monk and I can't see a bit of his face. He hands me the money, gives me his instructions, I leave. Considering who he wants us to kill, I never questioned his secrecy."
Giudo? Wasn't that the name of Rinaldo's other son? "How old?"
He shrugged. "Judging by his voice, at least over thirty, but it's hard to tell in situations like these."
I thought back to Rinaldo's will. He'd explicitly stated that Giudo was to be in his mother's care until he came of age. So unless the will was very old, it seemed unlikely that a deep-voiced man Troy thought was over thirty could be the same person. Still, how common of a name was Giudo, anyway? Why would this one want to kill Nicholas? It couldn't just be a coincidence, could it?
I shook my head. "And you're doing this right now? Rinaldo has my friend. The second he finds out what you're doing, he might kill her."
"Yes, Troy," said Mama, "can't you do something?"
Troy shook his head. "It's too late to go back on this. Giudo was quite emphatic that we needed to do this to night."
"And you won't ruin your precious reputation for some paltry thing like another woman's life."
Troy looked hurt that I'd impugn his honor. "And when we kill the Turn Boys, we'll save hundreds of lives."
Like Judah's, I thought. I sighed. "Then promise me, promise me that when you get to the Turn Boys, you will find out where Rinaldo is before you kill them. Nicholas knows. Make him tell you. And afterward, you guys will help me kill Rinaldo."
Daddy stood up and hollered, "Now, that's my girl! You want to take on the meanest sucker in the city? Count me in."
Troy, on the other hand, did not look nearly so enthused. "Well, John," he said, turning to Daddy, "that isn't actually in our contract. We're only paid for--"
"Who gives a rat's ass what we're paid for? Don't worry, we'll finish the job, Troy. But then let's have some fun afterward."
I ran and hugged Daddy so tightly that my feet cleared the ground. His muscles were hard as ever as he lifted me, and I felt myself suddenly, immensely grateful that he was still a match for the vampires he hunted.
"Hey, Zeph," he said, ruffling my hair, "it'll be okay, you'll see." He set me down. I looked up at him, then Mama.
"Well, wish me luck," I said. "I'm going to go after him myself, in case you fellas are too late."
"You're gonna hunt in that getup?" Daddy said. I looked at my clothes, and admitted that it seemed a little impractical. I was still running through Lily's discards, and the current offering featured a scalloped blue silk skirt with a matching tunic top tied low on my hips. The shoes were my practical boots with one-inch heels, but none of it exactly screamed "Defender on a mission." Well, I wasn't a Defender anymore, now was I? No, I was Zephyr Hollis, Vampire Suffragette, and she knew how to dress.
I grinned. "What else?"
I scanned the weapons table and picked up a leftover short sword in a scabbard (knowing Daddy, they'd all be sharp enough to slice a hair lengthwise). I jammed it through the tie of my tunic and then hefted the last remaining pistol. It was a bit older and heavier than I knew the other boys liked, but it would suit my purposes.
"It isn't loaded," Troy said, his voice oddly quiet.
"Well, you know damn well I can't shoot anyway." I gave the empty barrel a meditative twirl and then dropped it into the deep pockets in the tunic. Lily would not have approved.
I walked to the door, still feeling surprisingly jaunty, all things considered, and waved. "See you folks later. I hope."
"Zephyr, wait!" Mama wore a familiar expression: the abject terror she always attempted to mask when Daddy or I (or one of my brothers) went out on a mission.
"I'll be--"
She shook her head. "No, take this." She handed me a short sword. I'd seen so many weapons in the room it took me a moment to place its plain scabbard and wrapped leather pommel. The pagan-blessed blade Amir bought off of Troy. I took it, though sudden dread made my fingertips prickle with cold.
She hugged me. "I think he'd like you to have it, sweetie," she whispered, so softly I knew only I could hear he
r.
The Beast's Rum was rowdier than it had been the last several times I'd stopped by--packed with loud humans and vampires, almost all conspicuously male and smelling like it, too. I spied Nicholas near the bar, holding up a glass of dark liquid and proposing a toast.
"Let those bleeders shake in their houses!" he yelled. "I'd say it's time we had a little fun. And no damn nigger is going to stop us, am I right?"
A loud chorus of ayes greeted this rhetorical question. I looked around a little more carefully. Yes, these vampires were in an advanced state of inebriation. And since none of them were bleeding onto the floor, I could only assume that Rinaldo had found some way around his recalcitrant distributor. At the very least, Amir had come to regret his involvement with Faust. I remembered his chagrin at Ysabel's, when he was first confronted with its effects. Thinking about that, and what had happened after, my chest ached.
"Zephyr!" Charlie yelled, pushing his way through the crowd to reach me. "Oh, fancy seeing you here. You're looking lovely."
I smiled in what I hoped was a beguiling, charming way and thanked him. "What's all this? I thought you told me your dealer cut off the Faust shipments."
Charlie smiled, apparently happy to be the first person to tell me the news. "Oh, turns out the Boss found a runaround this morning. Not as high quality as the nigger, but good enough."
Oh, Amir had chosen such charming business partners. Well, nothing else for it. Nicholas had spotted me and gave me a regal nod. I hated to admit it, but there were many things I liked about the head Turn Boy. And as for the rest, knowing his history, I felt more pity for him than hatred. I wouldn't stop Daddy from killing him, if it came to that, but I had to try to save Aileen first. And that meant using a certain type of persuasion.
"Hey, take me to Nicholas," I shouted in Charlie's ear. "I need to speak to him about something."
Charlie nodded and grabbed my hand. Some bodyguard he was. He didn't even comment on the conspicuous blades in my belt.
"What's so important, Charity?" Nicholas asked, when Charlie pushed us to the bar. He was clearly a little intoxicated, but thank God not too addled for my purposes. In fact, his inebriation might work out to the good.
"I have a favor to ask," I said, reaching into my pocket.
He raised his eyebrows. "A favor? Don't you know I'm a Turn Boy?"
I smiled. "Ah, but see, I have this sneaking suspicion that you like me."
"Do I?"
"Which is why I hope you won't be too mad at me for doing this." I hefted the pistol and put the barrel smoothly to Nicholas's chest. Charlie and several nearby patrons yelled. Nicholas didn't even flinch. In fact, he leaned forward
"I don't think I have to tell you, but the bullets are silver," I lied.
He cocked his head. "What do you want?"
"Get everyone who isn't a Turn Boy out of here, for starters."
"You heard the girl! Get your sorry asses out of here! Charlie, deal with it." Charlie's parting glance at me was so hurt that I almost winced.
"Hey, Nick, let me get her," one of the Turn Boys shouted when the other patrons had left the bar. "She's just a bleeder, no match for one of us."
"You wanna bet his life on it?" I said. "All I have to do is twitch a finger."
"Leave it, Tomaso," Nicholas snapped. "Well, Zephyr Hollis, I think I like you even more, now. What's this all about?"
"Your dad has a friend of mine and I really want her back. And see, it happens that you're the only person in this damn town who knows where he is, so I have a simple proposition for you: help me get her back, and I'll give you boys a head start on a pack of Defenders that have a contract to kill you."
Nicholas narrowed his eyes at me, then wobbled. "Bruno!" he said. "Give me a Virgin Mary."
Bruno, looking as calm as ever behind the bar, poured a glass of clean blood and slid it across to Nicholas.
"Mind?" he said, gesturing to the glass. I shook my head, and he picked it up and drained it quickly. I could see how it revived him. His eyes grew brighter, his movements quicker. He could probably disarm me before I could pull the trigger, and he might even know it. "So, I know my papa says I'm slow, but let's see if I got this. The Boss has a friend of yours, and for some reason you don't think he's sucked her dry already?"
I gulped. I had no real reason to think that, except that the prospect of revenge might make him stretch out his plea sure. "The fellas who took her thought that she killed Dore. They were after the bounty."
"But she didn't kill Dore?"
"No. I did that."
Nicholas laughed, and I wished he didn't. He sounded so young in his plea sure I had to remind myself that I wasn't actually pointing a gun at a thirteen-year-old boy. "I owe you a drink, Charity. If I'm still alive after these mighty Defenders get to us." He looked appreciatively at the eight other vampires in the room and they laughed at the thought.
"You think a bunch of two-bit vampire slayers can touch us?" Charlie shouted.
"When one of them is John Hollis? Yes, I do. And I don't think you want to mess with Troy Kavanagh, Nicholas. Someone's paid him a lot of money for you boys, and he won't stop until the job is done."
The other Boys still hooted and mocked, but Nicholas at least seemed to realize the threat they were under. The Turn Boys weren't invincible, they just profited from a combination of random terror and weak targets. Against a group of hardened men who knew precisely where to point a stake? The odds had just evened out.
"Why are you telling me this if your papa is the one doing the killing?"
"I told you, I want my friend back. And you are going to take me to her and help me save her. And once you do, I suggest you and your Boys make yourselves scarce for the next year or so, or my daddy will find you and I won't mind telling him where to look."
"I could just kill you now."
I adjusted my grip on the pistol with teasing deliberateness. "I'd kill you first."
Nicholas locked eyes with me for nearly a minute, but to his credit he didn't even attempt to Sway. My advantage wasn't nearly as great as I was pretending (even if the gun were loaded), but I saw him consider his options, and then nod. "We'll do it. You read his damn will. It's time Papa learned a lesson. What do you say, Boys? Should we take a trip to see the Boss?"
The answering roar was deafening. I think they were so drunk they'd agree to anything. Or maybe just so in love with Nicholas.
I gestured with the gun. "Let's go."
Nicholas led us through the streets, and I followed with the gun to his back. The speed with which every other living creature took pains to get out of our way was more than slightly unnerving. Especially when he led us, of all places, into the subway station at Canal Street. The entire platform cleared of people so quickly you'd have thought a giant hand swept them away.
"What we need to take the subway for, Nick?" Charlie asked, but Nicholas didn't even seem to have heard. He was staring into the dark of the tunnel, and I knew enough not to disturb him. God, but I hoped he didn't have one of his flashbacks now. I needed him (relatively) sane. The train came five minutes later, and the one sleeping bum inside took one look at us and practically sprinted into another car.
I can't say I was terribly surprised when we got off again at Whitehall Street. Too much about Nicholas seemed to center in this area. Of course it had something to do with Rinaldo. Rick was back, I saw, but when I lifted my hand to wave, he just raised his fetid blanket over his head as though that would prevent us from seeing him. Oh, well. I could understand why he might not want to acknowledge me in present company.
Instead of walking up the stairs, Nicholas led us all to the very end of the tracks. He looked back and forth through the tunnels and then hopped into the pit. We all stared at him.
"Come on, Boys, you don't wanna get popped by a train, do ya?"
This got them moving. I eyed the muck on the tracks and the gray streaks of innumerable squeaking rats and thought, improbably, of what Lily would say if she could see
what I was doing to her clothes. I laughed to myself and let Charlie help me down. We headed deep into the tunnels, with the light from the station behind us fading into black. Soon I had to keep hold of Charlie's hand just so I could stay with them. Without night vision, I was in danger of falling flat on my face. This proved too awkward with the gun, and they all seemed to have forgotten about it anyway, so I dropped it discreetly back in my pocket. We heard an approaching train long before we saw it, an echoing, sustained screech of metal wheels on metal tracks.
"It's on the other side," Nicholas called, before we could panic. And then, under his breath, I heard him say, "A flat."
A flat. The exact pitch of train wheels as they squeal around a particular turn in a subway tunnel.
"I'm a bleeding moron," I muttered. Of course Rinaldo lived underground. Hadn't he turned Nicholas in the nearby storm drains? Hadn't he locked him up down here, for Lord knows how long? Now I was sure that Nicholas was taking us to the right place.
We could hear the next train roaring behind us when Nicholas finally opened a small iron door set into the concrete tunnel walls and led us through. The ground shook as it rumbled past, three seconds to spare. Nicholas struck a match and lit an oil lamp that was waiting by the door. He handed it to me. "Almost there," he said, his eyes distant. He seemed like a man about to be marched to the gallows, abstractly terrified and concretely relieved.
"Do you think the bleeder's still alive, Nick?" a Turn Boy asked.
Nicholas shrugged. "Papa's angry enough. It isn't just a snack to him. He'll probably toy with her a bit. I'd say we've got some time."
The idea of Rinaldo toying with Aileen made me want to vomit, but at least it meant she was still alive. Please let her still be alive.
The tunnels were narrower now, though obviously man-made. Similar to the strange labyrinth Nicholas had led me through the other day, but finished. I wondered who would have put a lamp by the door, though. That indicated a human presence in these tunnels. But how could a human live so close to the trains, so far below the city? Even worse, with Rinaldo?
Moonshine: A Novel Page 26