by J. R. Rain
“How so?”
“They’re recruiting new vampires wherever they can to do their dirty work for them.”
“Dirty work?”
“You know, harvesting fresh blood and all that.”
My stomach turned as I considered this. I stirred my Arnold Palmer with a straw. “Murders?”
Veronica nodded. “Of course.”
“Why haven’t I heard about this? If only in the newspaper?”
“The cops are treating them like some serial case. They’re keeping it under wraps for now.”
“Probably don’t want to scare away any tourists,” I said with a touch of bitterness. “How thoughtful of them.”
“Yeah. Or maybe they’re just scared.”
I thought of the good cops I knew. Their jobs were tough enough. And finding blood-drained bodies all over the place? How would that sound to the public?
Frank was playing a beautiful rendition of Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World.” Ah, the irony of it all.
“Scared. Possibly,” I said. “I take it this relates to our prisoner?”
“I’m pretty sure. But this coven, or gang, is really on the down-low. My associates have only just begun to learn about them.”
“I’m surprised you’re not hunting them down.”
She gave that wicked smile and her eyes gleamed. “Give me time,” she answered. I had to give the girl credit, Veronica was tough. Always had been. And it all began a few years ago when her own parents had been attacked and killed. By vampires.
They’d picked the wrong victim.
She was, of course, one of them now. A vampire who hunted her own, as she would, apparently, until the end of time.
I guided her back to the subject at hand. “And the vampire in the iron mask?”
“I don’t know much. Her name is Natassa. She arrived on the scene not long after this coven formed, and there are a couple of different theories about her.”
I waited.
“Some say that she’s from some country in Europe...”
“Like Transylvania?”
“Ha ha.” Veronica gave me the finger; she hated vampire jokes. But I liked to tease her when I could. “Go on,” I said.
“Some say this coven captured her because she was trying to hunt them.”
“She was hunting a coven? By herself?”
“I don’t know if she was alone. But rumor has it she’s pretty powerful. So they keep her as an example for anyone else trying to cross their path.”
“Interesting,” I noted. “What’s the other story?”
“This is the curious part. My associates who do know about her believe it’s possible that she’s the one who started all the killing, and that they’re holding her to prevent her from doing more damage. The idea is that she created some real monsters and the coven is trying to stop all the killings.”
I envisioned those violet eyes. Her brief words implied concern not for herself, but for me and...who?
“Maybe your client?” Veronica asked as surely as if I had voiced my question. I might never get used to the fact that she could read my thoughts. “You haven’t heard from him, have you?”
“Just once. One phone call. I’ve called him back a few times today; he doesn’t pick up. And I don’t know his name.”
“Oh?”
“Some of my clients work that way. They just put the payments under my door, so to speak. It’s not too unusual.”
“He might be in trouble.”
I nodded. I touched the back of my head again, gauging the size of my bruises. “I wonder why they didn’t kill me.”
“I’m betting it’s because you’re fairly well-known.”
“You think I would have made headline news?” The thought gave my ego a little boost.
“Killing a PI usually isn’t wise,” she stated. “You’re not a cop, but you have cop friends.”
“I’ll add that to the perks of my line of business.”
For a moment we were lost in our own thoughts. Or maybe Veronica was picking my brain again. The thought that they hadn’t killed me didn’t mean they wouldn’t. I should handle this quickly. Move in, move out. Mission accomplished.
“So you think you’re just going to go in there and get her?” she said, reading my mind again.
“I don’t think she’s gonna walk out of there on her own,” I said.
“Look, Spinoza. I have certain friends who can keep this confidential. They would be willing to help.”
I shook my head. “I’m not getting mixed up with a bunch of vampires. This is my case; I’ll handle it.”
“But...”
“No buts. Tell them thanks for the offer, though.” Before she could protest further, I said, “Your first view of the situation makes more sense.”
“That they caught her trying to hunt them down.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m coming with you, anyway.”
“Look, kiddo—Veronica—I appreciate it. I saved your life once, and I don’t want that to be in vain.”
“You can’t do this on your own, Spinoza.”
“You’d be surprised.” I was no vampire, but over the years I had contrived more than a few brilliant plans to bring back missing kids, plans that most men in their right minds wouldn’t dare to attempt. But whoever said I was in my right mind?
“Why? Why are you going to do it? If you’re not sure?”
“One, because I was paid to do a job. Two, I saw her. She’s no demon. I have to help her.”
“Knight in shining armor.” Veronica rolled her eyes.
“Pun intended?”
“Yes.”
I remembered how weak, yet determined, those eyes were. Young eyes.
“She’s not a kid, Spinoza. Neither are they.” Veronica locked eyes with me. “I’m serious, Spinoza.”
“So am I.”
“I see those timeworn wheels turning.” She made a squeaky, old sound.
“Funny.”
“You’re not that old. But seriously...an Arnold Palmer?” Veronica laughed. I regarded the drink I was nursing with disdain. Okay, I was old, so what? I made a mental note to start going to the gym, maybe after this case was over.
“You can’t just go in and get her out,” she observed. “That’s why you owe me.”
“That makes no sense whatsoever.”
“You did something for me, now I’m going to return the favor. You don’t have a choice in the matter.”
I considered this. It would be good to have a partner. I trusted Veronica. Also, I knew how stubborn she was. She’d probably follow me whether I wanted her to or not.
Hell, we were telepathically linked.
I drummed my fingers on the bar and listened to the music and couldn’t help but start to plan. I’d seen enough, I believed, of the building’s layout. I thought of Al Pacino, of Bruce Willis, and then sighed as my plan worked itself out in my mind. Hell, I still had it in me.
I think.
Veronica knew I didn’t take bullshit from anyone. For sure I wasn’t going to let anyone get away with clobbering me. She was expertly applying lipstick to her full lips, without the aid of a mirror.
“How many are there?” I asked.
“Not sure, but I’d say about ten.”
I thought about how to get her out of there.
“It won’t be easy,” Veronica said, reading my damn mind again.
“Sorry,” she added.
She didn’t sound sorry. “All right,” I conceded. “You’re with me. But on my terms. Got it?”
“Sure,” she said, tossing back the last of her martini.
“We move tomorrow night,” I told her. “Here’s what I want you to do...”
Chapter Eleven
I stepped into AJ’s gun shop.
The shop is located in a not-so-nice area of Hollywood. Hookers, dealers, crazy people with big signs warning of the end of the world. It was late afternoon, and another customer was buying supplies
. AJ nodded a greeting to me. I nodded back and waited until the customer left.
“What can I do you for?” There were hundreds, hell, probably thousands of gun and ammo dealers in Los Angeles, but AJ was one of those who respected privacy. And confidentiality. Two virtues that I considered essential. At least in a gun dealer.
“Lock the door,” I said softly. “Turn off your cameras.”
AJ was a tough guy. In his business, you had to be tough. He looked like a muscle-head bouncer, but was far more shrewd. He was six-foot-four and none of his two hundred and forty pounds were fat. His head was shaved, and he had tattoos up and down his massive body, including an unlikely pair of red lips on his scalp.
We’d known each other for a few years, and he respected my work. Hopefully, he still would after my purchases today. He flipped a switch under the counter, turning off the cameras, and crossed the room in two long strides to bolt the door. He also turned his door sign around to: “Closed.”
AJ knew I was in the business of finding lost kids, but he never asked me questions. Smart. The less you know and all that. But he wasn’t quite prepared for this request.
“I need two semi-automatics that can hold silver bullets,” I said, as if I were ordering coffee. Or maybe a Bloody Mary. Pun intended.
AJ regarded me a moment with a stone-faced expression, then went into the back. I listened as he shuffled around a few things, and soon he returned with a long, polished wooden box and a few boxes of ammo. He watched me expectantly, arms crossed over his chest.
“May I?” I asked.
He grinned and opened the box. The inside was lined with red velvet that surrounded the finely made but very lethal rifle. The piece itself was hard, smooth silver. The handle was crafted out of obsidian. It was beautiful, a work of art. If an assault rifle could be considered as such.
“This here’s a Colt M4 Carbine,” he said. “Silver plated. Carries ninety-rounds per clip, and has a custom extended extra clip for easy...ah...access.”
I drew it out of the casing. It felt heavy but comfortable in my hands. I could see the red-aim dot at the top.
“Nice,” I commented. I held the weapon’s butt to my right shoulder and took aim at the mirror. It wasn’t loaded, but I still felt a chill, and a perverse sense of power holding it.
I set the Colt back into its velvet case. “What about the bullets?”
AJ pulled a carrying case out of one of the boxes. “These are lead, but silver chrome plated. They’re hollow points, and the BBs inside are also silver.”
A hollow-point meant the bullet would explode upon impact. It wouldn’t just go inside a person—or vampire—and cleanly out the other side, like a regular bullet. I whistled. Was I really going to do this?
“How hollow are they?” I asked him, maintaining a calm demeanor. I wasn’t feeling too calm, but he didn’t need to know that.
AJ retained his professional attitude as well. “Say from about six feet, a small entry hole, and internal damage about the size of a baseball if you hit your target’s chest. No exit wound.”
I processed this. Apparently I wasn’t the first one to request such a weapon. I considered asking AJ, but he answered questions about as much as he asked. He added, “You hit point blank, you will have a bloody mess on your hands.”
“I’ll take two.” I guess I was going to do this. “How many clips do you have? With the silver BBs?”
“Oh, I think I got seven or eight. You want a carrying case for these?”
“No. Yes,” I amended, reconsidering.
“How many clips do you want?”
“All of them.”
Chapter Twelve
Sometimes the overhead cost in my line of work is a little high, but I really don’t mind.
I considered the rifles a nice little investment. I had also purchased a couple of silver-bladed knives, also with obsidian handles, from AJ. He sent me “packing” with definite inquiries he’d never ask and I’d never answer. All for the best.
I almost smiled when I pictured the look on Roxi’s face if she ever saw this bag o’ tricks. Then again, perhaps she’d be impressed. I didn’t much like killing, but I knew I had to get Natassa out of there. Tonight. Tonight, I would empty those clips with a grand passion.
But the overhead. It was kind of amusing picking out one of those long black coats that henchmen wore in the movies. Even though I wasn’t that tall, it made me feel a little taller. More importantly, it would help conceal my weaponry. I bought a pair of shades that my ego convinced me such a character needed. For the first time in my life, I shaved my head.
I arrived at Medievaland around ten, properly outfitted for the evening I had in mind, including a black hat that very nearly made me look as if I belonged there. I met Veronica in the back near the loading area. I had the two carbines, fully loaded, strapped under my coat.
She was dressed in a wench’s costume, complete with bodice and lace. After our talk the night before, she’d headed down here and talked her way into a job, starting tonight. I suspected her vampire mind tricks might have helped.
She suppressed a giggle when she saw my attire.
“Not the time,” I growled, stepping into the shadows of the tall trees outside the building. “Have you found my client?”
She shook her head. “You still haven’t heard from him?”
“No.”
“Listen, Spinoza, no one likes a little adventure more than I do, believe me. But are you sure you want to free her? I mean, you could be unleashing hell’s fury.”
I took a deep breath. “Like I said, you haven’t seen her. Those eyes—”
“Yeah, yeah, those eyes.” She did a fairly good job imitating me. “Have you ever wondered if those eyes put some kind of a spell on you? And maybe on your client, too?”
I turned Veronica to face me. Drew her chin up so she met my own eyes. “Do I look like I’m under a spell?”
She looked deeply for a moment, then smiled. “A curse, maybe.”
I grunted, then nodded toward the loading docks. “Tell me what you know.”
Veronica nodded in the workers’ direction. “These boys won’t give you any trouble. But I’ve been listening, and they’ve got at least eight guards down there now. From the coven. I can get us in there, no problem.”
I thought about that. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“We should be worrying about you more than me.”
“But you’re just a kid.”
“Only in theory,” she said. “Only in theory.”
I stepped a little deeper into the shadow of the trees. With my back to the squires, I opened my coat to show her my guns. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. I could tell she wanted to touch the semi-automatics, but dared not. Kid or not, she was still all vampire.
“Remind me not to get on your bad side, ever,” she commented as I pulled my coat back over them.
“Never, Sugar,” I said. But she still took a couple more steps back.
She composed herself quickly though, nodding as if to herself.
She shook off whatever it was she was thinking, and shivered.
I said, “When we get down there, we’ll come at them from two directions.”
I pulled out one of the knives and a pair of black leather gloves and handed them to her. “These gloves aren’t for my guns,” I said, “but they might come in handy for you.”
She donned them quickly and held the knife, getting a feel for it in her hand. She seemed okay. She nodded again, this time in thanks.
It was almost time. I could see them getting ready to lock up for the night. Veronica took a deep breath, and we confidently, side by side, walked toward the back entrance.
It was go-time.
Chapter Thirteen
There were two of them, guarding the rear entrance near the loading docks.
“Hey Jake,” Veronica casually flirted.
The bigger of the two guys smiled at her. Jake, I assumed. But then he glance
d at me and asked, “Who’s your friend?”
I could sense her magic now, or whatever her kind called it. She pushed a thought into his mind and somehow gave me access to it. Yeah, maybe we were telepathically connected. Lord help me.
He’s with me, came her words. It’s all right. You never saw him.
She shifted her glance to the other and gave another slight push. For a second, they looked confused, but only for a second. Then Jake said, “Okay, beautiful.”
Veronica winked at Jake as we entered.
“Very nice,” I said. “And very weird.”
“What can I say?” she said, elbowing me. “I do weird well.”
We strode down the corridor, taking in every detail as we moved. We were approaching the elevators, where I knew the first guards would be waiting. My adrenaline was starting to pump.
Elevator or stairs? she asked me mentally, this time only freaking me out a little.
“Both,” I said quietly. “Let me take the elevator. You take the stairs. When we get down there, you stay on my left.”
I was right-handed, which meant cover would be better on the left. Veronica nodded as we rounded the corner to both the stairway and elevator like two wolves following a scent.
“All right,” she said as one of the guards started to turn toward us. We quickened our pace. Things were going to happen very swiftly now, I knew. I sensed Veronica knew it as well. She looked hungry for a fight. Lord help me.
“Meet you in the basement. We advance together. Just don’t get in front of me,” I told her as I reached into my coat and pulled out my silver peashooters.
She eyed the big guns nervously, as well she should. “Wouldn’t dream of it, babe. Now, can we go kick some ass?”
“That’s the plan,” I said, and stepped into the elevator.
Chapter Fourteen
The guard who turned toward us had time to register the fact that we were personae non gratae, but that was about it.
I whipped up my rifle like a pro and let out a spray of bullets that wiped out him and the other guard, too. When the bullets entered their bodies, it sent them both flying up against the wall—they howled loud enough to wake the dead before evaporating into thin air.