Moonlight: The Big Bad Wolf (Black Swan 4)

by Danann, Victoria

  "You trying to make me cry, demon?"

  Storm spoke up. "He's making me cry. I had a nice, quiet, relaxing, private evening planned with my wife."

  Deliverance shot his son-in-law a dirty look that as much as said, "I could burn you to a crisp where you stand."

  Storm replied with a sneer that as much as said, "Maybe so, but like it or not, she's mine."

  They both thought they were clever, but Litha was always aware of their wordless communications.

  "Ratchet it down a notch." She grabbed her father's chin and forced him to look at her instead of her husband. "I need a favor."

  "Anything within my power."

  "Storm's old boss is throwing a small dinner party. I've been asked to bring you along."

  Deliverance's pupils could narrow to slits when his suspicion was roused. "Why?"

  "What happened to 'anything'?"

  "I didn't say no. I said, 'Why?'"

  Litha sighed. "I think they want to ask you to help with some matters that require extra-human abilities such as yours."

  Deliverance stared for a couple of beats. "What kind of women are they serving?"

  Litha smiled.

  Storm said, "I asked about that. Maybe you could snack..." He put the word "snack" in air quotes. "...beforehand and then go out for all-you-can-eat in New York afterward."

  The demon moved his head back and forth like he was either thinking about it or responding to a dance tune that only he could hear.

  "I'm saying yes to dinner." He giggled like the notion was ludicrous. Which it was. "Nothing else."

  ***

  CHAPTER_5

  Sol was certain there was no one in the known world better prepared to stage a dinner party than his fiancé, Farnsworth. He had left all the arrangements to her and damn if she hadn't done a bang up job. She had commandeered a private room on the far side of the mess that was large enough to feel elegant, and small enough to be intimate. The room looked onto a garden courtyard with ambient lighting, but was also located conveniently near the kitchen.

  Sol had requested a round table for six to eliminate questions about the hidden meanings behind seating assignments. Some of the tufted red leather club chairs had been brought in from the lounge and set around the table. The hostess in absentia used white linens to contrast with the dark red floral design in the carpet. The table was set with the unit's fine china, crystal, and silver, but the pièce de résistance was a three foot high blown glass flute topped with a fountain spray of calla lilies garnished with sprigs of delicate orchids cascading down the sides, but not far enough to obscure eye contact between the diners.

  The room was bare except for the table and chairs, a long side serving board, and two Black Swan flags proudly displayed in corner stands. Jefferson Unit considered itself sovereign territory and did not acknowledge any law or governing body other than The Order.

  Sol had received a message from Storm in the afternoon saying that he was bringing Litha, Deliverance, and another unnamed guest. Counting Ram, Elora and himself, that would be seven. Not six. Sol considered himself a lucky man. He knew his wife-to-be wasn't easily nonplussed. She would add a seventh person without breaking her stride.

  Everyone was assembled except for Litha. Storm introduced his father-in-law and mystery guest, Glendennon Catch, to Sol.

  Although Glen had been a trainee at Jefferson Unit for six years and undoubtedly knew the Sovereign on sight, Sol made it a point to avoid getting to know trainees. If an honored guest happened to bring one of them to dinner, he supposed he would have to make an exception. Sol raised an eyebrow when appraising Glen's piercings, tattoos, and chunks style hair and made no attempt to disguise his disapproval.

  The six who had arrived were enjoying cocktails. More accurately, four were enjoying cocktails. Glen's drink request had been changed from Whiskey Sour to Virgin Daiquiri by Storm and Deliverance opted for drinking in Elora's curves, currently enhanced by nursing. She was telling the group about the raspberry Helm had given the Elk Mountain king.

  Litha knew she was late. She'd been detained by a talkative researcher from the Department of Records of Extraordinary Occurrences. She was rushing through the haze of the passes with nothing in mind but her destination, when she brushed up against another rider. The fellow traveler grabbed her elbows and easily pulled her to a standstill, a thing she hadn't even known was possible.

  She looked around to see who had brought her to a dead stop. Her captor was an attractive male with sandy blonde hair and eyes the color of sienna. His generous lips were spread into a grin that would have also been attractive were it not for the fact that it showed off fangs that were white as veneers and chillingly sharp. Vampire. His four companions watched her with varying degrees of interest ranging from mild curiosity to outright leering.

  The vamp who was forcibly detaining her said something she didn't understand. Verbal communication seemed unlikely and, since she didn't relish the notion of either being late for a dinner with her husband's friends or gang raped by vampire, she muttered, "Screw this", and threw off enough heat to give the restraining hands instant second degree burns. For good or bad, the resulting yowls were rather satisfying to her ears. She didn't have time for an internal debate about whether or not that made her a bad person. She hurt him. He deserved it. She liked hurting him. So what?

  As soon as he released her to snatch his burned fingers away and assess his damage, she resumed the journey post haste. She didn't see or hear them behind her, but felt, with every magical and demonic sense she possessed, that they were chasing her. Fine, she thought. Follow me. It just so happens that my destination will lead you right into a cluster of decorated vampire slayers. If that wasn't enough, there's also a demon who's not going to be happy about the fact that his little girl was accosted on the way to dinner.

  There was a slight atmospheric pop just before Litha materialized running straight into Storm's arms, overturning his Whiskey Sour, and yelling, "Vampire incoming."

  Reacting with pure reflex and veteran instinct, Ram pulled one of the flagpoles from its stand and rushed toward Litha. When the first vamp materialized, he was there at the ready to shove the end of the blunt, stake substitute through the intruder's heart. The four who popped in right behind him made no aggressive move. They looked curious, but not concerned.

  The staked vampire couldn't have looked more shocked or more offended. Litha's pursuer didn't look like someone who had just been mortally wounded. His expression read closer to that of someone who'd had his feelings hurt.

  He looked from the pole sticking out of his chest to Ram. "Hey, t'es baise' toi, ça fait mal." He grabbed the dowel with both hands and pulled it free.

  It made a suction noise that caused Elora to wince. When Litha had first uttered the word vampire, Elora had grabbed Glen and put him behind her, which he resented, of course. After all, he'd spent the entirety of his adolescence training for a potential knighthood for cripes sake.

  Looking down at the damage the vampire said, "Et j'aimais cette chemise."

  As he rubbed his fist into his chest he glanced around the room for the first time. His eyes immediately lit on Elora and he grinned. "Ca va? Je m'appelle Javier. Quel est à vous ?"

  The sound of male interest is unmistakable in any language.

  Without taking her eyes away from him, Elora said, "Is that French? Who speaks French?"

  "I do," Glen said from behind her. He stepped out to Elora's side. "The dialect is old-fashioned, like they're speaking medieval French or something, provincial at that." Glen looked at Ram. "Basically he said, 'Ow! What the fuck, man? That hurts.' Then he said, 'And I liked this shirt'."

  Glen turned to Elora. "To you he said, 'How's it going? I'm Javier. What's your name?'"

  Elora stared at Javier and let her eyes roam over his four friends. "Great Paddy." She leaned toward Ram, who had moved to stand near her. "Their eyes aren't pale and they're not acting very vamp-like."

  Ram shook his hea
d no in agreement.

  "Nonetheless," Deliverance said nonchalantly, "they are vampire. Real vampire. Not the watered-down, diluted version of walking disease that humans call vampire. They're the source of the virus."

  At that everybody temporarily forgot everything to gape at the demon.

  Litha managed to ask, "You mean you knew about this?"

  "Sure."

  "What do you mean, 'Sure'? Your only child is married to a vampire slayer and you didn't think that would be good information to share?"

  He looked around at the others like he was trying to decide whether or not they should be given clearance to hear his answer. He shrugged. "We have a non-interference policy."

  "Okay, first, who is 'we'? And, second, what are you not interfering with? Exactly?"

  "We, meaning the races of species who can travel between dimensions unassisted. We're not supposed to interfere with what the low..." He caught himself and thought better of continuing that phrase. "...um... other species are doing. Of course the fucking angels are always breaking the rules because they're such attention whores and The Council is too lazy to enforce their own laws, so in a way I guess that means that everything is really just a guideline. Still, some of us who are old school make an honest effort to comply with tradition even if it ends up being nothing more than a series of empty, meaningless gestures."

  Everybody stared in silence for a long time. Finally Litha shook her head and said, "I don't even know where to start."

  Deliverance grinned. "How about the Metropolitan Museum? Tonight at midnight there's a fundraiser in the Egyptian wing. Beautiful socialites. Dark corners."

  "Stop! I meant I don't know where to start with questions!"

  "Questions?" The demon scowled. "No. I'm hungry."

  "Wait..." Litha yelled, but broke off, her hand in mid air, and growled with exasperation at the spot where her father had stood before he disappeared.

  Litha looked at Storm. "Be right back."

  He gave her a slight nod still not taking his eyes off the vampire.

  She grasped her black diamond pendant and stepped into the passes. The pendant contained demon magic, or advanced tracking technology, depending on your paradigm. In a flash she was standing in the back recesses of the Temple of Dendur that were restricted to patrons of the Metropolitan Museum, roped off and hidden from view.

  Deliverance was licking the neck of a woman he had pressed up against a wall. The first item on the midnight buffet was wearing long dangling earrings and a slinky black dress that probably cost thousands. She was moaning like she was in mid coitus, not foreplay. The incubus had taken advantage of the slit up the side of her dress and had her bare leg hitched over his waist.

  Litha walked up to them and began talking as if they were having pie at the diner. The lady yelped her surprise.

  Deliverance said, "Shhhh," and the woman instantly quieted.

  He was clearly irritated when he turned to Litha. "Two things. I'm gone. And I'm busy."

  Litha was just as irritated. "You're not gone. I'm talking to you and I have unanswered questions."

  He scowled and narrowed his eyes. "You can have three questions now. If you have more they'll have to wait until after snack time."

  Litha did a quick mental inventory trying to figure out which three questions would be considered most important if she had asked the dinner guests for a consensus.

  "Was I actually chased by a gang of French vampire? From France?"

  "Is that two of your three questions?"

  "Yes. No. Wait." She willed herself to be calm and rethink the question. "Are they from a version of France in another dimension? That's one."

  "Yes."

  "How big a danger are they to us? That's two."

  He snickered. "Dangerous? No. You might say they're lovers, not fighters. They never take enough blood to hurt anyone and the women they encounter are happy to give, if you take my meaning." He wiggled his eyebrows.

  "Yeah. Very subtle." In a fine demonstration of nature over nurture, Litha waggled her head exactly like her father did in moments of cognitive dissonance. He pressed his lips together impatiently. "Come on, sweet. Daddy's losing patience."

  "If they're not a danger, how did we end up with a plague of vampire virus?"

  He shrugged. "Accident of biological chemistry. It's an anomaly that only affects the human residents of Loti Dimension, so far as I know. That's three. You can either take off or stay for the show. Your choice. You're the bashful one." He smiled in challenge, daring her to stay and watch.

  "Thank you. More questions for you later." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and disappeared.

  The remaining eleven humanoids eyed each other.

  Sol calmly took out his phone and speed dialed a number. "You're needed in private dining now."

  Litha popped back in next to Storm. He jumped a little less than usual and thought, in another fifty years or so, he might start getting used to that. "Litha?"

  "Hmmm?"

  "You want to tell us how you managed to pick up five French-speaking vampire who have normal-colored eyes and are unaffected by a flagpole through the heart?"

  Glen laughed. "Lucy! You got some 'splainin to do." Everyone was silent. "Well, I thought it was funny."

  She pointed to the one who had grabbed her, whose fingers no longer showed signs of having been burned. "I was on my way here when that one grabbed me."

  The idea of one of these vampire putting their hands on his wife infuriated Storm. He wanted to pick up the flagpole that had been tossed aside and put it through his chest again. Even if it didn't do anything more than further damage to the vamp's favorite shirt, it might make Storm feel a little better.

  "Okay. Please don't take this wrong, but how did you get away?"

  "Singed him. He's lucky I didn't turn him into a crispy critter 'cause I kind of felt like doing it."

  "Would that work?" Ram asked.

  "I don't know. I burned his hands, but they look okay now."

  "Do you know anything else about them? Other than the somewhat sketchy facts the damn demon left behind?"

  There was a brief knock on the door. Crisp swept in, made a slight bow and said, "Dinner is served."

  Everyone in the room who wasn't a vampire simultaneously said, "No!"

  The mess maître'd opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. He backed away and would have closed the door except that Monq was entering.

  Monq took a look around, briefly wondered who the five newcomers might be, and let his eyes come to rest on Sol who said, "To sum up, these five vampire are - according to Litha's demon..."

  She interrupted. "He's not my demon. He's my father."

  "...according to Litha's father, they're the real deal and not the - and this is a quote - watered-down, diluted diseased version we think of as vampire. They chased Litha here, presumably from another dimension. Ram rammed a flagpole into that one's chest which resulted in the vamp saying, 'Ow. That hurt'. He proceeded to pull the stake out then attempted to flirt with Elora."

  Ram targeted Javier with a murderous glare. The vampire noticed. His eyes widened as he splayed his hands toward Ram and said something.

  Glen said, "He says, 'What?'"

  "My dad was busy, but he gave me three questions." Everybody turned to stare at Litha. "Basically they're from a version of France in another dimension. He didn't say which one. They're not a danger to us. At all. The virus is the result of a chemical reaction that is specific to this dimension."

  There was silence for a few minutes while everyone absorbed that.

  Sol broke the silence by clearing his throat. "Suggestions?" He threw the question out to the room in general, but was looking at Monq when he said it.

  Monq pursed his lips."So now I get an invitation to your party?" He glanced at the vamps. "Well, obviously we need to keep them and get information."

  "Ideas on how we keep vamps who can take a railroad tie through the chest and just com
plain that you ruined their shirt?"

  "Glen..." Elora began.

  "Yes ma'am?"

  "Would you please translate for me?"

  "Yes ma'am."

  "Which one of you is in charge?"

  Glen repeated the question in French. The vampire who was standing off to the side who appeared to be taking life more seriously raised his index finger.

  "Okay. Talk to him." Elora looked at the one who had claimed leadership as she spoke. "Please tell him that our reality has been plagued for at least six hundred years by a virus that mimics vampirism." Glen talked to them quietly. "The infected lose themselves to the disease and become dead to themselves and their loved ones. They commit gruesome murders when they feed. It is a plague that has ravaged our kind, creating centuries of fear and sorrow." Glen spoke quietly again. "And, apparently, you were the source."

  When Glen concluded with an accusation of culpability, the five vampires' looks of shock were replaced by scowls. Everyone except the self-identified leader began shaking their heads in adamant denial.

  "Tell them it's true, that we don't blame them, because they couldn't have known that our chemistry reacts differently to contact with their fluids, but intentional or not, their kind were the cause. We think the least they can do is agree to stay long enough to help clean up the mess.

  "After that we'll be asking for a promise of treaty that their kind will declare this world off limits."

  Glen translated. The five went into a huddle and talked animatedly for several minutes. Then the self-identified leader said something to Glen. Glen looked over his shoulder at Elora. "They agree. They will consider it a mission of diplomatic goodwill to the human people of Loti."

  Sol looked at Monq. "So what now?"

  "I guess we need a place for them to stay and some guidelines about blood."

  Monq turned to the vampire and spoke in French. At one point they all laughed. Then Glen translated for the others.