“The message being, ‘give every copy to us, or we take out your entire legacy’?” Tapping her lip again, she paused, thinking. “Why not just kill him? Straven? Is he really the only person left who knows about this thing, now that his partner’s dead?”
Nick shrugged, holding up his hands.
“No idea. But maybe whoever is doing the bombings thinks so?”
“Well, and maybe Straven is telling them that… to stay alive,” she said. “Maybe he’s hiding the tech for the same reason. Maybe he knows he’s dead as soon as it leaves his hands.”
Nick nodded, thinking about that.
“Maybe,” he admitted.
She nodded, obviously still thinking.
“Okay,” she said. “Well, I can look into all that. I’ll see what I can find out about Silverman, too. Maybe he was dealing on the side or something. Maybe the bombings were two different people…”
Nick nodded, again feeling a pulse of gratitude at how quick her mind worked.
“Yeah,” Nick said. “That occurred to me, too.”
“You have a theory?” she said, quirking an eyebrow at him.
Nick shook his head.
“Nothing solid enough to call an actual theory, no. But it crossed my mind that Straven might have had Silverton killed. Assuming Straven wasn’t lying to Case, this ‘tech’ is worth a lot of money. That kind of money tends to make people stupid. It’s possible one of them got greedy… decided they didn’t want to share. If Silverton was that person, and he got halfway into a deal, whoever was on the other end of that deal wouldn’t be too pleased with his untimely death. Especially if money had already changed hands. They might be blaming Straven, and demanding Straven hand over the product. Straven, obviously, wouldn’t want to do that unless they got paid, too.”
Nick watched Kit nod, her mouth pursed.
“That’s… specific, Nick,” she said after a pause. “But it makes sense.”
“It’s barely a theory at this point,” he said. “But if you could check out the dark markets for me, vampire and human, I’d really appreciate it. It’ll at least maybe eliminate a few things.”
“No problem. I’ll set up the search tonight, before I leave.”
She hesitated.
He barely saw it on her face, but he could feel it through the line.
He could feel her wanting to ask him something else now.
In the end, she sighed, making her voice low.
“What is it with you two?” Kit said.
He blinked, startled.
“What two?” he said. “Me and Straven? Nothing. I think they’re kind of an ass. But I’m not gunning for them or anything—”
“No.” She shook her head, looking at him through the virtual space like he was an idiot. “Not you and Straven. Jesus, Nick. You and Ms. James. I like her well enough, don’t get me wrong… but you two…”
She trailed, and Nick saw her blush.
He could see her thinking about him and Wynter, and whatever it was she was trying to describe exactly. The young human shook her head, and for the first time, Nick noticed she’d re-dyed her hair. Unlike the platinum blond he remembered, her spiky, tech-punky short hair shone silver-blue with pink highlights under the artificial lights of wherever she was.
“You’re weird together,” Kit said finally. “You get that, right? You and Wynter. You act… really weird together.”
Nick nodded, not sure what to say to that.
“Yeah,” he said, copying her exhale. “I know.”
“What is that?” Kit’s voice turned curious, verging on cautious. “I mean… in a way, you guys seem like an old married couple. In another way, I’m honestly worried she’s going to murder you in your sleep. Or that the two of you are going to end up in jail.”
Nick winced.
That last part was a little too on the nose.
Pausing to think before he answered, he clenched his jaw.
Then he pretty much told her the truth.
“Yeah,” he said. “You’re not wrong. With any of it.” Hesitating, he added, “But I’m beginning to think I’m not going to stay away from this… away from her, I mean. Ms. Winter. I think that ship has sailed.”
Kit snorted a laugh.
“Yeah. No shit, Naoko.”
When Nick quirked an eyebrow at her, she shook her head at him bemusedly.
“Honestly,” she said. “I’m surprised you held out as long as you did. We had bets going, you know, on how long this ‘break up’ of yours would last. We figured it would be over a month ago, honestly. We had pools about how you’d end up back together, too. Last I saw, the scenario with the most money on it involved Ms. James showing up at your door with a machete—”
“Don’t tell me,” Nick said, holding up a hand. “Really. I don’t even want to know who you mean by ‘we,’ in terms of that whole betting thing—”
“Oh, I’m sure you could guess,” Kit grinned. “Anyway, like you said, it doesn’t matter now. You guys aren’t going to break up, Nick. Not really. I get that. Honestly, I’m rooting for you both. Even if I suspect it’s going to make my job harder, in terms of keeping you off I.S.F. radar. And, you know… alive.”
Pausing, she added, her voice matter-of-fact,
“It’s been pretty obvious to all of us for a while, you know. That you love her.”
There was another silence.
Then Kit let out a half-laugh.
“Did I just give you a heart attack?” she said, her eyes and voice mocking. “Are all of your intimacy-phobic nerve endings screaming ‘RUN! SAVE YOURSELF!’?”
Nick snorted, shaking his head. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
“But you do love her. Right?”
“I’m not going to discuss my romantic life with a smart-ass kid—”
“But it’s a ‘romantic’ life,” she said, smug. “That more or less answers my question.”
“Whatever, kid.”
Smirking at him, she shrugged. “Remember, this ‘kid’ has access to all of your surveillance tapes, big guy. You’d be surprised just how much this ‘kid’ sees. And just how much she knows about your ‘romantic’ life already.”
Rolling her eyes, she added in a mutter,
“…Although, granted, it’s been pretty boring of late. Unless you call illegal seer porn and semi-organic sex toys fascinating. Personally, I find it a little sad—”
“KIT!” Nick growled.
She laughed. “What? You’re the one who keeps calling me ‘kid.’ If you’re going to play the role of absentee parent, I get to play my part and shock the shit out of you every now and then. Do you want to hear about my sex life now, Pops?”
“No,” he growled.
“Too bad. I’ve got a hot date tonight, Naoko. I met this really bangin’ girl at a club last weekend. She has this amazing tongue… completely covered in sensor-tats and semi-org piercings. I’m hoping to get another round with her tonight, after I set up this search for you. She’s meeting me at the Snake Club, and—”
“Na-na-na-na-na-na…” Nick cut in, holding his hands over his ears, knowing she’d see him in the virtual feed. “…I can’t hear you…”
She chuckled, shaking her head.
“For such a perv, you really are an old man,” she informed him.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “So you tell me.”
There was another silence.
Then he sighed, glancing out the window.
He started a little, realizing he was already at his destination. The robo-taxi began to slow as it entered the small, deserted lane.
“So am I forgiven then?” he said, at the end of that pause. “I gotta go, Kit. I’m still on the clock.”
“When are we going surfing?” she said, her voice suddenly business-like. “And don’t say tomorrow,” she added, sharper. “You just got shot, so don’t even go there, Nick. In fact, don’t say any time this week. If you and Wynter are all lovey-dovey again, you probably need at least a week of makeu
p sex before you stop acting like lunatics—”
Nick grunted. “No comment.”
The robo-taxi came to a stop.
Leaning forward on the seat, he swiped his forearm implant and barcode over the taxi’s pay-scanner, closing out the fare and confirming payment. Hitting the release button for the taxi door, he stepped out, putting his full weight on his hurt leg—which had more or less gone numb from the combination of sitting and painkillers—and grimaced in pain.
Gritting his teeth, he straightened, gazing up at the building as he let the pain fade.
“So… next Wednesday?” he said. “I don’t have a fight scheduled that night.”
“When is your next fight?” she said.
“It was supposed to be tomorrow,” he said, still staring up the face of the old brick building. He noted the scorch marks on one side, remnants from the last battle in New York.
“…It’ll probably get postponed,” he added. “I need to call Farlucci, break it to him I got shot. Again.” Pausing, he frowned towards the brick building’s back door, watching the external camera there as it swiveled to look at him. “Look, kid, sorry to cut you off—”
“But you’re on the clock,” she said. “Got it.”
She hesitated, the barest breath, then added,
“Okay. You’re forgiven. But don’t do it again, Nick.”
He smiled, in spite of himself.
“I’ll try my damnedest, kid. I really will.”
“…And don’t get shot again,” she added, annoyed. “I don’t know what you’re doing in that part of town, by yourself, but watch your back, Nick.”
He scowled. “Stop tracking me, damn it. Isn’t that a human rights violation, you being all up in my GPS implant all the time—?”
“No,” she cut in. “Hate to break it to you, Nick… but you’re not human. Legally, I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
Nick winced, frowning at her in reproach. “Ouch.”
“The truth hurts sometimes, big guy. Now go do police things. And try not to get killed. Or I’m going to be really mad at you.”
Before he could answer—
She hung up.
Thinking about her words, he scowled, then refocused his eyes.
He glanced over his shoulder to see his robo-taxi reversing its way back up the narrow lane towards the main road. Watching it go, he briefly considered going after it—just getting the fuck out of there, now, before he did anything stupid.
He also considered calling it back with his headset, swiping his barcode over the pay-scanner and putting it in hold-mode so it would wait for him, in the event Nick needed to leave here in a hurry.
Dismissing both thoughts, he sighed, unnecessarily.
Then he gazed back up at the sign he could see covering most of the face of the windowless brick wall. The semi-organic paint they used couldn’t be seen within the visible light spectrum for humans, and therefore, couldn’t be seen by unenhanced human eyes.
To them, it would be a massive, featureless, smoke-dusted wall of brick.
Nick’s vampire eyes picked up the design there just fine, however.
It was a detailed, rippling, living image of two enormous white wings.
Chapter 17
That Which Is Owed
Nick stood there a few beats too long.
He knew they already had him on surveillance.
Clenching his jaw, he stepped up to the metal-plated door. The overdone rivets and dungeon-like style struck him as over the top, but he supposed they had an image to maintain. After all, no one came here unless they knew exactly where they were going.
Although the vamps in here weren’t exactly hiding, either.
If they were, they wouldn’t advertise their presence on the wall like a neon sign. Only supreme confidence allowed them to do that—confidence that no one would dare fuck with them, including most law enforcement.
Shoving all of that from his mind, he knocked on the iron panel, sharply, using his knuckles. Hollow, booming knocks echoed down the brick alley, which he found by walking between the warehouse-like building and the adjacent brownstone.
He stepped back after five knocks, gazing towards the street, noting the surveillance cameras pointed at him now from three sides.
He knew they could hear him.
He knew they could see him, and they could hear him.
They just weren’t answering the door.
Frowning, he gazed up at the virtual design of an eye in the wall above the door, guessing they’d installed a fourth camera there. It would definitely match Brick’s sense of humor.
If he was right, they’d have audio surveillance on the door, too.
“I’m here to see Brick,” he said, his voice gruff, but still loud. “I have the right. I am blood. I was told to come here, if I ever wanted contact.”
Silence.
“If someone could tell him I’m here,” he began, hesitant. “Or tell me, if he’s not here. I only want to talk—”
The door abruptly opened.
Nick turned, stepping back in reflex.
He found himself staring at a shockingly familiar face.
The vampire stood in the doorway at a perfect slant.
One shoulder balanced perfectly on the metal doorframe, one leg folded artfully over the other; only his head stood perfectly vertical, in contrast to the body.
A dark-blue shirt, what might even have been real silk, hung open around a chalk-white, muscular, and entirely hairless chest. Long dark hair framed an unusual, striking, yet still-handsome face, with wide features, high cheekbones, intense eyes, and a strong jaw. His hair hung in a shaggy mess that somehow suggested an expensive salon; even its messiness had a near-perfect quality, as did the faint streaks of black woven into the brown, and the braided ponytail that held up part of the back, like he was Genghis Khan.
He gazed down at Nick from the slightly higher vantage of the doorway.
Despite the angle, Nick happened to know he was a few inches taller than the other male.
It was so like Brick to construct a doorway into his lair that gave him a slight psychological advantage, just on the off-chance he might need it.
The vampire stared at him, his expression utterly still.
Nick stared back.
Now that he was faced with him, he found himself wondering what the fuck he was doing here. Wynter was right. It was nuts to come here.
“Well?” the vampire drawled.
The thick, Louisiana accent shocked Nick with its familiarity.
That familiarity briefly blanked out his mind, despite the years that had passed since he’d last heard it.
“…Are you coming in, Naoko?” the vampire said, quirking an eyebrow. “Or not?”
Nick felt his jaw harden.
He glanced down the alley, then back at his maker.
When Brick glided backwards, receding into the shadowed doorway, Nick realized it was too late to second-guess this.
He was already committed.
Fighting to keep his steps even, to not advertise the cast on his leg, or the injury under it, he leapt lightly to the open doorway on his good leg, following Brick into the dim space.
His eyes went to the timepiece in his headset.
Wynter said one hour.
Twenty minutes had already passed.
He had to convince Brick to act like a normal fucking person, and he only had about forty minutes to do it before his girlfriend came here… and likely got her throat ripped out.
Basically, he was screwed.
He followed Brick down a narrow hallway.
He couldn’t help but notice that the vampire was barefoot, or that he walked with the same, graceful glide Nick remembered.
Something about watching that silent, panther-like tread brought it all crashing back.
Not just those years in the White Death.
The years before that.
The years before the war.
The years where he was f
irst adjusting to what he was.
Before Nick managed to regain his equilibrium, to level his mind enough to think about what came next, the physical space around him opened up without warning.
Brick left the narrow corridor without slowing his silent steps, and Nick followed, but stopped just as he entered the larger, high-ceilinged room. He gazed up and around at the still-dim space, taking in the dimensions and looking for exits before he moved away from the corridor’s dark opening.
In here, the walls and ceiling stretched up several stories, resuming the full height of the brick warehouse, and making him feel like he’d just entered some kind of vampire kill-pen.
To his left, Nick saw monitors covering spots halfway up the brick walls. Most of those screens showed views of the dome stars, presumably from cameras outside.
The screens on the lower levels appeared to be primarily showing news, only all of those with news had the sound turned off. Nick noted those channels came from at least six different clusters of protected areas: Russia, the United States, Europe, India, Africa, and China.
Only one monitor had sound playing.
That one sat near ground-level.
A dozen or so vampires clustered around it, most of them lounging on two worn, squashed-looking couches covered in dark purple velvet. They all looked riveted as they watched the old black-and-white movie playing on the four-foot screen.
Nick squinted at the images there, and recognized Humphrey Bogart. After another few seconds, he realized they were watching The Maltese Falcon.
Again, it was like walking through a time machine.
Sensing motion to his right, he turned, right as Brick draped himself over a high-backed chair that sat at the head of another half-circle of couches, these dark green instead of purple. The whole set up, with its old-fashioned, high-backed chairs, the antique-looking couches, the Persian rugs, the glass credenza with the crystal decanters filled with red wine, whisky, cognac, several different types of liqueurs, bourbon, vodka… the thick, white candles on the mantle over a large, wide-mouthed fireplace to Brick’s left… the zebra-skin draped over the chaise lounge in the corner… the throw pillows, the giant silver mirror over the fireplace.
The Prescient: A Science Fiction Vampire Detective Novel (Vampire Detective Midnight Book 3) Page 24