Bite Back Box Set 2

by Mark Henwick

  “This is going to take forever,” one of the security team said. “Traffic is hell. Christmas shopping.”

  I looked up into the sky. Another helicopter passed not far away. We had to be on some kind of route here.

  “Maybe I can persuade Jen to post Victor down here with the Kingslund Group helicopter,” I said. My own angel to look out for me while we all played for stakes we didn’t understand.

  “Good idea. Who knows when we might need it,” Yelena agreed. She took out her cell and started typing.

  “Yeah. Anyway, you, get a cab. Home, sleep.” I gave her a shove. “You were flying us back last night and I need you alert. I think Altau security can just about manage to escort us downtown and back to interview a teenager.”

  Chapter 49

  Tomorrow’s Faces had booked Tamanny and her mother into a flash downtown hotel. The rumors that Tamanny was going to be the winner seemed well-founded.

  There was a minor delay at the front desk, but Elizabetta had created some fake journalist IDs which fooled the hotel staff.

  On top of that, we caught a break: Mrs. Harper had gone out. Tamanny was alone in the suite and she answered the door to our knock.

  “Hi, Tamanny.” Elizabetta switched on a megawatt smile. “I’m Liz and this is Amber. We’re from LA Scene News.”

  “Oh hi!” she said. “Err…awesome!”

  “The agent got through to you about this?” Elizabetta said, meaning of course she had and everything was on the level.

  “Ah, I’m not sure.” Tamanny’s eyes widened and she looked around as if someone might overhear us. “This is, like, an interview?”

  “Not so formal. We’re really just scoping background, which will mean when you do the real interviews, they can focus on the essential parts and then we’ll just drop in context as necessary.”

  “Okay, I guess. But I’m not supposed to talk to you without Mom or someone from the show. Mom’s out.”

  By this time, we were inside the suite.

  “No problem.” Elizabetta waved a dismissive hand. “We’ll do the business when she gets here. Let me say, it’ll be really quick and easy as well. No tricky questions. No recordings.” Elizabetta was good at this. Tamanny’s anxiety was already easing off. “So, let’s just chill for the moment.”

  “Great! Yeah. Y’know, this place is amazing! You wanna see the pool? Up on the 26th? We could sit out there. It’s got like this great view of the city? They had a hot DJ up there last night. It was awesome!”

  “It might be a bit chilly today,” Elizabetta said.

  “Oh. Yeah, didn’t think of that.” Tamanny’s face fell dramatically. “People keep telling me, I don’t think things through enough.”

  Ease up on yourself, girl, I wanted to say. The kid was setting impossible targets for herself: trying to live life at a hundred miles an hour, be cool, not try hard and never say anything dumb.

  Elizabetta caught it. “No, what the hell,” she said. “It’s a great idea. Let’s do it. We’ve got coats. Grab yourself something warm. Let’s see the sights while we wait.”

  It would also mean that we might have a couple more minutes while Mrs. Harper tracked us down. Good thinking.

  Tamanny got a bulky coat and we headed up in the elevator.

  She was beautiful. It wasn’t makeup or clothes or hairdo—apart from a pair of swanky shoes, she was dressed down and her light brown hair was caught in a simple ponytail. No, it was her bone structure and her fresh skin, her huge eyes with their innocent intensity and her simple, uncomplicated enjoyment.

  Fourteen! What a stunner she’d be in a few years’ time.

  So long as I could keep Forsythe away from her.

  I’d come here wanting to dislike her. I wanted to see her as a fame-hungry, spoiled brat and I found I couldn’t; she wasn’t what I’d expected at all. I liked her.

  Still, I let Elizabetta do the talking; she had the knack and Tamanny had relaxed with her. Instead, I watched and tried to fire up my erratic eukori. Even without the benefit of telergy, I could sense enough to make me worried.

  Tamanny wasn’t stupid any more than she was a spoiled brat. Mrs. Harper had brought up a wonderful person who was going to blossom into an amazing young woman. I was actually looking forward to meeting her mother.

  But Tamanny was layered like an onion.

  That cool surface: schooled into her. The what’s-my-best-side, how-should-I-look armor that grew on actors.

  Beneath that, the kid who just wanted to jump and scream oh, my God, this is all so cool.

  And deeper, hidden beneath that: fear.

  Almost anyone, young or old, who gets catapulted into the limelight has doubts and insecurities.

  Do I deserve this?

  What if they really knew me?

  What if they’re all just telling me I’m good?

  Tamanny had all of those; I’d have been amazed if she didn’t, but they weren’t the only reading I was getting from her.

  Why was I getting such a bad subterranean vibe from Tamanny?

  My wolf was inhaling her scent. It wasn’t a scent of fear or terror that was reaching me. It was the scent of a long-term anxiety. As if her gut was warning her that she was in a bad place. That she had no way out. A cold, relentless feeling, like the tail end of some nightmare, coiling around her body. The feeling that those coils might crush her at any minute.

  What would her eukori tell me if I could just tease it out?

  But apart from a flickering confirmation of what my wolf nose was saying, I couldn’t seem to get a grip on my eukori. I couldn’t direct it.

  And without it, all my suspicions were as likely to be my own delusions as actual problems.

  Without wishing anything bad for Tamanny, I wanted there to be something going on that I could use to catch Forsythe.

  Not the right mindset to have.

  “We went to the Cicada last night? You know, they filmed that scene from Pretty Woman there,” Tamanny bubbled. “What do you think of Julia? Isn’t she awesome?”

  Worrying about my mindset wasn’t making firing up my eukori any easier.

  As we got out on the 26th floor, Elizabetta was steering the conversation towards the dangers of the industry for young girls.

  “Oh, God, yeah! Some of them are so gross,” Tamanny said. She giggled and rolled her eyes. “I tell my friends the guys have way heavy eyes.”

  When she spoke of her friends, her face lit up.

  “How so?” Elizabetta said.

  “Like their eyes are so heavy, they can’t lift them high enough to look girls in the face.”

  We laughed, but my gut feeling was getting sicker by the minute.

  It was cold on the deck. Still, last night’s winds had cleared the air, and the view was sparkling. And the view of downtown was great.

  “And they’re all so touchy,” Tamanny went on as we took in the sight. “Pat my head, pat my shoulder. Pat, pat, pat, like I’m a fu—, ahh, I mean like I’m a dog. Y’know, some of the creepiest ones even pat my bottom.”

  “What does your mom say about this?”

  Tamanny suddenly stopped, and we lost valuable minutes while Elizabetta reassured her this was just chatting and nothing to do with the interview; that we’d never consider printing something she’d said to us in confidence.

  We were losing her.

  I got a little closer and tried concentrating on soothing thoughts. Someone like Diana had a level of control over their Athanate glands that she could produce calming pheromones on demand. I didn’t have that. I tended to put out what Jen called happy-time pheromones when I was with my kin and House. Doing it now was much harder.

  My eukori spluttered and fizzed as well. I was being about as much use as nipples on a man.

  “Mr. Forsythe isn’t like that, though?” I said. “Not the creepy things with the eyes and hands?”

  “No,” Tamanny said. “He’s cool, and he’s kind. He’s always doing stuff he doesn’t have to. He buys m
e things.”

  She leaned back against the railing at the edge of the deck and lifted one foot.

  “Like these,” she said.

  “Blahniks.” A couple of months ago, I wouldn’t have gotten past high-heeled shoe, pretty, completely impractical, looks too freaking expensive. Jen had insisted I learn better, but I was still right: they were impractical and expensive. In fact, thanks to Jen, I now knew roughly how incredibly expensive. Tamanny’s Blahniks were lipstick red, they hugged her heels and had a sort of interlaced crossover that held the front of her foot, leaving the instep bare.

  “Yes!” Tamanny was clearly impressed with me, and pleased she could show off without having to explain it. “Aren’t they just amazing?”

  “They’re beautiful,” I said, truthfully.

  “You can take them off sometimes,” Elizabetta said. The shoes didn’t go with the casuals she was wearing.

  Tamanny pretended to stamp in anger. “No! No! No! They can pry them off my cold, dead feet.”

  We all laughed again. It was easy around Tamanny. I got the feeling she wanted to be laughing all the time.

  I’d anticipated her answer about Tanner Forsythe. He wouldn’t do the creepy bit. He’d be charming as the devil. Everyone’s heartthrob. No, he was an invisible predator. And sick. I’d bet the more surprising he could make it when he struck, the more of a thrill he’d get from it.

  “Your mom thinks he’s okay, too?”

  “Oh, yeah!” She’d relaxed again.

  Elizabetta came back into the conversation. “You mentioned friends. They live in LA?”

  “No.” Tamanny sighed. “My old friends from home.” She got jumpy again. “You gotta promise me you won’t say anything. Mom doesn’t know I keep in touch with them.”

  “She doesn’t approve?”

  “She says they’ll hold me down.”

  “Keep you grounded, more like.” Whoops. The demon in my throat slipped that out before I could stop it, but Tamanny only nodded agreement.

  “I know she only wants what’s best for me,” she said.

  I didn’t agree, but I managed to keep the demon quiet. I’d gone from wanting to meet Tamanny’s mother to wanting to have serious words with her.

  “I mean, look at all this: it’s not that bad, having to put up with the creeps,” she went on. “Sometimes you have to, y’know, like, pay in advance. Take a little hard time up front for the soft life.”

  My eukori fizzed and I got a tremor of the deep fear in Tamanny as she parroted the stuff her mother had been feeding her.

  Before I could say anything more, the woman herself arrived. In a rush, unhappy and letting us know all about it.

  “Who said you could interview her?” was her opening, delivered at the top of her voice.

  “Hello, Mrs. Harper,” Elizabetta said. “We’re not interviewing. We were just chatting and enjoying the view while we waited for you.”

  That only partially satisfied her. “No one told me. What the fuck’s going on?” She didn’t wait for an answer, reaching out to grab Tamanny. “What’ve you said to them?”

  I managed to stop myself from breaking Mrs. Harper’s arm, but the demon came up with: “That it’s a great view and she has nice shoes.”

  Elizabetta got between me and the woman. “We’re wanting to do something a bit different here, Mrs. Harper. In fact, we wanted to talk to you, as much as Tamanny. The angle we’re looking for is, well, where Tamanny comes from. That’s family, and that means you.”

  “Oh. I’m not just her mother, you know.”

  She stepped back, letting her daughter go. Tamanny rubbed her arm discreetly.

  “I’m about to re-launch my career,” Mrs. Harper said.

  I bit my lip to shut up. Elizabetta was going to be a whole lot better than me at talking to both of them.

  I had to admit, Mrs. Harper would take a good picture. I could see Tamanny had inherited her good bone structure from her mother. The woman would still have been attractive if it hadn’t been for the unnatural stillness of her face and the overelaborate makeup.

  But re-launching a career here, in LA, where youth was a god?

  “Good genes,” Elizabetta was saying. “Bone structure, carriage. You must have been in the industry as well. I mean, didn’t I read something about your work with the Bailarin Dance Group?”

  Mrs. Harper almost smiled. I wondered if there were any muscles still working in her face.

  “Yes. I was the principal. We took it to Vegas, you know. We shared the stage with them all. Dean and Sammy, Joey and Peter, sweet Lolo and Danny, of course. Danny Gans. So tragic.”

  I bit my lip. I didn’t think stars like Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Junior, if that’s who she meant, ever ‘shared’ their stage. Not with a small Californian dance troupe.

  “I gave everything to the Bailarin, you know,” she said. “It was my passion that lifted us. I gave it my heart and soul. It was the others that gave up, all of them, one after the other. But I'm still here and I haven’t given up. I still have what it takes.”

  We’d distracted her, but she was a long way from convinced about us.

  “We need to be crystal clear about this,” she said. “I’m her agent and either you abide by my decisions on what you can print, or you’ll never have another chance to talk to Tamanny. She’s the next big star. She is tomorrow’s face, and I will not let anything get in the way of that. I need to sign off on everything before you get into print runs. I’ll need full copies before, including any photographs and placement in magazines. Oh, and I’ll want contact information for any advertisers whose products appear alongside the article. The same will apply when you interview me.”

  The stuff was about to hit the fan.

  I knew next to nothing about the industry, but I knew that no one could command those sort of assurances from any reputable magazine. If any of those still existed. And besides, we were complete fakes.

  Tamanny had wandered to one side and turned her back on the discussion. I followed her. I didn’t have much time left.

  “Listen to me,” I said.

  She swung her young-old eyes around to me and I tasted bile, imagining the worst the industry could do to her. The worst Forsythe could do to her. I wanted nothing more than to kidnap her right now; take her away and give her back a childhood.

  “I…uhh...” She glanced at her mother. Elizabetta was doing an excellent job, being distracting, and buying me a few more moments with Tamanny.

  “You don’t need to answer anything. Let me just say a few words. Can’t hurt, can it?”

  She bit her lip.

  “You’re scared. You don’t trust the people around you.”

  The fear I’d sensed rose in her eyes. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out.

  I reached. I didn’t intend to this time; it just happened. My eukori worked. It flowed out and tangled with hers.

  There was no way of accurately describing any of the eukori I sensed. I relied on strange associations the feelings made in my head. Tamanny’s eukori was like rose petals falling. A gentle pull and I could feel the fear swirling below. Beneath the shield of laughing at ‘creeps’, and making fun of them, she was genuinely afraid of some of the people she was meeting. And through the fear was threaded another feeling, like being caught by rose thorns, being unable to get away, being trapped. A feeling I knew. I could remember the steel kiss of the angoisse clasped around my throat, the sharp spines pressing against my flesh.

  I blinked away unexpected tears. Fourteen!

  Behind me, I heard the question that was going to get us thrown out. “Which magazine? Who’s your editor? I need to talk to them.” Mrs. Harper had her cell out.

  “Well, we’re freelancers. Our work will be up for bidding—”

  “Freelancers? Fucking freelancers! This is a con. Get the fuck away from her.”

  Her voice had become a screech and she was pushing past Elizabetta. I had a couple of seconds, no more.

  “Listen t
o me,” I said, words flowing out of me. “I am someone you can trust with your life. When you need help, call me and I will come for you.”

  I gave her my card with my number.

  She blinked.

  For a second I thought she was going to hold it up and look at it. Her mother would snatch it out of her hand and throw it back at me.

  I shifted to put my body between her and her mother. Just another second. Just…

  Tamanny’s hand twisted like a conjuror doing a trick. My card had disappeared.

  You go, girl. You survive, dammit.

  Her mother’s hand grabbed my shoulder and jerked me back.

  “Get the fuck out of here!” she shouted in my face. “I’m calling security.”

  I put my hands up and backed away. Tamanny’s head was down and her mother shoved her toward the elevators.

  We let them go and made our own way down afterwards.

  The hotel staff weren’t interested in us as long as we left, and we were outside a minute later.

  “You get the same feeling about this?” Elizabetta asked.

  I nodded. “Her mother’s got some kind of guilt trip on Tamanny. Something along the lines of she gave it all up to raise her, and now it’s time to pay back.”

  “You sensed that? Your eukori?”

  I nodded. “I think so. It sort of worked.”

  “That woman is full of it,” Elizabetta spat. “I mean, what a piece of work!”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t prove anything about Forsythe,” I said, arguing against my instincts. “Tamanny doesn’t think he’s the problem.”

  “No, I suppose he buys her shoes out of the goodness of his heart.”

  “Hey, I’m on your side,” I said. “He’s a sick predator, but that doesn’t change the facts. She didn’t give us anything we could use against Forsythe.”

  “And her mother’s no use. She won’t care what happens as long as the money’s good and she gets her name in lights.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  But as I said it, I looked back up at the impersonal height of the hotel. The blank eyes of the windows looking out over downtown LA made me think of Mrs. Harper’s eyes. Soulless. My gut told me Elizabetta was right.