Tongue pressing on the inside of his cheek, Kristoff smirked. He brought her hands down before rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. “You don’t need to beg, just ask.”
“Don’t push your luck.” Pulling her hands back, Red tamped down the confusing feelings that Kristoff’s touch provoked. She wet her lips. Looking over his shoulder, she tried to distract herself from his proximity. How long would he loom all creepily sexy for show?
Other vampires were either still drinking from their humans or toasting each other with shot glasses. Only one didn’t have a drink. A dishwater blond in a black tank top and orange Hawaiian shirt cut off at the shoulders, his face tugged that Red’s memory.
The male vampire sniffed, scratching his arm as he dodged and weaved through to the edge of the crowd. He glanced longingly with a cross-eyed gaze at a human being fed on amid chants of ‘chug’ by fanged frat boys. Moving on with plodding feet, he walked through an unmarked door half hidden behind a tapestry.
His face finally registered in Red’s mind—the burrower from Orval’s death video.
“Burrower,” Red breathed. “Leaving to the left. Secret door.”
Flirtatious air gone, Kristoff held her hand as he led her under the tapestry.
Compared to the faux gothic catacomb look of the club, the hallway looked mundane with its bare white walls. Buzzing fluorescent lights reflected on a scuffed linoleum floor. The music and conversation from the club was muffled. Double swinging doors guarded the nearest end while the other stretched into the distance. They were alone with their target.
The burrower bobbed his head as he stalked down the hall.
“Is the VIP room this way?” Kristoff asked, wobbling on his feet, suddenly sounding drunk as he held her close under her arm. “I’m looking for a better party, man.”
Red kept her mouth shut, trying to look dazed from blood lust even as she scanned the vampire for weapons. Nothing pooched from his baggy jeans or caught the drape of his ratty Hawaiian shirt. If it came to a fight, the hallway was clear of Fine Line staff members, but it was still too open.
“Damned if I know. I’m lost.” The burrower stopped, looking back, pupils oversized even from a distance. He twitched, rubbing his teeth. He scratched his chin. “You won’t find a decent party here, dude. We got ourselves a bunch of squares.”
“That was a weak blood toast.” Kristoff commiserated before he stepped forward, waggling his finger. “Hey, I met you in Palm Springs at one of Patrice’s parties, didn’t I?” He squinted. “Keith or Bert or something?”
“Bird.” The other vampire nodded. His posture loosened. Bird smiled. “I was dragged to that lame pool party, then kicked out, if you can believe it. Souled parties are too vanilla for me.”
“Didn’t even have a blood orgy.” Kristoff groaned, shaking his head.
Red buried her head against his chest to hide her rolling eyes. Vampires. Immortal yet still full of clichés. Everything was a Blood this or a Dark that. They couldn’t just have a regular orgy.
“I know!” The burrower laughed. “They never do.”
“Are we creatures of the night or what?”
”Then when you kill someone, they get all butt hurt.” Bird made a jerk off motion before chuckling. “It’s like an AA meeting.”
Kristoff tilted his chin up, unsteady on his feet. “So, are you off to find some real action?”
“Brother, I wish. But fuck it all, I’m working a thing,” Bird said with the hangdog expression of a blue-collar Joe. “I finally offed my old squeeze, so I’m in the market for another. Didn’t even get more than a bite after sunset.”
Clenching her jaw to keep silent, Red wished she had a stake. This must have been the friend that Ophelia had said went off to Slab City and never returned. Another innocent casualty like the people at the Welcome Café or the captive soulmancer to lay at the Dague’s feet.
“Tell me where I can find a better after-party in this town, and I’ll share.” Kristoff nodded to Red, nudging her forward. “She still has some left in her. The chick is spun out, but I like a kick to my fix.”
Red glanced back at Kristoff, scowling. Great, why was she always the bait? She forced herself to merely tremble, like a confused bleeder, and not kick Kristoff in the shin like she wanted too.
“If you want a good time, brother, it’s all about the desert parties.” The burrower shook his wrist, raising the pinky and index fingers on one hand, making the ‘rock on’ hand gesture as he walked forward. “Thanks for the hit. I had a heroin junkie and I like being sped up, not slowed down.”
Red braced herself. She was already kicking herself for trusting Kristoff to take the lead.
Charging ahead, Kristoff grabbed Bird by the neck, fingers squeezing.
Only a croak came out of Bird’s throat as he choked.
Already guessing his plan, Red darted away. Their evening plan had jumped from recon to kidnapping. Kristoff was an overachiever. They had that in common. She wanted this case closed. Cora had been desperate for intel. A wriggling informant would make her night.
Kristoff spun Bird around to restrain his hands behind his back, then slapped a rough hand over the other vampire’s mouth. “Open the third door on the right. It’s under renovation.”
Red trotted to get the room open, revealing a wide entryway to a multistory stairwell with a door at the next landing. Canvas cloths covered the floor. A ladder leaned over gallon paint cans in the corner. The in-progress black paint job had petered out five steps up the stairway. Some rebel with a roller had scribbled up the wall.
Bird kicked his legs, heels digging into the side of the threshold
In a blur, Kristoff dragged the other vampire through.
Red closed the door behind them. Spinning around, she stilled the nervous panting escaping her throat. “We’re ahead of schedule.”
Glancing over his shoulder, Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “Still gotta get out with him.”
“Not going to happen,” Bird spat out.
Lips curving in a cold smile, Kristoff tightened his hold on the other vampire’s arm. Sliding Bird’s face against the rough concrete walls, he stepped up the stairs. He took his time. His voice was eerily calm and filled with a quiet confidence. “You’re thinking, fuck this guy. I can take him.”
“Can too!” Bird sneered over his shoulder. His lazy eye struggled to match Kristoff’s gaze.
Kristoff paused to slam Bird against a black painted anarchy sign on the wall. “I’m three times your age, Bird, and I didn’t do heroin tonight.”
“Fuck you and your bitch. Let me go!” Bird’s voice came out fierce even from brutalized voice cords.
“Language, a lady is present.” Kristoff shook his captive, amusement bubbling in his tone.
“We have an after-party for you, Bird.” Unfazed by Kristoff’s tough cop routine, Red scurried behind them to play good cop. “You’ll tell us all about the Dague on the way. Cooperation will get you a better deal later with the Blood Alliance.”
“Think through the black tar heroin about what you’re going to say,” Kristoff warned. “I’ll know if you’re lying about the raid on Soul House.”
“Shit, I wasn’t there, brother,” Bird insisted. “Not my jam.”
Kristoff twisted the restrained arm in his grip, jerking it up.
Panting, Bird winced as his shoulder popped, bones grinding together.
Hiding her cringe, she glanced back down to the foot of the stairs. She could still hear the beat from the club. Hopefully it was enough to cover Kristoff literally strong-arming their Burrower.
“I was telling the truth!”
“Is that what it sounds like?” Kristoff forced Bird up the steps. “Good to know.”
Red followed behind the two. “He was there with Orval.”
“I plead the fifth.” Bird spat out as he strutted an unrepentant prep walk. He tossed his head.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Kristoff slammed Bird’s temple into the wall.
<
br /> The other vampire drooped, unconscious.
Red, startled by the sudden thump, gripped the rail. “Okay then. We’re dragging out a body now.”
“I like him better quiet,” Kristoff said, holding Bird up by the armpit. “Get the watch from my inner jacket pocket. Wrap it around his wrists.”
Reaching into his jacket, she ignored the awkwardness. A nervous mental quip popped up that he literally did have something in his pocket for her. Silently, Red pulled out a velvet pouch and dumped the antique silver pocket watch into her palm. The chain was unusually long. Clever. He wouldn’t have been the first vampire with a predilection for old fashioned accessories. The guards at the door were too busy trying to impress him to notice the watch chain’s material-blessed silver.
Red wrapped it around Bird’s wrists, looping between the arms. The silver sizzled on his skin. She tightened it and tied the watch to fortify the restraint.
“You’re strangely good at knots.” Kristoff observed, intrigued. The implications plucked up the corners of his lips.
“That’s what all the demons say.” Huffing, Red stood and walked up the stairs. “How are we getting him out of here? We were supposed to spy. Not kidnap.”
“You know my policy on expectations. I exceed them.” Kristoff grinned, propping up Bird like he was getting a drunk friend home.
Squeaking out for grease, an opening door echoed above in the stairwell.
Tossing a side-eye at him, Red lifted her hands drolly. She silently challenged him to exceed expectations again.
Kristoff went to an unmarked door lined in painter’s tape at the nearest landing. He yanked it open, holding Bird under his arm.
Red rushed through into a darkened hall. Edison bulbs hung from wall sconces, reflecting dim light on the gray paint, plush carpet, and single door. An abstract painting of crimson and cream dominated the wall. This wasn’t a utility hall. Had they finally found the VIP area?
Kristoff murmured, “I’ll get us out. I had the tour with the other potential investors.”
Voices carried from the around the corner.
Glaring at Kristoff, Red turned to the stairwell exit and heard another conversation on the other side. She mouthed a curse word at him before darting to the only other door and hiding inside.
Kristoff brushed past her with hunched over Bird under his arm.
Red closed the door and spun around. Decorated in oak panel and heavy furniture, it looked like a gentleman’s smoking room. A grand fireplace and chairs dominated the room. The dim lights dully reflected off the brass trash shoot cover in the corner. She tried to catch her breath.
A leather chair turned roughly, scratching on the floor. Eyes wary even as her lips pursed in curiosity, Sancha crossed her legs in a shimmer of silver sequins. She didn’t look shocked to have unexpected visitors. “Who sent you on what business?”
“Mine.” Kristoff retorted before dropping Bird. He stepped in front of Red to face the female vampire.
“You’re surprised to see me.” Sancha’s tone grew calculating. “What have I stumbled upon—the hunter breaking the rules again?” She grinned, almost coy. Her sharp gaze lingered on Red’s neck. “Wait until I tell the Blood Alliance, Strawberry.”
“That’s ironic, considering.“ Red tilted her head, looking between the two vampires.
Kristoff crossed his arms. “Your Dague have made enough enemies there.”
Even topping him by centuries in age, Sancha stilled in mid-rise from her chair. She straightened, the unease washing over her features. “Michel’s old minions? I don’t understand why you would care, Novak. Their politics are close enough to your own.”
Kristoff smiled. “The second you fucked with Alzbeta, you made me care. Don’t play stupid. It doesn’t suit you. Not like that beautiful dress you wore on that desert raid. We have a nice little video of that.”
“No!” Sancha put her finger up, red nail waving in objection. “I don’t know what plot that you are foiling, but I would never go against Alzbeta Czernin. What would be the point?”
Red tilted her head. It checked out. Cora had buried the truth of Kristoff’s involvement in Michel’s demise. Even if Sancha somehow knew, why would she drag his powerful and multinational clan into it? “Then why are you here?”
“I was invited by an anonymous source about a newfound will. My sire’s.” Sancha tightened her fingers on her elbow, glancing around the smoking room. “This is ridiculous. I’m being made a fool of. I don’t understand what to make of this ruse, but I have nothing to do with the Dague. ”
“Good gambit.” Kristoff crossed his arm.
Hackles raising, Sancha tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Michel screwed me over with his coup.”
“You were his childe,” Red said. “That has to mean something to his followers.”
“We all know how he covered up the Bricktown massacre.” Kristoff sneered. “Saved your ass.”
“That was the least he could do. He wanted me as supreme in Oklahoma. Fool me, I thought he cared.” Sancha’s heavy brows pressed together. Her oval face tightened into harsh lines. “Then without warning, on All Souls Day, the Blood Alliance stormed my lair, captured my guards, and interrogated me about every member of the Alaric Order who was staked in the last century.”
“Bet they asked about the dead husband too?” Kristoff smirked.
“Fuck you, Novak.” Sancha shook her head, fangs peeping from her pillow lips. “I was held for days under silver. Not a single word from the outside world. Only the sire bond with my childer told me they still survived. Was I still supreme? Would I get a tribunal? Days, I wondered. Then I suddenly didn’t feel Michel.” She lowered her head for only a moment. Her eyes were dry even if her voice quavered at her sire’s name. “You think it’s going to be an explosion when your sire dies.”
Red glanced to Kristoff, sensing him tense beside her.
Sancha shook her head. “It’s just silence. I never grasped the space that he took up in my head until he lost his own.”
Conflict stole onto his face before his cool reserve pulled it back under.
“I don’t believe her.” Red crossed her arms. She had been in the black widow’s web and seen what she had done to her nearest and dearest. The King of the Prairie Dead had been a lot of things, including sleazy and gross, but she could tell that he had loved his Queen. Sancha had paid Red thousands for killing him.
“Michel never trusted you again after Paris.” Kristoff commented, his voice all too idle.
“But he could never let me go. I don’t know if he asked me to become Queen so he could have a stronger ally in the Midwest, or if he wanted me to lose someone that I once loved. So no, I am not posting his insipid hashtag.” Sancha stared into the distance. “He only showed me who he was.”
Lifting her hands, Red reasoned, “Leave with us, and Cora will listen to your side of the story.” She smiled encouragingly.
The brunette gave herself a shake and started walking to the door, sequins trembling. “I am a queen. I don’t need you.”
Sliding in front of Sancha, Kristoff loomed over her smaller frame. “We’re having a good chat.”
“Step aside.”
Before Red could tell him to stop, Kristoff rested his hand on the other vampire’s shoulder. “Now.”
Sancha narrowed her eyes. It was the only warning. Her hand gripped his wrist and twisted, bringing his arm back, before punching him.
“She fights. I forgot that!” Red piped up, stepping back from the vampires, her foot tapping Bird. She looked for something to stake Sancha with, as if she had a chance against the aged demon. The only wooden objects in the room were the wall panels. She felt caught between untying the silver from the unconscious vampire at her feet for defense or running. Habit made her hand roam unseeing into her purse. Her fingers brushed against a ring. The stone’s rough cut pricked her fingertip. Red slipped it on. Magic hummed over her.
Thin arm landing like a battering ram, Sanc
ha threw over three centuries of might into pounding Kristoff’s face. She pulled him down to her eye level.
Red raised her hand before realizing she didn’t know how to operate the ruby ring Kristoff had given her. Neveah had made it seem easy. The energy welling behind her navel pulsed to life, beckoning her. It popped from the influence of Kristoff’s blood. Winging it, she cupped her hand and launched the tiny lumpy orb at Sancha’s back. Her ears buzzed.
The orb went wide, looping to land by the hearth, not even leaving a scorch. If it’d had a sound, it would have been a sad trombone. Red cursed.
Sancha punched Kristoff, striding for the door before her head snapped to Red. She charged.
Kristoff tackled her.
“No, mira! Look!” Sancha pointed behind Red.
Jumping up, Bird hissed at Red, hands bound behind his back. The blood on his temple dripped onto his patterned shirt. “You can’t stop what Michel started!”
Red turned too slow.
In a blur of orange Hawaiian print, Bird headbutted her, arms tied behind his back. The movement was sluggish but hit like a brick. “We got a whole plan, man.”
Red stumbled back. Pain exploded in her forehead. She raised her hand, furious tears on her cheeks. This was her gift, but she didn’t know how to use it. She tried again to will her magic to the surface. Spectral rays pierced through the cracks in her fist like spiked brass knuckles.
“He showed us who we are!” Bird lunged, fangs out. He jerked out a hand scrapped raw, pinkie gone and cauterized by blessed silver in a ghoulish escape, to slash at her.
No time to throw an orb, Red punched him in the face. His flesh burned under the orb’s rays.
Sancha appeared behind Bird, holding the dropped silver chain. The metal sizzling, she whipped it around his midsection and yanked the looped chain tight. “I’ve had enough of that line!”
Bird squawked, the sound dying as the silver cut through his torso. His top half fell over, falling into a heap of bones as he decomposed in an instant.
Tapping delicately at his femur with her heeled foot, Sancha dropped the chain. She glanced at Red. “Guess who saved your life again.”
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