Red Angel

by Helen Harper

  ‘The police are impotent as you well know.’ X shrugs, a languid motion that makes his opinion obvious. ‘Besides, isn’t legality a pointless argument? Vampires are above the law.’

  ‘It’s not as simple as that,’ I answer stiffly. ‘We don’t answer to human law but we have very strict laws of our own. And murder, kidnapping, whatever … they’re dealt with far more severely than the humans realise.’

  ‘When it suits the Families’ purposes.’ He traces his fingernail down a display of caviar, tapping the tins as if to ascertain their quality. ‘They’d never have bothered with Lanscome, would they?’

  ‘Because no one knew about him!’

  ‘No one cared to find out.’ He looks closely at me. ‘Favour or no favour, Bo – I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.’

  I’m not sure what new trick this is. ‘X…’

  ‘It’s not a trick.’ He winks. ‘Trust me.’

  Like that’s about to happen. I stare at the darkened shelves. I can’t smell any blood. Not yet. ‘Fine.’

  X smiles as if my answer is what he expected all along. I take a deep breath and step forward.

  ‘Towards the back. Keep going straight ahead. When you reach the Stilton, you’ll know you’ve gone too far.’

  I do as I’m told. X hangs back. I wonder how far his mind reading extends; I’m guessing at least the length of the hall. I reach behind my neck and massage a stiff knot of tension in my shoulders. I knead it carefully, trying to work it out. It’s a pointless effort. The deeper I go into the food hall, the more tense I become.

  I scan the darkness. Nothing’s moving. Nothing’s there. Perhaps it’s just a practical joke. Any minute now I’ll slip on a banana skin, X will laugh uproariously and we can all go home.

  That’s when I hear the moan. It’s faint and muffled but it’s definitely a moan. I turn slowly towards the noise, past one shelf, then another. There’s a scraping sound and an odd judder. Shit, I feel like I’m trapped in a horror film. I pause at an intersection, chocolate on one side and coffee on another, then I peer round.

  Three seated shapes greet me. I blink and jerk back. I peer round again. My fangs elongate. It’s not a conscious action – it must be a result of the stress. I still can’t see who the people are. If X is setting me up again, I’m going to kill him. Or at least have strict words with him. Okay, I’ll probably just mutter something under my breath and run away.

  I shuffle forward. The flashing red of a security camera throws shadows across their faces. Who the hell are they? The one on the left moans again; his neighbour flinches and swings his head round as if to shush him. The contours of his face are displayed momentarily and I recognise him. It’s the guy O’Shea shagged – the one who had the ear that started all this in the first place.

  Leaping over, I grab his chin and tilt it up, just to be sure. ‘You,’ I hiss. ‘I know you.’

  His mouth is taped shut but the snarl in his eyes is enough of an answer. I stare at the other two; I know them too. They’re the bastards who went to Rogu3’s school, the ones who tried to kill him. They tried to gun down a kid. I can’t help myself; I throw a punch, smashing the first one in the face. His head snaps back. He’s obviously tied to the chair and he can’t fight back.

  My breath is coming in short bursts. I do what I can to control it and walk back three steps, keeping my eyes trained on them. I fumble for the white pebble. The instant I touch it, I feel better. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to hurt these pricks very badly but it helps me to remember that’s not the way things should be done.

  ‘You should have stayed in Venezuela, boys,’ I spit.

  The one on the right has a muscle near his eye that’s twitching furiously. Making a quick decision, I reach over and rip off the tape.

  He bares his teeth. ‘Don’t you think we wanted to?’

  X. I turn but the Kakos daemon is nowhere to be seen. I wonder if I now owe him another favour. I can’t understand how this scenario is helping him. I push away my worries about whatever game he might be playing and turn back.

  ‘Why? Why did you do it? Why attack the Agathos Court? Why try to kill so many people?’

  The man coughs, spittle escaping his mouth. ‘Can I have some water first?’

  I think about it. ‘No,’ I say finally. ‘Tell me first.’

  I can see him mulling it over. ‘If I tell you then I’m dead.’

  ‘You’re dead anyway.’

  ‘Nah, you’re just a little girl. You won’t hurt me.’

  I bare my fangs, leaning close to his pulsating jugular. ‘Guess again.’ The flicker of fear in his eyes is enough for now. I make a show licking my lips. ‘You probably don’t taste very nice,’ I muse. ‘I don’t need to hurt you though. Back there, lurking in the darkness, is the Kakos daemon who brought you here. He can read your mind. And he can hurt you a lot more than I can.’

  Shadows flit across his face. He knows I’m telling the truth. ‘We were given a lot of money,’ he says. ‘A lot of money to kill one little daemon, take his ear and deliver it to a specified address.’

  ‘Who? Who gave you the money?’ I ask urgently.

  He meets my eyes. ‘I have no idea.’ Damn it. He’s telling the truth.

  ‘How could you not know?’ I hiss.

  ‘We were contacted anonymously through a broker. After that our communications were through a series of dead drops.’

  ‘The broker? Where is he now?’

  He smiles coldly. ‘The broker is broken. Chopped up into little pieces.’

  ‘You did that?’

  ‘No.’

  He is lying about the broker; his eyes give him away. This guy and his damn buddies probably gutted him, hoping that torture would reveal who their employer was. I circle round him, clenching and unclenching my fists. He retains a stiff, almost military posture and there’s defiance in his eyes.

  ‘Once you lost the ear, why go to so much trouble to get it back? Why try and kill so many?’

  He sighs as if it’s a stupid question. ‘Who cares?’

  I harden my voice. ‘I care.’

  ‘There were going to be others. Three others. We couldn’t advertise what we were doing because we didn’t want them to be spooked and run off. If we deviated from the protocol, we knew our lives would be forfeit.’

  ‘Which others? Who were they?’ I demand.

  He tries to shrug but his bonds prevent him. ‘I don’t know. Once one contract was fulfilled we were going to get the next name.’ His expression turns wistful. ‘We only managed the one.’

  I want to hurt him very, very badly but I keep my tone even and my arms by my sides. ‘Whose ear was it?’

  ‘Some woman. Madeline Gregory.’

  ‘And what was the address? The one you were supposed to deliver her ear to?’

  He rolls his eyes. ‘So many questions. Does it really matter?’ I don’t reply, I simply stand in front of him and put my hands on my hips. He sighs again. ‘12 Forest Avenue.’

  I file it away. Now we’re getting somewhere.

  ‘Are we done now?’ he asks.

  I start to nod, then change my mind. ‘The money,’ I say slowly. ‘How much was it?’

  He smirks. ‘It wasn’t a wad of unmarked notes, if that’s what you’re thinking. It was gold. Three shiny gold bars. One for each of us.’

  It’s all connected. I knew it. When these idiots disappeared from the scene, the mastermind simply hired more – Creed and Wyatt. When they messed up, they were summarily dispatched. Whoever is doing this is desperate not to reveal their identity. Is it a simple case of revenge or is there more to it?

  ‘Tell me about Checkers.’

  He looks confused. ‘Who?’

  I look into his eyes, ascertaining the truth. ‘Never mind,’ I mutter.

  All three of the captive daemons stiffen abruptly as they see something behind me. There’s no mistaking their fear.

  ‘Are you done now?’ X asks smoothly.

&n
bsp; ‘I guess. I don’t know.’ I look at him. ‘Why? Why did you do this?’

  He smiles. ‘I thought you’d appreciate the opportunity to take your revenge.’

  I hold the image of my pebble in my mind’s eye. ‘I don’t want revenge,’ I tell him. ‘I want justice.’

  X laughs softly. ‘One and the same, Bo.’

  ‘Was he telling the truth?’

  He inclines his head. ‘He was – for the most part. Poor Madeline. He was the one to take her ear, you know. Post mortem.’ He points to the man in the middle. ‘He put the ruby in.’ He points to the last one. ‘And he let your little daemon friend steal it away before it could be delivered. Don’t you think they deserve to be hurt?’

  I stare at them. They’re bound and helpless but the malevolence and spite in their eyes remain.

  ‘Think of Rogu3,’ X whispers. ‘What they tried to do to him. He’s a child.’

  ‘You brought them here.’

  His black eyes gleam and his tattoos twist under the dim light, writhing like inky snakes. ‘I have … power abroad.’

  ‘Why have you done this?’ I ask, shaking my head in confusion.

  He answers me with another question. ‘Don’t they deserve to die? Shouldn’t they suffer for what they did? They’re terrorists, Bo. Evil.’

  I turn away. ‘Call the police.’

  ‘You must possess unshakeable faith in the justice system.’

  ‘It’s the right thing to do.’

  X leans in. ‘Is it?’

  I swallow hard, reach in my pocket and take out my little white stone. I stare at it lying there in my palm, small and innocuous.

  ‘You’re not ready yet,’ X says. There’s no disappointment in his voice. He says it as if he’s merely stating a fact. ‘You will be.’

  I curl my fingers round the stone and meet his steady gaze. ‘Why?’ I ask again. ‘Why have you done this?’

  ‘I want a superhero. A dark avenging angel to sweep the streets of crime.’ He twinkles with misplaced humour.

  ‘You can do that all on your own. You don’t need me.’

  ‘I’m a Kakos daemon.’ For the first time there’s a trace of real emotion in his face. It hints at deep-seated bitterness. ‘No matter how hard I try or what I do, I’ll always be the bogeyman.’

  ‘That’s what happens when you murder people live on television!’

  ‘Oh,’ he tuts, ‘poor maligned Marcus Lanscombe. That girl wasn’t the only one, you know.’

  I repress a shudder and look away. X laughs softly.

  ‘I still don’t understand. Are you offering me a job in executions?’

  ‘No, I’m offering you the opportunity to rid the world of evil. The public are already behind you. You’ll become the power in London, the army, the police, the secret service all combined into one. Except you’ll do more good than all of them put together.’

  ‘That’s why you did that at the television studio?’

  ‘You were already a hero. I simply made you a star as well.’

  I press my fingers against my temples. My head is pounding. ‘Why do you want the streets cleared of criminals?’

  ‘The entertainment value alone would be worth it.’

  I look at him, narrow-eyed. ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘We’re not the bad guys you think we are. You know the Families are responsible for pinning a lot of murders on us. You know I’ve been working to help the Agathos Court. I’ve even encouraged Streets of Fire to develop its charity work.’

  ‘You’re all heart.’

  ‘They get in my way,’ he says in an undertone. ‘The petty criminals, the self-serving humans and the squabbling tribers. I want to concentrate on my own interests. I could rip the hearts out of every idiot I come across but that will only create an atmosphere of fear. That’s not going to help me. A superhero working for the power of good, however, will unite the country.’

  I glance at the trussed-up trio. ‘We’re not in a comic book, X. Vigilantism isn’t heroic, it’s reckless and stupid.’

  ‘As I said, you’re not ready yet.’

  ‘I will never be ready. The law is there for a reason.’

  He laughs again. ‘And Bo Blackman never breaks the law.’

  I ignore his jibe. ‘What are you going to do with them?’

  ‘If you’re not going to get involved, then it’s nothing to do with you.’

  ‘X…’

  He grins. ‘I’ll do as you ask, of course. I’ll let the police handle them.’ He raises his eyebrows mockingly. ‘Justice will be served.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Momentous Decisions

  I pace around my flat. Kimchi watches me from the sofa, his head on his paws and his eyes large and expressive. I stop occasionally to stroke his ears but even his furry friendliness doesn’t ease my frustration.

  Dawn is approaching so there’s nothing I can do. I’m too amped up to sleep. I keep thinking of the cold, hard look in all three of the daemons’ eyes. My heart tells me that I should have killed them and been done with it; my head reminds me that I did the right thing by walking away. X doesn’t need a hero to clean up the streets for him; he needs a sodding conscience.

  I force him out of my head and focus on what I know. Four potential victims: the Harrods’ three are responsible for one; Creed and Wyatt, based on their actions and conversation at the Renfrew mansion, for at least two. That means there might be one person left, one person who might end up earless and in a body bag. I need to find out who that is. I have my suspicions but I want to confirm them first – and I can’t do anything until night falls again.

  I press my lips together. Actually, that’s not true: there is one thing I can do. I pick up the phone and slowly dial.

  It doesn’t take Michael long to arrive. When he knocks on my door, my stomach lurches but I manage to smile when I beckon him in. He steps inside, motioning to Kimchi to stay put, and gives me a long measured look.

  ‘What’s wrong, Bo?’ he asks finally.

  I think of O’Shea. ‘I like it when you say that.’

  Michael’s brow furrows. ‘Say what?’

  I stare at my feet. ‘My name.’

  ‘Bo.’ His fingers reach under my chin and tilt it up so I’m forced to meet his eyes. ‘What’s happened?’

  I shrug awkwardly. ‘Everything. Nothing.’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t know.’

  He watches me for a moment, then draws me into a tight hug. I press my face against his chest and inhale his heavy, masculine scent. Standing here with Michael wrapped around me, I feel safe and secure.

  ‘All the criminals you take in, the ones you recruit into the Family and rehabilitate,’ I mumble, my voice muffled. ‘Aren’t they bad people who deserve punishment?’

  He releases me slowly and gazes down at me. ‘We’ve been through this. They’ve already served their time. They deserve a second chance.’

  ‘But what about their victims? And their families? Wouldn’t they want revenge?’

  ‘There’s no such thing,’ he tells me, shaking his head. ‘Revenge implies satisfaction and closure. Getting your own back doesn’t make you feel better, it just makes you feel more empty. Forgiveness is a lot harder to stomach but it will heal your soul.’

  ‘Arzo has forgiven Dahlia. She ruined his life.’

  The corner of his mouth crooks up. ‘He’s still in love with her,’ he says simply. ‘And love will beat hate any day of the week.’

  I’m not convinced. ‘Even when that hate is deserved?’

  Michael pulls out his phone. ‘Look. There were seven murders across the city yesterday. And you know what news is trending?’

  ‘What?’ I ask, scanning the screen.

  ‘Us,’ he tells me. ‘Our kiss. The world wants love and happiness and peace, not hatred and murder.’

  I stare at the photo of myself, my lips firmly planted on his. ‘That’s not even real. We were faking it for the cameras.’

  ‘Were we?’ His voice is quiet. He’s holding him
self back but there’s a silent plea in his eyes.

  I bite my lip. ‘That was all arranged by my grandfather.’ I half snort. ‘He’s not much of a pimp.’

  ‘It was my idea.’

  My mouth goes dry. ‘Was it? Because you’re so worried about your image?’

  He laughs. ‘Do you really think that’s the reason? The Families have been in a bad place, sure, but it’s happened before. People come round. They always do.’

  ‘So why did you want us to play pretend?’

  He takes my hands and squeezes them. ‘You know why.’

  I don’t answer immediately. When I do, there’s a hard lump in my throat. ‘What if we feel like we do because you turned me? You said there would be an attraction between us because of that. You said…’

  He places his index finger across my lips. ‘I wanted you before that.’ He grins at me. ‘Who wouldn’t want a bolshie little dwarf who thinks she has the power to take on a vampire Lord in an enclosed space?’

  He’s referring to the first time we met, in Arzo’s hospital room. ‘I wasn’t trying to take you on,’ I tell him. ‘I was bloody well trying to escape.’ I frown. ‘And I’m not a dwarf.’

  Michael takes a tendril of my hair and runs it through his fingers. ‘You’re an Amazon.’

  I draw back, folding my arms. There’s a flash of hurt in his expression. I’m not sure what I’m protecting myself from but I feel afraid. ‘If you knew that there was a human, a rich human, who was doing something illegal, then would you do something to stop him?’

  ‘It depend on the reason. If we’re talking not paying his TV licence…’

  I interrupt. ‘Marcus Lanscome.’

  Michael stills. ‘The girl in his dressing room.’

  ‘There was more than one.’

  ‘So I’ve heard.’

  ‘If you knew,’ I repeat, ‘would you have done something? Or would you have invited him into the Family fold so he could seek redemption?’