A Dozen Black Roses (17 page)

"Are you threatening me, childe?" the vampire lord growled. "I'm not threatening. I'm telling."

His lip curled in derision, revealing a glimpse of fang. "I do the telling around here, woman! You'll do well to learn that if you wish to keep your head on your shoulders! Now where is Nikola?"

"Sinjon has her."

"How!?! How did this happen?!?"

"I did as I was told—I waited outside for the Batmobile to arrive. When it didn't show, I went looking for it. I found it halfway along the route. It had swerved off the street and into the side of a house. The driver and Webb were dead. Obeah was alive, although injured and unconscious. Nikola was nowhere to be found. I brought Obeah back here and got some of the Pointers to look after him. I figured you would want to interrogate him as to what actually happened."

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"Is he conscious?"

"I believe so, yes."

Esher stomped angrily across the floor and climbed the dais, standing before his chair of office. "Bring him to me."

A minute later, Obeah arrived, escorted by a couple of Pointers. His broad, dark face was crisscrossed with red welts, and shards of busted safety glass still glinted in his thick dreads. He leaned on a makeshift cane made from a length of lead pipe, favoring a stiff right leg. His nose was broken and his left eye was swollen nearly shut, but aside from these injuries he was in surprisingly good shape for a man who'd gone through a windshield and bounced off the hood of a car.

"You have failed me, bokor," Esher said grimly.

"It's not my fault, milord!" Obeah explained. "Whatever moved on us wasn't human! Normally that wouldn't be a problem, since the Lady Decima rides with us, but tonight—tonight we were driving without protection! There had to be two, maybe three of 'em! First thing I know, Webb's gone— yanked right out of the fuckin' window like we was standing still! Then they go for the driver. I'm in the back seat, right?

So I try to grab the wheel, but it's no good. Next thing, I'm flyin' through the windshield! When I wake up I got busted glass in my hair, my face, even in my fuckin' mouth! This mirror-eyed bitch here, she's shaking me, wantin' to know where the hell Nikola is. I told her Sinjon snatched her."

"Are you certain it was Sinjon's minions who did this?"

"They were ghostwalking, so I didn't get a good look. All I know is one minute I'm riding in the back seat, next minute I'm bouncin' off the hood of the fuckin' car! But it has to have been Sinjon—I mean, who the hell else could it be?"

Esher seemed lost in thought for a long moment, then motioned for the Tonton Macoute to step forward.

Although his eyes were bright with fear, the other man obeyed. Esher leaned forward, resting his hand atop Obeah's. His voice was soft, almost sad. "Regardless of your excuses, you have still failed me, Obeah.

And those who fail me—must suffer for their mistakes. It is a matter of discipline—do you not agree?"

"Y-yes, milord."

"I'm glad we understand one another, bokor," Esher said, with a small smile. He snatched the length of pipe from Obeah, bringing it squarely against his kneecap. The voodoo man shrieked in pain and collapsed to the floor, clutching his leg. Esher snapped his fingers and the Pointers lifted the injured Obeah by his armpits and removed him from the audience chamber. "See that he's tended to. Give him some heroin to shut him up. But not too soon," he called after them as he dropped down into the seat, his face set into a fierce scowl. "The old reptile has bigger balls than I thought if he was able to uncover my meeting with Borges and snatch my bride from under my nose! I underestimated the Freemason—but it won't happen again! Still, he is not as clever as he would think—after all, he made the mistake of taking his lapdog along with him when he crashed the'tête-à-tête at L'Emeraud."

"He did what—?" the stranger said, looking confused.

Decima entered the room, dragging Vere behind her on a leather leash attached to a spiked dog collar.

The youth's hands were secured behind his back by a pair of hinged wristcuffs. Vere's eyes widened when he saw the stranger, but he kept silent—largely because he had a rubber ball gag shoved into his mouth.

"I want you to take a message to Sinjon," Esher said, pointing at the stranger.

"Me?" She tried to keep the suspicion out of her voice.

"Sinjon knows Decima and does not trust her. You, on the other hand, are a tabula rasa as far as he's concerned. He has no reason to doubt your word. Tell Sinjon that I will exchange Vere for Nikola in an hour's time on The Street With No Name. No weapons. No tricks. If he fails to show up—or if I see any guns—I send his boy-toy back to him piecemeal."

The stranger glanced back at Vere. This was screwing up her plans, big-time. She had hoped to smuggle Nikola and Ryan out of Deadtown come dawn, but now that was being shot down in flames. And, if she didn't move fast, she had no doubt that Vere would spill the beans about her. Doing her best to hide her frustration, she bowed and touched her throat in deference. "Consider the message as good as delivered, milord."

***

Sinjon was highly agitated when the stranger returned to the Black Lodge. He was pacing back and forth in his drawing room, hands clutched behind his back. He glanced up at her as she entered, his eyes flashing like polished rubies.

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"Esher has Vere!"

"I know. I saw him."

"Has he been harmed?"

"Not as far as I could see. But that might end soon. Esher sent me here to arrange a hostage exchange."

"He doesn't suspect you, does he?"

"Possibly. But if he does, he's keeping it to himself."

"What are the terms of the exchange?"

"It's to occur an hour from now, on The Street With No Name. No weapons. No funny stuff. Vere for Nikola. By the way—where is she?"

"She's well enough, don't worry," Sinjon replied. "I had a couple of my boys lock her up for safekeeping.

The little guttersnipe was let go. Tell Esher I agree to his terms."

"Sinjon—you promised me the girl."

Sinjon dropped into a French Rococo chair, crossing his legs at the knee. He plucked a perfumed lace hanky from his sleeve and daubed his upper lip. "So I did. But that was before. This is now. You're not getting her."

"Is Vere that important to you?"

"All my boys are important to me," the vampire replied. "After all, I'm their sire, aren't I?"

***

In an hour's time The Street With No Name was jammed. Pointers and Black Spoons lined the sidewalks outside their respective headquarters, milling among their compatriots and glowering at their rivals, flashing gang signals and trying to look as tough as possible.

At the appointed time the doors of Dance Macabre and Stick's opened simultaneously. Sinjon, resplendent in his powdered wig and diamond-encrusted shoebuckles, stepped out of the pool hall. Esher, outfitted in a black leather duster, the chrome infant-skull glinting on his belt, strode from the bar. The assembled gangbangers turned to their respective leaders, like daisies following the sun. As Esher and Sinjon stepped forward, the Pointers and Black Spoons parted before them. The two vampire princes met toe-to-toe in the middle of the street.

"I believe you have something of mine," Sinjon sniffed.

"Put up or shut up, Freemason," growled Esher.

Sinjon pulled a perfumed lace handkerchief from his coat sleeve and patted his upper lip. This was the signal for the vampire youth, Tristan, to step out of Stick's, leading Nikola on a stainless-steel choke-chain.

"Satisfied, upstart? I've shown you yours, now show me mine."

Without taking his eyes off Nikola, Esher snapped his fingers. The red vinyl door to Dance Macabre swung open a second time and Vere emerged, still gagged and bound, Decima's crossbow pointed directly at his back.

Sinjon nodded in approval. "Very well. Let the exchange begin."

Esher pointed in the direction of the assembled Black Spoons. "I warn you, Sinjon—if I see a weapon of any kind—even so much as a toothpick— Decima will spear your precious boy-toy's heart like a ripe olive! That's a promise."

"And let me hasten to remind you, Esher. If your Pointers try anything, Tristan is under orders to garrote your beloved dancer. It should only take one tug on the leash to snap her neck, don't you agree?"

"I believe we understand each other," Esher replied stonily. He motioned to Decima, who gave Vere a sharp nudge with her crossbow. The terrified youth took a hesitant step forward. Sinjon nodded to Tristan, who moved forward, Nikola trailing after him like a lovely, sad-eyed hound.

Just as the hostages were within a few feet of the exchange point, a commotion erupted from Sinjon's side.

"Mama!"

Ryan, his face streaked with tears, darted past the cluster of Black Spoons and headed straight for Nikola. The pale-skinned dancer turned in his direction, and the sadness in her eyes melted.

"Ryan! Baby!" she cried.

Dodging the gangbangers' grasping hands like a broken field runner, the boy threw himself at his mother, wrapping his thin arms about her waist and burying his head in her skirt. Nikola tried to bend down to embrace him, but was brought short by the choke-collar about her throat.

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"Decimal Get rid of that child, once and for all!" Esher snarled.

Decima pushed Vere out of the way and grabbed Ryan's shirt collar with her free hand, lifting the kicking boy off the ground and holding him at arm's length like a lice-ridden wolf-cub.

"My baby!" Nikola wailed, trying to snatch Ryan away from the vampiress. "Don't you dare hurt my baby!"

"Shut up, cow!" Decima snapped, backhanding Nikola with the hand that held her crossbow. Nikola staggered backward, struggling desperately to keep her footing and avoid strangling.

"Don't you hurt my mother!" Ryan shrilled.

"Or you'll do what, kid?" Decima smirked, drawing the boy close to her face, saliva dripping from the corners of her mouth.

Ryan grabbed the enchanted crucifix the stranger had given him and, with a strength born of fear, snapped it free of his neck with a single yank, shoving it in Decima's face.

The vampiress screamed as the silver burned her flesh, dropping both boy and crossbow to clamp her hands over her wounded face. Ryan hit the ground running, trying his best to dodge the fists and boots aimed at him. He was fast and determined, but there were just too many of them. A heavyset Pointer grabbed Ryan by the back of his pants and turned him upside down, holding him by the ankle like a champion-weight fish.

"I got 'im! I got 'im!" the Pointer grinned triumphantly, displaying missing front teeth. "I got—"

Suddenly the rest of the Pointer's teeth disappeared— along with his head. The gangbanger's body dropped to the ground, revealing Cloudy, the smoke rising from the barrel of his sawed-off. Ryan scuttled behind his friend and peered out from behind his legs.

"Leave the boy be!" Cloudy shouted. "Any of you try to lay a hand on him, you gotta go through me!"

Esher stood and laughed, his hands on his hips. "You're a fool, old man! You're hopelessly outnumbered! Besides, I can take that shotgun away from you and shove it up your ass before you could bat an eye!"

"Why don't you try it then, sucker?"

A leather-clad arm snaked around the old hippie's neck from behind, locking him in a chokehold.

Cloudy cried out in surprise, the shotgun discharging into the air as he was yanked off balance. Ryan yelled his friend's name as he was grabbed by a taloned hand.

"Good work, my dear," Esher smiled. "Be a pet and destroy them for me, would you?"

"Sure thing, boss," grinned the stranger, as she dragged the struggling humans away.

"Ryan!" screamed Nikola, yanking against the choke-chain hard enough to turn her lips blue.

"Obeah!" Esher snapped.

The bokor hobbled forward, his damaged leg strapped into a temporary splint, and produced a mojo bag from one of his pockets. He poured the contents of the leather pouch into his cupped palm, blowing the fine powder directly into Nikola's face. She coughed violently, then went limp. Esher quickly caught his errant bride and lifted her in his arms so she would not strangle. Nikola moaned as her head lolled back, and Esher saw clearly for the first time the crow's feet about her eyes and the lines about her mouth.

"What trickery is this, Sinjon?" he snarled. "What have you done to her?"

"Don't blame me if your precious can't take life in the fast lane, Esher," Sinjon sneered. There was a plucking at his sleeve, and he turned to glower at Tristan standing at his elbow, holding Vere on a leash.

"Oh. It's you. What is it?"

"Do you want me to set him free, sire?"

Sinjon eyed the trembling youth for a long moment, then smiled. It wasn't a pleasant sight. "No. Leave him like that. That's what he gets for letting himself be captured. I'll deal with him later."

***

The Pointers parted before the stranger and her charges, but none of them seemed particularly interested in following her. Once they were clear of the crowd, she dodged into a nearby alley, roughly pushing her captives ahead of her.

"What the hell did you two think you were doing?!? she hissed. "Ryan I'd expect something like this from—but you, Cloudy? Shit, you know better than to pull a bonehead play like that!"

"I was just trying to look after the boy. I knew he was going to try and see his mama. I couldn't let him go out alone."

The stranger glanced around quickly, then reached into her jacket and pulled out the bags of "sugar"

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) from the hidden pockets. She handed the parcels, plus a folded piece of paper and a hundred-dollar bill, to Cloudy. "There's not much time! Things are coming down fast. I need you to take this with you back to the crib."