Deadtown (26 page)

She shook her head. “Nothing interesting.”

Well, that was a relief. Unless some norm being mauled to death by a panther in the middle of South Boston didn’t count as interesting to a vampire.

The sports anchor was listing high school football scores. Juliet tore her gaze away from the TV and regarded me.

“Going out?”

“To Commodore Wharf. I’ve got a job for the next few nights.” I had to get over there fast. It was past eleven—I was already over four hours late. I had a feeling that, sooner or later, Difethwr would show up again. I said a silent prayer that it hadn’t shown up already.

Juliet’s eyes rounded. “You shifted tonight! That’s why you—you know.”

“Disappeared for twelve hours and came home without my clothes? Gee, when I say it like that, it sounds like I should’ve had a hell of a lot more fun than I did. Yeah, I shifted into a panther. Some guys jumped me, and I lost control while I was fighting them off.”

“So that’s why you asked about murder.” She grinned and clapped her hands in delight. “You killed someone, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t? Wow. Must’ve been some shift.”

“I mauled one of the thugs. If I didn’t kill him, the only reason was because I heard sirens coming.” My fingers twitched involuntarily, remembering how it felt to sink my claws into his skin. I’d wanted
so much
to lap up his blood, to tear chunks of meat from his bones and swallow them whole. And it wasn’t morals or compassion or any of that good, reasoning human stuff that had stopped me. It was fear. The sound of a siren had alerted the panther’s instinct for danger. If I hadn’t heard it, I’d have eaten that thug.

What the hell was wrong with me? I’d never lost control like that before. Was it because the shift was so close to the full moon? Or, with the Destroyer in town, was the Hellion’s essence taking over?

No. It couldn’t be that. I wouldn’t let it.

But what if I couldn’t stop it?

I shuddered and blinked. Juliet looked at me expectantly. “Sorry,” I said. “Did you say something?”

“I was wondering about the men who attacked you. They were norms?”

I nodded. “I’m pretty sure.”

“How many?”

“Three. With ski masks and a black van.”

“But why? Who would want to kidnap you?”

I frowned. I’d been thinking about that, too. And the only answer I could come up with was the worst possible one, the one I didn’t want to be true. I couldn’t even state my theory; I had to make it a question. “Do you . . . uh . . . do you think Kane could do something like that?” I tried to swallow the basketball-sized lump that materialized in my throat. “To me?”

Juliet tilted her head, thinking, which meant she didn’t consider it a stupid question. I kind of wished she did. “Kane would do just about anything to advance his cause. But I don’t think he’d hurt you.” She didn’t
think
he would. Well, it was something. “Besides, how would kidnapping you help him politically?”

“By keeping me away from my new client. Frank Lucado. Kane was furious when I told him I’m Lucado’s new bodyguard. He’d like to see the guy dead.”

Juliet nodded. “A lot of vampires would, too. Hadrian especially. But I don’t think Kane would hurt you. The moon’s not full yet.”

“The kidnappers weren’t supposed to hurt me. They were supposed to knock me out with a sedative and bundle me off who knows where.” To keep me out of the way until the election was over. Or until Difethwr murdered the man I’d promised to protect, like it had murdered my father.

Which was why I had to go to Lucado’s condo now. I was going to do my job. But more important, I was going to track down that Hellion and kill it before the Destroyer destroyed anything else. To hell with it—literally. And to hell with anyone who tried to stop me. Even Kane.

 

 

“I’M TELLING YOU, SWEETHEART, THERE’S NO WAY YOU’RE going up to Mr. Lucado’s condo. Nobody gets in tonight. I got my orders from Frankie hisself.”

I glared at the norm who stood blocking my way. He looked as much like a doorman as I looked like Snoopy. Instead of a uniform, he wore black on black on black: a shiny black suit, black shirt, black tie. This bodyguard wasn’t as tall as Wendy, but he was still big and powerfully built. He had a bull neck and biceps that threatened to pop the seams of his jacket. He had squinty eyes and a chipped front tooth that gave him a slight lisp. But you could bet he pounded the hell out of anyone who teased him about it.

“First of all, I’m not your sweetheart. Got it?” His response was an ugly leer. I sighed and pressed on. “I work for Frank. I was supposed to be here earlier but I was, uh, unavoidably delayed. Now that I’m here, I’m sure he’d want you to let me in.”

“Nobody gets in.”

“If you’d just check the list. The name’s Vaughn.”

“You check it.” He went over to the desk, picked up a three-ring binder, and shoved it in my face. I had to blink and push it back a couple of inches to bring the words into focus. “See?” he said, his thick finger stabbing at a line. “Right there. You was on the list, but you got crossed off. Mr. Lucado called down around nine. He said nobody gets in—’specially not you.”

He was right. On the second line, I could make out my name under a scribble of black ink.

“Look, Frank only said that because he was mad I was late. Tonight was supposed to be my first night on the job. I understand he’s annoyed with me, but if I can explain to him what happened, I’m sure we can set this straight.”

I started toward the elevators, but in a flash he was in front of me again. The leer got uglier as he looked me up and down. “First night on the job, huh? And what kind of job would a sexy lady like you be doing upstairs at midnight? Might as well accept it, sweetheart. No fun and games tonight. Frankie got tired of waiting and went to sleep. Old guys do that. Now, if you’re interested in a man with some staying power, there’s a storeroom we can use.”

I ignored that remark as I considered my options: sweet-talk my way past this bozo or pound his face in and waltz upstairs. Since we both worked for Lucado, violence probably wasn’t the best option. Pity. “If you’d just call upstairs and ask him—”

He laughed. “Sweetheart, I sure as hell ain’t waking up the boss to tell him the hooker finally got here.”

My hand flashed out and grabbed his tie. He made a strangled noise as I pulled him down to eye level. “I told you, I am
not
your sweetheart. I am not a prostitute, either. Frank hired me as a bodyguard.”

Even half-strangled, the guy managed to laugh in my face. “A broad for a bodyguard? That’s a good one.”

I twisted his tie around my hand, cutting off a little more air, and pulled him closer. I forced his head to one side so I could whisper in his cauliflower ear. “If you’d like a demonstration of my skills, I’d be happy to throw you through that window.”

“Frankie wouldn’t like that,” he choked out. “Anyway, I’d shoot you first.” Something poked my ribs. I thrust the doorman back an inch, enough to see the pistol in his hand. “Let go,” he said, “or I’ll shoot you right now.”

Not a good situation. If I released my grip, he might shoot me anyway. “Okay, okay,” I said, “let’s both cool off a little. I don’t think either of us wants to hurt anybody, right?”

His hate-filled glare suggested otherwise, but he said, “Right.”

“So you put the gun down on the desk, and then I’ll let go. Agreed?”

I could almost see his mind working overtime, chugging away at a speed of, oh, about ten miles an hour, trying to figure out how he could come out ahead. And to him, I suspected that coming out ahead included finding a way to hurt me—bad.

“Okay,” he croaked. “But then you’ll leave. Pronto.”

“All right.” I walked him over to the desk, and he laid the gun on its surface. “Now,” I said, “we’re going to move over there, near the door.” I pushed him backward until I was sure I could get out before he could reach the gun. Then I let go.

He took in a huge gulp of air, one hand going to his throat. The other hand produced a second, smaller pistol. But I was gone through the glass doors, disappearing into the dark night, before he could aim.

Outside, I looked up at Lucado’s darkened condo on the top two floors. Good way to strain my neck, but it wasn’t going to get me inside. And I wasn’t about to try scaling the wall with my bare hands—besides the fact that I’d fallen off the climbing wall at the Y (twice), I needed my duffel bag with my weapons. If Difethwr was coming, I couldn’t face the Hellion empty-handed. Facing it one-handed would be bad enough.

There had to be another way in. No metal fire escape zigzagged down the outside—this building was too new and classy for that. Around the back of the building was a blank metal door, no knob or handle—probably an emergency exit. And I’d bet a week’s pay that it was hooked up to an alarm. I couldn’t risk it. The last thing I needed right now was to set off an alarm and bring the cops screaming in.

I stood in the visitors’ parking lot. A ramp led down under the building to a parking garage for residents. Instead of a door, it had a gate, an arm that swung up to let you through when you waved a card at a reader. I didn’t want to park; I just wanted to get inside. I walked around the gate and went in.

I kept toward the outer wall, crouching so I was no taller than the cars, as I searched for the interior door. That gate seemed pretty low security; I wouldn’t have been surprised if Frank had posted a bodyguard on duty in there, too. But I didn’t see anyone.

The building entrance was about halfway through the garage. There was a security camera pointed right at it. Did the doorman watch security cameras from behind the desk, or was that someone else’s job? Maybe the cameras just recorded, without anyone watching. The way my luck was running, I wouldn’t count on it. But I didn’t have a choice. I had to get inside, and this was the only way.

I walked over to the door and pulled. It didn’t open. I tugged harder, but I knew it wouldn’t give. There was a card reader next to the door, like the one that raised the gate to drive into the garage. And I didn’t have a keycard.

This would be a great time for someone to come home late, so I could be rooting through my bag, pretending to look for my keycard, and then gratefully let them open the door for me. But in the wee hours of a Friday morning, the chances of that happening were slim. Pizza delivery? No, it was too late for that, too. Anyway, the delivery guy would go through the lobby.

My next thought was to smash the glass door. That didn’t seem like such a hot idea, either. First of all, it could be wired to set off an alarm. And second, it was likely to make Frank even more pissed off than he already was. I looked around. There was a phone by the door. Maybe I could reason with Frank after all. Worth a try. I picked it up and dialed Lucado’s phone number.

He picked up on the second ring. “What is it?” His voice was thick with sleep and disoriented. I had a feeling that Frank handled a lot of problem calls in the middle of the night.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“What the hell? Who is this?”

“Victory Vaughn. I know I’m late, but—”

“You’re way past late. You’re fired. Don’t call me again.”

He hung up.

I stared at the phone in my hand. Well, Frank was still alive; that much was clear. But with more than five hours to go before sunrise, Difethwr still had plenty of time to show up. I wasn’t going to leave Frank to be a sitting duck. And I wasn’t going to miss out on my best chance to confront the Hellion.

I’d been in front of the security camera for a couple of minutes now, and the bodyguard hadn’t come running and waving his guns around. That was something. I inspected the glass of the door. There were no wires that I could see. That was something, too.

Okay, Frank,
I thought,
you’ve left me no choice.
Whether he wanted my protection or not, he was stuck with it. I went outside and selected a couple of good-sized rocks from an ornamental border around some bushes. Then I walked back through the garage to the residents’ door. I stepped back, just under the security camera, and hoisted my arm.

Roger Clemens never sent a ball flying across the plate more perfectly than I threw that rock. It smashed a fist-sized hole right through the center of the door. Bull’s-eye. I held my breath, listening. No alarms, no running footsteps. That lunkhead of a bodyguard was probably snoozing at the desk. Or maybe he was off in the storeroom, playing all by himself.

I went to the door and used my arm, encased in my nice, thick leather jacket, to widen the hole. Safety glass rained onto the floor. When the hole was big enough, I tossed my duffel bag through it, then stepped inside.

Better not chance the elevator. I took the stairs, climbing the nine flights to Lucado’s condo. Ten, since I’d started in the basement. So I was a little winded by the time I stood in front of unit 901. I listened with my ear to the door. Quiet. I opened my senses to the demonic plane and listened again. All around was the usual din, but none of it came from Lucado’s place.

I sat down on the thick carpet, my back against Lucado’s door. From my duffel bag, I removed my broadsword and the vial of sacramental wine. I whispered the prayer and anointed the sword, held it flat across my knees, hilt in my left hand, and then settled in to wait. I had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

19

AT SOME POINT BETWEEN FOUR AND FIVE IN THE MORNING, the elevator dinged. I gripped the sword and stood, even as my rational mind told me that demons don’t use elevators.

The man who stepped out had white hair and glasses. He was reaching into the
Boston Globe
bag at his side when he noticed me. He stopped short, his eyes wide behind his glasses, and stared. Can’t imagine why. Didn’t he regularly encounter leather-clad women carrying broadswords on his paper route?