Moonshine: A Novel (33 page)

"He's had terrible luck, recently," I explained, wondering why they were transferring onto me their hostility at not having been paid back. "His whole family's in danger. His son . . ."

Marta, a Jewish vampire originally from Germany, frowned. "Yes, we heard that. And that terrible mobster. And his dying mother. And his evil landlord. Oy, the luck this man has, I'm afraid to touch him."

Mother? Landlord? I'd thought Giuseppe had his own rain cloud, but it seemed closer to a tropical depression. I assured Marta that I was in the same situation, and that she should at least wait until February, when the tunnel workers get their paychecks. I wouldn't mind some replenished funds myself, but Giuseppe should probably placate the rest of the mob first.

After they left, I nearly staggered back home, too overwhelmed to think of much other than my bed. And in fact, I didn't even make it that far. Aileen's discarded shawls still covered the couch and I found myself lying down with them as covers, mind whirring despite my exhaustion. Amir might die if I didn't help him. He was Rinaldo's dealer. He might die . . . I fell asleep without realizing it, and had a glorious vision of myself dazzling the stuffy guests at some exclusive party. And there was someone in particular I wanted to impress . . . where had he gone? Oh, of course, he was up on the stage, plucking masterfully at a bass while Nicholas crooned with his beautiful voice. They both stopped when they saw me, their mouths in perfect O's of admiration and surprise. Amir looked so beautiful in his tailored suit and steel-gray tie. All the strain had left his eyes, replaced with something closer to smoldering desire. The kind of tenderness I felt when he touched my cheek, and called me--

"Zephyr,
habibti
," Amir said, in front of the whole party. "You'll remember me when I'm gone?"

A djinn? The assembled whispered in horrified tones. How gauche.

Nicholas hissed. "You betrayed me! You
putanna
! All this time, with that wog!"

"He's not a--"

"Zephyr! Zephyr!"

The voice jolted me out of my sleep so harshly that I fell onto the carpet. I rolled on my back and looked up at Lily. She was dressed in a green gown similar to the confection that had graced my recent dream. But she didn't look at all like the composed, faintly supercilious reporter I knew. And she was alone.

I sat up. "Where's Aileen?"

Lily shook her head and sat down on the couch. She raised her hand to her mouth and I could see tears in the corner of her eyes. "God. Oh, God, Zephyr, she's gone. They took her and I couldn't do a damn thing about it and Zephyr, I don't know what to do."

Deep breath. Don't curse. Someone took Aileen. Fuck fuck fuck. Well, that's better. "What happened?" I said, as calmly as I could.

"Suckers," she said. "A whole posse of them. And not the Turn Boys, before you ask. Older. They found us after we left the party. I think a few of them might have been guests, Zephyr. I didn't
really
think that suckers came to our parties. Sucker mobsters! No one else was on the street. They said they wanted Aileen in revenge for Dore. You know, that gin-runner of Rinaldo's you told me was killed. They said something about Rinaldo wanting the killer, and a bounty on her head. She tried to get away, but one of them just Swayed her and picked her up."

"Did you see which way they went?"

"We were near Gramercy Park. They went south, but it was too fast to really tell. What should we do? I'd call the police, but . . ."

"It's Rinaldo. They might arrest
us."
I stood up and started pacing the room to clear my thoughts. "Tell me exactly what they said, Lily. Why did they single out Aileen and leave you alone?"

She shook her head. "They thought she'd killed that gin-runner! She swore she hadn't, but they didn't listen. They didn't even care about me. They said they wanted the reward. 'Can't believe Dore got himself popped by a girl,' they said. That's it. They were sure."

"Sure of
what
? Aileen barely knows how to pop a balloon, let alone a sucker. Hell, the first time she even saw one exsanguinate was last Friday . . ." I paused midstep. Was it possible?

"Lily," I said, very carefully, "what was Aileen wearing to night?"

"I lent her a dress. A revision of Balenciaga from 'twenty-four. Black--"

"No, no, I mean, was she wearing any jewelry? Cuff links? Diamonds?"

Lily shook her head. "Why on earth would she be wearing cuff links, Zephyr? I'm not that forward a dresser. She had a nice pair of diamond earrings, though. She said they were a gift from you."

"A gift." My laugh was giddy, the kind of laugh that generally preceded a full-on fit of the vapors. I sat next to Lily, and she looked at me as though I had finally lost my mind.

"They aren't earrings. I took those cuff links off of a vampire
I
popped last Friday," I said quietly. "He had Aileen under his Sway and was about to take a snack. He was old, good at hiding, wealthy enough to wear diamond cuff links. Wealthy enough to be someone important. I never even considered the possibility."

She gripped my wrist. "Are you saying . . ."

"I killed Dore. And now Rinaldo's going to kill Aileen for it."

I convinced Lily to go back to the newspaper and file what she had in time for the morning edition. It didn't take much convincing, to be honest--she had been unnerved by the casual power and ruthlessness of Rinaldo's gang, and the thought of confronting them directly apparently scared her as much as it scared me. The only difference between us was a certain level of personal stupidity and the certain knowledge that someone I loved would die if I didn't find Rinaldo to night and stake him. And Amir? Well, I just couldn't think about him.

For the first time in nearly two years, I was hunting with intent to kill. I might regret it later, but I didn't have time now. I borrowed money from Lily and hailed a cab to the Gramercy Park Hotel. It seemed especially awful that Aileen had been kidnapped so close to help, if only Daddy or Troy had seen her. But they'd have their chance to help her now. I barreled past the concierge and into an open elevator.

"Pent house," I told the operator, and he took one look at my face and closed the doors.

I'd expected to see preparations for the strike tomorrow, but when I entered the pent house I was nearly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of weapons and armor and the volume of quickly shouted instructions. They even wore the practical black jean and canvas clothes that served as the de facto Defender uniform. Were they having a dress rehearsal? I counted eight men total, including Daddy and Troy. I recognized a few of them from my Defender days, but they didn't pay any attention to me. Mama was sitting by the couch, shouting into the telephone. Daddy wasn't making it any easier for her to hear, since by far the loudest noise in the din was his deep bass chanting one of his favorite warped mining songs. I think he liked to imagine himself as a soldier preparing for war, and of course every soldier needs a marching song. This song had started life as "The Avondale Mining Disaster," but was now the story of one of Daddy's and Troy's more colorful vampire hunts near Helena.

I rolled my eyes. A poet my daddy was not. "Daddy!" I shouted, cupping my hands over my mouth to cut through the din. "We need to talk!"

He was sitting near the window, strapping on his weapons, and called my name in near unison with Mama when they saw me.

"Don't start that do-gooder crusade of yours again, you hear? Your mama said she couldn't find you anyway." He twisted his lips. "Don't know what's gotten into you women lately. I told your mama I'd send her back to Yarrow if she kept on about it."

I rounded on her. "Mama! You told me I had until tomorrow night!"

She shook her head, and I realized that these preparations must be last-minute. Short of hog-tying them, she couldn't stop the Defenders from fulfilling a contract any more than I could. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I tried to call you."

But I had been asleep. I felt a wave of terror powerful enough to make my knees shake. I rested against the edge of the couch, closer to Daddy. "What happened?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Funds came through. Ask your boy over there, Zeph. I don't bother with the details."

Troy shrugged. "The client paid us this afternoon. I was told that plans had changed, and it was imperative for us to move against the Turn Boys immediately." He grinned. "And the Defenders never disappoint our clients, as you well know."

Christ, but I wish I didn't. "Who is this client, Troy?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

"This is not any time to mess with me! My best friend has just been kidnapped by Rinaldo's men, you're about to kill the Turn Boys and I need to know what in sucker-bleeding hell is going on!"

The room had suddenly gone silent. "Zephyr!" Mama whispered. I could never understand how she managed to live with Daddy and still be sensitive to "unladylike" language.

Troy even seemed taken aback. "Giudo. That's all I know. We meet on different street corners around Little Italy. Thick accent, but he wears a cowl like a monk and I can't see a bit of his face. He hands me the money, gives me his instructions, I leave. Considering who he wants us to kill, I never questioned his secrecy."

Giudo? Wasn't that the name of Rinaldo's other son? "How old?"

He shrugged. "Judging by his voice, at least over thirty, but it's hard to tell in situations like these."

I thought back to Rinaldo's will. He'd explicitly stated that Giudo was to be in his mother's care until he came of age. So unless the will was very old, it seemed unlikely that a deep-voiced man Troy thought was over thirty could be the same person. Still, how common of a name was Giudo, anyway? Why would this one want to kill Nicholas? It couldn't just be a coincidence, could it?

I shook my head. "And you're doing this right now? Rinaldo has my friend. The second he finds out what you're doing, he might kill her."

"Yes, Troy," said Mama, "can't you do something?"

Troy shook his head. "It's too late to go back on this. Giudo was quite emphatic that we needed to do this to night."

"And you won't ruin your precious reputation for some paltry thing like another woman's life."

Troy looked hurt that I'd impugn his honor. "And when we kill the Turn Boys, we'll save hundreds of lives."

Like Judah's, I thought. I sighed. "Then promise me,
promise me
that when you get to the Turn Boys, you will find out where Rinaldo is before you kill them. Nicholas knows. Make him tell you. And afterward, you guys will help me kill Rinaldo."

Daddy stood up and hollered, "Now, that's my girl! You want to take on the meanest sucker in the city? Count me in."

Troy, on the other hand, did not look nearly so enthused. "Well, John," he said, turning to Daddy, "that isn't actually in our contract. We're only paid for--"

"Who gives a rat's ass what we're paid for? Don't worry, we'll finish the job, Troy. But then let's have some fun afterward."

I ran and hugged Daddy so tightly that my feet cleared the ground. His muscles were hard as ever as he lifted me, and I felt myself suddenly, immensely grateful that he was still a match for the vampires he hunted.

"Hey, Zeph," he said, ruffling my hair, "it'll be okay, you'll see." He set me down. I looked up at him, then Mama.

"Well, wish me luck," I said. "I'm going to go after him myself, in case you fellas are too late."

"You're gonna hunt in that getup?" Daddy said. I looked at my clothes, and admitted that it seemed a little impractical. I was still running through Lily's discards, and the current offering featured a scalloped blue silk skirt with a matching tunic top tied low on my hips. The shoes were my practical boots with one-inch heels, but none of it exactly screamed "Defender on a mission." Well, I wasn't a Defender anymore, now was I? No, I was Zephyr Hollis, Vampire Suffragette, and she knew how to dress.

I grinned. "What else?"

I scanned the weapons table and picked up a leftover short sword in a scabbard (knowing Daddy, they'd all be sharp enough to slice a hair lengthwise). I jammed it through the tie of my tunic and then hefted the last remaining pistol. It was a bit older and heavier than I knew the other boys liked, but it would suit my purposes.

"It isn't loaded," Troy said, his voice oddly quiet.

"Well, you know damn well I can't shoot anyway." I gave the empty barrel a meditative twirl and then dropped it into the deep pockets in the tunic. Lily would not have approved.

I walked to the door, still feeling surprisingly jaunty, all things considered, and waved. "See you folks later. I hope."

"Zephyr, wait!" Mama wore a familiar expression: the abject terror she always attempted to mask when Daddy or I (or one of my brothers) went out on a mission.

"I'll be--"

She shook her head. "No, take this." She handed me a short sword. I'd seen so many weapons in the room it took me a moment to place its plain scabbard and wrapped leather pommel. The pagan-blessed blade Amir bought off of Troy. I took it, though sudden dread made my fingertips prickle with cold.