The Blood Order (Fanghunters Book Two) (17 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T
rixie made it to the Loop just after dark. The moment she stepped off the Red Line, her spine began tingling. It always did whenever she visited the Loop, but it wasn't always down to the presence of nearby vamps. The Loop creeped her out. It was enemy territory. Even though she knew the pact kept her safe from harm, she was wise enough to know that nothing was assured in this world. The surrounding skyscrapers were a dense forest of concrete and corruption split like a gash by their very own version of the Amazon River. The business district was winding down for the night and the ensuing revelry was about to commence. Drugs, booze, sex, and if you were 'in the loop', vamps and venom.

She crossed Madison and headed toward the thin alley wedged between Joe's Irish Bar and a burger joint that served mile highs on a bed of fries. The smell of stale beer and deep fried heart attacks on a plate hit her nostrils and she felt instant nausea. The kind of thing she experienced when she was in the presence of vamps.

She dipped into the gloom of the alley, the thin corridor sparsely illuminated by the streetlights at either end. She made her way past a row of trashcans, her eyes and ears alert. A cat darted out of the shadows and scuttled toward her, making her flinch. She froze, watching it run past her and out of the alley. "Stupid cat," she said, catching her breath.

"Why so jumpy, Trixie?"

She flinched once more, this time toward the voice. From the same shadows as the cat emerged a pale-faced figure in a three-quarter leather coat. There was a half-gleeful half-smug expression on his face. Trixie met his stare. His eyes gleamed and danced in the glare of the distant streetlights. His pupils zoned in on her. She knew he was trying to ice her. Her skin crawled. "Don't even bother, Troy," she told him. "I'm wearing lenses."

Troy shrugged. "It's always worth a try, Trixie. I'd love to have you under my spell."

Trixie's top lip curled up. "Cute."

"Nice moves at the club the other night."

"Thanks."

"Risking your life for a grunt like that. You must be really fond of him."

There was a nasty grin on Troy's face that made Trixie want to puke. "Hey, I'm not here to discuss things that are no concern of yours!"

"Well, from what I heard, the Order are quite concerned. They're wondering what connection the grunt has to you."

"He's working with us now."

Troy raised his eyebrows. "A hunter?"

Trixie nodded. "A hunter. Whatever went down in the past is over. We've convinced him his future is slaying dregs. And that's what he'll be doing from now on. Let the Order know they've got nothing to worry about. And tell them I'm sorry if I broke any limbs."

"I'm sure they'll be glad to hear it." Troy slicked down his long, greasy hair. "So, did you reunite him with his pops?"

Trixie crossed her arms over her chest. "And his brother."

"How did it go? Was everyone teary-eyed?"

"You're a piece of work."

"You know you love me, Trix." Troy licked his fangs.

Trixie's face scrunched up. "Ugh! For what it's worth, Dom's younger brother put their father down."

"Oh, that's a real shame."

There was a look of fake sympathy on Troy's face that Trixie wanted to slap. "So, what you got for me?" she asked, wanting to change track.

Troy's answer was immediate. "There's a dreg taken up nest in an old movie theater over on Lawndale. He's starting to build a big brood. Word is the Order want it wiped out."

"We don't kill humans," Trixie retorted. "Only vamps."

Troy grumbled under his breath. "Then you better get there before the Order take care of business."

"Don't worry, we will. Anything else?"

Troy held his hands out to the sides. "That's all for now."

"Okay," Trixie said as she fished out a bunch of cash from the pocket of her pants. She counted out the money. Troy's dark eyes lit up.

"I'm giving you a bonus for handing Eddie and his dad to us and not the Order."

Troy grinned. "That's great, Trix. You know I love to help.

She handed him the money. He snatched it up.

"Go get yourself some new clothes, Troy, you're starting to smell again."

"I think I might just do that," he said with a grin. "Amongst other things." He pocketed the money. "When are you gonna raid the movie theater?"

Trixie shrugged. "Soon. We don't want to keep the Order waiting, do we?"

"We certainly don't."

"We good?"

Troy nodded. "Absolutely. You watch yourself out there, Trixie."

A shiver crawled up Trixie's spine. Troy then slunk backward, his dark eyes never leaving her. Even as he melted into the shadows, she could still see the glare of his eyes and the glint of his fangs in her mind. She shivered.

Creep,
she thought to herself.

She shook it off and turned. She marched out of the alley as fast as she could, the sensation of Troy's eyes crawling all over her.

She swore she could still feel them all the way home.

PART THREE

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T
rixie lowered the magazine she was pretending to read and set her stare on the old movie theater. It was perfectly still. Dark, and still. She hadn't seen anyone enter or leave for the two hours she'd been seated on the park bench across the street. She hoped Troy hadn't led her on a wild goose chase. She looked around. It was another broken part of town. Stores boarded up, houses crumbling and derelict. A few people who were as broken as their surroundings were either loitering, begging, or pushing along shopping carts full of junk toward a destination she didn't think they even were aware of. Perfect feeding ground for dreg vamps.

She let out a bored sigh.
I can't take any more of this, I'm going in.

She was about to get up and step across the street to enter the back of the building when the board covering the entrance began twitching. She threw her magazine across her knees and swung her head down toward it. After a couple of tense seconds, she ventured to tilt her head up. Over the rim of her shades, she watched a skinny guy step out of the gap and glance both ways. He looked a typical fanghead. Jittery from the lack of a venom fix, paranoid if someone or something would take the source of the venom away (in other words: her).

He scratched the back of his head before he turned and closed the board up behind him. Trixie noted the time on her cell. 13:42. Going out for a bite? Most likely. So, so far she had one potential fanghead and nothing else. She watched him scurry away and vanish into the concrete jungle. She dialed Dom's number.

"Hello, Dominic Pizza, can I take your order?"
he answered in a bored voice.

"Cute. I got a potential fanghead just left the building. He's headed your way."

"The guy who looks like he slept in his clothes?"

"That probably describes just about everyone in the area, Dom."

"Checkered shirt, red beard."

"Yes, that's the one."

"Okay, I'm on him."

She hung up and looked back at the building. Dom was stationed down the road, waiting in the car. Hopefully, he didn't lose the fanghead. But, with Dom you could never be sure...

She shook her head and scanned the top floor of the movie theater; she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something didn't feel right about this one. There were no signals of vamp activity. She wasn't getting that sixth sense vibe whenever a vamp was nearby; no tingles up and down her spine. Everything was dead. It was a weird one.

Maybe Troy got this one wrong,
she thought to herself.
Maybe it's just a bunch of hobos squatting inside who are addicted to forties instead of venom.

She waited. Waited for something to happen. Either for more activity from inside or a call from Dom.

Her radio then crackled and Dom's voice came through.
"Micky D run,"
he said.

"You sure?"

"Well, it could be Burger King, but the massive
,
golden 'M' on the bag is a dead giveaway."

"Ha ha, Dom."

"He's on his way back, you should see him any minute."

"One Big Mac or more?"

"Looks to be just enough for himself. Fangheads need nutrition too, you know."

"Yeah, nothing beats the taste of cholesterol in the blood. Vamps crave for it."

"Yeah, bicep burgers and ab kebabs."

"Eww."

Dom laughed.

Trixie sighed. "So, it looks like we got a single fanghead in the brood? And that's got the Order worried?"

"Maybe they want to nip this one in the bud."

Trixie turned her mouth downward for a brief moment. "Maybe."

The guy with the red beard, wearing the red checked shirt then appeared at the end of the road opposite her. "Here he comes," she said into the radio before placing it down on the bench and picking up her magazine. She glanced up from it to see his head darting left and right, the glare of paranoia in his eyes. He was definitely acting like a fanghead, and yep, McDonald's was his preferred choice of poison. She watched him scratch the back of his head as if he had a bad case of lice before he took another paranoid glance over both shoulders. On reaching the theater, he had a final look around, before squatting down and squeezing through the broken piece of wood covering the entrance.

Trixie put her magazine down and picked up her radio. "He's gone back inside."

"I know, I'm right across the street."

She scanned the area to spot Dom loitering by a broken payphone, his back to her. She shook her head. "I dunno about this one. I'm not sensing any vamp activity. Are you?"

"No. But it's a big area inside. If the vamp is hiding deep down in there, then he might be off our radar."

Trixie turned her mouth downward. "Maybe. Troy has never been wrong before."

"I'll take your word on that."

"What should we do? Scope it more? We've been here for hours and just seen one guy go get himself a Big Mac."

After a pause, Dom answered.
"I'm gonna go in. Check the place out."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm getting bored of this. If it's just this one guy squatting inside, then we can rule this one out, and go back home and have a Bud."

"You've really got a one track mind..." she said shaking her head.

"It's all about priorities, Trixie. If I get any funny senses inside, I'll radio you."

"Be careful."

"Hey, I'm always careful. Not like I've ever been in danger is it?"

"You?
Nooo,
you're always on top of things, Dom."

"Exactamundo."
The radio then shut off.

She watched Dom stuff his radio back in the pocket of his combat pants. He then turned to face her. From where she was seated, she saw him wink.

She shook her head.
Where does Dad find em?

He then turned and headed for the theater. She faced it once more. The stained glass window above the fascia was dulled with dirt and neglect. The 'now showing' sign above the doorway read: STAR TREK V: THE FINAL FRONTIER. Above it all, gray clouds were starting to swarm as if a bucket load of rain was about to fall. A slight breeze picked up, trash swirling around the entrance like tumbleweed in a western. Dom reached it, acting almost as paranoid as the potential fanghead, taking plenty of glances over both shoulders. He then stepped slow and careful up to the boarded entrance. She watched him pull his dart gun from his belt. He held it by his face as he bent down and squeezed himself through the gap in the wood. A shiver raced up her spine. Not a shiver of venom, but a shiver of fear.

Dom then disappeared from view and she grabbed her radio and held it tight in her lap. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of inner city air before she opened them and stared intently at the silent, creepy movie theater across the street.