42nd & Lex (40 page)

“What about the air ducts and stuff like that?”
I ask. “And how are you going to keep out building maintenance needing to get
to the top floors?”

“We operate on a separate system up here. It’s
completely self-contained so he would have to get past the blockade on sixty-five
first. As for maintenance, I own everything from sixty-six to the top of the spire.
They have to ask my permission to come up here. I will be conveniently
unavailable until further notice.”

“The only way he’s getting in here is by
scaling the side of the fucking building,” Zaid confirms. “And Spider Man he’s
not.”

One week. One week to kill until Jonathan is
back and we can perform the ceremony. Okay, so maybe kill is a bad choice of
words.

My mind wanders to thoughts of the ceremony
while Zaid continues with his security briefing. Having my comrades in arms in
attendance will be almost as good as having my human friends and family there.
I plan to invite Max but I doubt he’ll want to come unless I promise he can do
my hair and makeup. Not that I would refuse the help, or Amelia’s offer of a dress.
Those areas of girl-dom are not in my realm of expertise. The hurried scraping
of chairs against the marble floor brings me back to reality. “What’s going
on?”   

“We’re going to check the bar where Serge
met Mark,” Zaid answers. “Vampires only.”

“I'm not volunteering, trust me. Us ladies
will just hang out here and supervise the movers.”

“Good idea,” Lucan says kissing my forehead.
“The movers work for the Enclave so if there’s trouble, they will be here
before you can scream.”

“You pick now to be sarcastic?” I tease.
“Just be careful.”

Mark was none too thrilled to go back to the
bar where his life had ended, but it was the only lead they had at the moment. It
was the only place besides Serge’s apartment that Mark knew he frequented.

Lucan parked the Hummer across the street
and took something out of the briefcase in the back seat. Zaid was sniffing the
air, trying to catch a scent. Mark felt a little inept compared to the other
men. He couldn’t smell anything other than the faint twinge of sewage carried
on every New York City breeze and he was pretty sure he didn’t possess
super-human strength or speed. Hell, he hadn’t even been to the gym since he’d
been turned so there probably wasn’t much normal human strength to draw on
either. He could shoot. But would that even stop Serge?

“Let’s go inside and ask around,” Lucan
commanded as he tucked whatever it was he’d taken from the briefcase under his
jacket. As they crossed the street, Lucan palmed Mark the Glock again and Mark
tucked it inside his waistband.

The three men filed into the bar. Mark’s
last night as a human reared back and slapped him in the face. The smells of
smoke, booze, and desperation were hot in his nose and his breakfast started to
fight its way out. He swayed a little on his feet but Zaid pushed him forward. They
took up residence at the end of the bar with their backs to the wall. The
bartender walked over with a pile of cocktail napkins in her hand and flipped
one in front of each of them.

“What can I get you boys?” she asked in a
clichéd tone.

“Scotch rocks,” Zaid replied. Lucan nodded
in agreement. Mark didn’t want anything, least of all a straight up Scotch, but
he nodded as well. “You know this guy?”

Zaid pulled a copy of Serge’s Enclave employee
badge out of his coat pocket and placed on the bar in front of the girl. She
recoiled a little. This was the kind of place people didn’t take notice of each
other in and she probably assumed they were cops… or mobsters. Neither of which
would give anyone a reason to speak up. Hell, maybe Serge didn’t come in here
all that often.

As he looked around at the faded and flickering
neon signs illuminating the half dozen souls drinking themselves into oblivion
on a Saturday morning, Mark wondered how he’d made it in here last summer
himself. 

“Yeah, I know that weirdo,” she said,
putting three tumblers on the bar and leveling them off with a few fingers of
Scotch. “He was in here last night. Late. Kept his sunglasses on the whole time
and kept fumbling with his drink. I never got the sunglasses inside thing. You
don’t look cool if you can’t see.”

Lucan and Zaid stiffened. That meant he
wasn’t fully healed but he was definitely on the mend. 

“He kept one hand inside his coat pocket all
night too,” she continued. “My boss thought he was palming a gun under there so
he kicked him out. He got real belligerent but left without a fight. Never took
that hand out though, scares me to think he could’ve shot the place up. Is that
why you’re looking for him? Did he shoot someone last night?”

Mark couldn’t believe how loquacious she
was, telling them all they needed to know before asking if they were cops.  

“Ah, no,” Lucan responded quickly. “He’s a
friend of ours. He’s been on a binder for a few weeks and we’re worried. If he
comes back in, will you call us?” Lucan wrote a phone number on a business card
with the Enclave’s logo and handed it to her. She nodded and took the card. 

Mark was impressed. The sympathy card was
definitely the way to go. Zaid flipped a hundred dollar bill on the bar,
slammed the Scotch and headed for the door. Lucan and Mark made quick work of
their drinks and made their leave as well. Mark was instantly sickened by the
burn of the straight up liquor tearing its way down his gut like lit gasoline.    

Back in the Hummer, Mark was frustrated and
a little lightheaded from the cheap booze. “Well that doesn’t really give us
any help now does it?”

“Nope. But at least we know he’s not back to
one hundred percent,” Lucan replied. “That is something to celebrate.”

“I’m going to check the recent police
records for vampire related incidents and then go have a chat with the valet
staff at the Enclave,” Zaid said front the back seat. “Let Amelia know I will
be back later.” With that, he opened the Hummer’s door and was gone before it
slammed shut. 

“He really takes this tracking shit
seriously.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. We should head
back to the Chrysler. Without Zaid we’re more of a liability than an asset as
far as tracking,” Lucan said, putting the truck in gear and pulling back into
traffic. “I was never any good at it and I’m not risking you getting hurt. Sarah
and Abri would kill me.”

Mark and Lucan drove back to the Chrysler in
silence, both hoping Zaid found Serge sooner rather than later. Even if he
didn’t have the Council’s permission to kill him, self-defense was self-defense.
Even in the vampire world. 

Monday morning dawns with no news of Serge. My
new living arrangements, living with Lucan and four other people on the floor
below us, make the continued uneasiness a little easier. It is fun. I haven’t
had a roommate since law school and I never realized how much I missed the
comradery and the ready-made party that roommates bring.

We watched the Super Bowl last night and the
living room floor is littered with leftovers and empty beer bottles we were too
tired and too tipsy to clean up before bed. 

“No worries, love, we will clean it up this
morning,” Lucan yawns next to me. I guess all the excitement of this weekend
has worn him down and he’s actually still in bed with me. “I will be in the
building today, well, after I go to the Enclave for a—”

“Breakfast?” I finish. “Or to puke up all
that crap ya’ll ate last night.”

“Yeah.” The answer is deadpan and
noncommittal as to which part he’s answering.

“Hey, just a few more days of it and then I
can help you with the first part of that equation. I mean, if you decide you
want to. Sarah says it doesn’t hurt. Max too.” I know how Lucan feels on the
subject but I can’t help myself, I am nothing if not practical. I practically
shout that last part in my head, hoping he is listening.

“There’s plenty of time to twist my arm on
that. Do you have any vacation time at work?”

“Ah, yeah. Why?”

“I think you should call in this week until
we find Serge or until the ceremony is complete. Not that I don’t think you can
handle yourself, but we are stretching ourselves pretty thin with the search
and, in case you haven’t figured it out, the Council’s contact at your firm is
Max. He’s bound as a Patron to alert the Enclave to any vampire activity, but
he’s not exactly someone to stand up and do battle with Serge.”

“Well, I when you put it that way…I thought
it might be Max, but I didn’t want to ask. He’s fierce, but no match for Serge.
And if Serge did make it through the office, I don’t want a scene like that at
work. I’d never be able to explain it. There was enough talk after you came in
the first time.”

The shock of my willing cooperation is
unmistakable on Lucan’s face. I reach for my phone to call the office manager. I
vacillate between the dead relative or super flu bug excuses while the phone rings.
I’d never taken a sick day in all my years with the firm, but that was because I
knew how the partners felt about it. I am going to need a doctor’s note to be
out all week. Lucan can probably whip one of those up or get the Enclave's
doctor to help me out.

When Natasha answers, I put on my best sick
voice and tell her I am down with the flu, probably one of the
H1-N1/bird/pig/horse variety, and I will be out a few days, maybe even the
week. She buys it, probably because I’ve never called in sick before. As I hang
up, I realize that if Lindsey hears I’m sick she will probably show up at my
apartment with soup and a trashy magazine after work.

“Shit. I'm going to have to call Lindsey and
let her know I'm okay. Otherwise, she’s liable to show up at my apartment to
check on me. I don’t want her running into Serge.”

Lucan pats my arm as he gets up to start a
pot of coffee for our troops. “Give her a call. Max too. I don’t want him
thinking you’ve been kidnapped between here and the office, or that I’ve gone
and drained you,” he adds ironically.

I dial Linds’ number and think about what to
say. We haven't had more than a passing conversation in weeks. There is so much
she didn’t know, so much she couldn’t know.

“Hey Linds,” I says when she answers and
then quickly remember I am supposed to be sick. “I just wanted to tell you I’m
going to be out for a few days. I’ve got a nasty bug.”

“That’s no bueno. You’re never sick. Need me
to bring you some soup and an US Weekly? It seems like I haven’t talked to you
in ages. Are you still head over heels for that guy?”

Her predictability makes me smile. “No, I'm
good. The doctor says I'm pretty contagious so you’d better steer clear of me
for a few days. I’ll call you when I'm feeling better. We need to catch up. I
am still head over heels for Lucan.” I drop my voice so Lucan is less likely to
hear me over the coffeepot. “It’s getting pretty serious.”

“Serious like not coming back to work
serious? Like running away to a tropical island and getting married serious?”
Her voice is hopeful.  

“Ah, well, maybe not that serious,” I lie. “But
I just meant that we haven’t talked in a while, like you said.” I am beginning
to fumble. Has Max told her something? 

“Okay, well, get some rest. Have that
boyfriend of yours take care of you.”

“I will. Don’t work too hard,” I reply.
“Talk to you soon.”

If I'd gone in today, I would be drafting a
motion to dismiss Sarah’s divorce case. Hicks will be pissed, but I'm sure his
retainer is as nonrefundable as mine and probably twice as much. He’d be even
more pissed to know his client is living in my guest room.

I roll over and stretch a little before
getting up and heading to the bathroom. How the hell am I going to pass the
week until Jonathan returns? There is little hope of finding Serge until he
wants to be found, so I am pretty sure my life is going to be contained in our
apartment until Friday. Work was supposed to be my outlet until then.

After breakfast, Amelia excuses herself
downstairs to take a shower and Sarah and I start cleaning up the breakfast
dishes and the Super Bowl leftovers. The guys make a hasty retreat to the
Enclave before we can ask for their assistance.

 Even though Sarah assured him it wasn’t
necessary, Lucan wanted to show Mark around the blood bank, or whatever they
called it, “for emergencies.” Plus they needed to get Mark registered with the
Enclave and have one of those nifty all-access ID cards made. I would no doubt
get one myself once the ceremony was complete, which makes me smile.

“What’s making you smile?” Sarah asks,
tossing me a towel to dry the ever-growing pile of glassware she is hand
washing in the sink.

“It’s silly. I was just thinking that once
Lucan and I are bound I will get my own Enclave ID card. Not that I will have a
reason to go there without Lucan, but I kinda like the whole secret society
thing.”

“Hmm. I wonder if I can get one too. Maybe
we can do lunch there like fancy vampire wives,” she laughs. “Is there even
such a thing?”

“I don’t know. Can you see us lunching with
the likes of Sophie Collette?”

“Never. She scared the crap out of me. Like
she could bite my face off and smile while she was doing it.”   

“No doubt,” I reply, wiping my hands on a
dry dishtowel. “Well, that’s done. Now what the hell are we supposed to do with
ourselves for the next five days?”

We take the trash down to the main elevators
so the guys can haul it to the dumpster in the basement. My phone begins
buzzing on the dining room table as soon as we walk back upstairs. I know even
before I pick it up that it is Max. 

“Hey. Before you freak, I’m fine. I don’t
really have the flu but I'm not suffering from any vampire related illnesses
either.”

“Thank God!” he breathes into the phone.
“You never call in sick so I was convinced he’d gone and turned you into his
vampire bride.” Max is only half kidding, I can tell.