Angel Falls (Cassandra Bick Chronicles Book 3) (10 page)

***

The pub was only a short walk from the office, but since I lived in Clerkenwell, it wasn’t that far from my flat, either. The fastest route was to take the alley behind my building and go up the fire escape, which was workable again now Cain had fixed the back door. Despite the fact it was a relatively quiet neighbourhood, I tended not to use this shortcut when I was on my own (you find me a woman comfortable cutting through an alley in the dark, I’ll find you a hunter, a vampire or a liar). The communal bins were at the back here, set together behind a low stone wall and a patch of what could laughingly be described as garden, so using the fire escape to come down here was a fairly regular necessity (though even that had become a bit more angst-inducing since I’d been jumped by an angry vampire when putting out the rubbish), but other than that the back stairs seemed mainly to be used by other people, and rarely, lately, for happy reasons. Tonight, though, with Cain and Laclos beside me, I was pretty sure I was safe – pity the would-be mugger who came after our little trio. Besides, on an unseasonably warm evening like this, it actually felt quite pleasant, like I was wandering round New York in a movie.

The alley was fairly narrow, running the whole length of my apartment building, which contained about 30 purpose-built flats in three storey rows, with big metal fire escapes for each column of flats, spaced about 30 or so feet apart, so there were just under half a dozen in the alley. They were fixed in the English style – that is, they ran from ground to roof, rather than the ones you see in movies that retract like an extendable ladder and need to be pulled down from the first floor. This made them have less potential for exciting police chases but a bit handier for putting the bins out, and also meant my neighbours often used them like I was now, as a way into the building (though funnily enough, my direct neighbours upstairs and downstairs only ever used the front entrance: I guiltily suspected this was because our mutual fire escape was regularly cluttered with giant wolves and vampires, which was probably a bit off-putting). On an unseasonably warm evening like tonight, the atmosphere at the back of the building was almost sociable. There were a few back doors open, and I could smell cigarettes in the air where someone had nipped out for a cheeky smoke (all outdoor stairs, everywhere in this country, will these days have at least one person who has been banished outside with a ciggie.) From somewhere above us drifted laughter and the sound of glasses chinking, as a couple of my fellow tenants toasted the end of the working day. It felt cosy, and neighbourly, and for a moment I felt a wave of weariness – why wasn’t I sitting with a cold gin in hand, looking out over my city with no more worries than whether the Tube strike would go ahead next week and mess up one of my parties, or debating whether I should get Netflix or stick with Amazon Prime? Instead I was rolling my Sense into the alley ahead of us to try and spot rogue vampires, and hoping we could get through an evening without my poor little flat being trashed yet again. But then that pang turned into a twinge, and I turned to Cain, frowning.

‘Something’s wrong.’

‘I don’t sense any vampires,’ Laclos said.

‘Me either,’ Cain agreed, but he trusted my instincts, and took out his gun. I looked around hastily, to ensure we weren’t being overlooked by any of the fire escape’s resident drinkers and smokers.

‘Maybe I’m imagining it,’ I said, feebly, even though I knew I wasn’t, but my Sense isn’t always reliable and I really didn’t want Cain to shoot one of my neighbours. He nodded curtly, as if to assure me he understood my anxiety, and stepped in front of me, holding out his hand to take my keys as we approached my part of the building. Our little trio paused at the foot of the fire escape, Cain twisting so he could get a clear view of the stairs, but to me, from this angle, they looked clear. Which meant we were all looking in the wrong direction when the attack came from behind.

There was a metallic slither and the sound of rope being lowered very fast, and as we turned to follow the noise we saw Laclos fall to his knees with a roar of pain, clawing at the lasso that had been expertly dropped over his head and quickly tightened. A shadow shifted in the darkness above us. A figure moved on the fire escape one away from mine, though whoever it was, it had taken out the lightbulb that usually illuminated the stairs, so I could make out nothing more than the rough outline of what looked like a man, and a glint of silver in the air, the rope laced with, or maybe coated with, metal. He hauled backwards, using the railings of the stairs for leverage as he lifted Laclos off the ground, the vampire’s legs thrashing like those of a hanged man, hands scrabbling to free himself but burning as he tried. I went towards him, grabbing his legs to pull him back down, but the attacker was too strong for me and Laclos was heaved clear into the air.

Cain pulled his gun but I reached out and stayed his arm – the shadow was now ducking behind Laclos’ flailing body, so any shots risked hitting him, and I wasn’t sure Laclos could cope with any more ventilation, even if it was only lead bullets. And while plenty of people would assume yelling was just kids mucking about, even in London they’d be unlikely to ignore gunfire. The last thing we wanted was the police.

Seeing my reasoning, Cain let out a brief grunt of assent then took off in the opposite direction, racing up my fire escape, which stood parallel to the one on which the attacker was now crouching. The metal stairs rattled as he thudded up two flights in short order – putting himself a level above the stranger, who was on the first floor, only a few metres above us. I thought for a moment Cain had overshot in his haste, but then he took a running jump off the landing and launched himself down onto the next door’s fire escape. The whole thing happened so fast it elicited a gasp of shock from the assailant, who was trying to manoeuvre Laclos’ body over the railings and onto the landing when Cain landed mere inches away from him in a fighting stance, shaking the whole staircase with the force of his impact – that had been one hell of a jump. The man grabbed Laclos, using him as a shield, and I still could make out little of who he was, but I saw the glint of a gun.

‘I only want the vampire! Give me him and…’ Cain snarled, then something in his posture shifted, and I was astonished to see him straighten up, his voice trailing off in amazement. ‘Jonesy?’

‘Cain?’ the other echoed, equally shocked.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ both men asked at once.

OK, so this was officially weird.

***

The man called Jonesy straightened up, dropping Laclos’ semi-conscious body on the landing. I could only see half of what was happening, since I was now creeping up my own fire escape while at the same time trying to avoid notice. The two men were standing, staring at one another in open confusion, though their silence was lent a note of urgency by the gurgling, bubbling sound of Laclos choking – or whatever the right word is when a toxic substance is burning its way through your windpipe – though neither of them seemed particularly bothered by this.

‘I need you to let him go, man,’ Cain said, eventually, his tone almost regretful. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender before dropping them to his sides, though he still held onto his gun.

‘But you know who this is, right?’ Jonesy responded.

‘I do.’

‘Then you know that’s not going to happen.’

Cain, as far as I could see from this angle, shrugged.

‘Look, man, you can let him go, and I’ll explain everything inside over a beer, or I take him from you, and we’re not friends anymore.’ His voice hardened. ‘You know me. You know I can do it. And he’s not worth it.’

‘Then why is he worth it to you?’ Jonesy asked, which admittedly seemed like a fair question. Cain let out a weary sigh.

‘I’m fucked if I know, honestly.’

‘Please, listen to him!’ I called out, daring to make myself visible. Laclos had gone very quiet, and I was starting to worry. ‘We’re the good guys! Honest!’ Well, sort of. Possibly. Jonesy looked from Cain to me to Laclos, as if weighing his options, but Cain took a step towards him, his voice surprisingly soft.

‘You owe me, remember?’

Jonesy frowned, clearly unhappy, but equally it was obvious those were the magic hunter words, and he dropped the length of chain he was holding, some ugly-looking hybrid of climbing rope and metal loops – now I was on their level I could see he wore thick gloves to protect his own palms from rope burn, so I could only imagine the damage it had caused to a vampire – and nudged Laclos towards Cain with his boot.

Cain crouched down to the fallen vampire, though he didn’t take his eyes off the new arrival. Then he grabbed the lasso from around Laclos’ neck and simply tore it apart. It was a piece of showy, unnecessary theatre, an illustration of strength, but I Sensed something flicker in the other hunter as that reinforced chain tore like gossamer. I realised Cain was making a point – though I suspected, along with that sprint up the stairs and impromptu parkour, it would be one he would be paying for later. He might sound like he was back to his old self, but he was still recovering, and such recklessness would have consequences.

Laclos was hacking and spluttering as Cain pulled him to his feet, the silver in the rope having burnt gouges in his neck and scorched his hands where he had struggled. He shot a fury-filled glance at the new hunter, but Cain put a restraining hand on his shoulder, as much for show as anything else, since it was obvious Laclos wasn’t fit for any kind of fight. Jonesy looked from them across to me, and shook his head.

‘Jesus. And I thought the last time I saw you, things were weird.’

Cain let out a short, bitter laugh.

‘Tell me about it.’ He pulled one of Laclos’ arms around his shoulders, as casually as you’d pull on a coat, then nodded towards my door. ‘C’mon, let’s get inside and I’ll get you that beer and explain.’

***

There was a slightly awkward wait where I stood on the doorstep – Cain having taken my keys – waiting for them to climb to the roof on their fire escape then descend down mine, leaving me standing there feeling like an idiot, hoping that none of the neighbours were feeling nosy. This at least gave me time to admire the handiwork on my new (and, I suspected, reinforced) door, and be relieved that, despite our argument, Cain had fitted something with a window again (he wanted to replace it with a steel, fully panelled door, but I knew in a small kitchen that would be oppressive, and despite the risks, I didn’t want to feel like I was living in a prison). Jonesy watched me suspiciously as I took the keys back from Cain and unlocked the door, following me warily, though relaxing slightly when we were greeted by nothing more dangerous than a slightly narky cat. In the light, I could see my initial impressions confirmed: definitely a hunter, down to the regulation outfit of jeans, leather jacket and boots. Shorter than Cain by a good five or six inches, he was well built and ruggedly handsome, with the kind of colouring that reinforced the hint of a Welsh accent I’d heard earlier, although slightly buried under than transatlantic twang most hunters seem to pick up on their travels. I’d put him in his mid to late forties, reddish hair tousled and messy, a scruff of beard and wrinkles around his eyes that suggested he might be a man you could have a laugh with, though he didn’t look all that amused right now. I wondered what the story with him and Cain was – Cain had told me he rarely encountered other hunters, but clearly these two had some kind of past. I just hoped it was enough to keep him on our side.

***

Once indoors, he relaxed a little, though he did look openly surprised by how casually Cain dumped Laclos in a chair, and bustled around the kitchen like he belonged there, pouring blood for Laclos into a mug – another mug, great, so that was my Buffy one off limits now, too – and getting beers for them, feeding the cat while I went to fetch some wine for myself from the rack in the hallway (never having had a surplus of wine before meeting Laclos, I’d always had just one of those mini counter top holders in the kitchen, but now I had a proper wine rack, in pride of place next to the shoe rack since I’d read somewhere you were supposed to store decent wine in a dark room and this was the closest thing I had. Of course, I now realised I should have been storing it in a safe in the Bank of bloody England, and so I was careful to select one of the inexpensive bottles I’d bought myself). When I came back in, Laclos was sullenly sipping from his mug, while Cain was trying to avoid tripping over Dante, who was, with feline logic, winding himself round Cain’s ankles in an attempt to fell the person who was actually feeding him, while Jonesy stared in ill-disguised alarm at the scene before him. Cain on the side of a vampire he could just about manage, but Cain being Mr Domestic was clearly beyond the pale. I passed Laclos a glass of wine to go with his blood – not a sentence you say every day – and he nodded his thanks, though I could tell from his expression he was slightly aggrieved to be offered the cheap stuff. He still couldn’t speak. The silver had scored gouges in his throat which were only slowly healing, and as he repaired himself hunger was coiling off him like steam: I could tell he was avoiding looking at Cain, lest he spike it further. More disturbing, beneath everything, I Sensed the taint of Cain’s blood. Shouldn’t he have burned through that by now? Or was it permanent, like a scar, like the marks on Cain’s back? That thought unsettled me, so instead I turned to the scowling stranger, who now had that just-this-side-of-pissed-off look on his face that they must teach people in Hunter School.

‘So, seeing as you’re in my kitchen and drinking my beer’ (well, Cain’s beer, but I was considering it his contribution to the rent), ‘you want to explain what you’re doing here and attacking a vampire unprovoked in defiance of all the rules of this city?’

OK, that was chancing my arm slightly, but never hurts to go on the offensive. Though to my surprise, it was Cain who answered.

‘Jonesy’s a hunter. We did a job together a few years back.’

‘Yeah, I got that much.’

‘What charming acquaintances you have, angel,’ Laclos murmured raggedly, having managed to find his voice, not looking up from his mug as he spoke. Cain’s jaw clenched slightly and I saw Jonesy cast a puzzled glance at the two men. So he knew Cain, but he didn’t know everything. Cain answered the hunter’s unspoken query with an impatient shake of his head.

‘Nobody hunts in London,’ I said, but Jonesy scowled at me.

‘Nobody used to hunt in London. Then word got out Mr Rock God of the Dead here was on an upper management murder spree and suddenly every hunter with a contact in this town saw the balloon go up. There’s a price on his head, and it isn’t a small one.’

‘It’s not a small head,’ I muttered, and Laclos smiled at me, though the humour in the moment was somewhat undercut by the hoarse rattle of his throat as it repaired itself.

‘Always nice to be wanted,’ he managed. Cain ignored him, directing his response to Jonesy.

‘How many hunters do you think are in town?’

Jonesy paused, giving the answer some thought.

‘Handful that I know of, so far. Some are baulking at the idea of taking bounty from a vamp, some figure if a war kicks off it’s best to be far away…’

‘Do we know which vampire set the bounty?’ I interrupted, but he shook his head.

‘No idea. But you know most hunters are pretty skint, man,’ he said to Cain – the gold bar stash clearly another secret he wasn’t in on – ‘so even if they feel bad about it, it’s tempting. Plus, the chance to do a sanctioned, high profile, reputation-making kill…’ Another shrug. ‘I figure this isn’t wound up fast, in the next few days you’ll see a real influx. Not a lot of hunters in the UK, but I bet a lot are booking plane tickets right now.’

‘Fuck,’ Cain muttered. ‘So where’s Smith when this is happening? You guys are still partners, right?’

Jonesy had taken off his gloves when we came in, and now he held up his left hand, a wedding band clearly visible. He smiled properly for the first time.

‘Could say that,’ he grinned. Cain looked nonplussed for a moment – I think he wasn’t used to reacting to good news any more – then greeted that with a curt, though obviously pleased, nod.

‘Good for you, man. Congratulations.’ That’s right, Cain, go nuts.

I had a more pressing question.

‘Your… partner’s…’

‘Husband.’

‘…husband’s name is
Smith
? Are you serious?’

Cain looked blank at this, but Jonesy looked oddly satisfied that I’d pulled him up on this, making a ‘see, she gets it’ gesture to Cain, which just left him more baffled than ever.

‘What? Why is that funny?’ he frowned at me.

‘Smith and Jones?’

‘I still don’t get it.’

Laclos, Jonesy and I exchanged glances, while Cain did his ‘bloody humans’ eye roll.

Jonesy, smiling now, went on. ‘He caught another job. I used to work with a Scottish hunter, usually works out of the States now – might have mentioned her?’

‘Uh, yeah,’ Cain nodded, but I noticed he and Laclos shared a weighted look, and my Sense prickled. What was
that
about?

‘There’s some trouble with a couple of wolf packs up in the Highlands – moderniser meets traditionalist, blood on the grass. She was in Scotland for some family stuff, asked us to help out, so we split our resources, and I came here to check out if it was for real.’

He’d finished his beer, and nodded a thank you when I refreshed the drinks. Both Cain and Laclos looked suddenly very interested in their glasses, but Jonesy didn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with the strangeness of the situation.

‘So, that’s
my
story. You want to explain why we’re all sitting round making merry with the vampire who may have just kicked off a war? And, while you’re at it,’ he nodded to Cain’s arms. ‘How come you look exactly the same as you did when we last met except that you actually have
fewer
scars? Should I be upgrading my skincare routine?’