Blood Bath & Beyond (22 page)

My heart twisted. I didn’t like this plan at all. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“Trust me, Sarah, if there were any other choices, this would not be my first.”

There had to be another way. Thierry’s plan was to separate us, to put me somewhere nice and safe and hidden—which, quite honestly, sounded like hell. And for him to go on the run, trying to stay one step in front of Markus, who’d now kill him on sight.

My life had been complicated ever since I’d first been bitten, but this felt as bad as it got. There had to be another choice here. Because, even though Thierry had a plan that would do in a pinch, it was far from perfect.

I mentally retraced my steps today—all my leads that led to dead ends. I kept feeling hope that I was getting somewhere, only to have that hope land facedown in a muddy puddle.

“There was something,” I said. “Josh—he’s the vamp who runs the blood bank, Blood Bath and Beyond…Well, he’s a magician, too, with a show here in town at a place called Club Noir. He’s got an opening act, a guy who can contact the dead. Josh seemed to think he’s legit.”

“Are you really interested in taking in a show before we flee the city?” Thierry asked wryly.

I chewed my bottom lip as I considered everything. “What if we tried to contact Duncan’s spirit? I wanted
him to admit who hired him when he was alive, but if there’s a chance to do it now that he’s dead…”

“A real psychic who can contact the dead is a very rare find. Most are fake or they’re fooling themselves that they have any supernatural ability at all.”

“But there
are
real ones? You’ve come across them before, right?”

He was silent for a moment, as if mulling it over. “I have. Not often, but I have.”

“Do you know any in the area we could go to instead?”

He shook his head. “What is this psychic’s name?”

I wracked my brain to remember what Josh told me. “Kristopher…the Magnificent. Do you think it’s worth checking out?”

“Do you?”

I nodded. “If there’s any chance of finding out the truth, then we need to do it. If we can prove your innocence to Markus, then he won’t keep hunting you.”

Before he replied, I began to realize after what I’d seen upstairs in the suite with Jake and David, what might happen when and if Markus ever caught up to Thierry. Did the enforcer know what a master vampire could be capable of? Did he take special precautions when hunting one?

I’d bet money that he would. Which meant whatever special vampire-ninja skills Thierry had that I was previously unaware of, they’d be of little use against someone like Markus. Maybe he was a vampire ninja, too.

He nodded. “Then we’ll go and see this Kristopher the Magnificent. However, try not to get your hopes up that it will make any difference.”

“How about we try this—I’ll be the optimist and you be the pessimist?”

That earned me another smile. “If you insist.”

We headed down the rest of the stairs. “Saw one of the serial killer’s victims up close and personal today on the street,” I told him. “Just seconds before he died. Maybe if the psychic is legit, we can summon his spirit and find out who killed him. Although I’ve got this weird feeling I already know.”

Thierry looked disturbed that I’d brushed up against more danger today like a friendly cat, but he chose not to press me about it. “Who?”

“Charles. Victoria’s guardian…or whatever he is to her. He’s so shady he’s practically an umbrella. He’s got a blood addiction—sort of like…” I cleared my throat. “Well, let’s just say he’s got a blood addiction. Can’t seem to stop slurping the stuff up. Saw him with some blood on his lips earlier and that was about a minute and a half before the victim came staggering toward me. And, if that wasn’t bad enough, his full name is Charles Manson. Talk about a big neon arrow pointing at him, if you ask me.”

“Charles Manson didn’t commit his own crimes. He had people kill on his behalf.”

“Still. It’s creepy. And what was even creepier was that when the man died right in front of me, I swear I could feel the moment his life left his body. I sensed it, Thierry. It freaked me out.”

He pulled me to a stop again just as we’d reached the ground floor. “You felt it? How?”

“I don’t know. Like, inside of me I could feel the difference between dead and alive. I figured that’s just another vampire trait that everybody else has.”

“Not everybody.” He swept his gaze over me with interest. “Have you ever felt that before?”

“Well, I haven’t been around that many humans who’ve been killed, but…” I thought hard about it. “No. This is a recent development.”

“Hmm.”

I eyed him warily. “Hmm, what?”

“I guess we might find out soon.”

“Can you be more cryptic?”

“It’s possible. If I tried really hard.” He pushed open the door leading us out of the stairwell and we made our way across the lobby. Had it been only two days ago that we’d arrived? Seemed like two weeks. I didn’t even glance up at the crystal flower ceiling this time; my gaze was too focused on our path ahead.

Suddenly Thierry’s grip on my hand tightened and he pulled me back. It took me only a moment to see what caused this reaction. It was Markus.

I stopped breathing.

He’d arrived earlier than expected and was speaking to someone by the reception desks. I watched as he shook a man’s hand, then began moving in the direction of the elevators. I was certain he was on his way to the thirty-second floor, where he’d been called in to deal with the most recent development to do with Thierry’s imprisonment—namely yours truly.

Markus began to walk with purpose away from us. But then he stopped, cocked his head, and glanced over his shoulder. There were many other people in the area and we were blocked by a gathering tour group. But it was as if he sensed something wasn’t quite right.

Then, after a solid ten seconds of Markus sniffing the air like some sort of blond hellhound, he turned
back, his black coat swishing around his calves, and walked away. It wasn’t until he disappeared completely from sight that I started to breathe normally again.

A lot of things in this world freaked me out. But I’d decided that enforcers—smart, savvy, immortal, and completely deadly—had graduated to the very top of my list.

C
lub Noir wasn’t on the Strip. It wasn’t a casino or hotel. It was just a little run-down theater that had a dinner show of half-naked and slightly past-their-prime showgirls, followed by a break, followed by a little magic and psychic entertainment at ten o’clock, when the audience was mostly too drunk to care.

We arrived too early for any of the main entertainment, but the showgirls were milling around the dining area trailing cheap feather boas and sour expressions when they thought no one was looking.

Just like Josh had hinted to me earlier, Kristopher was already here. Thierry paid off a man in front to take us back to meet him. It hadn’t cost very much. The man even confirmed that Kristopher rarely left the club. He didn’t work two jobs like Josh did.

Thierry and I exchanged a glance when the club owner left us alone with the psychic in a back room that looked as if it doubled as a dressing room. It also contained storage—cardboard boxes piled high to the ceiling. Torn wallpaper. A cracked mirror surrounded by lights.

Kristopher was either meditating or napping sitting
up with his legs crossed on a worn vinyl couch. We stood at the open doorway and waited for two solid minutes, but Kristopher didn’t open his eyes.

Finally, I cleared my throat.

One of Kristopher’s eyes popped open and his brow went up.

He had longish black hair and pale skin. His eye was a muddy brown shade. He wore a ruffled white shirt and black leather pants. Black liner was smudged around his eyes, which made him look like a Goth pirate.

“Hello,” I greeted him. “Sorry to disturb, but can we talk to you?”

The other eye popped open—and, surprisingly, it wasn’t brown like the other. It was pale blue and the mismatched eyes gave him a spooky look. He swept his gaze over me before doing the same with Thierry. “You’re vampires.”

It was always on the tip of my tongue to deny a statement like that, but considering he worked regularly with Josh, I was going to assume he knew that we existed and that not all of us were serial killers. Still, I didn’t immediately nod my head and let him know he was right. A little uncertainty never hurt anyone.

“You’re Kristopher, right?” I asked. Best to make sure just in case we’d been led somewhere incorrectly.

“That’s me. Kristopher DeMon.”

I blinked. “How do you spell your last name?”

He looked at me with a glimmer of amusement in those mismatched eyes. “D-E-M-O-N.”

I shifted my feet. “Yeah, that’s how I thought it would be spelled.”

Stage name,
I told myself.
It’s his stage name, just like Vladimir Nosferatu.

Besides, if you were a demon in disguise, would you really announce it to the world? I mean, was Criss Angel really an angel?

I had heard rumors to that effect, but that didn’t mean it was true.

“Um, I’m Sarah Dearly. This is Thierry de Bennicoeur.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” he said.

“Meditating, huh?” I scanned the room looking for something that might help me decide if this guy was a big faker or not. “That’s relaxing. Clears the mind, helps concentration. I keep meaning to take it up.”

“To meditate, you need to be capable of stilling your mind and thinking of nothing at all. Those unable to control their worries and stresses and those who are impatient find it nearly impossible—but they’re the ones who need it the most. It’s a quandary.”

“Yes, that is…a quandary,” I agreed.

“What do you want? I’m preparing for my show tonight.”

“Josh gave me your name,” I said. Thierry remained silent beside me. He watched me curiously, as if amused that I had taken over. I wasn’t sure why I had, exactly, but it was my decision to come here in the first place, so I might as well put my money where my mouth was. “He said that you’re a psychic who can speak with the dead.”

“And you want me to help you speak to someone you’ve lost.”

“Yes. You could say that.”

“Some dearly departed relative whom you miss with all your heart.”

I glanced at Thierry.

His expression was grim. “Very intuitive, don’t you think? He can read you like a book.”

Smart-ass. I wasn’t giving up so easily.

“Can you do it?” I asked. “For real?”

Kristopher’s gaze shot to me. “You doubt my powers?”

“Well, I mean, I’m not sure. That’s why I’m wondering. What can I say? I’m a skeptic.”

“I am as real as they come.” He narrowed his eyes at me as if concentrating. “I can glean your name from the fabric of the universe. It’s…it starts with a…a…” He nodded his head toward me, staring right into my eyes. “A
C
. Yes, a
C
. I can see it. Your name is…Catherine.
Cathy.
”

I grimaced. “Close. It’s Sarah. I just told you that a minute ago, actually. Remember?”

“Right, yes. Sarah. But you know a Catherine. She means a great deal to you. She is the one who has passed on. She was a…” He leaned forward again, rocking on his black steel-tipped boots. “A…an aunt. Yes, an aunt. Your aunt Catherine is with us, Sarah. She wants me to tell you that she loves you very much.”

I couldn’t believe this. I’d thought this might be something helpful, but instead I got this jackass. I’d put my entire future happiness in the hands of a jackass in a frilly shirt. Instead of making me sad or upset, it just made me angry.

I poked him in the chest. “You suck, you know that?”

“Excuse me?” When he rubbed his chest, I noticed
he wore a strange ring. It covered three fingers and had two short half-inch spikes.

“You’re a terrible psychic. How do you even get a job with skills that bad? It’s painful, really. People pay you for this? You don’t get thrown out on your butt? Is that why you have that pointy ring on your hand, so people don’t get too close?”

He frowned a little. “I’m offended.”

“That makes two of us.”

“There is a Catherine. She’s here with us right now, telling me that you used to go for long walks on the beach—Malibu, right? You’re a California girl.”

My mouth was wide open. “Wow, you’re not even close. Born and bred in Ontario. Swap the beach with snow and you’re in the right territory.”

“Sarah…,” Thierry said.

I put my hand up. My disappointment and frustration with everything was manifesting as anger directed at a fake, spooky-eyed psychic. “Just give me a minute here to tell this chump off, Thierry. We came all this way, hoped that he might be more than just another…I’m going to use the word ‘chump’ here again, because I can’t think of anything better right now. This is pathetic. Completely pathetic.”

Kristopher spread his hands. “I’m sorry if my gifts are not to your satisfaction. I channel the secrets of the universe and use them to help those in need.”

“Just great. Now we’re stuck exactly where we were to begin with.” I turned to Thierry. “We can figure something else out. Just because he’s a fake—”

“He’s not a fake.” Thierry’s attention wasn’t on me; it was on Kristopher.

“What?”

“He’s real.”

“Of course I’m real,” Kristopher said thinly. “I think I just proved that to you with an absolutely free reading.”

Thierry had his arms crossed over his chest and he studied the psychic carefully. “I’m not really sure what game you’re playing to go to such extremes to appear incompetent.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Thierry’s gaze moved to his unusual jewelry. “And you’re more powerful than my first guess. I see you have the tools to work blood magic. I haven’t seen a sickle ring like that in over a hundred years.”

“It’s time for you to leave.” Kristopher’s voice grew darker.

“Where do you get blood in the quantities required? And are all your donors willing?”

“Maybe I just think it’s a nice piece of jewelry that makes me look badass.”

Thierry glanced at me. “A sickle ring has many uses, primarily being a dark wizard’s tool for delving deeper with his magic. Blood magic—it’s a powerful thing. But very dangerous to the wizard himself, since it often backfires.”