In the Blood (26 page)

"Thanks, Mai! I owe you!"

"More than you realize. Awright, here's what I want you to do. There's this bar
south of Market called the Shadow Box. Go there and wait for my operative. He
should be there in the hour."

"What's he look like?"

"Don't worry-you'll know him when you see him."

It was after midnight and things were just getting heated up at the Shadow Box.

A disc jockey in a neon-encrusted sound booth generated a thundering, synth-heavy
mixture of europop, retro disco, and acid house. Klieg lights hanging from the
rafters threw elongated shadows of the dancers onto the stark white walls. Sonja
noted the dancers' stylized movements, striking high fashion poses, and how they
centered their attention more on their own shadows than on their partners. It was
times like these she was embarrassed at ever having been human.

"Talk about dancing with yourself," she muttered in disgust.

A gaggle of stylishly coifed and painted future executives squeezed their way past,

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jostling her in their hurry to reach the dance floor. Sonja briefly contemplated
hamstringing one of them but pushed the thought aside. She couldn't risk calling
attention to herself.

Bars and nightclubs always brought out the worst in her. She suspected it had
something to do with the volatile emotions generated in such places that stimulated
the Other, exciting it to mayhem. Even now she could feel the Other's silent,
ominous presence just under the surface of her ego, like a shark patrolling its
territory. She reflected on how Mai could have picked a rendezvous site a little less
crowded, but beggars don't exactly get a choice in such matters.

The music got faster and louder, the shadows on the walls jerking and prancing like
Burmese puppets. Sonja consulted her wristwatch. Mai had said her contact would
arrive within the hour.

She felt it then: a spiky, adrenaline-charged surge of anger and excitement, as cold
and bracing as vodka straight from the freezer. The hairs on the back of her neck
bristled.

The emotion wasn't hers, however. It was being broadcast-unintentionally-by
someone in the bar.

Someone
really
pissed off.

Sonja turned to scan the interior of the club. Within the last few minutes the
number of people entering the bar had doubled. The Shadow Box was a solid wall of
young men and women, dancing, drinking and talking over the music blaring from
the speakers.

She shifted spectrums, searching for telltale Pretender aureole. All she came up with
was the comparatively weak flickering of human consciousness, augmented by drugs
or hormones.

The second jolt of hate struck her, and she gasped as if caught in the grip of an
intense orgasm. The Other moaned in pleasure and Sonja bit her lip, hoping the
pain and blood would sidetrack it long enough for her to regain control.

Emotions as dark and powerful as hate provided vampires with as much
nourishment as a seven-course dinner and a high that made crack look like baby
aspirin. Her hair crackled with static electricity as she metabolized the charge.

She had to get out of here. Fuck Mai's mojoworker. She had to get away from this
place, crammed full of empty-eyed food tubes. She hadn't fed since she'd taken
down the pickpocket in Chinatown, and it was making her weak, susceptible to the
Other's inner voice. She had to leave or something really bad was going to happen.

Sonja pushed away from the bar and began shouldering her way to the exit. She
bumped against a tall man with half his head shaved and a diamond stud in his left
nostril, sloshing beer on his leather pants.

"Hey, bitch! Watch it!" The man with the pierced nose grabbed her elbow. She
went rigid and snarled, the sound rumbling from her ribcage like the growl of a big
cat. He let go.

That was close. Too close.

She took a deep, shuddery breath and resumed pushing her way through the
massed bodies. Before she'd gone ten feet, a second hand clamped her shoulder. The
hate that flowed into her was so strong it was as if she'd been stuck with a syringe

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full of one hundred percent pure China White.

She didn't resist as her attacker spun her around to face him.

She smiled crookedly. "The bastard set me up, didn't he? I'm gonna cut his stash
with the bones of martyrs next time! I'd damn him to hell if it wasn't redundant."

Fell bared his fangs in ritual challenge. "I don't know what you're babbling about,
whore, and I don't care! You killed Anise and my baby and I mean to even the
score!"

"You always talk like a fucking cliche, Fell?"

He moved fast, even by her standards, slamming his fist into her jaw. Sonja's head
snapped back, blood filling her mouth. The crowd surrounding them was too
densely packed for her to be able to stagger back more than two or three steps.

Sonja spat out a few broken teeth and wiped her chin with the back of her hand.

"Okay. Okay. I deserved that and I took it. But I didn't kill Anise, Fell! You've got
to believe me, no matter what that bastard told you-"

Fell threw a second punch, but this time she was ready for it and caught his fist and
held it. Fell grimaced and tried to pull free.

"I'm
trying to
be nice here, but you're not making it easy for me. I don't want to
hurt you, kid."

Fell moved to strike her with his other fist, but she was ready for that, too. Fell tried
to jerk free, but she tightened her grip even further.

"Let me go, murderer!"

"Why should I?"

The hate churning in Fell flowed into her like smoke into a bottle. The charge was so
powerful that the hair on her head lifted like the crest of a cockatoo. She laughed
and blue-white sparks flew from the tip of her tongue. Her voice sounded like she'd
swallowed ground glass. It was the voice of the Other.

"You don'(
get it, do you ? You don't even have a fuckin' clue! How Morgan thought

he was going to create a super-race using a lap dog like you for stud is beyond me! Go

ahead, lover boy! Keep hating! Hate me as hard as you can! It only makes me

stronger!"

Her grin disappeared as she let go of his hands and grabbed Fell by his shirt front,
yanking him toward her so their noses touched. The hate he'd been radiating turned
to fear. Delicious.

"You wanna play with me, you gotta play hardball, sucker! You got that?"

A clutch of secretaries out for a night on the town screamed as Fell crash-landed
onto their table, sending broken glass and spilled beer flying. Fell, blood streaming
from his nose, shook his head, trying to clear it of the ringing.

Sonja grabbed Fell by his long yellow hair and yanked him to his feet. He tried to
pull away, but she refused to let go.

"I'm gonna make you a man if it kills you!" she hissed. She pointed at the people on
the dance floor, entranced by deafening rhythms and their own shadows. "See that?

You're no better than they are! You're fighting your own shadow, not your real
enemy!"

"Liar!" Fell yanked free, leaving her holding a handful of hair. "You do nothing but
lie and destroy things! You turned Anise against me! You ruined everything I cared

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about!" He delivered a karate kick to her gut, sending her flying backward into the
bar.

She grabbed a chrome-plated bar stool and hurled it at Fell. The people closest to
the two combatants tried to move back, but those near the door, deafened by the
music and unaware of what was transpiring, would not let them escape.

Snarling his defiance, Fell snatched a nearby human, lifted him over his head and
threw him at his opponent. Sonja ducked as the screaming man crashed into the
mirror behind the bar.

The bartender yelled something and disappeared behind the counter. Sonja vaulted
the bar just as he resurfaced with a shotgun. She snatched the gun from him before
he had time to close the breach.

"I'd suggest you get your ass home," she growled, snapping the shotgun closed with
a flip of her wrist. The bartender turned and fled to the stockroom.

Sonja swung the weapon at Fell as he began to climb over the bar. He froze at the
sight of the double-ought pointed at his chest.

"Even a full-fledged vampire would have problems surviving a blast from this
distance, much less a pantywaist like yourself! Whattaya think, pretty boy? Wanna
chance it?"

Fell eased back, his eyes never leaving the shotgun.

"Yeah. That's what I thought." Sonja hopped onto the counter. "But before we
take care of business, I think I ought to clear the field of interference!"

She could see them now, standing near the exit. Two renfields-one black, the other
Asian. They were the ones responsible for crowding the bar and cloaking Fell from
her scans. Fell was nowhere near self-aware enough for such psionic sleight-of-hand.

They were creating a veil, blinding the crowd nearest the door to the fact there was
a brawl going on. They were setting up a killing box, all right. But for whom?

She caught the black renfield with the first round, spraying his brains across some
slumming yuppies. The second round missed the Asian and struck an investment
banker from Pacific Heights standing next to him. The renfield shrieked and
clamped his hands over his eyes as the dead man's skull fragments flew like
shrapnel.

The veil lifted. Suddenly people were screaming and shouting and knocking over
tables and trampling each other in a wild scramble for the exit. Their panic made
her giddy, as if she'd inhaled nitrous oxide. She had only a moment to enjoy the
rush before Fell was on her.

His face was contorted into a mask of animal rage. He was not advanced enough to
tap into the emotions that swirled about them, but he definitely had a contact high.

He pounced like a young lion bringing down its first kill, bearing her to the floor.

His strong hands locked around her throat.

Sonja snarled and shoved her knee into Fell's groin. He gasped and let go of her
throat, toppling onto his side, clutching himself. Sonja staggered to her feet and
grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, holding him aloft like a kitten. She slammed
him against the wall, pushing his head back by pinning his throat with her left
forearm.

She took a second to assess his wounds. He looked bad. His eyes were nearly

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obscured by flesh the color of eggplant, his nose was broken, and his swollen,
drooping lower lip made him look like a mule. No doubt his cellular regeneration
was slower than her own.

"Just-just wait until our father comes!" he gasped through bleeding lips.

"You dumb bastard! You stupid, mindless meat puppet! You don't understand, do
you? He set us both up! You don't stand a snowball's chance against me, and he
knows it! He sent you here to die, Fell! You were supposed to distract me until the
renfields could work up a serious enough whammy to take me out."

"You're lying!"

"I don't have the time or the patience to do this right. I ought to kill you, but since
you're Lethe's father-"

"Lethe?" Fell blinked in confusion.

She reached into a pocket and withdrew her switchblade. "What's your name?"

Fell looked at her as if she had asked him who was buried in Grant's tomb. "Fell."

"Wrong." She flicked the knife and neatly cut off his left ear. Fell screamed and
tried to escape, but it was hopeless. Her grip was unbreakable. "Okay, I'm asking
you again. What's your name?"

"It's Fell, damn it! You know that! What's the matter with-" His protest dissolved
into another scream as the switchblade sliced open his left nostril.

"No, no! You're not listening! I said what's your name?"

"What do you want me to say? It's Fell! It's always been Fell!"

"I'm only gonna ask you one more time, pretty boy, then it's for real, understand?"

she sighed, cutting away his right eyebrow. "What is your name?"

"I told you it's-" His eyes widened and his mouth slackened, as if he'd just
remembered something important. "Oh. Oh, my God. It's Tim. My name is Tim."

Sonja sighed and allowed him to slump to the floor, hiding his mutilated face behind
bloodstained hands. His shoulders shook as he tried to cry. She could hear sirens
coming closer.

"C'mon, kid." Her voice softened as she patted the top of his head. "C'mon, we
can't stay. The cops will be here soon."