Necromancing Nim (7 page)

Hunching down, his backside pressed against the edge of my desk for support, Colin peered into Sebastian’s face. “You need food. Like yesterday.”

“More like a week ago,” Sebastian concurred. “I don’t suppose you keep anything here?” The words were almost wistful. I clenched my teeth, unaccountably angry that anyone could still think this starving mess of a vampire had fed on Therese Wilkins, much less ingested enough of her blood to turn her.

Colin shook his head. “Too many humans working here. And, ironically, not enough vampires to get a license for storage. Bob’s is right down the street, though.”

Sebastian nodded. “Can we go there? How likely is he to turn me in?”

Colin exchanged a glance with me. I could tell he was thinking of Bob’s reaction to the news about the “damn foreigners.” I had some reservations, as well, about how Sebastian might be received at Bloody Bob’s, especially since the police were looking for him.

“Bob’s a pain in the ass,” Colin finally concluded, “but he won’t turn you in to the cops. Plus Nimuë can come with, keep him careful.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. I started to protest, then realized I didn’t want Sebastian out of my sight. I’d gotten a little attached to him, like he was some kind of fangy puppy who’d followed me home.

“Nimuë?” Sebastian repeated, and I realized I’d never actually introduced myself.

“Nimuë Taylor,” I said, and he smiled.

“Lovely.” For a split second, it seemed he might mean me rather than my name. That would have been lame, though. After all, we’d just met, and nobody ever called me lovely. Annoying, yes. Lovely? Not so much. Still, some weird girly instinct I hadn’t known I had made the base of my throat flutter in response to the compliment.

Colin’s snort brought me back to reality. “Let’s go,” he said. “And keep your hood up.”

We headed out the back way, avoiding as many people as possible, just as I’d done when Sebastian and I came in. Sebastian tucked his hands in the hoodie pockets and hunched a little, the hood obscuring his face. He didn’t seem too out of place—he was thin, and the hoodie was tight enough he could have been a scene kid rather than a grown man, as long as you didn’t register that, appearance-wise, he was about thirty.

They headed down the sidewalk at a fast walk, leaving me trotting to keep up.

“You know,” I offered in a low tone, “if you’re worried about Bob, we could just stop at a Fangs.”

Colin’s lip curled as if I’d suggested Sanka instead of Jamaican Blue Mountain. “Nobody with any sense drinks that shit. Besides, best we get things sorted out with Bob up front.”

So. Bob’s it was, then. I kept the rest of my opinions to myself.

Bob looked just as geeky and harmless as he had last night. His T-shirt of the day featured a yellow smiley face with black, blood-tipped fangs. He was big on the fangs theme, apparently. I thought I saw a slight tightening around his eyes when he caught sight of Sebastian.

“Mr. Colin,” he said. “And who’s your friend?”

“He’s visiting,” said Colin tersely. In anyone else, the lack of enthusiastic introduction might have been suspicious, but with Colin, it was just everyday cranky. “He’s also hungry.” Colin graced Bob with his glowery regard. “We need the good stuff. Three pints.”

Bob was silent a moment. I held very still, trying not to let any reaction show on my face. Three pints was a lot of blood. Then again, Sebastian was really hungry. I decided not to dwell on the implications.

“I’m not bringing it out front,” Bob finally said, his voice low, “and it’ll cost you.”

“You know I’m good for the money.” Colin somehow managed to convey cooperation, trustworthiness and an impressive intensity of menace all at the same time.

Bob nodded. “All right.” His gaze slid to me. I could almost feel it on my skin, like gum stuck to the bottom of a chair. “No humans.”

“She’s copacetic,” Colin said levelly. “She comes with.”

Bob hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Fine. You’re accountable?”

“Yep.”

What the hell? But I could tell this wasn’t a good time to ask about their vampire code or whatever it was. He wanted me with him, and I didn’t much like the idea of being alone with Bob, so I kept my mouth shut for the moment.

After another pause for consideration, Bob gave a sharp jerk of the head, indicating we should follow him. He led the way to a door at the far end of the counter, opened it and preceded us in.

Though I knew Bob was aware of my presence, I still felt the need to remain as small as possible, keeping myself hidden behind Colin’s bulk. Which was why I didn’t immediately see what caused Colin to grind to a halt. Mostly I just slammed into his back, and for a second, I thought maybe I’d broken my nose on his shoulder blade.

“Shit!” I said, then stopped, pinching my nose against the pain and staring. Because just then I did see the reason Colin had stopped in his tracks.

It was Therese Wilkins.

Turned down by the Blood Bank? Fangs Plus takes all blood, all the time, and we pay the most per pint of any blood collection facility in the Metro Denver area. Stop by one of our downtown locations. No appointment necessary.
—Flyer on the door of Red Cross Headquarters, Denver, Colorado.

Chapter Five

I recognized her from the pictures I’d seen on TV, but in truth she barely resembled them. The woman in the photos and video clips that had made the news had been bright and sparkling. This woman was pale and lifeless even sitting at the table with her hands folded in front of her, watching us come into the small, poorly lit back room. Even considering she’d just been turned into a vampire, she looked like shit.

Colin gained his composure first. “What the fuck, Bob?” he said, his voice a dark growl.

Bob seemed unconcerned. “Russian Asshole gave me a wad of cash to be sure you got back here.” He pushed the door shut. “And another big wad of cash to be sure you never came back out.”

“Well.” Colin sounded resigned. “I told you he wouldn’t turn you in to the police.”

“And where is Russian Asshole now?” Sebastian’s careful, accented voice held a hint of menace.

“Return it.” This was Therese. Her voice sounded as dead as the rest of her appeared. There was no intelligence in her eyes, no discernible awareness. I didn’t think that was how the vampirization process was supposed to work. You were generally supposed to come through with your brain intact. This poor woman didn’t seem to have any awareness at all. When she spoke, it was as if someone else moved her. She reminded me of the animatronic displays at Disney World, but a hell of a lot creepier.

“Return it,” she said again, “or choose your fate.” Oddly, her voice held a vague, sibilant Russian accent. Bad thoughts began to occur to me.

Colin seemed more annoyed than threatened. “Fuck off, Russian Asshole.” His words confirmed my suspicions—the Russian guy was speaking through Therese somehow. Damn. Vampires weren’t supposed to be able to do shit like that, were they?

“Then you have chosen?” Therese asked, still in the vaguely Russian intonations.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Then you shall face the consequences.”

“Scary,” said Colin, but before he could finish mocking her a second time, her eyes rolled up and she folded forward onto the table. Her head made a disconcerting clunk as it struck the Formica.

“Colin…” I started, but he didn’t hear me. Firstly, because I was too freaked out to produce any actual sound. Secondly, because the being formerly known as Therese Wilkins straightened suddenly, bared her teeth and growled.

She came out of her chair, hands lifted into claws like something out of every cheesy vampire movie I’d ever seen. But her eyes were empty and dead, and she came after Colin—or possibly Sebastian—with a surety of purpose that made me certain she was going to rip his face off and eat it. I couldn’t tell if she was still under the Russian’s control or if this was the raw, primal form of what she’d been transformed into.

But before she could take more than a step, Colin flung himself across the short distance, feet barely touching the table on his way over it, coat billowing behind him like wings. Or maybe a cape, like Batman.

Or at least that’s what I thought happened. It happened so quickly my eyes couldn’t interpret the blur of black until everything was over. What I was able to register at the time was Colin’s hands closing hard on Therese’s neck, then a sick, horrific crunching sound as he wrenched her head sideways into an angle as dead as her eyes.

I stared, wide-eyed, and took a step back before the shock froze me immobile.

Bob growled and suddenly was on top of Colin, a long, silver blade flashing in his hand. Again, Colin moved in an impenetrable blur. The big knife flashed again, and Bob’s head flew across the room and struck the front of the old white Frigidaire in the corner.

A strange crackle and snap and a movement just on the edge of my vision pulled my attention back to Therese.

She’d struggled to her hands and knees, her head still twisted sideways. As I watched, continuing to be completely useless, she wrenched it forward with her hands. The sound was sickly, like tearing off a turkey leg. Once she’d realigned her anatomy, her still-dead eyes semi-focused on Colin.

She was going to kill him. I don’t know how I knew that, but I did. And as many times as I’d faced vamps intent on my own destruction and handled it just fine, thank you very much, knowing this freakish, zombie-like creature was hell-bent on offing my boss shut down my brain.

I squeaked. It was all I could manage, and it was enough. Colin turned and saw the threat half crawling toward him, teeth bared, face white, eyes dead.

Colin gave Sebastian, who was closer, a split-second’s glance, nothing more. In another black and shiny blur, the knife flew from Colin’s hand to land perfectly in Sebastian’s, and flashed.

I almost saw the blade move; I definitely saw Therese’s head fly, flip, then roll to land on the floor next to Bob’s. Bob’s had already begun to shrink, the skin pulling paper-white against the sharp edges of his cheekbones. Older than he appeared, then, but these days who wasn’t? Neither of the vamps had bled much, surprisingly, but I was grateful for it.

I closed my eyes a moment, then took a long breath. “Well. So much for sorting things out with Bob.”

Colin shrugged. “I’d say it’s pretty damn sorted.” He pulled open the creaky-looking Frigidaire and glanced over the bags of blood inside, all carefully labeled, sitting in neat rows. I’m not sure why the sight of them shocked me—I mean, the blood shots have to get filled from somewhere, right? But the sight of all those bags in neat little rows, like Capri Sun packages waiting for a straw, was like a fist to the gut.

Yeah, Nim, they really do drink blood. Get over it.

Colin picked out four pint bags and handed them to Sebastian. “Here. This should hold you until we can get you something fresh.”

Sebastian glanced at the labels, while I wondered what “something fresh” would entail. Not me, I hoped. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. Enjoy it while you can, ’cause we’re stuck with shit from Fangs now.” He grimaced at the headless bodies on the floor. They were already dissolving into piles of dark, ashy dust, Bob’s disintegrating faster than Therese’s. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. She’d obviously been little more than a pawn in a game that so far made no sense to me.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” said Colin, and we did.

We emerged from the back room and continued outside as if nothing had happened. There were several customers inside drinking, but no one seemed to register us as anything more than normal visitors. With a bartender still refilling shots from the fridge behind the bar, it would likely be a while before anyone had a need to venture into the back room. I tried not to think about it too much, instead working to catch my breath and to keep up with Colin and Sebastian.

The two vampires headed down the sidewalk, almost as if they’d forgotten I was there. I followed gamely. So far the evening was really not going well. I could, after all, be considered an accessory to two murders. That is, if there was anything left of the bodies to prove there’d been a murder at all. I suspected there wouldn’t be much more than a couple of smudges on the floor by the time anyone notified the police.

They were mumbling to each other as they walked, voices barely audible, though I was sure they could hear each other just fine. Another rude vampire habit.

“Pieter?” Colin said, and Sebastian nodded.

“Who else?”

“You have it?”

“Sort of.”

Colin’s voice went even quieter, so I wasn’t entirely sure I heard what he was saying. “You know where it is?”

“Yeah.”

“All right, then.” There was a moment of silence, then Colin spoke again. This time I couldn’t hear him at all.

Before he answered, Sebastian’s head turned the barest amount, enough that I knew he had been about to include me, but had changed his mind at the last minute. He mumbled back to Colin.

“Right,” said Colin.

“What’s going on?” I finally asked as we rounded the corner into the parking garage. The concrete grabbed the last word and echoed it back and forth against the low ceiling, making me wince.