New Order (12 page)

‘Ha!’ I jab a finger at him. ‘You don’t know everything. She was impressed when I worked out what she was.’

‘Bo,’ he shakes his head. ‘Tribers include witches, daemons, ghosts and vampires. There are no neo-druids ‒ they’re an invention, nothing more than people who want to dabble in the magic arts but don’t have the ability. I have no doubt that when you told this woman you thought she was a neo-druid, she was congratulating you on realising that she’s actually just a shill.’

‘But I got a sense of magic from her.’

‘That may be so but it doesn’t change their lack of power.’

‘I’ve been in a more than one sodding magic shop recently,’ I argue. ‘This one was real.’

He throws his hands up in the air. ‘So she sells the genuine article. So what? It doesn’t make
her
genuine.’

‘She’s not selling anything any more,’ I say grumpily. ‘She’s run off.’

‘Good riddance. You’ll gain nothing from going further down that avenue.’

I think about the dead mugger. There’s more to this than meets the eye. ‘Let’s say it’s an avenue I
want
to go down. Where would I find someone pretending to be a neo-druid?’

‘How would I know?’

I give him a look. He casts his eyes up to the heavens. ‘They venerate nature so maybe you’ll find her in a field somewhere in the Home Counties.’

‘That’s not very helpful,’ I inform him.

‘They also tend to conduct their important ceremonies during the eye of the sun.’ His mouth twitches. ‘I take it that might be a bit of a problem for you.’

‘You think?’

‘Sarcasm is unbecoming.’ He gets to his feet. ‘Anyway, I am going to embark on my own journey up the wooden hill to bed. It’s late. You are welcome to stay for as long as you wish, Bo.’

‘I have things to do on the other side of the city. But thank you,’ I add.

‘Where will you spend the day then?’

‘I’ll work something out.’ It occurs to me that I should have discussed salary with Michael while he was still here so I could pay for somewhere to stay. My own flat was disposed of by the efficient Montserrat recruitment team as soon as I signed on the dotted line. I shrug. I guess it gives me an excuse to seek him out again in the next day or two.

‘Suit yourself.’ My grandfather’s eyes turn serious. ‘For what it’s worth, I apologise.’

‘For what?’

‘If Elizabeth had done her job, you wouldn’t be in this predicament now.’

I frown. ‘Elizabeth?’ Then I realise he means Beth. ‘It wasn’t her fault. There was nothing she could have done.’ I sigh. ‘There was nothing anyone could have done.’

‘Not even your Lord Montserrat?’

I meet his gaze. ‘No,’ I say, telling the truth. ‘Not even him. The only person I can blame for my vampire state is me.’

*               *               *

I’ll have little time to sort out this Templeton mess before Arzo starts working with me and tracking my movements. He’s not stupid; he’ll soon realise I’m hiding something from him. I reluctantly put the enigma of neo-druids and feathers to one side and dig out Stephen Templeton’s scribbled list of suspects. The most likely culprit is the fake Kakos daemon. Apparently he’s the big shot behind Streets of Fire, the latest company to vie for internet domination. However, their offices encompass an entire building in the centre of the business district; they’ll be heavily guarded and there’s no way I can waltz up and knock on the door without preparing properly. I’ll do that before sundown tomorrow. Tonight I’ll focus on the Triads. Templeton told me he helped them with a money-laundering scam and skimmed cash off the top. The prat thought they wouldn’t notice.

Unfortunately for me, Chinatown is located in Soho. After my humiliating trip there yesterday, the last thing I want to do is head back in that direction but it has to be done. Once I’m away from my grandfather’s quiet cul-de-sac, I flag down another taxi so I can return to the city. This time the driver is much more relaxed in my presence. I clock his name on his ID and lean forward. ‘Ray?’

‘Yes, little miss?’

‘Are you a cinema fan?’

‘Sure,’ he drawls. ‘I don’t get much chance to go, what with two little ones at home and the night shift. But I like a good action movie.’

I smile. ‘Me too. Van Damme?’

‘Van Damme, Seagal, The Rock. I like them all.’

‘It makes a difference watching them on a big screen.’

‘It sure does.’

I carefully bait my hook. ‘My boss, he hates going to the cinema. Doesn’t like people munching popcorn around him. He loves those martial arts films though.’ I paste on a look of frustration. ‘I was at home just now, chilling, when he called, wanting me to get him a movie. I don’t get much time off these days. I’m always running around doing his bidding. Lord Medici is kind of demanding.’

The driver nods in agreement. ‘I’ve heard that about him.’

‘Yeah.’ I lower my voice. ‘Just between you and me, he can get pretty angry when he doesn’t get what he wants.’ I gesture towards my quickly healing forehead. The driver gapes at me in the mirror and I catch a flash of good, old-fashioned male protectiveness. ‘Right now he wants to see
Sea of Blood
. I have no idea how I’m going to manage that at this time of night. I thought there might be a few shops still open in Soho.’

‘Man,’ he says in sympathy, ‘that film’s not even been released yet.’

I pretend surprise then start reeling him in. ‘It’s not? I am so screwed. I hope…’ I drop to a whisper, ‘I hope he’s not going to get too mad.’

Ray stays quiet for a minute. I do my best to look scared.

‘There are other places,’ he says finally. ‘Sometimes you can get DVDs before you’re supposed to.’

‘Pirated? That’s against the law though.’

‘Bloodguzzlers can get away with a lot.’ There’s just the faintest trace of rancour in his voice.

I switch tactics before he focuses on the inequality. ‘I guess there’s a market for those sorts of films with humans too. I wouldn’t know where to start looking for that kind of place though. And it’s not like I know much about the internet and can just illegally download the film.’

Ray watches me in the mirror. I look down at my hands and twist them in my lap. He sighs and presses a button on his radio. ‘Where’d you get those black market DVDs from, Stace?’

‘Aren’t you working right now? I thought you had a customer.’

‘Come on…’

‘Only because it’s you.’ She rattles off a Soho address.

‘Thank you,’ I gasp. ‘Thank you so much! You might have just saved my life.’

‘You didn’t hear it from me, right?’

I nod vigorously. ‘My lips are sealed.’ I press them tightly together which is a good thing because stops me smiling.

*               *               *

The taxi driver drops me off in front of the aforementioned address. I tip him generously and he wishes me luck. I wait until he’s disappeared then turn, ignoring the shifty man outside holding a dirty bag and thrusting the latest rom-com under my nose. I pull back my shoulders and stalk through the door. I barely make it two steps before I’m stopped.

‘What do you want?’

I narrow my eyes and hiss, displaying my fangs. The bouncer is underwhelmed. ‘Get lost. We don’t like your kind here.’

‘I’m looking for Cheung.’

‘He ain’t here.’ His eyes move up and to the left. He’s lying. I feel a flip of exultation that I’ve found my target so easily.

‘Where is he then?’

The bouncer moves his face close to mine. ‘Fuck off, girlie.’

I sense someone at my back and stiffen. Half-turning, I register a daemon, orange eyes gleaming at me from the rough skin of his face. ‘Since when did bloodguzzlers wear cute little dresses?’

Before I can stop myself, I glance down at the Laura Ashley outfit my grandfather donated. It probably does look kind of stupid with my leather jacket. I flick back my hair and widen my eyes. ‘What?’ I purr. ‘You don’t like frills?’

The daemon snorts at my attempt to flirt and flashes the bouncer a wad of cash before passing through. The bouncer moves forward, stepping deliberately on my foot. He’s a heavy bastard.

‘I won’t say it again. Get your arse out of here.’ He releases his shoe.

I hold up my palms. ‘My mistake.’

‘Damn right,’ he growls.

I leave the building. I can already hear him laughing to a buddy about how he just scared off a bloodguzzler. The grubby DVD seller glances at me, then digs into his bag. ‘
Twilight
?’ he asks. ‘I’ve got the whole series.’

I snarl at him and stalk off. As soon as I’m out of view, however, I drop my shoulders and relax, then skirt round until I find an alley leading to the back of the building. From the shadows, I spot two guards so I head further back until I’m several streets away. I wait for a group of party-goers to pass, then I grab hold of the nearest window sill and start climbing. I must be getting better because within moments I’m on the roof and looking down. Running lightly across the rooftops, I jump from one roof to the other until I’m back where I need to be. The trip is much easier than the one with Michael because the buildings are packed together more densely. I don’t even work up a light sweat.

The handiest thing would be a skylight but, sadly, the roof is flat-topped and covered in asphalt. I creep along the edges, peering down. Each wall has three windows. I bloody well hope Cheung is on the top floor ‒ there’s a limit to how much building-dangling I want to do when I’m wearing a dress. I play eeny-meeny-miney-mo then stroll to the left side. I twist round and step backwards, grabbing the edge of the roof. Once I’m secure, I drop again, my fingertips curling round the first window ledge. I raise my head up and glance in. Nothing: the room’s completely dark. An argument starts up on the pavement beneath me. I wait, holding my breath in case the antagonists look up, but they’re too occupied shoving each other. I jump over to the next window.

Once I’ve exhausted the possibilities on the first side of the building, I clamber back up and explore the second. This time I’m in luck. When I reach the second window and bob my head up, despite the netting covering the glass I make out a group sitting round a table. I dig my toes into the wall to get more comfortable and try to work out what’s going on. The shapes are indistinct. Even if I knew what Cheung looked like, I’ve little hope of figuring out which shape belongs to him. I duck back down and try to listen. The voices are muffled but I think I know what’s going on.

I flip back to the window on the far side and jump up to the roof again. Sitting down cross-legged, I take out my newly revived phone and call O’Shea.

‘Montserrat is going nuts looking for you!’ he yells.

I hold the phone away from my ear for a moment. ‘He found me,’ I say drily. ‘Thanks for the heads-up about the secret plan to get me out of the mansion.’

‘It worked?’

‘Yeah, it worked. Some Watson you are, keeping me in the dark like that.’

‘Bo, who do you think I find scarier, you or Lord Montserrat?’ He has a point. ‘I think he kind of likes you,’ he adds slyly. ‘Do you kind of like him?’

‘Shut up, O’Shea.’ I swear I can hear his grin down the line. ‘I need your help.’

‘Anything.’

‘Get as much cash together as you can and come to Soho.’

‘When you say as much cash as I can, how much are we talking about?’

I have no idea. ‘I dunno. Twenty grand?’

‘Twenty thousand pounds? Are you nuts?’ he shrieks.

I wince. ‘You’ll get it back.’ Maybe.

‘I don’t have that kind of money.’

I don’t think that’s true: I wouldn’t be surprised if the daemon has stacks of the stuff hidden all over the place. ‘Raid a few morgues,’ I suggest. Another thought strikes me. Perhaps that would be a way to find out more about the unfortunate Samuel ‘Slick’ Lewis. I file it away and return to O’Shea. ‘Please?’

‘What do I get out of this?’

I smile. ‘You get the opportunity to double your money, of course.’

‘What do you mean?’ he asks suspiciously. ‘You’re broke.’

I know I’ve got him. ‘Are you any good at poker?’

Chapter Eight: Poker Face

It takes O’Shea a while to pitch up. I’m nervous that the game will finish before he arrives so I’m forced to keep checking what’s going on. My fingertips are throbbing from clinging to inch-thick ledges. I discover that I can make life easier by swinging down headfirst with my toes over the lip of the roof to keep me stable. I’m slightly dizzy when I push myself back up and it makes me feel a little like a bat. I wonder idly if that’s where the old myth about vampires turning into bats comes from. Then I remember some doctor on television stating quite categorically that vampires evolved from someone who was first bitten by a vampire bat.

I’m getting bored with waiting when I hear loud shouts from the busy street out in front. Alarmed that this is related to Cheung, I sidle over to peek. The sight is troubling: on one side of the pavement, a group of humans are holding up crude placards.
Exterminate The Guzzlers. Save Our Innocent Children. Finish Off The Families. God Doesn’t Love Monsters.
My stomach drops, not just at the words but also at the hatred reflected in the protestors’ eyes. They seem to be directing their chants at a bar. It has two bouncers, burly humans who watch carefully but keep their faces frozen in emotionless masks.

There have always been factions against the various triber groups and, because of their need to drink human blood to survive, the vampires have recently come under fire more than the others. I’ve never seen such open vitriol before, though. The damage Nicky’s brainwashed posse did a few months ago is immense. I shift position as a human couple walk up, arm in arm. Both have the tell-tale scarves of vampettes around their necks. I watch the unfolding scene in horror as the chanting gets louder. One of the protestors steps out from the group and spits at the vampettes. The potential for this to end in catastrophe is huge.

A wave of vertigo rolls through me and I’m forced to pull back. When I peer back down to the now blood-soaked street, I realise there’s a body lying there. Alarmed, I grip the sides of the roof, ready to jump down and do what I can. Then the body moves. Arzo gazes up at me with pain-filled eyes, mouthing something. He’s telling me no. Horror consumes me; I’m stuck up here and I can’t get down and he’s going to die and…