New Order (18 page)

When I come round again, I feel more refreshed. I sit up and yawn, rubbing my eyes. It feels much later and I wonder how long I’ve been asleep. I kick open the door and ease myself out, then stretch to shake off my grogginess. I feel grimy. There are spots of oil all down my dress, probably from my antics in the Streets of Fire lift shaft. I wipe my palms down the front of it. I really need a sodding shower.

An engine rumbles and I see an expensive sports car drive in. Its owner parks it neatly next to my rusting heap. I glance from the gleaming bodywork on one side to the filth on the other and it’s hard not to giggle at the contrast. I’m still amused when the driver gets out without looking in my direction and struts towards the inner door. He presses his thumb against the keypad and enters. I scoot up, my fingers grabbing the door before it closes again, and squeeze in, then follow him to the lift.

Once the doors shut, his eyes flick in my direction. He sidesteps away from me. It’s a bloody lift; it’s not like he can actually escape. If I wanted to sink my fangs into his stupid neck, I would. When we reach his floor and the doors open, he sprints out. I roll my eyes heavenward. The other inhabitants of this building must know they share the space with the Lord of the Montserrat Family. It doesn’t make sense for the guy to be so spooked by one little girl vampire.

Shrugging to myself, I dismiss him. I step out onto Michael’s penthouse floor and knock loudly on his door. There’s no answer. I press my ear against it. Silence. I knock again. When the door still doesn’t open, I eye it speculatively. The allure of fluffy towels and hot water is strong. He’ll be pissed off but, to be fair, he
did
invite me. I stop prevaricating, take a step then leap up and kick, aiming for the lock. Unfortunately, the door opens open at exactly the wrong moment and my foot connects with Michael’s chest instead of solid wood.

There’s a snarl and, before I can react, I’m thrown backwards against the far wall. A fist comes flying towards my face. Rather than smashing into my nose, however, it lands just to the side of my head, sending bits of plaster flying in all directions. Another arm shoots out on my other side, hitting the wall and effectively trapping me. Michael’s face looms over me.

A muscle jerks in his cheek. I stare back. He’s shirtless, his broad chest and winged tattoos bared. The red mark where I struck him is already fading. I hope I’m not about to be done for treason.

‘Bo,’ he grates.

‘My Lord.’ My voice has an unusual breathy quality.

He slowly licks his lips. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Er…’ I can’t tell him about X. ‘Working,’ I say finally.

‘Where?’

‘We’ve already had this conversation. If I’m going to be your independent bridge with the humans then it’s better if I don’t tell you everything that I do.’

‘If you’re looking for a damn cure that doesn’t exist, then it’s nothing to do with the humans and I should know about it. If it’s the Arzo thing, then you said it had nothing to do with vampires so you can tell me about it anyway.’

‘
Probably
,’ I say. ‘It
probably
has nothing to do with vampires.’ I aim for insouciance. ‘You didn’t mind not knowing before.’

He leans in closer. ‘That was before.’ His eyes drop to my mouth.

I swallow. ‘Before what?’

His shoulders tense and a shadow crosses his face. He pulls back, freeing me. ‘There was an attack.’

‘What? What kind of attack? Where?’

‘Gully. A group of their vampires were set upon by some humans.’ His jaw hardens. ‘There were some casualties.’

My stomach drops. Oh, shit. ‘Human?’

‘And vampire.’ He folds his arms and gazes at me. ‘Tempers are flaring, Bo. It’s not safe to be out on the streets alone.’

‘I’m fine. I’m not about to get into an argument with a bunch of pissed-off humans.’

His eyes harden. ‘You were frightened. When I spoke to you on the phone, you were fucking scared. And then your phone was dead.’

Guilt floods me. ‘It broke. I dropped it.’

‘You’re lying.’ He lowers his voice until it’s dangerously soft. ‘Who were you with?’

‘I’m sorry. I can’t tell you.’

He snarls and punches the wall, then turns and stalks back inside. I stare after him, wide-eyed. I’ve never seen him so tense, not even when Nicky was weaving her Machiavellian magic. Relations with the humans must be far worse than I thought.

‘Can I come in?’ I call after him.

For a moment I think he’s not going to answer. Then he growls, ‘It looks like you were going to anyway. Were you seriously trying to break down my door?’

‘Um…’ I step gingerly in. ‘I need a shower.’ I’m aware of how pathetic that sounds.

‘The door is reinforced steel, Bo. About the only thing you’d have broken is your foot.’ He walks to the window and stares out at the skyline. ‘At least tell me where you spent the day.’

I relax slightly. ‘Here.’

‘I was here. You were not.’

‘I was downstairs. In my car,’ I explain. ‘I couldn’t get in because of the keypad.’

He turns to face me. His face is blank. ‘You’re kidding me?’

‘Uh, no.’

Comprehension dawns. ‘Hold on. You mean that rusty piece of…’

‘Don’t,’ I interrupt. ‘Don’t you dare denigrate my car.’

‘Does it even work?’

‘I’m not going to deign to answer that. Can I use your shower or can’t I? I’ve got things to do.’

He waves a hand towards his bedroom. ‘Feel free. The doctor will be at the mansion soon, so be quick.’

Except that, thanks to X, I no longer require his services. ‘The thing is…’

Michael’s eyes narrow. ‘What?’

I think better of it. ‘Nothing,’ I say hastily. ‘I can’t wait to get started with the therapy.’

He growls something under his breath.

‘What was that?’ I ask innocently.

‘Nothing.’

I shrug and head for some heavenly scrubbing bliss.

‘By the way, I got you some clean clothes,’ he calls out after me.

I pause. ‘I can’t wear the Montserrat uniform. I’m not with the Family any more.’

‘As you say.’ There’s the faintest hint of amusement in his tone.

I frown suspiciously, but don’t turn round. My nostrils are assailed by the deep masculine scent of his bedroom. I glance towards the bed. It doesn’t look slept in.

‘Stop it, Bo,’ I whisper to myself.

I go into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. I don’t look any different. I prod my temples. There’s no visible sign that a Kakos daemon has been messing with my mind. X’s face swims into my mind and I shiver. I wish I could tell someone what happened. I think of Michael’s tense frame and sigh. Life seems to become more complicated, not less.

*               *               *

I take my time getting clean, standing with my back to the searing spray and letting it hit my neck and cascade down. The heat turns my skin lobster red but it definitely makes me feel better. When I finally step out, I feel renewed. Then my eyes fall on the clothes hanging on the back of the door. I’m sure they weren’t there when I came in. I look around as if I expect Michael to be standing there, leering at my naked body. Chance would be a fine thing.

I take down the clothes and gape. There’s a short, fitted black dress made of heavy, expensive material. It allows for movement so my actions won’t be restricted if I do something stupid and end up in a fight. It’s also a perfect match for my trusty leather jacket. It’s not the dress itself that makes my stomach squirm though‒ it’s the lacy underwear next to it. Both the bra and panties are my size. I can’t imagine Michael Montserrat picking out the set for me in La Perla. No, he must have asked Ria or someone to do it.

I get dressed quickly, towelling off my hair. When I pick up my jacket I realise it feels rather bulky. I pat it down and pull out a notepad from the inner pocket. I frown for a moment then remember it belongs to X. I look at the first page; there’s an odd indentation in the middle. As far as I can tell, it’s a diamond shape with a weird squiggle inside. Much good that’ll do me. I shove it back into my pocket. I’ll have to dispose of it later. The further away I stay from the Kakos daemon and his belongings the better.

When I leave the bedroom, Michael is also fully clothed, wearing another immaculately tailored suit in midnight blue. Does he ever get bored with that colour? He looks up as I enter the room. I feel uncomfortable, as if he’s suddenly developed X-ray vision and is staring through the dress to the underwear below. Then he turns away.

‘Let’s go,’ he says tersely. ‘The car’s waiting.’

‘I need my own car.’

He throws an impatient look over his shoulder.

‘I’m not planning to spend all night hanging around the Montserrat mansion,’ I explain patiently. ‘I’ve got things to do.’

‘And you’re still not going to tell me what these things are?’

I purse my lips then shrug. ‘Nope.’

‘You’re not going out alone.’

I want to argue but, in light of the Gully attack, I realise he’s probably being sensible. I’ve already established that I can’t trust O’Shea enough to take him, not while I’m still on Dahlia Templeton’s trail. Arzo is out, naturally. ‘You said you were going to release Matt from his fledgling training so he can join the new agency. Did you mean that?’

‘After Nicky’s spell, he won’t cope with the demands of being an independent vampire. You and Arzo can help him more than the others.’

‘It won’t piss off the other Heads too much to have another Montserrat fledgling fly the coop before they’re supposedly ready?’

Michael is silent for a moment. ‘They’ve got other things to worry about.’

I suppose they have. ‘Well,’ I say cautiously, ‘I’ll take Matt with me. Give him a taste of what it’ll be like.’ As long as we don’t run into any more Kakos daemons, we’ll be fine.

‘You’re both fledgling so you’re both weak. He will do whatever anyone tells him, no matter who they are, and you’re suffering from trauma. I don’t think Matt on his own is going to cut it.’

I frown. I could ask D’Argneau but although I’m sure the lawyer would jump at the chance to strut around town with a vampire, I suspect Michael won’t be too keen about that suggestion. He seems to have taken umbrage against D’Argneau, no doubt for involving himself in Montserrat matters.

‘Look,’ I say patiently, as we get into the lift. ‘I understand that safety is an issue. Technically, though, you’re not my boss any more. I need someone I can trust not to blab about what I’m doing. Right now, the only person I can think of is Matt. I don’t want to put him in danger but it’s either him and me, or just me. Any other Montserrat vampire, even Beth and Nell, will tell you what I’ve been up to. O’Shea will tell you what I’ve been up to.’

‘
You
could just tell me what you’re up to.’

‘No.’ I shake my head firmly.

He scowls. ‘This solo thing will only carry you so far.’

I smile disarmingly. ‘One of my more endearing qualities is that when I make a decision, I stick to it.’

‘Unless it’s joining my Family as a vampire.’

My smile falters. ‘Okay. But that’s a one-off. And you goaded me into leaving.’ The lift opens at the car park. I face him. ‘I’m trying to meet you halfway.’

‘I suppose Arzo is out of the question?’

I nod.

‘Fine,’ he growls. ‘Take Matt. But you will damn well call me every two hours, no matter what is going on. I also want you back here by 4.30am. We still have your fingerprints on file. I’ll make sure you’re not locked out again.’

I put my hands on my hips. ‘You do remember the “you’re not my boss” part, right?’ He looks at me. I throw my hands up in the air. ‘Fine.’

Michael smiles. I smile back. ‘Thank you,’ I say awkwardly. ‘For Matt. And the shower. And the clothes.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he murmurs. There’s an odd light in his eyes.

I look away and walk to my car. ‘Would you like me to drive you to the mansion?’

He takes in the lack of passenger seat, rusty metal and dust-etched penis. ‘You really drive this?’

‘Hey,’ I say lightly, ‘I sleep in it too. But if you want to give me an advance on my salary, I can take it to a garage and get it fixed up.’

‘What salary?’

‘For the agency. The bridge that will smooth over issues between the humans and the vampires.’ I’m patient, but confused.

Michael laughs. ‘But Bo, if I pay you, you’re not independent.’

I stare at him.

‘To maintain your integrity you’re not going to tell me about your investigations, so I can’t have a financial hand in what you’re doing. And when you make a decision, you stick to it.’ His grin broadens. ‘It’s one of your many
endearing
qualities.’

Bastard.

‘I am, however, not getting in that death trap. And neither are you.’

I start to protest but he holds up a hand. ‘I’ve still got Ursus’s bike. I’m sure he won’t mind if you hang onto it a little longer.’

‘I don’t think a motorbike is any safer than a car,’ I grumble. Secretly, of course, I’m thrilled. As fond as I am of my car, I’ll take Ursus’s gleaming machine over it any day.

‘Compared to that thing?’ He jerks his head at my car. I wrinkle my nose in his direction and he laughs again. ‘Let’s get going.’

*               *               *

It’s still fairly early when we pull up outside the familiar gates of the Montserrat mansion. Michael strides up the steps. I don’t bother hurrying to keep up with him; I know he must be busy with Family business. I try to ignore the looks I receive when I enter, which run from outright hatred to mere curiosity. I swear I even spot a touch of envy from one or two of the milling Montserrat minions.

I’m barely out of the lobby when the good doctor approaches. ‘Ms Blackman!’ he says, clasping my hands in a manner that makes me think I’m an invalid in a dusty Victorian novel. ‘I’m so glad you made it. We weren’t sure you would.’

I mutter something about being tied up with other things. It’s annoying that I have to waste time pretending I’m still under the dark shadow of PTSD. Given that I’m in no position to tell anyone the truth, though, I have to go along with the pretence.