Red Angel (23 page)

‘Thank you for telling me,’ I say dully.

‘Bo, wait! Tell me where you are!’

I drop the phone and crunch it under my heel. I hear Michael’s voice for a second, a disembodied sound that’s frantic and pleading. When the phone is finally silent, I stand up. Despite the leaps and bounds our relationship has made, it cuts me to the bone that he won’t trust my instincts. I don’t need him, though; I can do this all on my own.

I stumble forward, not sure where I’m going. To get my bike, I suppose, and drive round to Arzo’s place. With unfocused, unseeing eyes, I veer left and collide with another figure.

‘I’m so sorry! So sorry! So sorry!’

I pull back, giving myself a shake. Unable to speak, I frown at the woman. Her smile is over-bright and her pupils are wide. She’s definitely on something, Ecstasy or coke or whatever. Uncaring, I brush past her.

Then I stop in my tracks. Slowly, I turn round and stare. The woman is wearing high heels and a short dress, hardly the sort of attire that’s appropriate for somewhere as dodgy as the Black Market. If she’s wearing that, she’s asking for trouble. She trips over nothing, her arms stretching out to stop herself from falling. When she straightens back up, she glances over her shoulder. ‘Hey, aren’t you the Red Angel?’

I raise a hand in acknowledgment. She beams. ‘I love vampires! And I love you! You’re so heroic!’ Her smile turns into a pout. ‘I wish I was that brave.’

It’s a struggle but I find my voice. ‘Where are you going?’

She brightens again. ‘To a party! D’ya wanna come?’

‘Do you have friends there?’

‘Lots and lots and lots.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Ellie.’ She frowns. ‘Actually, it’s not. It’s Fiona. But they call me Ellie.’ She winks at me. ‘It’s short for El Cebo.’

‘That’s Spanish for bait,’ I say sadly.

Fiona seems surprised. ‘Is it?’

‘It is. Thanks for the invite. I love parties.’

‘The more the merrier!’

‘Great,’ I tell her. I still don’t smile though. ‘That’s great.’

The ‘party’ is more an illegal underground rave than cocktails and canapés. It’s located in an old warehouse not too far away from the market. The building has seen better days: old posters advertising forgotten bands hang bedraggled from the exterior walls; the windows are either grubby or smashed in. It’s a far cry from the night club where Bergman met his end.

There are about twenty people outside waiting to get in. Fiona, unsurprisingly, walks right up to the front. ‘Hey yay,’ she calls out.

I catch her arm before she stumbles again. Both bouncers give me dark, unimpressed looks. ‘I’m with her,’ I tell them.

‘No, you’re not. I know who you are. There’s no way you’re with her.’

I mull this over then shrug and lean over, standing on my tiptoes so I can get closer to their box-shaped skulls. ‘If you know who I am,’ I murmur, ‘then you’ll know that it’s a really bad idea to piss me off. To borrow a line, you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.’

They look at each other doubtfully.

‘Oh, come on, boys,’ I purr. ‘If I can take out a Kakos daemon, do you really think that you two will cause me any bother?’

The burlier one to my left looks over my head to the next person in the queue. ‘Do you have an invitation?’ he asks.

I grimace unpleasantly and walk in behind Fiona. That was too sodding easy.

Inside is rammed. I’m taken aback by the number of people writhing around. Strobe lights arc over their heads and there’s the distinct aroma of stale pot in the air. At least the music, if that’s what it can be called, doesn’t appear to be any louder inside than it is outside. Realising that Fiona is already heading off to the far side, I dash after her, squeezing between the dancers. None of them registers my presence; they’re more concerned with what’s tripping inside in their heads than who’s tripping over their feet.

The one good thing about all of this is that Fiona doesn’t appear quite as drugged up as the woman who died in the alley. I guess the guys who were manipulating Bergman haven’t tired of her yet. Whatever’s in her system isn’t lethal, not tonight anyway. She swings her hips in time to the beat and raises her hands above her head, swaying alongside a hundred others. It’s only when she reaches a small set of stairs leading up to a low balcony that she drops her arms.

Another bouncer guards the staircase. He lets her past, then returns to his original position. I watch her wobble up then I stand in front of him and give him a wave. He frowns at me, confused, as if he’s sure he’s seen me somewhere before but he can’t place where. I grin and put my hands on his shoulders. He’s a bit of brute and it’s not particularly comfortable for someone of my height but it’s going to be less comfortable for him. The moment his eyes widen as he finally realises who I am, I knee him in the groin. He doubles over and I smash down onto his solar plexus. He collapses. I dust off my palms and wander up the stairs.

It’s only been a few seconds but Fiona is already wrapped around a vampire. He’s wearing the red of the Medici Family and, although I don’t recognise him, I’m tempted to leave him to the consequences. It wouldn’t be fair on her, though. An alert went out after what happened with Bergman but with Medici’s position out in the cold, it’s possible his guzzlers didn’t receive it.

I lift up the corners of my mouth in the semblance of a smile as the two human guys from the alleyway – the ones responsible for Bergman Stuart’s death – turn to me and gape. The nearest one recovers the fastest, throwing his glass in my direction. I dodge it easily. Waste of a good drink.

‘We meet again,’ I say.

They leap to their feet. Tweedledum reaches inside his suit jacket and takes out a stake. The Medici vampire pulls his fangs away from Fiona, sending a spray of her blood across the table. ‘What the hell are you doing with one of those?’ he asks.

Everyone ignores him. Tweedledee lunges for me. I grab his arm and pull it behind his back, spinning him just in time for Tweedledum’s stake to end up lodged in his shoulder. He screams. Several members of the dancing crowd below hear him and scream back in delight, assuming it’s all part of the fun. I snatch his collar and fling him against the nearest wall. He slumps down in an ungainly heap. One down.

Tweedledum, now weaponless, is terrified. He points to me with a shaky finger. ‘Kill her,’ he says to the Medici vamp. ‘Kill her now.’

The bloodguzzler eyes me. He’s older than I am – and therefore a damn sight more powerful ‒ but I’ve got reputation on my side, which might help my cause. I’d rather not get into it with him if I can help it though.

‘I’m not here for you,’ I shout. ‘I want him.’ I point at Tweedledum.

The Medici vampire stands up, wavering slightly. Of course: the drugs in Fiona’s system are already affecting him. Perhaps this will be easier than I thought.

He flicks a glance at Tweedledum. ‘Sorry, mate. She’s off limits. Orders of the boss.’

My nose wrinkles. Why would Medici want me unharmed? Before I can ask the guzzler, he pushes past me and stumbles down the stairs, disappearing into the crowd. I could go after him but he’s not the reason for this diversion. I turn my attention back to the human.

‘I guess you’re all on your own,’ I comment lightly. ‘Unless you want Fiona here to be your bodyguard.’

Tweedledum’s brow furrows. ‘Who?’

‘He calls me Ellie,’ she reminds me helpfully.

Oh yes, because she’s the bait. I step towards him. ‘People say a lot about the vampires, you know. That they only care about their own Families and will throw anyone else to the dogs. You, however, will use your own kind to get what you want. Even the vampires aren’t that bad.’

‘I … I … don’t know what you mean,’ he stammers.

‘Yes, you do.’ I lick my lips and allow my fangs to lengthen. He flinches. ‘She’s drugged so you could drug the vampire. It wasn’t the smartest move to make. Bloodguzzlers aren’t very amiable when someone threatens them.’

‘Fuck you!’

I raise my eyebrows. ‘Is that the best you can do? Really?’ I sigh. Then I whirl round, pick up a chair and spin again, slamming it against his head. His jaw goes slack and he collapses. ‘Swearing is so uncouth,’ I tell his prostate form.

Fiona stares at me. She doesn’t look particularly afraid, no doubt as a result of her drug-induced haze, but she’s aware of what’s going on. ‘Are you going to kill me?’ she asks.

I shake my head. ‘No. I’m going to ask you for a favour.’

She gives a puzzled frown while I turn my attention back to the two unconscious humans. I suppose I should call Foxworthy; it would be the right thing to do.

I take out my phone and find the number I need. When someone answers, I speak brusquely. ‘This is the Red Angel. Put me through to Lord Stuart.’

There’s a silence, followed by a click. Excellent.

Stuart’s voice fills the line. ‘What’s going on?’ Even with his booming tones, it’s difficult to hear him. I stick one finger in my ear to block out the thumping music.

‘I’m at a warehouse near the Black Market,’ I tell him. I prod Tweedledee with my toe. ‘I have two people here who would hate to make your acquaintance.’

‘Who?’ he growls.

‘Do you remember Bergman?’

Lord Stuart hisses. ‘Give me your exact location.’

‘I want something in return.’

‘Name it.’

‘Make sure Arzo is occupied and bring his girlfriend to the New Order office,’ I instruct. ‘Immediately.’

‘Arzo? The wheelchair Sanguine?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘Done,’ he snaps.

I give him the address then hang up. I glance at Fiona. ‘You’re a vampette?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘Those men gave you drugs,’ I tell her. ‘They’d probably have ended up killing you.’

From her expression, I reckon my words have penetrated her drugged brain. ‘Maybe being a vampette isn’t for you,’ I say gently. ‘But before you think about giving it up, I’d like you to help me out with someone else. Another vampire.’ I hold up my hands in a gesture of friendliness. ‘You don’t have to though. If you want to leave I won’t stop you, I promise.’

She wobbles to her feet. There’s still a smear of blood at her throat and the two puncture wounds from the Medici vamp are visible. I think she’s going to refuse but she tilts up her chin and meets my eyes. ‘OK.’

‘You’re sure?’

She bites her lip and nods.

I acknowledge her agreement but I don’t smile. ‘Come on then,’ I say, holding out my hand. ‘I hope you don’t mind motorbikes.’

*

I let Kimchi out when we get back. He’s excited to see me but he sniffs cautiously at Fiona then keeps his distance from her. Sometimes he’s smarter than he lets on. Fiona perches on a nearby desk.

‘Are we waiting for someone?’

I start to nod as the door opens. Dahlia appears, flanked by two Stuart vampires. ‘Thank you,’ I tell them politely. ‘You may go now.’

They exchange looks. I’m not sure what orders Lord Stuart has given them but they decide to do as I ask. They give small bows and hastily depart.

I focus on Dahlia. She’s perfectly made-up, not a hair out of place and not a blemish showing. I imagine that the little black dress she’s wearing was for Arzo’s benefit; it’s certainly not for mine.

I take a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry for bringing you all the way out here.’

‘They wanted Arzo first.’ She meets my eyes. ‘He’s already at the hospital. He’s been there for hours.’ What she leaves unspoken is the question of why I’m not there too.

‘Mm,’ I murmur non-committally. ‘I’ll see him there later. I thought it was important to do this first.’

Kimchi growls, making Fiona jump. I shush him.

‘Who’s that?’ Dahlia asks, looking at the vampette.

‘A peace offering.’

She jerks as if in surprise. ‘For what?’

‘For accusing you of poisoning my grandfather.’ I keep my voice level and calm. ‘It wasn’t fair of me. You’ve been trying really hard to get on with me and I threw your efforts back in your face. I was … hurting. And panicked.’ I undo my ponytail and run my hand through my hair. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do without him.’

She steps over to me and puts her hand on my arm. I manage not to flinch but it’s hard. ‘He might pull through. Even if he doesn’t, you’ll be surprised at where you can draw strength from. You’ll cope.’

‘Thank you. You’re being very gracious.’

Fiona drops the paperweight she’d been toying with. It smashes to the ground, splintering everywhere. Oblivious to my conversation with Dahlia, she looks at me guiltily. ‘Oops.’

Dahlia frowns. ‘Is she alright?’

‘She’s been drinking,’ I say smoothly. ‘I bet you’ve not tried drinking from someone with alcohol in their system. It gives you a hell of a buzz.’

‘That’s why you brought her here?’

I shrug. ‘She was keen to come along. She’s a friend of mine and I thought you might be hungry.’

Fiona gives us with a happy smile. ‘I’m a vampette,’ she announces.

‘You didn’t have to do that, Bo.’

‘I know,’ I answer. ‘But I wanted to.’

I hold my breath as Dahlia steps over to her. ‘Nice skin,’ she comments, talking directly to Fiona for the first time.

Fiona smiles dreamily, stretching out her neck. Dahlia doesn’t waste another moment; her eyes meet mine as she sinks her teeth into Fiona’s flesh. She drinks hungrily. I watch her, ready to stop her if I think she’s taking too much. She pulls away long before that though, dabbing at her mouth. ‘She certainly has an interesting taste,’ Dahlia muses. ‘Almost like wine.’

If I felt any guilt about what I’m doing, it vanishes with Dahlia’s insistence on treating Fiona like she’s nothing more than an object. Even after guzzling her blood, she still won’t acknowledge her as a person. It’s so rude. I make a point of finding a napkin and passing it over for Fiona to press against her neck. She smiles at me gratefully.

The office door bangs open and Matt appears. His hair is ruffled and he appears irritated. ‘Bloody hell, Bo!’ he exclaims when he spots me. ‘You could have told me you didn’t need me to watch those people any more!’

I realise that he’s referring to the Brownslows. Either Connor or O’Shea must have given him the all clear. ‘Sorry.’

He grumbles under his breath although his expression lightens when sees Fiona. ‘Hello. Who are you?’

Fiona simply smiles and offers him her neck. He starts forward but I clear my throat. ‘Actually, she’s already lost quite a lot of blood tonight. Dahlia was her last. It’s probably better to leave her be for now.’

Matt’s bottom lip juts out. ‘I’ve been with that freaking family and their non-stop chatter for hours. I’m hungry.’

I try to soothe him. ‘Maybe you should head back to the mansion then and pick up a vampette there. In fact, you could drop off Fiona on your way.’

‘I live in Wandsworth,’ she tells us, trying to be helpful.

I wince. That’s miles away from the Montserrat mansion where Matt stays. He looks at me incredulously. ‘You have to be kidding me.’

‘Go.’