Red Angel (3 page)

‘Don’t look this way!’ I mutter warningly.

Matt abruptly glances downwards, gets to his feet and brushes himself off. His tie is askew and there’s a rip in the shoulder of his jacket.

‘What happened?’

He walks a few feet away to disguise the fact that he’s talking. ‘I don’t know. I wasn’t near to Bergman, I promise. I only did what you asked.’

‘Watched the woman?’

‘That’s what I did.’

I bite my lip. Matt takes every instruction literally. He probably stared at the brunette and didn’t take his eyes off of her. The fact that he got thrown out for such an action confirms my suspicions: she’s got something to do with Bergman but I don’t know what.

‘Best thing you can do now is get out of there,’ I tell him. ‘They’ll already be on high alert. If you leave now, they might just think you had the hots for her.’

‘She was pretty cute,’ he replies. ‘Even if she did have VPL.’

‘You really were staring at her, weren’t you?’

‘I only did what you told me to. I think her knickers are edged in lace.’

I roll my eyes. Talk about too much information. ‘You’re disgusting. Go on. I’ll meet you by the bike when I’m done.’

He nods slightly and shoves his hands in his pockets, walking away and whistling. He’s so obvious that I’m amazed the bouncer frowning at his back doesn’t follow him. Matt can look after himself in a fight though; he is ex-army, after all.

I turn my attention back to the club. I really hate sitting around and waiting for things to happen. It doesn’t suit me. If Arzo and my grandfather wanted someone to do nothing more than stake out Bergman and the club, they should have picked someone else.

I’m not stupid enough to enter the club myself but I can get a little closer. I switch the camera to video mode and make sure it’s recording. I’m forced to make a choice between the front door and the alley but if Bergman comes out of the main entrance, I’ll be able to follow him with ease. If any action is going to happen, it will be down the side street.

I abandon my post and climb down, skirting to the left of the queue to avoid anyone spotting me. Taking a circuitous route, I make it to the far end of the alley. It’s open at both ends to the street by the club entrance and the quieter one behind it. I’ve yet to see anyone use it as a shortcut though, so as long as I keep to the shadows I’ll be safe.

I sidle up as far as I dare and then duck behind a wheelie bin. It’s surprisingly clean; when I flip up the lid to look inside, it smells of nothing more than plastic. I swear it’s never even seen a rubbish bag. I’m musing about this when the side door to the club opens and I’m forced to hide behind it.

‘I don’t see why we always have to come out here. It’s far more comfortable inside.’

‘Bergman, Bergman. You have to remember that vampires aren’t what they used to be. People are scared. If you start chomping down on them in the middle of the dance floor, we’ll lose a lot of our human customers.’

‘I spend a great deal more money than they do.’

‘True. But you come to us because we provide the best merchandise. It would hardly suit any of us if that merchandise went to Stringfellow’s instead.’

‘I suppose it’ll mean I drink less. Honestly, I don’t know what happened to me last time.’ Bergman snorts.

I shuffle forward slightly so I can see what’s going on. There are two men, plus Bergman. As far as I can tell from my awkward position, they men are both human. I narrow my eyes. Is he selling to them?

The door opens again. This time the woman I spotted out front stumbles down the steps. Bergman frowns at her and catches her arm before she falls. ‘Is she drunk? You know I like my meat clean.’

My lip curls. This bloodguzzler is an affront to his Family.

‘She’s had a few too many martinis, that’s all.’

I scratch my head. From what I’ve seen so far, she’s had more than a few martinis. This isn’t a simple drug deal.

‘Oh my God!’

I freeze, realising that the excited shout came from behind me. I slowly turn my head and my stomach sinks when I see two women pointing at me.

‘You’re the Red Angel! Guys! Come look! It’s that vampire that killed the Kakos daemon! The one who has super powers!’

Two men appear. All four of them gaze at me as if I’m a damned exhibit in a zoo. I wave my hand frantically in a bid to shut them up but it’s already too late – the damage is done.

‘What’s going on over there?’ One of the shady club guys breaks away and strides towards me. Between the civilians at one end and Bergman and his buddies at the other, I’m out of options.

I curse and step out from behind the bin. ‘Hey!’ I say cheerily. ‘How’s it going?’

The man looks almost as surprised as the women did. ‘You’re… you’re…’

I nod. ‘I’m the Red Angel.’ The words sound stupid but I roll with them. ‘I was in the neighbourhood and saw your club and thought I could really do with a drink. I wanted to use the side entrance to avoid the crowds.’ I smile pleasantly.

‘She killed a freaking Kakos daemon,’ Bergman breathes. He starts towards me. ‘Miss Blackman! I’m a huge fan.’

The second guy’s face twists and he turns away. ‘Kill them now,’ I hear him mutter.

Bergman goes blank with confusion, momentarily freezing. ‘What…?’

I rush towards the group. There’s a flash of silver and I gasp as I see a long stiletto blade sink into the woman’s throat. Suddenly comprehending, I shout. ‘Run, Bergman!’

I’ve barely finished the sentence when the second man twirls and throws something at him. As soon as it’s left his hand, he starts to sprint away. I fly past Bergman, who’s clutching a wooden stake that is jutting out of his chest, and leap over the woman’s body. I’ll run those bastards down in about three seconds flat.

They disappear round the corner and into the main street. Using the far wall as leverage, I twist upwards and run a few steps in order to spin left and reach them faster. The one in front is already shouting towards the waiting queue, however. ‘The Red Angel! Look!’

The crowd turns in my direction. Several people break away and head towards me.

‘Can I have your autograph?’

‘How about a photo?’

I ignore them, running after the men who have now been swallowed up by the queue. I spot their bobbing heads and try to sprint down the far side but it’s no good. Too many of the wannabe clubbers abandon the pavement and flood towards me.

‘Get out of my way!’

It was the worst possible thing I could have said. Instead of shifting out of my path, they freeze, making it harder for me to get past. I curse, weaving in and out and shoving people to the side. By the time I pull away from the crowd, I hear a screech of tyres and see the back end of a shiny red car as it takes off down the street.

I hurriedly press my comms button. ‘Matt! Red sports car heading straight down Blair Street. You need to follow it. Now!’

I hear the bike’s engine rev. Matt swears in my ear then he emerges from the side street ahead and accelerates after the car. I stare after them helplessly.

Someone pats me cautiously on the shoulder. I look round to see a young guy with tears in his eyes. ‘You’re my hero,’ he bleats. ‘You’re amazing.’

I can only shake my head in disgust.

*

I sit on the edge of the pavement, some distance from the gawking crowds. They’ve abandoned the lure of the night club in favour of the thrill of watching me breathe. At least now the police have arrived, they’re being kept well back.

‘What happened, Bo?’

I glance up at Foxworthy. His eyes are kind but worried. I can’t say the same about Nicholls behind him. ‘I was acting for New Order,’ I say. ‘We’d had a tip-off that one of the Stuart vampires, a guy called Bergman, was dealing drugs.’

‘Is that the guzzler whose corpse is down the street?’

I nod. ‘That’s the one. I think we got it wrong, though. I’m betting that the post-mortem will find the drugs in the dead woman’s system. The guys in this club were probably drugging vampettes and giving them to Bergman. He drank from them so then the drugs were in his system too. They were using him as a front for their own business. He was probably so out of it most of the time that he had no idea what was happening.’

‘Did you kill her?’

I throw him a dirty look. ‘No, I bloody didn’t.’

‘Are there any witnesses?’ Nicholls demands. ‘How can you prove it?’

‘There were four people behind me…’ I begin.

‘They told us they ran off when things got nasty.’

I narrow my eyes. ‘There’s a camera that’s recorded everything.’ I point up at the building where I camped out. ‘You’ll find it up there.’

She seems only faintly mollified. ‘You really screwed up this time, didn’t you, Blackman?’

The worst thing is that I agree.

‘How about this?’ I say, pointing at a slim file. ‘It’s a simple vampire abduction case. All I have to do is find out whether…’ I crane my neck ‘…Alan Tims is with the Bancroft family or not and how he was recruited. I won’t need to speak to a single member of the public.’

My grandfather barely twitches. ‘Lars from the Gully Family is taking care of it.’

I grit my teeth. ‘Well, this one then. Investigating whether this woman and a vampire are having an affair. I’m pretty good at that kind of stuff. I did a lot of it at Dire Straits.’

‘I’ve assigned it to Peter.’

I count to ten in my head. ‘Arzo aside, I’m the most experienced investigator we’ve got.’

‘But you can’t step outside without being set upon by adoring fans.’ The tone of his voice leaves nothing to the imagination about what he thinks of those ‘fans’.

‘I can! I went for a walk with Kimchi last night. We managed fine. Not a single person came up to us!’

He fixes me with a steady look. ‘What time did you go out?’

‘Does it matter?’ He doesn’t answer, merely raises his eyebrows. I sigh. ‘Fine,’ I snap. ‘It was about three.’ His gesture indicates fait accompli. ‘Oh come on! This isn’t fair!’

‘You’re not six years old, Bo. Get over it.’

‘I can’t sit here twiddling my thumbs. It’s not my fault things got screwed up the other night! You saw the camera footage. I did everything I could!’

‘I’m well aware of that,’ my grandfather says mildly. ‘In fact, it’s not even your fault that Bergman and his vampette died. The post-mortem results show that the drugs in her system would have killed both of them anyway.’

‘They
were
taking him out,’ I breathe. ‘He’d served his purpose.’

‘Indeed. At least the drugs account for why he had strayed from the Stuart fold. We can pin the entire affair on miscreant humans rather than dodgy vampires.’

‘Has anyone found these humans yet?’ I demand.

He shakes his head. ‘No. Matt, on that ridiculous contraption you call a vehicle, was the best shot we had but they had too much of a lead on him. They’ve not been back to the club and the police can’t locate them.’

I bunch up my fists. ‘I could go and…’

‘No.’

‘But…’

‘You’ll only get yourself into more trouble. We need to find alternative assignments to suit your new,’ he pauses, ‘skill set.’

My eyes narrow. ‘What skill set is that?’

‘Looking pretty in front of the cameras.’

‘What?’ I splutter.

My grandfather pulls out his fob watch and starts to polish it. ‘Bo, you will do more good in that role than you can in a hundred investigations into alleged abductions and seedy affairs.’

‘I think I’ve already proved that interviews aren’t my thing. Besides, I’ve spent days answering every damn question that’s been thrown at me. I’ve got nothing else to say.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of another interview,’ he says mildly.

I’m instantly suspicious. ‘Then what?’

‘Things became really bad for the Families when your friend Nicky got involved.’

‘I wouldn’t exactly call her my friend.’

He ignores me. ‘And the fact she was with the Montserrat Family means that they are having a harder time than all the other Families put together.’

‘I’m aware of that. So?’

He shrugs. ‘The public love you. The last time someone got the better of a Kakos daemon was over a century ago. And even then, they died three days later. You run into burning buildings to save humans. Your lack of height makes you appear cute. Despite those ridiculous clothes and grubby leather jacket, you’re the pin-up girl for 2015.’

‘I don’t think pin-up girls exist any more.’ I raise my hands and gesticulate to emphasise my irritation.

‘Stop flapping, Bo. You look ridiculous.’

‘What then?’ I demand. ‘What’s the damn assignment?’

‘You might find you enjoy it more than you expect.’

I bare my teeth. ‘Out with it.’

He recoils slightly. ‘If you think a show of bloodguzzler aggression is going to sway me, then you don’t know me as well as you think you do. It’s Lord Montserrat.’

‘Huh? What does Michael have to do with this?’

My grandfather offers me a smile; I swear there’s an edge of glee to it. ‘We need the human majority to view him in a better light. He’s the most lenient and liberal of the Family Heads and yet he has the worst reputation. You’re going to become his very visible girlfriend.’

My mouth drops open. ‘You’re kidding me? That’s my assignment? To pretend to be Michael’s latest squeeze?’

‘Will it be pretending?’ my grandfather enquires. I glare. ‘Either way,’ he continues, ‘it’s the optimal path to take.’

‘He won’t agree to it,’ I declare.

‘He already has.’

‘What?’ I screech. ‘You’ve been discussing this behind my back?’

There’s a knock on the door. My grandfather holds up his hand to forestall further protests. ‘Come in,’ he calls out.

Dahlia appears. I watch her, silently seething. ‘Good evening, Mr Blackman.’

‘Dahlia.’ He opens a drawer and pulls out another file. ‘Here you go. You’ll find everything you need.’

She smiles prettily, takes the file and flips it open. Her eyes widen. ‘I’m going to help Lord Gully with his recruitment?’

‘You’ll offer assistance and double check his shortlisted candidates.’

‘Thank you so much! I won’t let you down!’ She looks at me. ‘Can you believe it, Bo? I’m so excited!’

I watch her leave then turn to my grandfather and put my hands on my hips. ‘Actually,’ I spit, ‘I can’t believe it at all. Her? She gets a real assignment?’

‘Arzo will check her work.’

‘We can’t trust her though! Don’t tell me you swallow that tale she spun about escaping from Medici through an open window!’

He sighs. ‘It might be a cliché, Bo, but you need to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Until we really know why she’s here, she needs to believe we’re on her side.’

‘Let me do that,’ I plead. ‘I’m not cut out for fake girlfriend stuff.’

‘You can’t keep the snarl off your face when you look at her.’

‘Well, let me go to Venezuela then! I still need to find those bastards who tried to kill Rogu3!’

‘It’s too complicated for a new vampire like you to avoid the sun on such a journey. Plus, it’s a large country and no one has been able to pinpoint their exact location.’ He picks up his fountain pen, indicating that our conversation is coming to an end. ‘I sincerely hope you’ve not been in touch with that child.’

‘No,’ I answer shortly. Rogu3 has suffered enough because of our relationship. ‘Good. You should go now. Lord Montserrat is waiting for your call.’

He bends his head and starts scribbling on a notepad. I stay where I am for a moment, staring at him. Then I shake my head and stalk out.

*

What’s galling is that it’s actually not a bad plan. Despite my best efforts, I do appear to be the media darling of the moment while Michael remains the devil incarnate. It doesn’t help that everyone knows that I absconded from the Montserrat Family embrace. I’ve read various articles opining that they were all monsters and I couldn’t stand to be around them any longer. Those articles don’t mention the reality: that I’m as much of a ‘monster’ as they are. It still doesn’t mean I want to pretend to be his latest love, though. For one thing, I’m not sure I trust myself.

I drum my fingers impatiently on the chair arm as I wait for him. I wonder if he’s deliberately making me cool my heels. It would make sense: he came to my aid at the television studio and arrived too late to be of any use. He’ll want to remind me who’s really got all the power even though he is accepting my help.

‘Good evening, Bo.’

I glance up, stiffening slightly. He’s wearing one of his Montserrat blue suits, with a crisp white shirt underneath. There’s no tie and the top buttons are undone, revealing smooth, tanned skin that no self-respecting vampire should be allowed to have. He looks more like a bloody model than a leading member of the bloodguzzling fraternity. I resist the urge to look down at my own clothes. My grandfather’s comments about appearing grubby are already making me feel inferior enough.

I get to my feet, holding out my hand awkwardly in a bid to keep things formal. ‘Good evening.’

Instead of shaking it, he takes hold of my fingers and gently brushes them with his lips. The gesture would be sleazy from almost any other man; unfortunately from him, it has the opposite effect. My heart starts to race and my mouth goes dry.

I snatch my hand away. ‘That’s not necessary,’ I blurt out.

His face remains impassive. ‘You gave me your hand.’

‘To shake! Not to slobber over!’

He quirks an eyebrow. ‘Slobber?’

‘You don’t kiss Ursus’s hand, do you?’

Michael looks amused. ‘No, I don’t. But I’m not trying to pretend that Ursus and I are involved.’

‘We’re alone. You don’t need to put on a show for the walls.’

He leans his head to one side. ‘You’re really annoyed about this.’

I sniff. ‘Are you surprised?’

‘If you don’t want to do it…’

‘You know I don’t want to do it.’ I lift my chin. ‘But I will. We need to set some ground rules first, that’s all.’

He folds his arms. ‘Go on then.’

‘We keep the displays of affection to when we’re out in public. Otherwise there’s no point.’

‘It’ll look awkward if we don’t normally…’ I narrow my eyes. He holds up his hands. ‘OK.’

I tick off my fingers. ‘We only meet in public when there are definitely going to be lots of press around.’

‘From what I hear, that won’t be a problem for you.’

I scowl. ‘No more than one date a week.’

‘Four.’ He regards me steadily. ‘The world needs to believe we’re in love, Bo.’

‘Fine. Two dates.’

Michael shakes his head. ‘Three.’

I hiss through my teeth. He gives an amiable shrug.

‘If you see someone else on the side, you make sure no one finds out. I don’t want to look like an idiot.’

‘I’m not going to see anyone else.’ He rolls his tongue across his teeth. ‘Neither should you.’

‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ I mutter. ‘How long are we going to have to keep this up?’

‘A few months perhaps? It’s not going to be as bad as you think. We do get along.’ His eyes gleam, dropping momentarily to my mouth. ‘Most of the time.’

I swallow. ‘I don’t like lying,’ I mumble. Even though it’s all I seem to do.

‘It’s not lying.’ He smiles. ‘We’ll just be acting … affectionately towards each other. The world can draw its own conclusions.’

‘Semantics.’

‘If you say so.’

We stare at each other for what it is probably only a few seconds. It feels like forever. ‘I should go,’ I mutter eventually.

‘Tomorrow night then? I’ll pick you up around nine.’

‘I can hardly wait.’

*

As my new ‘assignment’ will only take up a fraction of my time – and New Order won’t allow me to take on any more jobs – I decide to go freelance. I’m not sitting on my thumbs until this stupid media furore dies down; I’ll be a bit more careful, that’s all. Besides, I have things of my own that I want to investigate.

I jog from the Montserrat mansion to the nearest Underground entrance. It’s already late and a guy is pulling across the barrier as I approach. ‘No more trains, miss,’ he says, barely glancing in my direction.

‘I’m not after a train,’ I tell him. ‘I just want to get inside.’

‘Why would you want to do that? You don’t look homeless. Only the…’ His voice trails off as he recognises me. ‘Only the Red Angel uses the tunnels,’ he finishes weakly.

I give him a small curtsey. ‘As you see.’

‘Of course, ma’am. Of course!’ He scrambles to re-open the gate. ‘Are you going after a bad guy?’

‘I have some business to take care of,’ I prevaricate. Technically I’m breaking the law by going into the tunnels, even if the station’s caretaker doesn’t seem to care. Neither do I need to use the vast tunnel system to travel around when it’s dark. I simply don’t want to be followed by a posse of journalists and fans. ‘It’s really important,’ I say softly, ‘that no one finds out where I’ve gone.’

He nods his head vigorously. ‘I won’t tell a soul.’

I scan his face. I reckon he’s telling the truth. ‘Thank you.’

He bites his lip and looks at me anxiously. He obviously wants to say something else. I give him an encouraging glance and he gives me a huge smile. ‘Can I have your autograph? It’s not for me, you understand. But my daughter…’

‘Of course. Do you have a pen and paper?’

He fumbles in his pocket and hands me a small pad and chewed pen. He looks embarrassed. ‘Sorry, I should find you something better.’