Sunset Strip: A Tale From The Tome Of Bill (2 page)

The coven was currently back to about three-quarters strength. Our
recruiting
efforts had proved fruitful. About half were mine with the rest being strays left over from the battle which had ended with Bill’s disappearance. I wound up
adopting
them since we had plenty of openings, and I kind of felt bad. They had all been employees of the other companies that occupied this building and had been caught in the crossfire by accident.

Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, a few had turned out to be assholes.

Newly turned vampires weren’t a threat to me, but I didn’t need some arrogant dickheads, drunk on power, giving me shit. Especially since, rumor had it, another coven in the area was greatly interested in our apparent weakness. We’d given them one hell of a bloody nose in past months, dusting their leader Samuel in the process, so it wasn’t particularly surprising that they’d held a bit of a grudge ever since.

Impeding matters further was my suspicion that Firebird was busy currying the favor of some of the new recruits, no doubt in a pathetic bid to challenge me. Our power was about equal, but she wasn’t quite dumb enough to face me openly. The end result wouldn’t be in her favor. Instead, I suspected she was doing what she’d been since even before we’d both joined Village Coven: spreading her legs like the whore she was. Goddamn, men could be stupid. One didn’t need the power of compulsion to make them willing slaves.

Needless to say, I had a lot on my plate. I just had no idea how much more shit was about to be dumped on it.

Chapter 2

“I’m doing my best!” Cynthia protested.

God, how I hated when they whined.

She’d been brought on board less than a month ago after approaching me on the subway platform to beg for change. Possessing a keen eye for these things, I could tell she hadn’t been on the streets for long. She had a glimmer of intelligence in her eyes, didn’t reek of drugs, and quite obviously wouldn’t be missed. In short, a match made in heaven.

Well, maybe not quite heaven. I’d put her to work manning a desk for the suicide hotline which served as the main source of food for the coven - gotta love takeout. Unfortunately, though relatively bright, she obviously wasn’t cut out for the life of a counselor. At least, not the type I wanted.

“You’re spending twice as long on the line as the others.”

“I know, but I feel bad...”

I leaned down until my face was an inch from hers. “You need to get over feeling
anything
. This is a pure numbers game. If they’re serious, or just a fucking attention whore, they go on this list. If they can be saved, you give them one of these referrals and get them the fuck off the line.”

“I know, it’s just...”

I tuned out the rest. Vampire newbs typically came in two flavors: ravenous monsters hell-bent on spilling as much blood as possible, and whining pussies unwilling to let their past humanity go. I wasn’t sure which was more annoying.

Before I could chew her out, though, my overly-sensitive vampire ears picked up the elevator dinging open at our floor. I tensed up and turned toward the door. Considering the events of the past several months, one couldn’t blame me for adopting a bit of a paranoid streak.

Cynthia continued to make pathetic excuses, but I ignored her and waited to see who or what was approaching. The cleaning crew had already made their rounds for the evening. The only member of the coven I was expecting was Monkhbat, and not for a few hours yet. Anyone else...well, with a single compulsion, the others would grab the firearms stashed around the office and fill the doorway with enough silver-coated lead to down a herd of undead elephants.

Sure, it was technically against the rules for me to arm the coven. The NYPD, the higher-ups who knew the truth about us, anyway, wouldn’t be pleased if they found out. But fuck them. If the prophecies were true, they were all on the cusp of becoming an endangered species anyway.

I listened. A single pair of feet made their way to our front door. The owner wore what sounded like sensible pumps - definitely not Monkhbat. I held up a hand to Cynthia and she immediately shut up. She might’ve been new, but she knew the drill. I made sure that all the new vamps understood that powerful did not mean invincible. Most of the recently dusted members of our merry little bunch had been arrogant fucks, which hadn’t exactly helped them in the end. A little bit of humility could go a long way during these crazy days in which we lived.

I directed all my senses toward the main door. There came a knock just as a familiar scent reached my nostrils.

The tension left me. Even had I not recognized our visitor, supernatural enemies hell-bent on destruction typically didn’t waste time knocking. Go figure. Common courtesy is a dead concept in the world of the unnatural.

Curiosity immediately replaced apprehension. Why would she be visiting here? It didn’t make sense. We weren’t enemies, but we weren’t exactly all buddy-buddy either. There was also the fact that we currently had a resident for whom her presence would incite quite a bit of violence. I had told Monkhbat’s true master that she was dead. Finding out otherwise could cause some issues.

She was aware of it too. I had let her know during the last time our paths had crossed, months ago when I had called to check on - and maybe threaten with bodily harm - her dumbass boyfriend.

Intrigued as to what would cause her to run the risk, I walked to the door and opened it.

“Hey, Christy. What brings you here?”

Chapter 3

“This one is mine!” snarled a voice from behind me. His name wasn’t important, something boring like John, I think. He was turning out to be one of the troublemakers, a sexist asshole who stylized himself as some sort of type-A leader. He was one of the leftovers from Remington’s massacre, probably a dickhead middle manager during his mortal life. Give a guy like that a little power and they think they’re lord of all they survey.

It also didn’t help that I was fairly sure he was a member of the group that Firebird had won over by use of her not-so-unique talents.

Goddamn, sometimes I hate newbs.

“Back off,” I said without turning toward him. “She’s not from the hotline.”

Part of me was almost tempted to hold my tongue. Christy was a witch, a pretty potent one from what I’d seen of her powers. Flash-frying dipshit back there would probably barely work up a sweat.

I waited for a moment. John-boy might decide to press his luck anyway. It would give me a good gauge as to how much of a reminder the others needed as to who was in charge.

No attack came, though. He gave one more growl before going back to his duties. Good. There might still be hope for him yet.

Christy had put on some weight since last I’d seen her, no doubt a result of having been knocked up by her halfwit boy toy, Tom. Otherwise, she looked surprisingly good. Motherhood worked well for some women. I just hoped the kid took after her. God knows there’re enough dipshits in the world as it is.

“Sorry for that bit of rudeness,” I said. “They’re still being housetrained.”

Christy gave a half smile in return. “It’s okay. I imagine I’m not...”

“What the fuck is
that
doing here?”

I stifled a sigh. I had thought Firebird was out perfecting her blowjob skills for the evening.

“She’s here under truce,” I replied, turning to face her. “Run along and play,
Betty
. I’m sure there’s an alleyway somewhere you can be making a quick buck in.” I should have paid her the same heed as the other vamp. The red-headed slut thought she was my equal, but she wasn’t even in the same league. Fuck that. She wouldn’t have been able to afford a goddamn ticket to my ballpark.

She narrowed her eyes, probably more so at my dismissive use of her real name than my comment. She played the part of the not-so-blonde bombshell, but I’d known her before that. Hell, her hair wasn’t even naturally that color...more of a mousy brown.

“Truce?” She raised her voice to get the attention of the entire room. “Isn’t she one of the witches who’s been trying to murder our leader, the illustrious Freewill?”

I rolled my eyes.
Illustrious Freewill
? Someone must’ve subscribed to the Word of the Day. Her usage was laughable, though. She’d been badmouthing him behind his back since the day he took over from Jeff, our previous leader. Unfortunately, Bill tended to not notice such things - he was usually too busy staring at her tits. Legendary Freewill he might be, but that didn’t make him immune to being a desperate male.

She stepped dangerously close to me. “Is your position so weak that you’d consort with the creatures who have been trying to kill our master?”

Behind me, I sensed Christy tense up. Though I wouldn’t shed any tears at seeing Firebird turned into a roasted turkey, this was my problem. The bitch had stepped way out of line. “Back off, Firebird. This isn’t your concern.”

“A real leader would have killed this
thing
the second the door was opened - but not you. My, how far you’ve fallen, little
Lucinda
.”

Did she just say...? Oh, this two-bit tramp was definitely gonna get it.

I turned my head toward Christy. She had one eyebrow raised questioningly. I smiled and gave her a single shake of my head.

In that moment, Firebird - emboldened by the fact that I’d broken eye contact with her - stepped up to me. Some people are just so predictable.

I waited for her to speak.

“Maybe it’s time we picked a new...”

Without bothering to turn around, I brought my hand up - claws elongating mid-swing. Firebird was a lover - an undiscerning one, at that - not a fighter. I turned back to her just as she shrieked and raised her hands to cover her ruined eyes.

“You fucking bitch!” she screamed. “I’m going to...”

I should’ve torn out her tongue, too. I hit her again before she could finish the sentence, which shut her up as she fell to the floor. Oh well, being overly merciful has always been one of my vices

I inclined my head to the two vamps nearest me, my meaning clear. They grabbed Firebird and dragged her from my sight.

I would be well within my rights to have killed her. Hell, a coven master was more or less free to do as they pleased. I briefly remembered back to Jeff’s reign. He was an asshole for whom there was no such thing as too much abuse of power.

Unfortunately, she’d done her damage. Most of the others hadn’t met Bill, but I’d been sure to fill their heads with as much bullshit about him as I could shovel. Firebird spilling the beans about Christy being one of Harry Decker’s crew wasn’t ideal. I didn’t have to answer to any of them, but things were tenuous enough as it was. It was probably best to discuss matters with Christy elsewhere

All will be dragged screaming into a sea of boiling death!

Shit! The fucking skull was starting up again. Definitely time to go.

“Oh my god! That sounded like Har...”

“Truce is over,” I snarled, grabbing Christy by the arm and steering her toward the exit. “Your kind is not welcome here.”

Before she could say anything further, I opened the door and pushed her through. Turning back, I caught sight of Starlight.

“I’m taking this trash out once and for all. You’re in charge while I’m gone.”

I didn’t wait for her acknowledgement before I slammed the door behind us.

Chapter 4

“You in the mood for a drink?” I whispered once the door was shut. “Because I sure as shit could use one.”

“Not with the baby,” she replied, confused.

“Coffee it is, then. Come on, you’re buying.” I led her toward the elevator. Considering my show back there, it wouldn’t do for anyone to walk out and find us having a friendly chat in the hall.

Unlike her boyfriend, Christy wasn’t a complete moron. She followed and kept her mouth shut rather than argue. The elevator opened at our floor and we stepped in. I’d feel better once we were out of the immediate area, away from where the others could hear, see, or smell us...oh shit!

I put my hand in the door just before it shut. Fuck! I had forgotten about Monkhbat. Though tentatively under my command, he was far older than me. There was no way he wouldn’t notice Christy’s scent when he returned. That wasn’t good.

I had lied to his master about her fate. Her having survived was easily explainable - magic, duh! - but me failing to sic the entire coven on her could be an issue if he blabbed. Thus, this needed to look a bit more convincing.

“What’s wrong?” Christy asked warily.

“How’s your magic?”

“Fine...now, I guess. I mean, I’ve been self...”

“That’s fascinating. Can you do me a quick favor?” She nodded. “Good. Blast the shit out of the door.”

“Why?”

“Monkhbat.”

“Who?”

“Gan’s lackey, the one I told you about.”

Christy’s eyes briefly flashed with power at the mention of the little Mongolian bitch. Those two weren’t destined to be on each other’s BFF lists anytime soon. Heh, I knew there was a reason I liked the witch.

“Don’t feel you need to hold back. If anyone is too close to the door, that’s their own fucking fault for trying to eavesdrop.”

* * *

The elevator shut before the smoke cleared. Sure, it would mean some cleanup for the coven, but a little collateral damage was preferable to having my many lies unravel...lies that would, no doubt, leave me on the business end of an execution.

At some point, my house of cards would come tumbling down, but today wasn’t that day.

“You clawed out that girl’s eyes,” Christy said, breaking the silence.

“They’ll grow back. How have you been?”

“A little tired.”

“Still puking?”

“It finally stopped, thank goodness.”

“So have you heard from...” we asked in unison just as the doors opened to the lobby. Neither of us needed to reply to know the joint answer was
no
.

Goddamnit!

* * *

Christy held her tongue until we reached our destination, a little café in SoHo that served killer espresso. It was busy enough that our conversation would be lost amongst the inane chatter of the other patrons.