The Bloody City (3 page)

“They wanted to gain your sympathy. But don’t feel sorry for me. I’m doing just fine.”

Belle turned the glass over and pushed the rim into a shallow white bowl on the windowsill. She twisted it back and forth, as if rimming a margarita glass with salt.

“Just fine?” Occam said. “Hiding in the shadows like a rat, while everyone thinks you’re dead? Sucked into their war?”

“Maybe it’s a war worth fighting. I was under the impression you didn’t like the Institute, either.”

“I don’t.” He quit bouncing his foot. “But I don’t like the SNC or the Paranormal Alliance, either.”

“I can understand why.”

Belle opened a bottle and poured clear liquid into the glass.

“But?” Occam said.

“But I’m neck-deep in shit right now, and I’ve got to swim or I’m never getting out.”

Belle sauntered over to Occam’s chair and held the glass out to him. He took it. The top was rimmed with something white, too fine to be sugar or salt.

“Thank you,” he said. “Sure you don’t want one?” he asked June. “It’s my own creation. A Russian Donut.”

“Russian Donut?”

Belle went back to her chair and sat down.

“A shot of vodka.” Occam sat forward, holding the glass aloft. “Powdered.” He lowered the glass, pressed a finger to one nostril, and snorted the rim by rotating the glass. He then downed the shot and flopped back in his chair, sniffing and rubbing his nose, eyelids fluttering.

“I think I’ll pass,” June said. He got points for style, though. Like they were at the druggie Olympics.

Occam thrust the glass out. Belle took it from him. She set it aside on the windowsill.

Occam sat bolt upright and focused his glassy eyes on June.

“The great thing about being a vampire,” he said, “is I can fuck myself up as much as I want, and there’s no lasting damage.”

“At least you’re not using your powers for evil.” June shifted, trying to get comfortable on the lumpy couch. “Now, can we get down to business by any chance? I came here to negotiate.”

Occam dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes.

“The only way you’re going to get what you want right off the bat is if you’ve brought me Micha Bellevue’s head.” He nodded at June’s bag. “Is it in there?”

“Not quite.”

“Well, then.” He pulled out a silver-plated Zippo. “Guess this’ll take a while.”

June presented the terms she’d been instructed to give by Sam and Aaron. She didn’t need them written down, as they’d been drilling them into her head for a week. They would give Occam their information on the serum—a nasty potion distilled from the stolen abilities of numerous research subjects, meant to give a “normal” their powers—if…

“We turn the information over to our scientists?” Occam’s cigarette burned away between his fingers. “And then what?”

The vampire’s “scientists” were collectively known as the FPS—the Freelance Paranormal Scientists—a group of researchers who didn’t involve themselves with the Institute, and to hear tell, were in the vampire’s pocket.

“And then they tell everyone what the Institute has done,” June said. “And the Institute goes down.”

“You think it’s that easy?” Occam took a drag.

“Honestly? No. But I’m just the messenger.”

Occam blew the smoke out in a slow stream. June longed for a cigarette. Her chest hurt from the smoke in the air, though.

“So what’s in it for us?” Occam asked.

“Blowing the lid on the Institute isn’t enough for you?”

“Is it enough for you?” Occam focused on her. His eyes were deep and intense beneath the drug-induced haze on the surface. He might be sharp behind that shabby exterior.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You just want them called out on the carpet and shut down, so you can declare a default victory? You don’t want more than that? You don’t want revenge?”

“This isn’t my war. I’m a soldier in it because it’s the only thing I can do right now. The things I want are a lot more complicated than revenge.”

Occam ground his cigarette out on the arm of the chair. “So I ask you again, what’s in it for us?”

June took a deep breath.

“Micha Bellevue is willing to tell you everything he knows about his wife’s research.”

The late, not-so-dearly departed Rose Bellevue had been the top vampire researcher at the Institute, the person the militant vampires despised for revealing them as little more than perpetual bags of bacteria. She was also, questionably, the reason Micha became the first victim of the serum. They still had no definite proof Rose had trussed her husband up for experimentation, and her ghost seemed to be trying to refute it, but for Micha it was another torment in his currently long list of tortures. He had agreed to give up her research so the vampires could hand it over to their scientists for shooting down.

Occam sat silent. He bounced his foot. Sniffed.

“Now you have my interest,” he said. “Beating up the Institute is fun and all, but beating up the Bellevue legacy is even better.”

Just don’t beat up Micha Bellevue, please.

“So those are the terms,” June said. “Help us expose the serum, and you can have—whatever it is Micha can give you.”

“Why should I trust you’ll keep your part of the bargain?”

June sat forward and slid her bag off her shoulder. She placed it in her lap and unzipped it. “I was told to give this to you. You can have your scientists look at it.” She pulled out a glass tube with a stopper in the top. The tube was full of blood. She held it out to him.

He sat forward and took it.

“It’s not quite his head,” she said, “but will it do?”

“Is this a party favor?” He brought the tube to his nose and waved it under his nostrils. He then laid it aside on the arm of the chair, as if it didn’t contain the most valuable and damning ounce of liquid in the entire city.

“Do you understand why they sent you to present me this deal, June Coffin?”

“Because I’m a victim and you’ll take pity on me?”

Occam snorted. “Do you believe that? Do you believe I have tremendous amounts of pity for all the Institute’s lab rats?” He rested his elbows on his knees. “Do you trust Aaron Jenkins and Sam Haain that much?”

“I don’t trust anyone in this city, but they’ve helped me a lot. They got my ass out of a sling more than once.”

He chuckled. “They didn’t send you because I’d take pity on you, and you don’t really believe you’re a victim. Oh, you’re a victim. But you’re not victimized.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“They sent you because you’d make a wonderful vampire.”

She blinked at him.

“You’re an insurance policy, Little Red. They’re taking a shot in the dark. If I was offended, I’d at least have a nice peace offering, because God knows they have enough problems right now without me on their backs.”

A chill rushed through her. Her brain protested “that’s not true!” but her instinct, her gut, doubted.

Before she could answer, or contemplate betrayal or her fate, a commotion rose in the outer room.

Zack reappeared. He wasn’t alone, but was dragging someone by the arm, someone who was fighting him.

The girl from the diner.

“What the hell?” June gasped.

The girl looked around wildly, eyes bulging. Zack held her firmly, despite her struggle.

“Good work, Zack.” A smile quirked Occam’s cracked lips.

“What are you doing?” June demanded. “Why did you bring her here? Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.”

The girl shrieked and tried to yank out of Zack’s grasp again, her hair flying around her face.

“Oh, stop it,” Occam said. “I’m not as stupid as you think I am, Sam.”

The girl stopped struggling. Suddenly, she wasn’t there. No fade or a shimmer, the transformation didn’t seem to happen in time, more like an imperceptible blink. One moment she stood there, and the next she was Sam Haain, seething and glowering, his dark, straight hair brushing his shoulders.

“Occam,” Sam said. “You’re such a fuck.”

June slumped and rubbed her forehead.

“We’re not idiots.” Zack released Sam’s arm. “I was watching you two from the second you came into the District. You weren’t disguising June.”

“Of course I wasn’t,” Sam said. “She needed to find Occam. He needed to know it was her.”

“Sam Haain.” Occam hauled himself to his feet. “What are you doing in my territory, exactly?”

Sam huffed. “Your territory? This is an open area. Anyone is allowed here, even normals.”

“I thought we had some unspoken rules.” Occam strolled over to him. “You wouldn’t react too kindly if my entourage went traipsing about on your turf.”

“I wasn’t going to let June wander into your ‘turf’ without backup. I’m just watching over her in case any of you try to open a vein.”

“As if you could stop us if we wanted to do that. If you tried, you’d have two wars on your hands.”

Sam gritted his teeth. “Your threats hold no weight with me.” He sneered at Zack. “Hilarious joke with the panties, by the way.”

“You’re not as strong as you used to be, Sam,” Occam said. “I’d watch your tongue. You’re out of favor. Your group is becoming more fractured by the day, without you there to herd them into place.”

“I’m not out of any favor. My true followers are still keeping my edicts.”

“And Robbie Beecher’s followers?”

“Were never my people to begin with.”

June scooted to the edge of the couch. “What are you going to do with us? Now that you’ve found out Sam is here. Kill us?”

Occam swiveled toward her. “If I were going to do that, I would have done it the instant the two of you showed up in the Nocturnal District.” He walked back to his chair and flopped down. He folded his hands on his stomach. “I’ll help you. Your offer intrigues me.”

Sam stared at him. “Just like that?”

Occam picked up the tube. “Just like that.” He rolled it between his fingers.

“And we can walk out of here?” Sam asked.

“Of course. But I expect you to enjoy my hospitality first.”

Sam huffed. “I’m not sure I would enjoy your hospitality, Occam.”

“You can’t seal an agreement without a celebratory drink. Fix us some drinks, Belle.”

Belle got to her feet.

“You want to seal the agreement, don’t you?” Occam arched an eyebrow at Sam.

They’d probably need to seal some wounds before they left.

June took a shot of vodka but refused the powdered rim. Sam sat beside her on the couch. Zack sat on the arm of Belle’s chair. Side by side, they were clearly related. Occam did two shots and a line of coke to seal the deal. He oh-so-politely offered his mirror, but June and Sam refused.

“You’re a mess, Occam,” Sam informed him after he threw back his own shot. “How you seized any respect around here is beyond me. And how the hell did you know it was me?”

Occam snorted and set his mirror aside. “I’ve learned the tells over my many long years.”

Suddenly, it wasn’t Occam sitting in the chair, but Sam.

“I can see through the glamour,” Occam-Sam said.

June’s head was already spinning from the one shot. She thought she might be having a nightmare.

“Great,” the real Sam said. “So that’s what you are. I’m so pleased to call you my brother.”

Occam blinked back to himself.

“Thank you for sending June,” Occam said. “She’s an absolute delight.”

“I take it you didn’t actually have a conversation with her?”

“You know what?” June shot at him. “Eat me.”

Occam gestured at Belle. “Why don’t you make June another drink?”

Belle got up and poured another shot. June flexed her fingers. They were tingling, but it was only an alcohol buzz. Occam hadn’t poisoned her. Yet.

“We can’t hang out here all night,” Sam said. “We’re not safe out in the open, not even here.”

Belle sauntered over to June, glass in hand. June lifted her hand to take it, but instead of handing it over, Belle fell into her lap, all warm, soft flesh, and perfume. June froze, arms raised, frowning.

“Um…”

Belle smiled a tiny smile and lifted the glass to June’s lips. June jerked her head back, staring at her.

“What the hell?” Sam said.

“Occam.” Zack shook his head.

Occam arched an eyebrow. “Oh, my bad. I’m not very good at this, am I? I thought she might like your sister, Zack. Belle.” He waved at her.

Belle crawled out of June’s lap, taking the drink with her.

June gritted her teeth, getting it now.

“I’m not gay!” June shrieked. “Oh my God. Really?”

Zack stood up, and in passing his sister, took the drink from her hand. He walked toward June. The movement of his hips, the swagger in his stride instantly, inexplicably distracted her. He plopped in her lap, as his sister had. June relaxed, warmth spreading through her limbs. When Zack lifted the glass to her lips, she drank without hesitation. Belle crawled into Sam’s lap, straddling him.

“You can stay for a while,” Occam said. “The night is young. Dawn is far away.”

June gazed at Zack, enraptured. So gorgeous, perhaps the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. A heat spread through her that had nothing to do with the vodka. His body was solid and firm, and he smelled heady and mysterious. She gripped his thigh and massaged it, the muscle taut beneath his tight jeans. He stroked his fingers through her hair, smiling beatifically, his dark eyes gleaming. The heat inside her expanded and flashed across her skin. Her entire body went molten. She grew painfully horny.

A heavy thud sounded, followed by an angry feminine yelp. Sam leaped to his feet.

“Occam, you bastard, how dare you!” He snarled at Belle, “Stay right there, or I swear I’ll jam my boot straight up your ass.”

June tried to ignore the distraction. She locked an arm around Zack’s waist and pulled him closer. Zack placed his hand on her breast and plucked her hardened nipple through her shirt. She had never been so glad she didn’t wear a bra.

“I want you,” she whispered, close to Zack’s lips.

Sam loomed over them, and he grabbed a handful of Zack’s dreads, jerking his head back. Zack snarled, baring his fangs.

“You call this sex witch off,” Sam demanded. “Get him out of her lap, or I will!”