Trust Me When the Sun Goes Down (15 page)

“What did you get up to tonight?” I called out. 

“Not much, a few errands.  Nipped round to the hospital to meet a fella about arranging for another shipment of bagged blood to set us up for a while.”

It didn’t match his bloody evening one bit, and I fought to keep the skepticism from my voice as I held up his sodden jeans for him to see.  “What happened, did he spill some free samples on your clothes?”

“What you going on about now?” he scowled, yanking them out of my hand and tossing them back into the hamper. 

“Rob, you can’t fool a vampire when it comes to blood.  What happened tonight?  Did you get hurt?”  It wasn’t hard to inject a note of concern into my voice, I was crazy concerned about him, just not the way I made it sound. 

“No, that ain’t my blood, I’m fine.”

I waited, but he didn’t elaborate, instead he went to the record player and switched it on.  Did he seriously think he could distract me with Nina Simone?  “Whose blood is it then?”

“Come and dance with me,” he said, stretching out his hand in invitation.

I couldn’t let it go now. I’d already waded in too deep, it was time to dive into the rest of it.  “No, I don’t feel a whole heck of a lot like dancing.  Would you just tell me what happened?  You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

“Ain’t nothing to fret over, it’s all well and good,” he soothed, using that tone of voice on me he used to calm Leila when she went into one of her spooky moods.  His hands skimmed up my arms, but I recognized it for the distraction technique that it was. 

“Rob… whose blood is it?”

His jaw tightened and he looked away.  I thought for a moment he might walk away, but then he offered me a grim smile.  “I didn’t want to worry you as all.  I went hunting today and caught m’self a bleeder.  He didn’t make it.  Wasn’t nothing I could do about it, it all went sixes and sevens and he up and died before I could so much as blink.”

Was that what had happened?  I replayed the memory, trying to review it under the new light he shed upon it.  I knew how freaked out I’d been when Evan had bled out, and I remembered how quickly it’d spiraled out of control.  I hadn’t seen Rob frantically trying to revive the guy, but then again, he wasn’t likely to panic as easily as I was.  More than likely he’d recognized it for what it was and dealt with the consequences with the same amount of self control he usually displayed.

“Oh, Rob, I’m so sorry, that’s awful.  Who was he?”

“Not to worry, I took care of it.”  He kissed my forehead, as if that was the end of the discussion.  “How about that dance now?” 

This time I let him gather me into his arms, laying my head against his shoulder as we swayed to the music.  I suppose it made sense why he didn’t want to talk about it.  There was nothing either one of us could do about it now, but it bothered me that he’d tried to shoulder the burden alone. 

“Rob, is everything alright?” I asked softly, my head still on his shoulder. 

“Course it is.  Why wouldn’t it be?”

Because I want to know what kind of drugs you’re on and I’d kinda like to know what else you’re keeping from me…
I wanted to say, but I couldn’t ask him about the drugs without admitting to following him.  And I couldn’t admit to following him without revealing my arrangement with Carter, which would no doubt send him off the deep end with how hot his temper was running lately. 

“No reason,” I murmured, closing my eyes as we danced together. 

The door opened, and Bishop didn’t bother to look away from his computer, the columns of numbers on the screen absorbing the whole of his concentration.  People came and went all the time, picking things up, dropping things off.  Though he was used to a knock first, he hadn’t given the lack of one a second thought.  He’d almost forgotten there was still someone in the room when the familiar voice demanded his full attention. 

“I require your assistance.”

His eyes closed just long enough for a few choice swear words in the sanctity of his mind before he turned to Jakob with a deceptively tepid smile.  “They say if you live long enough you’ll see everything.  What could you possibly need my help with?  And don’t say Anja.  I haven’t spoken to her in months.”

That wasn’t strictly true.  They’d been corresponding regularly, he simply hadn’t allowed himself the sweet torture of her voice, figuring his longing would fade in time.  So far it hadn’t. 

Ignoring his sarcasm, Jakob forged on.  “I wish you to find Carys.”

Bishop turned back to his computer.  “Not interested.  Sorry you had to come all this way, but I’m done with that part of my life.  Good luck though, you crazy kids deserve each other.”

“It makes little difference to me where your interests lie.  You will assist me in this because I command it.”

The sheer amount of condescending self-entitlement in Jakob’s voice made the vein in his head feel like it was about to explode, but Bishop struggled to keep a civil tone.  “I can’t do that, I have a job to do here.  A job
you
insisted I take, as I recall it.  Otherwise I’d be…” in San Francisco, with a front row seat to Anja’s happy new life.  He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. 

“You refuse me?” Jakob’s brows first came up in surprise before knitting together dangerously.  “I could happily relieve you of your other concerns.”

“You want to fire me?”  Bishop’s hands came up in surrender.  “Go ahead.  But good luck finding someone who’s as devoted to toeing the new company line.  Most of the vampires with enough experience to be head of the Order won’t stop until they’ve seized back all the power we’ve given up and more.  There are already rumblings among the ranks…”

Jakob waved his concerns away.  “Let them grumble as they like, I care little for their feelings.  I set the policy here, my word is law.”

“That’s great in theory and all, but the world’s a big place.  You can’t be everywhere at once, especially when you haven’t established a new seat of power.”

“I will return to the West soon enough, never you mind about that,” Jakob said with a smug smile that made Bishop nervous enough not to ask about it.     

“Fine, I’ll help you find Carys, but you have to do something for me in return.”

“You think to make demands of me, boy?”

Bishop tried not to let the
boy
dig wear on his nerves, someone as old as dirt like Jakob probably did think of him as a boy.  “No demands, a request.  Actually, a pair of requests.  If I help you find Carys…”

“
When
we find Carys,” Jakob interrupted.  “There will be no rest until it is done.”

There was no point in arguing that they might never find Carys.  Regardless of the fact that they both knew Lodinn was capable of bullshitting them about Carys being alive, he knew Jakob wasn’t ready to give up that shred of hope yet. 

“Whatever.  I want you to let the Order back into England.  It’s too big an area to be completely unregulated.  I understand you were angry with Volkov’s actions, but you can’t leave Aubrey there unchecked.  And not when we’re done finding her, now.  It makes me itch to think about how far it’s deteriorated in the months since we left Vetis.”

“Fine, consider it done.  And the other request?”

Bishop took a long breath.  “After we find Carys, I want you to compel me not to love Anja anymore.”  There, he’d said it.  In a way he felt cleansed, finally voicing it out in the open.  It might be decades or even centuries before Anja looked on him with anything but friendship, and he was weary of the loss he carried with him every day.  If she ever turned to him with more, he could always ask Jakob to remove the compulsion, or more likely, he could easily see himself falling for her all over again.  Maybe next time he wouldn’t screw it up.

Jakob took longer to consider this one, only speaking after pondering for long minutes while Bishop sat in uncomfortable silence.  “This is a grave request.  Are you quite certain it’s what you want?”

“I’ve had plenty of time to mull it over these past few months, yeah.  I don’t want to forget the time we had together or how I felt about her, but I want the ache to go away, you know?”

“I do,” Jakob said softly.  “Very well, Ulrik, I will do as you ask – after we find Carys.” 

“Good,” Bishop said, his insides tightening as a wave of panic descended.  Was he making the right choice?  He set the fear aside, it was too late to second guess it now.  “Let’s get this over with so I can get back to business.  Tell me about where you’ve looked so far.”

“I started in New York, but found none with any knowledge of Carys.”

“Why did you start there?”

“Anja’s man, Gunnar, informed me of his task there by Lodinn’s request.  I spoke to all at his permanent lodgings there, but none in the building had seen or heard of Carys.”  Jakob went on to detail his travels to London, Paris, Stuttgart, Bern… all cities he had encountered Lodinn in before, but there was no sign of her. 

Bishop listened closely, sifting through the mire of unnecessary description to find the pertinent details to the search.  There weren’t many to be had and Jakob’s movements didn’t follow much of a logical pattern.  He’d have to go back to the beginning and start all over again.  “Alright, I say we start with New York, it’s our only real lead.”

Jakob waved the suggestion away dismissively.  “Already I have searched New York, there is no point in going there.”

“No, you searched one tiny corner of it.  We know for sure Lodinn had some business there and that he had a permanent residence, that’s where we start.  He hasn’t been to any of those other places for hundreds of years as far as you know.”

“I already questioned those at his lodgings.  No one knew Carys,” Jakob insisted. 

“You’re going about this all wrong, asking the wrong questions and expecting the right answers.  Of course you failed.  All you’re going to get if we move on to another location with the same tactics are the same idiotic results.”

“Tread carefully, Ulrik.  I grow tired of your insults,” Jakob bristled and Bishop started to lose his patience.

“Do you want my help or not?”

It was easy to see the snap of annoyance in Jakob’s scowl, but instead of exploding, he made an effort to calm himself.  “Fine.  What do you recommend?” he bit out.

Bishop made the effort to cool his temper as well.  They wouldn’t get anywhere if they kept at each other’s throats.  “You don’t ask where Carys
is
, you ask where Lodinn
was
.  Do you see the distinction?”

“But Lodinn kept apart from vampire society, it has ever been thus these past five hundred years.”

“Don’t kid yourself.  He was
absolutely
making contact with other vamps, I can guarantee it.  His ego was too big to keep the glory of his
Ellri
-hood to himself.  He was just good at hiding his tracks, something I think you’re a little familiar with.”

“And you think you can find his tracks?”

“It’s what you’re paying me for, isn’t it?”

“Am I paying you?” Jakob blinked.

“We’ll talk about that after I find her.  Now let’s get going, we’ve got a lot of work to do.” 

* * *

The head of the Order and an ancient
Ellri
on the hunt for Carys in modern New York City. 
Worst buddy cop movie idea ever
, was all Bishop could think as he stared out over the sprawling urban view.  Anja probably would’ve gotten a kick out of it, but he hadn’t breathed a word of it to her in the letter he sent off before they flew out of Rome.  After a heated argument, which was starting to be their standard form of communication, Jakob had agreed to keep their arrival on the discreet side with as little pomp and circumstance as possible.  They were there on personal business, and the last thing he wanted to do was get caught up in local Order politics, particularly in Jennike Vendal’s territory. 

Of course discreet for Jakob still meant a monster suite at the Plaza and a car service at their beck and call.  Bishop considered striking out on his own, but Jakob had insisted, not wanting to be left out of any facet of the investigation.  It was a continual source of irritation to him that the
Ellri
constantly loomed too close, interested in any computer searches, any phone calls, any contact Bishop had with the world that might lead to Carys’ location. 

The worst part was trying to shake Jakob to go out and make inquiries on his own.  Jakob didn’t know the meaning of the word subtle, and all the compulsion in the world couldn’t help you find the answers if you didn’t know the right questions to ask.  While no one had direct knowledge of Carys, there were plenty of vampires who knew all about Lodinn.  Lodinn was far more famous in death than he had been in life.   And by proxy, Jakob, for having killed him. 

With the compulsion gone, now everyone Lodinn had come into contact with was able to speak freely of the elusive and dangerous
Ellri
.  And oh, did they have stories to tell.  Bishop was treated to tale after tale of Lodinn’s atrocities.  Boy, was he glad the guy was dead, or he’d have felt morally compelled to hunt him down and end him. 

Slowly, a pattern of Lodinn’s movements began to emerge, and Bishop was able to identify his preferred hunting grounds, which were nowhere near the apartments Gunnar had lived in during his brief stay in Manhattan.  In the end, he straight up ditched Jakob, telling him he’d meet him at a café in SoHo while he headed to Brooklyn instead, to meet up with an old friend. 

Bishop waited under the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Arch as agreed upon, his thoughts far in the past as he looked up at the old monument and remembered simpler times.  Though he preferred the West coast, he’d spent a fair amount of time in Brooklyn in younger days and the Arch was one of his favorite spots.  So many nights he’d meted out swift justice within its sight, without a care in the world.  Simpler times, but just as empty, he reminded himself.  The difference was, he hadn’t known it back then. 

“Help a brother out?”

The familiar voice pulled him out of his musings, and Bishop turned around to greet the man who he’d come to meet.  “Good to see you, Jet,” he smiled, holding out his hand. 

He was a compact man, a few inches shorter than Bishop, lean but covered in solid muscle.  Dressed in dark clothes, his dusky skin blended perfectly with the night, a benefit he’d learned to capitalize on, earning a reputation as a canny hunter.  He’d survived abandonment at a young age, thriving on the streets of D.C. on his own until he was turned in the late sixties.  He was smart and quick, talents that served him well in his years with the Order. 

While he no longer sported the bushy afro and the wild threads of the seventies, some of the lingo still bled into his speech.  “Hey, my man, long time no see.”  Jet grinned wide, pulling him close for a one armed hug. 

“It’s been quite a while, that’s for sure.”  Bishop glanced up at the sculpture atop the arch.  “I see they got Lady Columbia back into the chariot okay.”

Jet let out a hoot of laughter.  “Damn, I almost forgot about that.  How long ago was it?”

“1976 I make it.  That was a crazy night.”  They’d both barely survived it. 

“Yeah, no harm no foul, man.  It got blamed on erosion or some shit, we were in the clear.”  Jet’s smile dimmed somewhat, his eyes more piercing.  “So, you here to catch up on old times?  ’Cause I have to admit, I’m surprised you didn’t want to meet at the chapter house.”

Bishop had been expecting that, and gave him a tight smile, tipping his head toward the park.  “Walk with me.”

“It’s like that, is it?”  Jet made no move to join him and Bishop’s hands came up entreatingly.

“Like what?  We’re just two old friends out for a stroll.”

“If that’s the case, then why don’t you buy me a beer?”

“Fair enough,” Bishop shrugged.  “How about Cavallo’s, is that place still open?”

“Naw man, it’s been gone for years.  I got a good place though, over on Underhill.”

“Great, lead the way.”

They set an easy pace, chatting easily, as though it hadn’t been over thirty years since they’d last spoken.  When Jet brought them to Bar Sepia, Bishop highly approved of the place.  The high ceilings and exposed brick offered a welcome charm, and they took a seat in the back with a good view of the front entrance.  Just in case. 

Bishop kept up the simple conversation until after they had drinks in hand.  “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”  Bishop held up his beer and Jet clinked his glass to his.