Urban Fantasy Collection - Vampires (63 page)

His eyes flashed and the pupils became slits. “I'm glad. If you fell in love with me, it would end badly for one of us. Eric would kill me or perhaps eventually you would kill me. After all, my kind is incapable of the kind of love you more human types feel for each other. Our bonds are based on dominance, mutual need, and, at most, a deep and abiding fondness.”

I still didn't understand what Talbot was, but I felt I understood him. Maybe he was some strange cat-human hybrid, or perhaps he had lied about not being a lycanthrope. The romantic in me liked to think it was a spell. Anything was possible. I'd met a wizard, become a vampire. Perhaps Lord Phillip himself had trapped Talbot in the body of a man, as punishment, like with Percy. No, that didn't sound right. Talbot had described himself as a sacred guardian, a noble hunter. To me, that said: cat. Obviously not a normal cat, but a magic one. I wondered absently if it counted as bestiality if you had sex with an animal that had been turned humanoid.

I lay there, trying to bask in his warmth, in the afterglow of our intimacy, but the moment was gone. A final curl of smoke drifted up from the shallow scratches around my breasts and my pale skin was whole once more, as if the act itself had not taken place, leaving me empty and restless. Talbot had been a nice substitute, but I craved Eric.

I got up, found Roger's shower and washed the last traces of combat from my body. Once I was dry, I started going through Veruca's clothes. She'd been smaller than me, in every way, and her clothes tended to be one size too small for her already. Not having to breathe enhances a vampire's ability to dress for effect, but it also meant that there wasn't anything in her closet that fit me. Which left me my panties, my shoes, and my diamond necklace. The pants had long rents in them and I didn't want to put back on what was left of the sequined top.

“What the hell am I supposed to wear?” I asked, holding the remains of my clothes and shaking them in Talbot's general direction.

“I think that outfit suits you just fine,” Talbot murmured throatily from where he was sprawled on the bed.

I rolled my eyes and changed into a cat.

“That suits you even more.” He wasn't teasing.

I changed back, in further exasperation.
Poof
…clothes. Yay me! The clothes I'd been wearing were new again and I wasn't holding them in my hands anymore, I was wearing them. The magic that had repaired them left them feeling right-out-of-the-dryer warm.

“Now, that's something I've seen only Eric do.” Talbot rolled out of the bed, naked. He stretched and yawned, his fangs and claws popping out midway through and retracting at the end. He flexed at me and I admired him openly. He was taller than Eric and more heavily muscled. His dark skin was sleek, almost glossy, and stood out in perfect contrast to the red satin sheets. The picture he made was incredibly alluring, and I considered taking off my newly created clothes. Just because I was in love with Eric didn't mean I couldn't enjoy a little companionship from the living. What was good for the goose…

“How does it work?” I asked softly, placing my hand on Talbot's shoulder.

“With Eric it seems to work automatically,” he told me. “When he changes shape, unless he's paying close attention, it changes whatever he was wearing into the same jeans and T-shirt outfit he prefers. I mentioned it to him in El Segundo, but I'm sure he's forgotten by now. Not that it matters much since he wears the same damn thing every day.”

“I think he looks nice,” I said defensively.

Talbot laughed at that, and I couldn't help but join in.

NO GOOD NEWS

W
ith no music playing in the Demon Heart, no crowd, not even Marilyn or one of the girls getting ready to open the club or shut it down, the silence ate at my nerves. I needed something to block out the sound of the oni out front jabbering back and forth at each other in Japanese in between mouthfuls of dead werewolf.

I thought about ordering a pizza—Italian sausage, black olives, mushrooms, and daikon—just so I could smell it, look at it, feel the warmth of the box.

I don't know what daikon tastes like, but I'm fond of the smell and I'm curious. Few things are more annoying than a curious vampire. If the smell of a particular food entices us, we want to make people eat it, so they can describe the taste to us. The best description I'd gotten of daikon was “kind of like a pickle, but not.” How can something that looks like a big white carrot taste like a pickle, but not? Did they do something to it first? The question vexed me.

Greta sat across Marilyn's desk from me, playing with a staple remover, pretending it was a shark or a vampire, something with fangs. The phone rang in my office across the street and Rachel stirred in her sleep, but didn't wake. On the third ring, Greta heard it too.

“Phone's ringing,” she told me.

“I know.”

“You want me to go and—”

“No,” I said too quickly. “Just wait a minute.” My brain wouldn't process what she'd told me about my “uber vamp” form. How could I have been turning into a giant, black-skinned, leather-winged beast thing off and on since 1965 and not know it, not even have had an inkling beyond the understanding that I blacked out when I got really mad? It was like Bruce Banner not knowing about the Hulk.

I didn't want to think about who was setting me up, either. If I'd known where the investigation had been likely to lead, I never would have looked into it. I would have taken on the werewolves without question. A wise man once said “Ignorance is bliss,” and he was right. I wanted Veruca to be behind everything, needed it. I wanted to forget about the check I'd seen where Roger had forged my name. I wished Roger had dotted his damn
i'
s.

So I concentrated on the pizza. If I gave up on the daikon, I could call one of the big pizza chains, but if I wanted the daikon, I had to wait until Jackie's opened at six. I could get Jackie to put anything I wanted on a pizza, even if he had to run down to the Asian market. Jackie knows about vampires, and if you let him know that your order is for eating in front of one of us, he tacks on an extra 50 percent surcharge and makes it look like it does in the pictures on the menu.

I remembered sitting in his diner with Roger watching Froggy, still Veruca then, eat a Reuben. It's a big deal for vampires to share their food porn like that, proof of our long friendship.

The phone rang in Marilyn's office and I jumped, startled. It wasn't supposed to do that. I glanced at it suspiciously. For all I knew the phone was undergoing a demonic transformation. It certainly seemed like the week for it. It rang a second and a third time before I answered it. It was Talbot; I recognized his breathing.

“How did you get through to this phone?” I asked. “Didn't Marilyn transfer the calls to her home number?”

“Star six eight,” he answered.

“Huh?”

“It forwards the call, but only if the number dialed is busy or there's no answer…. Look, don't worry about it. I tried you at the Pollux first.”

He sounded upset. Tough shit, it wasn't all blow jobs and balloons for me either. “Did you know that I turn into some sort of rampaging berserker flying vampire thing when I lose my temper?”

Talbot scoffed. “Of course.”

“Even Talbot knows! Am I the only fucking person around who doesn't know I've got go-go gadget bat wings?” I yelled, holding the receiver about a foot from my face. I hung up the phone and threw up my hands.

Greta acted sympathetic, but I could tell that she was trying to hold back her laughter.

“Who else knows?” I asked her. Before she could respond, the phone rang again. It was Talbot. “Does Marilyn know?” I asked him.

“I…I think so,” Talbot answered. I hung up on him again and cast a disparaging look at Greta.

“Even Marilyn knows! Why does nobody tell me these things?” Greta watched me as I paced the room angrily. Small snorts of nasal laughter escaped despite her best attempts to hold them back. “It's not funny, damn it!”

Greta couldn't even speak. Tears of blood rolled down the sides of her face and she burst out laughing. Loud obnoxious guffaws filled the room punctuated by a periodic “I'm so sorry” or “I know it's not funny.” She clutched her sides, sliding farther down in her chair, leaving me staring at her in impotent rage and disbelief.

The phone rang and I picked it up before the first ring finished. “I swear to God, Talbot, if Tabitha knows, I am going to fucking kill somebody!”

“I don't think she d—” Talbot began.

I hung up the phone again and put my hands on my hips. “Well, at least there is one person who is as clueless as me. Of course it's frickin' Tabitha.”

More laughter erupted from Greta and she began to gasp for air in a way that looked absolutely human.

“It's not that funny!” I yelled, standing over her.

She nodded her head. “Yes, it is,” she gasped. “Hello, Talbot? Blah blah blah. Click.”

I didn't get it. Maybe that was funny in a women-are-from-Venus way, but here on Mars, it didn't make a whole lot of sense. The phone rang again and I picked it up. “Talbot, I think Greta has gone loopy. She's over here laughing her head off like it's some big joke. I've been a vampire for over forty years and nobody bothered to—”

“You have a collect call from ‘Talbot,'” interrupted a mechanical voice. “Will you accept the charges?”

“Yes,” I answered. Why was Talbot calling collect?

“Talbot?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered, drawing out the word. He sounded pretty ticked off.

“Why the hell are you calling collect?”

“Because, if you'll pardon my language, some asshole keeps hanging up on me and I thought that if you had to listen to the operator first, you might actually stop and pay attention!”

Talbot didn't usually yell. Greta stopped laughing and climbed back into her chair. Her chest was still heaving a little, but she had control of herself. I breathed in and out deeply a few times to calm myself. I don't need oxygen, but the act of breathing triggered a physical memory, giving it much the same effect. “Okay, sorry. I'm ready to pay attention now; it's just a big shock to find out something like that.”

“I'm sure it was,” he interrupted, enunciating slowly and clearly. “I'm sorry none of us knew how to tell you, but I need you to listen right now. Okay?”

“Sure.”

“If you hang up on me again, I'm going to come over there while you're asleep and put a big ‘jackass' tattoo on your forehead. Do you understand?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes.”

“Okay. Good. The good news is that we found the gun.”

I slapped Marilyn's desk. “Hot damn!”

“Veruca had it.”

“What did she have to say for herself?”

“Not much, but it's pretty clear she's the one who shot the werewolves you found at Orchard Lake.”

“Did you get her to tell you why she left one of the bullets behind?”

“No, and I don't quite know how to tell you this, Eric, but we found her at Roger's place.”

“Was he all right?” I asked.

“He wasn't there,” Talbot answered. “But you have to consider the possibility that he is wrapped up in all of this.”

“That's crap, Talbot,” I said, determined to deny it.

“He's been covering for her,” Talbot said patiently. “He took you to a hockey game, got you drunk, and let eighteen werewolves try to kill you.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Eric,” Talbot said. “Where is he right now? Did you call him?”

“No, I haven't called him yet. Greta and I ran into some werewolves here at the club. Real Lycan Diocese types that William called in.”

“You both okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, no problems here. Tiko and some of his cousins are taking care of the bodies for us.”

“Good. Now listen. I want you to go back to the alley where you fought the Alpha's son. He was killed at Thirteenth Street and Eleventh Avenue. I want you to go there and see if you recognize it.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't trust Roger, damn it!” he snapped. I heard him take a deep breath and his next words were calmer. “He gave Veruca that night off and she had the gun with her. We can't ask Lillian where she picked you up, because Tabitha killed her when she went loco.”

“Talbot, I did kill a werewolf in an alley.”

“I believe you, boss.” He sighed. “I just want to make sure you killed the werewolf that you think you killed.”

“Ask Froggy,” I said. “Make her tell you.”

“I would if I could, Eric, but Tabitha put a stake through her heart.”

“
Poof
, huh?”

“
Poof
,” he confirmed. “We found the gun before Tabitha fell asleep. It looks like Veruca was wearing leather gloves in order to fire it. They're scorched through on the palms. The silver crosses on the grip must have burned her even through the leather.”

“It can happen,” I said noncommittally.

“I think I'll hole up here with Tabitha until she wakes up tomorrow.”

“And what if Roger comes home?”

“I don't think he will,” Talbot said. “The sun will be up too soon. Roger takes a lot more sleep than you do and he'd never cut it this close. Wherever he is, I think he'll stay there until sunset. Besides, he hasn't been here since Friday. I don't think he's going to come back until this whole thing is over.”

“Why?”

“Because he's setting you up. Veruca was the fall guy in case anything went wrong.”

“I don't believe that,” I said flatly.

“If you don't believe it, then check the alley.”

“I—”

“Eric, please. Will you check the damn alley?”

No, Talbot, I can't, I wanted to say. I don't want to look in the damn alley. If Roger set me up, I don't want to frickin' know about it.

“Fine,” I answered, “and thanks.”

Greta and I walked back across to the Pollux. The bodies and trucks were all gone. Tiko and his crew had worked fast. “So, who else knows?” I asked her as we walked.

“About the alley?”

“No,” I said. “About the super vamp thing.”

“Dad, I don't know.” She put her arm around my shoulders, emphasizing the fact that she was over two inches taller than me. “But look on the bright side. Most of the people who knew got killed before they could tell anyone. I'll bet Roger doesn't even know, with the way he runs away from fights so fast.”

Reminded of Roger, I plopped down onto the sofa in the Pollux's lobby and punched buttons on my cell phone until it decided to dial his number for me.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end sounded strange, like he was whispering into the receiver from the bottom of a giant tin bucket.

“Roger?”

“Yeah. Dude. I've been trying to call you. Why the hell did you close the club? Marilyn says you sent everyone home with pay.”

“You talked to Marilyn?”

“I'm at her place now. She needed a little help. Seems some asshole broke her arm.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. It was a classic Roger deflection. Question: Roger, why are you trying to put my club out of bussiness? Answer: Hey, do you remember that time you broke Marilyn's arm?

“Same asshole killed Brian,” I blurted.

“What?” he demanded. “You killed Brian? Why?”

Why? What an interesting question. I didn't know why. Another good question was why Roger didn't seem more upset about it.

“Because he annoyed me, I guess,” I said vaguely. “I don't remember.”

“It's all right, man. He was always picking fights with you and it wasn't like he hadn't been warned.”

“He was your friend, though. I'm sorry.”

“Don't worry about it,” Roger assured me. “He was just a Soldier.”

Huh. I wonder if he would've responded the same way if he'd known Tabitha had killed Froggy. Besides, Brian hadn't been a Soldier, he'd been a Master. What the fuck?

I tried another tack. “Do you know anything about a check for thirty thousand dollars to some guy named Fergus?” I asked.

“I'd been meaning to ask you about it,” Roger countered. “You can't just spend money like that without clearing it first. We're flush and it's not a problem this time, but what if I hadn't had enough money in that account to cover it? The money moves around, man. I gotta keep it working for us, not just sitting in an account in case you overspend.”

You fucking liar,
I wanted to scream,
you're behind everything!
Then, again, this was Roger and he could have been covering up for something else, maybe just some run-of-the-mill embezzlement. If that was the case, I didn't care. He'd always taken a little without asking. When an investment deal paid off later, he'd slip it back in and tell me I'd okayed everything. It usually worked out.

“Yeah,” I whispered, “my mistake.”
Please just be embezzling money,
I thought at him.

“Gotta let you go, pal,” he said. “I want to hunt before I turn in.”

“Which gives you what,” I said, checking the clock, “fifteen minutes?” Roger had to be lying to me. He always hunts first thing. “You're going to hunt and make it back to your place in fifteen minutes from Marilyn's?” I willed him to say yes. If he said yes then—

“No,” he answered. “Not that it's any of your business, but I have a place nearby. Look, don't worry about it, Mom. I'll be fine, but I've got to go if I'm going to hunt. Like you said, fifteen minutes.”