A Drop of Red (7 page)

“So I shouldn’t worry about my job.” Kiko grinned.

Dawn resisted the guy’s charm, bracing herself to say what needed to be said.

“Did you maybe stop to think that Costin’s not getting rid of all of us?”

Kiko’s grin died. After a few seconds, somewhere in the room, the heating kicked on, a low hush expanding the tension.

But he didn’t argue. His own doctor back in the States had told him to get out of his med habit, and Dawn had gone the extra mile to help him this past year while on the road: intervention, visits to more doctors and therapists. Kiko had worked to get clean, but he was too hooked.

She locked gazes with him, damned if she’d be the first to glance away.

“I hate to see you like this,” she said, “but if getting knocked off the team is what’s going to put you in gear, Kik, then I’m not going to go against Costin if he’s brought in someone to take your place. I’m tired of trying everything
I
can think of.”

Kiko shrugged, but it didn’t fool Dawn. Back in L.A., he’d been a “little person” thespian, and even though he could
act!
like hell, his career had failed along with his back.

“It’s easy for you to be okay with that job security, ain’t it?” He redirected his glare to the deadened, charred fireplace. “You’re so key that the boss is never going to let you go.”

She didn’t answer, because Frank was walking back into the room bearing a tray of beverages. Natalia trailed him.

As Psychic Number Two sat in her chair, sans coat this time, Frank poured her a cup of coffee. The aroma of roasted nuts should’ve smelled comforting. Should’ve.

Frank gave Kiko a steaming cup, too, which Kik didn’t drink.

Her dad didn’t remark on that, merely handing Dawn a glass of supplement juice and winking at her. He’d no doubt caught her entire conversation with Kiko from the kitchen with his vamp hearing, muffled or not.

Man, it was hard to live with these guys.

“You two were talking about the whole ‘key’ thing?” Frank asked, refraining from a drink of his own as he confirmed Dawn’s suspicions about overhearing. “Is that where we want to start with Natalia?”

“I’m not sure
where
to start,” Dawn said.

Kiko fixed his gaze on the new girl across the way. “I was just saying to Dawn that none of us can be too cozy when the boss hires us. Not unless you’re key.”

Backup Psychic sipped from her delicate cup, listening intently, withstanding Kiko’s stare like a pro.

Impressed, Dawn gave her a few brownie points. But just a few. Costin might’ve looked into the girl’s head, yet what if she was better than any other type of vamp at shielding? What if this new Underground didn’t give off any preter vibes at all?

“What Kiko means,” Frank said, assuming his place by the fireplace mantel, “is that Dawn is key to the team. Once upon a time, he had a vision about how important she’d be to bringing down this whole bad-vamp house of fangs.”

Kiko added, “And that vision came true. Or, at least, it’s on its way to being fulfilled.”

Frank gave the floor to Confident Kiko. “Then maybe you should explain and we’ll take it from there.”

“Eh, I’m not so on board with dumping all my intel on some poppy-wearing gift who walks in off the street. Or maybe Ms.
Putri
has already sensed what she needs to know by now?”

Dawn cringed at Kiko’s implied challenge as Natalia gently laid down her cup on a saucer, then transferred the set to a nearby end table.

“I think both you and I know that we don’t divine anything and everything, Koo-Koo.” The new girl put on a sweet smile. “It comes when it wishes—we cannot turn it on and off. So unless you’ve already sensed everything about
me
, I would be more than happy to make you comfortable with my background.”

Latching on to the girl’s obvious eagerness to land this job, Dawn settled in for a good listen. It was weird that Natalia was so desperate, even if she had said she trusted her visions more than anything else.

Then again, maybe that made total sense in their world.

At any rate, “Koo-Koo” seemed focused on the fact that Natalia wasn’t telling him to go to hell yet.

“What Kik is saying,” Dawn offered, “is that your hiring is pretty sudden. We’re used to depending on each other and not really anyone else.”

“I understand,” Natalia said.

When she saw how the group was waiting for her to start the background talk, she added, “So I should perhaps tell you about myself first?”

“Enlighten away,” Kiko said, spreading out an arm, just like he was the prince of sarcasm lounging on a throne.

Natalia didn’t react. “Then I’ll begin by saying that I arrived in London from Bucharest two months ago.”

The accent. Dawn’s untrained ear had been right about vaguely linking it with Costin’s; he hailed from the Wallachian region.

“Romania joined the European Union recently,” Natalia continued, “and we can freely come to places such as England now. So I did. I’m a legal immigrant, with university education in business. But I’m not Roma.”

Her smile grew strained, as if she were ready for a barrage of insults.

“Roma?” Frank asked. “You mean ‘gypsies’?”

“‘Roma’ is probably more politically correct,” Dawn said, hardly believing she was up on what was “in” and “out” in polite society.

Natalia’s smile remained in place. “No matter what name is used, popular opinion holds that crime rates have been on the rise in this area since more Roma immigrated here.”

“I guess,” Dawn said, “‘Roma’ equals trouble to a lot of people, and that’s why you’re telling us outright that you’re not one of them?”

“Yes.” Natalia absently toyed with a plastic button on her dress. It looked loose. “Many of them have taken to begging, trading on the street, doing odd jobs. Some resort to petty crime like picking pockets, and a great deal of the public thinks that any Romanian is Romani.”

Kiko had inched back in his chair. He knew when to play “bad cop” and when to cool it. But he still looked like he was biding his time.

Frank asked, “What brought
you
over here?”

Her shoulders lost some of their defensive stiffness. “I have distant family in Slough. Besides, the London I read about in books always appealed to me: the museums, the history, the opportunity. I felt the same lure for America, and I once spent a time in New York, caring for an old aunt. But she passed on, and there’s no one there for me now.”

“That’s why you know English real good,” Frank added.

Natalia smiled at his affable tone, probably knowing he was trying hard to balance out Kiko’s vinegar.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Frank.”

“Just Frank.” He motioned toward the team. “Same with all of us—first names only. Right, Kiko?”

“Oh, she already has a pet name for me, Frank. Or didn’t you notice?”

Ignoring him, Natalia’s body language seemed more fluid and relaxed now.

That is, until Kiko asked, “So did you suddenly become psychic one day or what?”

“No.” She fiddled with her dress button again. “As long as I can recall, I’ve heard the dead. But I learned to filter the input. The same applies to my precognitive visions.”

“You’ve always had those, too?” Dawn asked.

“Actually, the visions first came when I was an adolescent. But my parents told me never to speak of my gifts. They didn’t want me to be ‘different.’ They thought my talents were ‘Romani,’ and they didn’t want me to be looked upon or treated in the same way the group is treated in Romania . . . or anywhere else, really.” Natalia frowned. “In private, I still listened to the whispers and watched the visions. The first time I heard one of them, it was from behind a door in my apartment building. A neighbor had died, and she told me her husband . . .”

Natalia looked around at the team, then laughed when she no doubt realized she couldn’t shock them with this story. Hell, they had a boss who spoke from a carved angel’s mouth.

She continued. “My neighbor told me that her recently departed husband had come back as a revenant. Evidently, he blamed her for his heart attack. She never said why.”

“Revenants,” Kiko muttered. “Is that what you call a vampire?”

“From what my neighbor said,” Natalia answered, “he was more a zombie.”

“Got it,” Frank said.

“Of course,” Natalia added, “I reported her passing to the authorities. I told them my family had a copy of her apartment key and she was sick, so I was bringing soup when I discovered her body. The authorities never suspected what truly happened. Her husband was never seen in the area, and my parents told me to leave it at that. I was young, so I did. And once she was properly buried, her voice disappeared from my hearing.”

Frank said, “Too bad you couldn’t ask her questions.”

“That’d be helpful in our line of work,” Kiko added.

“The dead can be very focused.” Natalia didn’t even acknowledge Kiko’s slight dig. “I find that they’re normally seeking peace or righting a wrong.”

“You ever actually see a revenant?” Dawn asked. “Or a ghost or a vampire?”

Natalia shook her head.

Kiko took the cue. “There’s a big difference between eavesdropping on ’em and actually coming face-to-face, which we do all the time.”

The new girl raised her eyebrows a little.

Even though Dawn was skeptical about Natalia, she liked the effect the second psychic was having on Kiko. Maybe, with his beloved job at stake, he’d get off those pills.

“What about now,” Frank asked, “since you moved away from your parents, Natalia? Do you tell people about your talents?”

“Not generally, but I do what the dead ask of me in my own discreet way. The voices I heard this morning . . . They needed me to come to you, and I’ve never turned my back on them.” Her smile grew wistful. “They led me to you, and they’re giving me what I most need.”

“A job?” Dawn asked.

“A job,” Natalia repeated. “I came to London to use my university degree and work for an honest wage, then send money home. Yet finding employment hasn’t been as simple as I had hoped. I’ve been living on savings, and they’re almost depleted. Before now, I thought revealing my gifts might give future employers the impression that my sixth sense made me a ‘gypsy’—a criminal. An outcast even here.”

For some reason, Dawn related to her situation: being ear-marked as something you weren’t and trying to make up for it.

Natalia addressed Kiko, her expression hopeful. “We have a lot in common, yes? Perhaps we can share stories someday.”

He didn’t say anything, just focused his reddened eyes on the empty, ash-scarred fireplace.

Although Natalia only smiled at Frank, just like she was signaling that she was fine with Kiko, Dawn knew she’d been stung by the blow off.

But Frank did his best to soften the injury. “I suppose I should add that I have a few psychic stories to tell, myself.”

“Ah,” Natalia said. “I knew there was something about you. With Dawn, as well. You both seem . . . different. And I should know the very definition.” She smiled, as if she’d finally found good company.

“You mean we don’t resemble anything close to normal?” Dawn asked.

Kiko leaned toward Natalia. “You can
read
Frank?”

Not even Sober Kiko could read Frank. Something to do with vampires lacking souls.

But the other psychic shook her head, and Kiko’s knuckles got a little less white.

“I cannot read Frank exactly,” she said. “Yet when he’s near, I can . . . hear . . . something I’ve never heard before. Not a whispering like the dead. Just . . . This will sound odd, but it’s as if he is an empty room.”

Stunned, Dawn could only widen her eyes.

But Kiko was all over it. “So you do have vamp radar.”

Natalia froze. “He’s a . . . vampire?”

“So’s Dawn,” Kiko said, taking great pleasure in it.

“I’m not a vamp,” Dawn said. “I just
used
to be.”

“I . . . see.” Natalia sat there, hands in her lap, looking like maybe she wanted to scram after all.

When she didn’t, Kiko’s curiosity got the best of him. “What did you hear in Dawn? Does she sound hollow, too?”

“No, it wasn’t a sound so much as something I saw superimposed over her when we first met outside.”

“And what was that?” Dawn asked.

“Only a flash. Like that old song . . . ‘There’s a little black spot on the sun today.’ ”

Kiko humphed. “‘King of Pain.’ ”

There were no words, because Dawn had felt that dark mark on her, and nothing she did could wash it away.

“A black spot, huh?” Frank said. “Dawn reclaimed her soul, but I suppose I sound hollow because I’m a full-on beastie.”

At Natalia’s next speechless moment, he added, “See, I’d have to kill my ex-wife—my master—to get
my
soul back. It’s . . . complicated.”

“You think?” Dawn said.

He went on to explain about how he, a no-account bar bouncer, and movie-star Eva had defied her managers and married. How they’d given birth to Dawn just before Eva was “murdered.”

“She’d been recruited into a vampire Underground,” Dawn tacked on after Frank did his part. “The Master took major celebrities while they were still in their prime, staged sensational deaths that would guarantee infamy, gave them shelter belowground while their legends grew, and then performed plastic surgery on these Elite creatures before they appeared Above again, where they’d use their Allure to make humans think they had the same star quality as the old model.”

“When Dawn killed their master,” Frank said, “most of the humanized Elites committed suicide. Some disappeared. Eva reformed herself.”

Feeling that they were getting too personal—why did this new girl have to know
everything
?—Dawn stuck to the technicalities.

“Basically,” she said, “the Hollywood Underground had a stratified class system. There were human Servants who took care of dirty work Above and served as food. There were Guards—freaky-ass Nosferatu things that defended the higher beings. Then came the Groupies—pet vampires who didn’t have as much power as the Elites. The Master even had a lieutenant of sorts. Sorin.” Dawn took a breath. “If I had stayed a vampire, I would’ve had his power.”