Black And Blue (Quentin Black Mystery #5) (35 page)

The one directly behind him, the younger, handsome one with the lighter red eyes, held what looked like an actual scythe to the old man’s bare throat.

“What is this?” I said, staring at the man holding the scythe.

From his wide-lipped grin, I knew it had to be him I’d been speaking with before.

Another surge of rage went through me. I aimed my rifle at his face, but Ravi pinged me with his light, holding up a hand when I looked over.

Miri... don’t. The old one. The one they’re threatening. That’s Konstantin.

What do I care?
I retorted.

My uncle answered that time, his thoughts holding a colder anger than mine.
We’re being set up, Miri. This is a coup. A coup they obviously intend to blame on us.

“Mrs. Black!” The man holding the scythe called out to me, his voice as light and familiar as I remembered. “No wonder your husband is so out of sorts being deprived of your company! You are positively...
radiant
, my dear. Even for your kind, I must say, you really are both such attractive specimens. One can easily imagine how intoxicating your offspring might be...”

“Where is he?” I gritted my teeth, motioning towards the old man he held in the chair. “What the fuck is this? Are you threatening to kill him? Or just making sure we know you intend to frame us for it...?”

The vampire smiled, glancing down at the old man with a raised eyebrow.

“Shoot him,” the old man said to me. “Shoot him, and I will get your husband back for you. I vow it. On my life.”

“He’s lying,” the younger one laughed. “Oh, I’m sure he’d try his very very best to help you out. But you see, he has no earthly idea where your husband is––”

“He’s the liar,” Konstantin cut in, his voice cold as ice. “Shoot him. He is a traitor to both of our races. I will tell you where your husband is––”

“––He can’t help you, Miriam,” the one with the scythe said. “Are you sure you want to risk your husband’s life on this old man’s word? Only I know where your husband is. You shoot me, and your husband is dead, Mrs. Black. I have left strict instructions that he be killed if I neglect to send a particular signal from a particular place at a particular time...”

“He’s lying,” Dex said from next to me, his voice furious. “This whole fucking thing is a set-up, Miri. We should waste him. At least bring him in for questioning...”

I knew Dex might be right. I knew it.

But the man with the scythe was right, too. I couldn’t risk it.

“No,” I said. I raised my rifle, putting up my free hand. “No... stand down.” My throat tightened, but I didn’t look over at Dex or Kiko. I shook my head, still glaring at the man with the scythe. “What do you want?” Renewing my grip on the rifle, I kept it pointed at the ceiling. “What do you want with me? With Black? Who the hell
are
you?”

“Oh, my... where are my manners?” He smiled down at the old man, and that time, I definitely got the impression the old man’s hatred was aimed at him. “You certainly taught me to play host better than this, did you not, Konstantin?”

With no warning, he sliced open the old man’s throat.

He cut deep, all the way to the bone.

Before my mind could wrap around what he’d done, he brought the scythe down again, hard that time, in a hacking chop. His arm moved so fast the motion of him raising it and lowering it was a blur. Blood spurted out over the front of the old man’s clothes, which I now realized consisted of a dark blue dressing gown, like something from the Victorian era.

I aimed my rifle at the man’s face, but again, Ravi pinged me in warning.

Can you read him?
I asked in frustration.
Is he telling the truth? About Black?

Again, my uncle answered me before Ravi could.

We have to assume he is,
he sent quietly.
We can’t read vampires, Miri. And it’s pretty clear Konstantin’s people knew nothing of this.

So I just stood there, watching, as the younger vampire dragged the old man off the chair. He held his gray hair now in his fist, holding him down against the carpet, and hacked at the last of the skin and bone and muscle connecting his head to his neck.

Eventually, he made it all the way through.

Once he had, he dropped the scythe, holding out his hand to one of the four shadowy forms standing behind him. The man produced a handkerchief and the young one proceeded to wipe his bloody hands on it, still grinning at me.

“Gorgeous,” he said. “Simply gorgeous. I am so wishing I had an excuse to take you with me right now, Mrs. Black. But I’m afraid you are far more useful to me where you are, at the moment...”

My uncle’s physical voice rose that time, from directly behind me. I didn’t turn, but I felt others with him as well, now filling the open bedroom doorway behind us.

“Do that, and every single one of you will be found with your hearts nailed to doors of this building,” Charles said coldly. “I will hunt down the rest of your kind and exterminate every last one of you, if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Ah... of course, what reunion is complete without the dashing if psychopathic Uncle Charles?” The vampire with the bloody hands dropped the handkerchief, letting it fall on the unmoving chest of the decapitated old man. “The whole family came to play, how exciting! I must say, it’s far more satisfying being able to include
you
in this little get-together, Charles, rather than pinning all the blame on poor Mrs. Black here...”

“We will tell what you did,” Uncle Charles said. “There will be those loyal to Konstantin who will believe us... who know he would not have provoked us like this.”

The man laughed again. “You have a lot of faith in yourself, indeed, to believe any one of my kind would ever believe one of yours over one of ours.”

“Who are you?” I said again, my voice cold.

He looked at me, his eyes giving me another of those once-overs before he grinned. “They call me Brick, Mrs. Black. Or
you
may call me Betial.”

He pulled a phone out of his inner suit jacket pocket then, and snapped a photo of all of us standing there. He also took a photo of the old man lying on the carpet, and his head, and the scythe. Then he took another one of all of us.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Ravi burst out.

The one calling himself Brick smiled at all of us, turning to each of us in turn, then stopping on me. “Miriam, darling, I know you have the most at stake here, so I’m going to trust you to make sure the rest of them don’t follow us when we leave. I’m afraid Quentin will suffer for it terribly if they do... and I so prefer a happy ending.”

I lowered my gun, holding up a hand as two of the shadowy forms began opening the glass balcony doors. A cold wind came into the stuffy room when they did, fluttering the gauzy drapes hanging to either side and guttering the candles on the mantle.

“Wait!” I let the gun drop altogether, holding up both of my hands. I was having trouble breathing, trouble thinking even. My heart pounded like a jackhammer in my chest.

“Let him go,” I blurted. “...Please. Please let Black go. Whatever it is you’re having him do... I’ll do it instead. I’ll do anything you ask.”

“Miriam!” My uncle’s voice thundered from the doorway. “Be silent!”

I didn’t look away from Brick.

“Anything,” I repeated, fighting the tightness in my chest. “I’ll do anything you want... I’ll take his place. I’ll pay you whatever you want. Just let him go.”

Brick smiled at me. Something in his expression confused me, even disoriented me. It took me a second to realize it was because I saw what looked like genuine kindness and compassion there, along with what bordered on a warm affection.

“That is so very, very touching, my dear. Truly.” He turned to the four vampires standing behind him, placing his hands on his chest, roughly where the human heart lived. “You see? Some of them are quite sweet. Clearly, the more intelligent among them are capable of deep feeling, particularly towards their mates. These two are obviously quite touchingly devoted to one another. Did I not tell you she would be reasonable because of this?”

None of the four vampires changed expression, or answered Brick’s words.

None of them looked particularly moved, either.

Finished with his brief lecture, he looked back at me, that affection still in his eyes and voice. I couldn’t help seeing it differently now though, more akin to the affection a human feels towards a particularly sweet-natured dog.

“I really am
so
sorry, my dear, but I do require your husband’s services for just a bit longer. I’ll do my very,
very
best to see that he comes out of it okay. But no promises, all right? The task I’ve set for him really is quite difficult, so I can’t be expected to account for
all
possible complications and contingencies that may arise.” Smiling at me, he held one hand, palm towards me, like one might make a Boy Scout sign to a small child. “I promise to do my very best. And so far, he’s been amazingly resilient, so try not to worry, dearest. Do try. All right? Promise me?”

I felt like I’d just been patted on the head.

Still smiling, he backed towards the open balcony door.

“I
will
remember that you said that though, my dear,” he said next, winking at me. “...Most assuredly, I will. There may even be an occasion where I am forced to call upon you again... so I will remember all that was said here tonight.”

I watched, numb, as the first two of those shadowy forms disappeared over the balcony railing. The third and fourth followed closely behind, as silent as ghosts.
 

“...Until we meet again, Mrs. Black,” Brick said, tipping an imaginary hat.

I could only stand there, fighting that clenched fist in my chest, as the vampire calling himself Brick disappeared over the railing last of all.

Eighteen

MACHINE SHOP

FRANK AND EASTON showed up at Black’s cell as soon as the doors opened for breakfast, which happened every day at exactly six a.m.

Black was awake, doing pushups on the floor.

He still had no roommate; the cell was his alone.

“Jesus, man,” Easton grunted. “Do you ever stop?”

Black climbed to his feet, wincing a little as he stretched out his shoulder. It was still giving him trouble, even after the long stint in the infirmary. His “doctors,” or whatever the fuck they were, told him it had been badly dislocated when he’d been attacked. He couldn’t remember how that happened either, or even when it happened for certain, since his shoulder hurt after the initial kidnapping, too. Either way, he found himself favoring it still––even in the fight with Cowboy, he’d favored it, choosing to use his other arm for crosses and other long-arm hits instead.

“Come on,” Easton said, knocking on the wall outside his cell door. “Robot boy. It’s time to go.”

Black looked the two of them over warily. “You need something?”

Frank smiled, shaking his head. His muscular chest stretched the white tank top he wore. As much as he gave Black crap for obsessively exercising, Black had seen Frank weightlifting Easton the day earlier, bench-pressing the other man like he was a dumb bell. He’d seen Frank doing pushups for most of an entire yard period, as well.

“You got an appointment,” Frank informed him.

Black felt a flare of reaction in his light. He suppressed it with an effort. “Cowboy?”

Frank nodded meaningfully. “Dog’s playing lookout,” the other man added, his New Mexico accent more prominent than Easton’s. He could have been Mexican-born almost, but Black recognized a more ‘rez’ element to that accent. “You ready? Don’t have much time.”