Crossed (10 page)

FU cat.

Play it your way, Shenanigans.
His message flashed up, vibrating even as I sent my reply. I hate it when he does that.
Eric wants me to find out what the hell was going on with the gang bang honeymoon. You have anything you want to tell me?

“Fuck! Of all the times Eric picks to be curious!” I stabbed the number for the Irons Club into my cell. It wasn’t really where I’d learned how to be a thrall, but I’d been there with J’iliol’lth and with Roger. People knew me there, and though they might not like the way I’d gotten free of my contracts, my current master was more important than any of theirs, so they’d have to talk.

“Irons Club. This is Gregory speaking. How may I assist you?”

“This is Rachel Sims, thrall to the Emperor Eric.” I heard an intake of breath, close to a gasp at the sound of Eric’s name. Greg’s a stuck-up ass with a limp, but he knows his place. “I need a gallon of werewolf blood and I need it in less than an hour.”

He scoffed. “That is quite the—”

“Can you get it here or not?” I looked at the skyline. Dark was coming too quickly, sunset in progress. I needed to be done with the call before Winter showed. Why couldn’t Talbot have texted me earlier?

“He’s never asked for anything like this before, and I’m not sure where else to get it,” I dissembled. “The Irons Club keeps a stock of exotic blood for when the rich and powerful with thralls to match want something out of season, right? Money is not—”

“We can provide it, of course, but the Irons Club is not a vending machine or a mercantile, Ms. Sims. We are a group of like-minded individuals united to assist each other in serving our masters to the utmost. You can have the werewolf blood to make your master happy, but . . .” He paused for a second, enjoying having me in a tight spot. “You will not receive our assistance in exchange for any level of monetary compensation. You will owe us a favor and you will respect the rules and regulations of the Irons Club.”

I held the phone to my ear and considered that. Did I have other choices? Where else could I get werewolf blood? Back before I had double-crossed J’iliol’lth, I’d have tried contacting one of the local demons who dealt in that sort of thing: blood, body parts, etc. But now, most demons wouldn’t work with me anymore, or rather, they weren’t worth the trouble. In a way, getting out of a demonic contract the way I had bought me the respect of the demonic community, but realistically all that meant was they’d screw me to the wall at the first opportunity so they could be the one who got one over on the mortal who’d gotten the best of J’iliol’lth, used him up, played him, and gotten him eaten by a Mouser. I was out of choices.

“Fine. Leave it for me at the front desk of the Void City Hilton, and I’ll play nice with the Irons Club.”

“When we need you, if it doesn’t directly interfere with
your master’s plans, you’ll provide your assistance?” His voice rose at the end of the sentence like it was a question, but I didn’t think it was supposed to be one.

“Yes.” A powder blue Porsche Cayman S (I thought Talbot’s car magazines said they only came in black) turned onto the street. Only one vampire would be caught dead driving a car like that. Only one vampire could pull it off. Winter.

“You’re familiar with the rules?”

“Not as such, but I agree anyway.”

“Your werewolf blood will be at the designated location within the hour. It will be under the name Marie.”

“Good.” I hung up as Winter stepped out of the Porsche.

My phone buzzed again.
Shenanigans?

sum vmp s hsling me. brb.
I tapped the message and sent it. When I looked up again, Winter was standing in front of me. Before I could saying anything, my phone was in his hands and he was scrolling through the messages.

“The cat calls you Shenanigans?” He laughed, handing back the phone, and despite my outrage, I felt a tingle down below. Winter was dressed for clubbing, in clothes so stylish I didn’t even know what to call them yet. They were all Winter originals, and he always saved the best for himself. “Well?” Winter walked around me once, eyes raking up and down my body, not luridly, but evaluating me, as a designer might eye a potential new model. “Does the Mouser have your tongue as well as your dignity?”

“Talbot thinks I’m always up to something,” I spat, “therefore . . . Shenanigans.”

“I like it.” Winter wrinkled his nose at me, those blue eyes of his sparkling. That he wore contacts was obvious only because I already knew him to be a vampire. “So. You’re in a great deal of trouble and you’d like to get out of it.”

“I’ve got a plan.”

“Yes, I heard.”

I doubted that, and my expression must have given me away.

“Vampire hearing, dear. Vampire hearing. You didn’t expect Eric to notice that you’d hijacked your sister’s volition? Or you thought he’d play it off?”

I nodded.

“He’s married now, darling, and men like Eric, from Eric’s time, the greatest generation, particularly the Courtney family . . . they take vows very seriously.” Winter caressed my shoulder and the cool dampness surprised me. He’d been in mist form this whole time! Being able to turn to mist is a rare ability. As far as I know, the only two vampires in Void City who can do it are Winter and Lord Phillip. I was impressed.

“And you can convince him otherwise.”

“No, but you can, and I’ll tell you how. In exchange, I want your help.”

“I won’t hurt Eric.”

“Of course not.”

“Then what?” I stepped away from him, up onto the sidewalk.

“As you may already know, I’ve bet against Eric in Paris, but that doesn’t mean I’m betting against him in Void City.” A limo pulled up, and some of Winter’s entourage began piling out of the car. I inhaled sharply, ready to use my magic, then I remembered Melvin’s damn spell.

“All I want you to do is keep him in Paris for at least a week. Is that so hard? I’ll even set you up with a little assistance.” Winter followed my gaze toward his groupies. “Don’t mind them. I’ve rented out the Iversonian for the evening. I can’t exactly throw myself an anniversary of immortality party in my own club.”

“All I have to do is keep him in Paris?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll get me out of this?”

“Mmmm-hmmm. You won’t believe that it will work, of course. So you’ll only owe me if you do what I tell you to do and it works. I’ll even be kind enough to renegotiate your debt to the Irons Club. You’ll still be bound by the rules, but I’ll let it be known that calling on you needlessly will make
me
needlessly pissy.”

His entourage gasped in unison. The idea of a pissy Winter seemed like a bad plan to me too.

“What about Eric? He won’t be hurt, will he?”

“Hurt? Yes. Destroyed or permanently altered? No.”

“Fine. I agree. Tell me how to get out of it.”

He whispered the answer in my ear, and I shook my head.

“Bullshit.”

Winter stepped through me, his mist sending a shiver down my spine. “Think what you will, Shenanigans. But if you use my solution, you owe me. Paris. One week. Don’t forget.”

As soon as Winter headed into the club, I texted Talbot.
Dn’t no n.e.thng abt htl rm. We all hd fun. Whre r u?

Headed back to the Pollux to get Magbidion. Why?

No rsn.

Tabitha didn’t rise until an hour after sunset. I still had time . . . if I hurried and if I didn’t take any chances. I dialed information and asked for the number for Triple-T Waste Disposal.
Sorry, sis,
I thought to myself,
but it’s you or me, and if Eric finds out that I put the whammy on you, I’m dead meat.

    10    

ERIC:

“. . . BUT I AIN’T STUPID”

I handed the cell back to Talbot. He took it calmly, slipping his precious iCall or uDial—whatever it was—back into the pocket of his suit coat. Magbidion stood on the other side of the hotel room, retching at the smell and made doubly uncomfortable by the purple glow of my eyes. Revenant’s eyes. I hadn’t transformed into uber vamp mode, but my anger was showing.

I hoped I was wrong. I hoped Rachel would be smart enough not to kill her sister in an attempt to cover up her little mind-control joyride, but when I know about something, I have to act. I’d rather not know. If my friends really hate me and are nice to me just because they get something out of it? Great! But I expect them to keep it to themselves.

Hell, I’d have forgiven Whatshisname for all the stupid crap he pulled: arranging my son’s death, trying to steal my soul, wrecking my car, setting me up to fight William and his pack, murdering me . . . all of it, if he’d just said he was sorry and either stopped being an asshole or got better at concealing it. It’s weird, but it’s the way I work. Anybody can get a free pass, but they don’t get many, and when they run out . . . they die.

The scents of rotten meat and sewage mingled in our nostrils, the final remnants of Tabitha’s corpse sweat episode. Talbot and I acted as if it was no big thing, but even after I’d showered Tabitha off and sent her clothes, the bedding, sheets—everything that could reasonably be incinerated—out to be incinerated, the smell still threatened to bring tears (or blood in my case) to our eyes.

I looked at the bedside phone and shook my head. It was a test I wanted Rachel to pass. The chain of evidence goes like this: Talbot had suspected Rachel of doing something to Tabitha, Magbidion had been able to confirm the extent to which Rachel was doing something to Tabitha, and my text conversation with Rachel and my knowledge of just how scheming and low-down she can be filled in the rest.

I didn’t know how Rachel was intending to do it, but if she was, there is one surefire body disposal method in Void City, Triple-T Waste Disposal, three
oni
brothers who won’t report anything to the police for any price and who dispose of the evidence. I used them myself before Fang turned out to be almost as good. He leaves the bones behind and they don’t, but . . .

“Shenanigans, huh?” From my seat at the edge of the bed, I put my cold dead hand on Tabitha’s equally chilled one as she slept. She was safe, but if I hadn’t woken up from the Lisette dream feeling paranoid, Tabitha might have been destined for
oni
cuisine. I may not be the world’s best husband, but if anyone’s going to kill my wife, it damn well better be me.

“I thought it was a good fit.” Talbot paced the room. “You wanted to know, right? I know that you don’t want to know a lot of things, but this?”

I took a deep breath and didn’t let it out for a few seconds. It’s a human thing. I still do a lot of human things for all that I’m dead.

“Yeah.” The phone on the nightstand wasn’t ringing yet. I wanted it to keep right on not ringing. “I needed to know. You did the right thi—”

Ring.
I eyed the phone like it had betrayed a confidence, but that didn’t stop it from ringing again.
Ring. Ring.

“Damn.” As the phone rang, I remembered the punch line to an old Cajun joke about a man who wins the lottery and tells his wife she can build any house she wants as long as he can have a “Hello Statue.”

No. I want wanna dem tings what goes bring bring and have dat little ting what dat you pick up and say, “Hello? S’datch you?”

I picked up the “Hello Statue” with a laugh trapped in my throat, choking out a word. “Yeah?”

“She just called.” The voice on the phone had a slight accent. It was Tiko, Timbo, or Tombo . . . one of the three. The
oni
didn’t waste much time, straight to business. “We’re supposed to meet her over at the Void City Hilton PDQ. She said we should head on up to the Honeymoon Suite and wait outside. Do we go?”

“Uh-huh. I’ll hand you your check when you get to the room. I might even have a body for you to dispose of. Just don’t let on that anything’s up.”

“Sixty grand, right?” You could hear the greed in his voice, like Scrooge McDuck thinking about his money bin.

“That’s right.” I hung up the phone. Hard. Plastic shrapnel scattered in all directions as my knuckles scraped the phone’s inner mechanism. Pain flared, then faded too quickly, curlicues of torn skin weaving themselves back together fast enough to see. I killed the nightstand next, putting my fist through the alarm clock, an electrical jolt buzzing through my arm before the cord melted. I couldn’t smell it over the lingering odor of corpse sweat, but I saw the sizzle and the smoke.