Invincible (A Centennial City Novel) (3 page)

I nodded. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It was not my place.”

He tilted his head in a considering manner. “You sound all proper and shit. That’s fucking weird.”

“I was raised to speak like this,” I said, wishing I didn’t sound so defensive. “Meanwhile, you sound like you were born in a gutter.”

His teeth glinted in the darkness as he grinned widely. “In the projects. And damn proud of it.”

To each his own. “Give me your hand.”

He extended it, palms up. “This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”

“Pain is irrelevant,” I replied. “It’s more symbolic than anything else.”

“What is?”

I flicked my wrist and a small dagger fell into my palm, the point almost so sharp to be invisible. Quickly, I scratched a line across his palm before he could resist and did the same to mine.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I clenched and unclenched my hand, urging the blood faster. “Blood of mine, blood of yours, and now we are bound by an oath.”

I rubbed my palm against his, even as he tried to squirm away. For a man, he wasn’t exactly fearless.

Clearly, beauty wasn’t everything. I didn’t know why I felt even the slightest bit of disappointment.

“Are you crazy?” he shouted. “Haven’t you fucking heard of AIDS?”

“I can’t imagine it would be much of a problem, seeing as how you’re going to dead soon,” I replied and let him have his hand back.

“You think I give a rat’s ass about me? I was talking about you, you fucking idiot.” he muttered and I watched the blood drip down his fingers to pool on the ground. “I swear to God, all you fucking killers are crazy. You’re all nuts, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” I said quietly, nodding at his hand. “You’re bleeding.”

He continued muttered under his breath as he tucked his hand into his pockets. “Wasn’t the first, won’t be the last. Are you done? Stupid weird voodoo shit, if you ask me. I could’ve written you an affidavit and could’ve saved us a scar. Like an oath is going to keep me from lying.”

“It wasn’t just the words,” I said, as I tucked the dagger back into the wrist sheath. “Your blood runs in mine, now, just as my blood runs in yours. If we are separated, I’ll be able to track you. If you decide to run away…well, you won’t be able to.”

He was silent for a moment and then pulled out his hand, staring at the wound already starting to clot. “That’s pretty freaky. Will I be able to do that, too?”

“No.”

“Sounds like I’ve got the rough end of the deal,” he said, sighing. “So you’ll be keeping an eye on me, then? Sounds kind of invasive.”

I followed him out of the alleyway. “Don’t be ridiculous. At least you’re still alive.”

“Yeah, but for how long?”

I stayed quiet and he laughed mirthlessly.

“Dude, this sucks.”

He didn’t know half of it.

3

His “hide-out” as he so succinctly put it, turned out to be a seedy little bar with sticky floors and bartenders who looked like they’d rather bash your face in than give you a drink.

One of the bartenders stood at least seven feet tall with scars crisscrossing his broad, tanned face and he polished glasses with a rag that hadn’t looked like it’d been washed in centuries. He nodded at Jase, by now looking rather ridiculous with the hood still over his head. “You bring a date here? Classy, jackass, real classy.”

“She’s not my date.”

I followed him to the counter where he took a seat. For someone who wanted secrecy and privacy, sitting in the middle of a loud establishment didn’t seem quite right. “Are you sure this is the best place?”

“Are you kidding me?” He sounded incredulous. “This is the best place to talk. Martinez, scotch. On the rocks, if you can spare the ice. Glenfiddich.”

The bartender never stopped polishing the glass. At the rate he was going, there’d be a hole in it soon. “Can you pay? I seem to recall a couple unpaid tabs. Truth be told, the only reason you’re here is because Mimi’s soft on you. If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t even get three feet past the door.”

I held up my hand and took a seat on a rickety barstool that felt as though it would spill me onto the sticky, sawdusted floors without so much as a by-your-leave. “I can settle his tab.”

Seemed like the least I could do.

Martinez’s eyebrow went all the way up to his greasy hairline. “Good god, man. Looks like you’ve caught yourself a live one, this time. What’d the hell you do?”

“Like I said, she’s not my damn date.” Jase smacked a hand down on the counter, the one I scored with my dagger. It should’ve hurt. The lack of expression on his face only made me curious. “And I don’t need you to pay off my tab. I can pay for myself.”

I placed a bill on the counter. Money held little meaning for me. “This should cover our drinks, and some, if not all, of his tab.”

Martinez whisked the hundred dollar bill out from under my hand with a low whistle of appreciation. “Yeah, this should about cover it. Your lover boy over there isn’t too picky his drinks. He’d drink gasoline if he thought it’d get him drunk.”

“For Christ’s sake, Martinez! Shut the fuck up, man!”

I bet Jase was probably crimson red under his hoodie. I would be.

“Scotch on the rocks for you, Jason,” he said and turned strangely-hued amber eyes in my direction. Was this man one of the Other? His aura seemed fine, no demon taint, but those eyes…”What would you be having, ma’am?”

“Screwdriver,” I replied. “Virgin.”

“Right you are,” he replied with a hint of laughter in his low, baritone voice. “One exceptionally expensive glass of juice coming right up.”

“A virgin screwdriver?” Jason sneered. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s orange juice.” I pulled the sword, safely enclosed in a black nylon training bag, off my shoulders and leaned it against the bar next to me. Easier to get to if shit ever decided to hit the fan. “I don’t drink alcohol.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

Martinez slid over a glass of the amber colored liquid I had the grave misfortune of drinking. Once. “She’s Asian, dipshit. A lot of Asians don’t have a tolerance for it. If you had half a brain, you’d know dumb shit like that.”

I felt silly for being impressed. “I expect since you’re a bartender you see a lot of people like me here?”

He grinned and two golden canines caught the dim, dirty lights. “Most of the time, one drink and they’re done. Two and I’ve got to peel them off the floor.”

I shouldn’t have asked. “What about three?”

His grin widened. “Got to call a funeral home.”

That sounded about right. Of course, there were always anomalies, but most Asians I knew couldn’t hold their liquor even if you gave them a bucket.

Jase stared down at his glass. “No alcohol. That’s got to suck.”

The bartender poured me a tall glass of orange juice straight from the box. Minute Maid, no pulp. Just the way I liked it. “Only to assholes like you. Now shut up and drink before you make more of a fool out of yourself.”

“Fuck you, Martinez.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he replied and made his way down the counter where a couple of frat boys, judging from their letterman jackets, tried to hail him down.

I stared at the glass of orange juice, all the while aware of the brooding young man slumped next to me. “You’ve got a good friend there.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Whatever. He’s not bad.”

A couple of minutes passed, all of it incredibly noisy as the bar began to fill and slowly, I saw the wisdom in Jase’s suggestion. “People will think nothing of seeing us together. Most won’t care to listen to us, will they?”

“Nope.” He swirled the drink in his glass, having only taken one sip since receiving it. “Besides. We’re in this together. I want to know who you are before we start digging.”

“You know who I am.”

He lifted his head, and I watched his eyes follow a tall, slim girl with light brown hair as she walked to her pack of friends near the bathrooms. Interesting. If he was a vampire, I would’ve suspected his hunger, but as he was not, I had no idea. Perhaps he was into brunettes. None of my business. “Wrong. I know
of
you. But who you are? I don’t think anyone in the Fellowship knows who you are.”

I took a sip of the wonderfully astringent and sweet juice and set it down carefully on the cardboard coaster. “What is there to know? I hunt for the Elders.”

“For how long?”

That required some thought. “Five years, give or take a couple of months.”

He huffed out a breath. “From all the rumors, I would’ve thought a lot longer. But you don’t look older than me. How old are you?”

“None of your business.” I wasn’t against telling him, but this man was due to die soon. I had no intention of becoming close to someone who would soon die by my hand. I’m heartless, but I’m not evil. “Tell me about Shannon. That’s her name?”

He nodded. My ploy at changing the subject worked. Either that or he didn’t really care how about my age. “Yeah. Shannon Donahue. God, I miss her.”

“How long ago was it?”

It was starting to get difficult hearing him, as the noise level rose. Most likely due to the pack of frat boys and Brunette girl with her girlfriends playing a game seemed to involve a ping-pong ball and several plastic containers of beer all in various states of fullness. Fascinating and yet pathetically infantile.

I moved closer to him, close enough to brush my body along his.

He flinched. Hm.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I beg your pardon,” I said solemnly. “It was not my intention. It’s getting loud in here. I didn’t want to shout at you.”

The set of his shoulders seemed to relax. Barely. “Okay. Fine. But keep your distance.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I didn’t trust jittery people. “How long ago did she…disappear?”

“Almost four years ago.”

I blinked. I hadn’t thought he was
that
old. Unless he was the type to get engaged in high school. And yes, he did seem like the impetuous type to do just that. “That’s a long time. And you’ve made no progress so far?”

He shook his head and tossed down half the whiskey. “Couldn’t. That’s the whole reason I joined the Fellowship. Was told they would help me find the son of a bitch.”

The pattern become uncomfortably clear. “But they didn’t.”

“No.”

Ah. “They promised. They told you they’d help you find the vampire who turned her and bring him to justice?”

“Yeah.”

How familiar. “And now they’re sending you to die.”

“Basically.”

I rolled the half empty glass between my palms, warming up the chilled glass. How refreshingly metro in an establishment that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a decade. “They couldn’t find the vampire who did it. It could be they’re sending you because you’d be willing to take a chance at killing a vampire. It could be they’re trying to get rid of you before you make…problems.”

“Probably.”

He tossed down the rest of the whiskey, and I became aware of music beginning to filter through the large speakers placed over the shelves containing expensive-looking bottles. Low, throbbing, almost sexual in nature, it didn’t seem like the sort of music you’d play in a bar. Maybe a strip club, but not a bar. I kind of liked it.

“For what it’s worth, they probably tried.”

Why was I defending the Elders?

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore. I’ve got you now. You can help me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Yeah, me too.”

It was strange, to see a man so resigned with death. In my years of hunting, I had never come across prey that fell on their knees to readily accept the end of their life. The chase always ensued and then things got messy. In truth, I was starting to expect it that way. “Tell me what you know about Shannon and…”

I didn’t know what to say.

He stared at the ice slowly melting away in his glass. “We grew up together. Went to the same schools together. When she wanted to go to California for college, I followed her. Had to practically cheat on my SATs, but I got in.”

I really didn’t want to know his life history with her. It hardly seemed pertinent. “Fine. Whatever. I don’t care about your girlfriend and how you went wherever she went. That’s nice. But it won’t help.”

Jase didn’t seem perturbed at my abrupt tone. “Sorry. I think I’m a little drunk.”

“With one whiskey?” I didn’t bother to mask my skepticism.

“I haven't really had anything to eat today.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” I said and leaned closer to him as a pack of young men, loud and annoying with their perfect hair and sparkling, white teeth shouldered in between me and a short, stout blond who seemed intent on taking the drunk guy next to her home.

Jason flinched again, like a beaten dog who only sees the hand as a weapon, never comfort. It was sad and pathetic.

“Was there any sign of aberrant behavior before she turned?”