New Order (17 page)

‘You know I’ve picked this week’s word based on you,’ Rogu3 adds.

‘Oh?’ I say, trying to sound disinterested and wishing he’d get off the phone.

‘Yeah.
Ketsuekigata
. It’s Japanese.’

‘Defining personality through your blood type,’ the daemon informs me.

Rogu3’s voice is cheerful. ‘It means…’

‘I know what it means,’ I interrupt. I need to get rid of him before my thoughts betray him.

‘Well, there’s no need to be snarky,’ he huffs. ‘I suppose you want to know where that camera’s transmitting to?’

‘Mm.’

‘You know, Bo, I’m the one who’s supposed to be a hormonal teenager with an attitude problem, not you.’

‘You’ll be paid for your services,’ I tell him. If the daemon thinks he’s nothing more than an employee, he might leave Rogu3 alone.

Rogu3 snorts. ‘Eventually. Anyway, the signal’s going to that company Magix. The same one that was trying to drive the shop out of business.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ He sounds stiff. Better that he’s annoyed at me rather than a corpse at the hands of a homicidal daemon.

‘Goodbye.’ I hang up. The phone dangles uselessly in my hand. I could try to call or text someone for help but there’s no point. I’ll be dead before they even walk out of their door.

‘I won’t go near the kid. And I’ve not decided if I’ll kill you yet.’

Death might be the preferable option. Sometimes Kakos daemons turn their victims insane until they become babbling versions of their former selves. I met one once and it wasn’t pretty.

‘Just kill me,’ I mutter. I’ve had enough of a taste of insanity from the PTSD hallucinations to know that anything’s better than going crazy. ‘Eat my heart and feast on my entrails.’ At least I won’t end up in the cold, hard ground.

My phone rings again. Without looking at the display, I lift it to my ear. ‘Rogu3, you need to stop…’

‘Who the hell is Rogu3?’ Michael growls. Sodding hell. Why does everyone suddenly want to get in touch?

‘No one you know.’ I can’t disguise the fear in my voice.

‘Bo?’ He’s alarmed. ‘What’s wrong?’

I watch the daemon, who watches me. ‘Nothing.’

‘You slept with the daemon.’

For a moment I’m utterly thrown. Then I realise he’s referring to O’Shea. ‘Uh, yes. No. I stayed on his sofa.’ O’Shea’s gay. Michael knows that.

‘I thought you’d stay at your grandfather’s.’

‘I had things to do.’ Please, please go away.

‘You’re still looking for the cure.’ His voice is flat.

‘Not exactly.’

‘Are you in town?’ he demands.

For now. My corpse will probably be cremated in the ̓burbs. ‘Yes.’

‘Come to my apartment when you’re done. You can spend the day there.’ There’s a pause as if he’s expecting me to argue. ‘It makes sense. I can drive you to the mansion to meet Doctor Love. Arzo will be there as well. He wants to discuss the plans for the new agency.’

The tattoos on the daemon’s face are mesmerising. ‘Okay.’ There’s a palpable lack of enthusiasm in my voice.

‘Bo, promise me you’ll come.’

‘I can’t,’ I whisper. Then I hang up.

Almost immediately the phone starts ringing again. I drop and stamp on it, crushing it. Even a vampire of Michael’s strength and experience is no match for a Kakos daemon.

Ignoring the fact that I’m shaking, I step forward. ‘He has nothing to do with this. I’m here on my own.’

‘I think the vampire Heads have enough problems right now,’ the daemon says. He copies my movement and comes closer until we’re barely an inch apart. ‘They’re close to becoming as feared and hated as my own kin.’

I rediscover the last vestiges of my spirit. ‘Vampires don’t destroy every person they come across,’ I snap.

‘And yet,’ the daemon says with velvety softness, ‘you’re desperate not to be one.’ A smile plays round his lips. ‘There is a cure, no matter what others tell you.’

He’s playing with me like a cat plays with its prey, letting it escape time and time again before finally getting bored and killing it. ‘I’m not lying,’ he says, amicably.

Much good a cure is going to do me now. I shiver while he licks his lips as if in anticipation.

‘So,’ he continues, ‘you’re here because of the accountant.’

I feel a flash of guilt that quickly dissipates. The daemon already has Dahlia Templeton; I’m not giving away anything he doesn’t already know.

‘Actually,’ he says, ‘I don’t have her. I’ve never met her.’

‘Bullshit,’ I whisper.

He starts to smile. ‘You’re challenging a Kakos daemon? Ms Blackman, you are either incredibly brave or incredibly foolhardy.’

Damn it. He must have plucked my name out of my mind. I feel violated – it’s like he’s gained absolute control. I’ll never learn what he’s called but he already knows everything about me.

‘X.’ The tattoos continue to snake around his skin. ‘You may call me X.’

‘Catchy,’ I mutter.

He smirks. ‘The truth is I have a certain admiration for Mr Templeton. We have never met in person but he knows what I am and he was still brave enough to steal from me. Some humans just can’t stop themselves from playing with fire.’ His black eyes gleam. ‘Some vampires too.’

I stand my ground. ‘Is Dahlia dead?’

He tuts. ‘I told you, I don’t have her. I don’t know where she is and I don’t care.’

‘You don’t care that her husband was stealing from you?’

‘I expect a certain amount of underhandedness. It’s useful. It means I know where I stand. Besides, money doesn’t interest me. We have far grander plans and, as long as Stephen Templeton doesn’t involve himself in those, I will allow him to do what he wishes.’

I wonder about his use of the word ‘we’. The Kakos daemons must be planning something. The thought of what that might be is beyond frightening.

‘The thought of big, bad scary monsters crawling out of the shadows disturbs you.’

‘It would disturb anyone.’

He gazes at me with interest. ‘Really? We’ve decided to re-enter your society and act in a manner which you would describe as civilised and you think that’s disturbing?’

‘Civilised? You’re homicidal maniacs!’

‘Perhaps. However, I’m not the one illegally breaking into a private office building.’

I stare at him mutely. The alarm continues to peal while, far below, there’s the siren of a fire engine. X lifts a hand and inspects his fingernails. ‘Do you know what Google’s motto is?’

‘Don’t Be Evil.’

The corners of his mouth rise. ‘Indeed. It’s virtually a challenge. Especially when you consider the vast opportunities for sin provided by the internet.’

‘So that’s why you’re working for Streets of Fire? You want to manipulate the internet?’

He laughs. ‘I don’t work for Streets of Fire. I
am
Streets of Fire.’

‘The CEO…’

‘Is the palatable human face. His history and identity are known and accepted. His strings, however, are pulled elsewhere.’

I may be uncovering the greatest conspiracy the world has ever seen. It’s a damn shame I’ll never be able to tell anyone about it.

‘The other people in this building. They’re human. And they’re okay working for you?’

‘Watch.’ His features twist, melding into a benign, respectable human face. The tattoos vanish and his eyes, while still dark, look benevolent.

‘They don’t know,’ I whisper. ‘You mask your true self.’ How many more Kakos daemons are posing as humans right under our noses?

He gives a little bow. ‘Most people have the sixth sense when something isn’t quite right.’ His face returns to its original form. ‘They can’t work out what it is though.’

‘Why does Stephen Templeton know the truth?’

I receive an unpleasant smile in return. ‘I wanted to see how he’d react. He was planning to steal and I was interested in finding out if he still would when he knew I was a demon.’

Stephen Templeton is a sodding idiot.

‘Yes,’ X says, ‘he is.’ He looks at me thoughtfully. ‘You are not. How were you planning to get out?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You broke in. In about sixty seconds’ time, security will burst through that door. How were you going to avoid them?’

‘I wasn’t,’ I say shortly. ‘I just had a good excuse for being here.’

He reads it in my thoughts. ‘The right to be forgotten?’

‘It’s a new thing. Maybe you’ve not heard of it.’ It’s a stupid jab, but I make it anyway. Anyone in the tech industry – even a Kakos daemon – will know about it. I put on a slightly patronising tone for effect. What else do I have to lose? ‘People can make a legal challenge to have their name wiped from search engines. Vampires cherish anonymity once recruitment is over. Erasing their virtual presence is the next logical step.’

‘It’s a reasonable excuse, I suppose. But it does beg the question of why not make a legal challenge? Why break in illegally?’

‘Because approaching the courts makes the petitioner more famous. I was going to let myself get caught and use the right to be forgotten law as an excuse.’

He nods. ‘If you couldn’t persuade in-house security to let you go then the police would. It’s not yet public knowledge that you’ve left the safety and immunity of the Families.’

‘And when it is, the press will believe I’ve gone rogue so the Families won’t be censured for my actions.’

‘You know,’ he says slowly, ‘I rather think you’ll be wasted on the Lord of the Montserrat Family.’

I stare at him wide-eyed while shouts and the sound of a slamming door echo down the corridor. Several security guards burst in from the fire escape. X smiles at me, his face again re-forming into its human version. Then he turns. ‘Everything’s fine,’ he calls out.

‘Sir…’

His gaze hardens. ‘Leave us.’ Even as a human, he’s intimidating.

The security guards mutter but do as they’re told. The daemon turns back to me, tattoos flickering their return.

‘I have decided,’ he announces.

‘A wooden box or a padded cell?’ I ask bitterly.

He smiles, reaches out with his fingertips and touches my temples lightly. ‘Hold still. This will only hurt for a second.’

There’s a blinding attack of pain. My mouth drops and I scream in both pain and terror. I collapse to my knees and he pulls away.

‘If you tell anyone about this meeting, I will change my mind.’ The darkness in his eyes sucks me in. ‘And not just about you. About the child. The vampire Lord. Your grandfather…’ His voice drifts away, although the threat remains in the air. ‘Come back and see me when you learn about the cure, Bo Blackman. And throw away those pills.’

Suddenly I’m alone in the corridor with the lingering pain in my head and the continuing shriek of the fire alarm. I touch my forehead gingerly. I’m still alive and I don’t feel insane. My thoughts are tinged with clarity. The weight inside me that’s been growing since the day I pulled O’Shea’s fading body from a blood-soaked room in the suburbs of London seems to have disappeared. I feel lighter. The sadness and anger remain – perhaps they always will – but they no longer possess my soul. Unconsciously, my hand reaches into my pocket and I pull out the topiramate which Doctor Love gave me. I gaze down at the innocuous white bottle. X is right: I won’t be needing it any more.

I have no idea why the daemon did what he did; I’m just glad to be alive.

I stumble out of the building, taking the lift down this time. The narrowed eyes of the security guards in the lobby follow my every move. A fire engine sits by the revolving doors, its red bodywork muted by the night shadows. I’m tempted to knock on the window and tell the firefighter inside to get his buddies and go home but I’d probably land myself in more trouble. I’m sure they’ve worked out it’s a false alarm by now.

I drag myself across the street to the car. There’s no clamp or parking ticket, but someone with too much time on their hands has drawn a crude penis in the dust coating the side door. I stare at it for a moment, shrug and get in. For once, I have hours to go until dawn breaks, but I’m completely drained. I don’t know if it’s because of the adrenaline leaving my system or if it’s a side-effect of X’s Jedi mind-trick. Either way, I don’t have the energy to keep going for much longer. I didn’t promise Michael I’d stay at his place but he’ll be worried after what I said on the phone. Not only that, but his massive bed is more comfortable than O’Shea’s sofa. I drive to Michael’s, almost running three red lights along the way.

The apartment is too close to the inner city for me to get away with more illegal parking, especially as both my car and I will be stuck here during daylight hours, and it takes time to locate the entrance to the underground car park. The guard on duty must have a high definition camera and be able to see the red in my eyes because the automatic barrier lifts and I drive in. Annoyingly, however, once I park and get out, I can’t open the door into the building. Like the front entrance, it’s protected by a thumb sensor. I try it anyway, on the off-chance that Michael has had it keyed to me, but it buzzes an angry red. I sigh. There’s not much point in demanding I stay where he can see me when I can’t even get inside. Thank goodness for the car park. I’m not sure I’d survive if I had to drive anywhere else to find shelter. I unlock the car again, clamber into the back seat, curl up and fall asleep.

Chapter Twelve: Playing with Fire

A loud noise wakes me some time later. My body clock seems to know instinctively that it’s daylight outside, even though the car park remains dark. I dimly register raised voices and open one eye. I can’t see a damn thing from my position but to open both eyes and sit up would take too much energy.

Words drift over. ‘Are you sure she’s not with the lawyer?’

‘Positive.’

‘Have you been to his house?’

‘My Lord, she’s not with him.’

‘What about Soho? The daemon said they were there yesterday.’

‘We’ve got people out looking.’

‘Goddamnit!’ There’s a slam. ‘What about this Templeton guy that keeps phoning?’

‘He wants to talk to her too.’

I think about getting up but my brain isn’t sending the right signals to the rest of my body and my limbs won’t comply. I hear a door close. I’ve missed my chance. My eye droops and slumber reclaims me.