Wanted: Undead or Alive (4 page)

“Yeah.” Freemont nodded. “I thought it was a movie trailer. Lamont and I wanted to see the movie, but we could never find the name of it. It just disappeared.”

“The government removed it. Because it was real.”

“Huh?”

“It was a real battle. I was there.”

Freemont’s eyes widened. “You fought in a real battle? With a sword?”

“Yes. I’ve been in several battles, and I’ve killed a few Malcontents. The guy whose head was cut off was Casimir, the leader of the Malcontents.”

“So the bad guys were defeated?”

“Yes, but there are still a few Malcontents out there. Casimir had a girlfriend, Corky Courrant, who does a TV show called
Live with the Undead
.”

“Huh?”

“She recorded the video of Casimir’s execution, then posted it on YouTube. That means she broke the secret of vampire existence. That’s about the biggest crime you can commit in our world.”

“Her name is
Corky
?”

“Yes! Stay with me, Freemont. After she posted the video, she came back here to DVN and continued doing her show as if she’d done nothing wrong. She claims she’s heir to the Malcontent throne and vampires all over the world should follow her and call her Queen Corky.”

“Oh God, I hate her!” Tiffany hissed from across the room.

Phineas jerked around, but couldn’t see her. “Tiffany! You were supposed to leave the room.”

“It’s okay.” She emerged through a rack of hanging clothes. “I won’t breathe a word. I hate Corky as much as anybody.”

“So this Corky is really bad?” Freemont asked.

“She’s evil,” Tiffany hissed.

“Evil queen bitch,” Phineas clarified. “She’s been badmouthing us good Vamps on her show, calling us a bunch of thugs and murderers. She even bragged about how she started the Vampire Apocalypse. Roman summoned her to Coven Court three times, but she ignored him.”

“Roman?” Freemont asked.

“Roman Draganesti, Coven Master for the East Coast,” Phineas explained. “And he’s owner of Romatech Industries where they make synthetic blood and where I’m head of security.”

“Okay.” Freemont nodded.

“Corky’s been mocking Roman and the good Vamps, claiming she’s above our system of law and justice,” Phineas continued. “Roman had no choice but to issue a warrant for her arrest, but then she went into hiding and now she records her show somewhere in secret. We haven’t been able to locate her.”

“Oh my gosh,” Tiffany whispered. “That’s why you acted like a Malcontent sympathizer during the interview. You want to convince Corky you’re on her side, so you can flush her out.”

Phineas regarded Tiffany with surprise. She wasn’t as stupid as she pretended to be. “You’re right.”

She grinned. “This is awesome! You really are working undercover.”

Freemont’s eyes lit up. “Hot damn! We’re undercover brothers!”

“Don’t get too excited.” Phineas gave his brother a stern look. “I want you to stay out of trouble.”

“No way! I’ve got your back, bro.”

“I appreciate that, but I don’t want you—”

“Don’t tell me to stay out of this,” Freemont interrupted with a scowl. “You involved me when you invited me here.”

Phineas sighed. “I needed to convince everyone that I’d left MacKay S and I, and that I’m hanging with a new crowd. I suggested going to you, and Angus agreed. We always have a shortage of day guards, since not many mortals know about us, so Angus is interested in hiring you. He said they could work around your college schedule.”

“Really?” Freemont’s eyes widened. “I could work with you?”

“Yeah. I told him you might be interested.” Phineas winced inwardly. He had jumped at the chance to include his brother, but now he wondered if his decision had been selfish.

For the past few years, he’d felt like there was a ticking bomb over his head. Sooner or later, and probably sooner, it would explode the instant that his family realized he wasn’t aging. When that happened, he would be left with only two options. One: Tell his family the truth and deal with the consequences. Two: Disappear. He could fake his death, leave them to mourn, and never see them again. Or he could spare their grief by erasing himself from their memories. As if he had never existed.

Angus recommended the last option. A swift surgical strike, he called it, somewhat like amputating a limb. A part of you would be forever lost, but you would survive.

For Phineas, the thought of losing his family felt more like having his heart ripped out. Too painful to consider, so he’d settled on telling them the truth, starting with his brother. When Angus offered to hire Freemont, it had seemed like the perfect solution. Guarding Vamps in their death-sleep during the day was usually a safe job since the Malcontents were in their death-sleep, too.

But now that his current mission was under way, Phineas worried that his decision would expose his brother to some real danger. Had he selfishly saved himself pain, only to foist it onto his family? “Freemont, listen to me. It’s already dangerous enough for you to be here, pretending to be my agent. I don’t expect anything more from you. I have backup, so when things get dicey, I’ll be covered. I want you to lay low and—”

“I can handle the spy stuff.” Freemont lifted his chin. “This is my mission if I decide to accept it. As usual, if I am captured, the government will disavow any knowledge of my actions. See? I know how it works!”

Tiffany nodded. “I want to help, too!”

Phineas groaned. He had a bad feeling about this. “All right. But this is what you do. You continue to play the roles you’re doing now. And if anything dangerous comes up, you stay clear of it, understood?” When they nodded, he continued, “We’ll hang out in the lobby, sign autographs, and see if Corky sends any of her minions for me.”

“You’ll have to be quick to take her prisoner, or she’ll teleport away,” Tiffany warned him.

“I know,” Phineas conceded. That was always a major problem when it came to catching bad vampires. Casimir had eluded them for years by simply teleporting away whenever they got close. “Go on to the lobby. We’ll be there soon.”

“Okay.” Tiffany strode toward the door, and this time, Phineas watched to make sure she left.

He turned to his brother. “Are we good now?”

Freemont nodded with a sheepish look. “I shouldn’t have doubted you, man.”

“It’s okay.” Phineas clapped him on the back. “You’ve had a lot of weird shit thrown at you tonight.”

“That’s for sure.” Freemont followed him to the door. “One thing I don’t understand, though. Why didn’t you take Tiffany up on her offer? She’s beautiful and willing—”

“I like her. As a friend.”

“Yeah, but she’s willing, dude. And you’re the Love Doctor. You gotta spread the cure.”

Phineas smiled. His brother kept reminding him of himself about five years back. “I admit there was a time when I would have jumped her.” He cracked the door and peered outside. The coast was clear.

“What happened to you, bro? You seem different these days.”

Phineas shrugged. “I grew up.” And he’d seen some bad shit. Ravaged, dead bodies left behind by Malcontents. Whole families, even children, murdered because the Malcontents enjoyed terrorizing the innocent. He’d been thrust into life and death situations, and he’d killed in battle. He could no longer pretend life was one big party.

“Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you have to be boring,” Freemont muttered.

Phineas led him down a hall lined with dressing rooms and offices. “When I first discovered I was Undead and I could possibly live forever, it sorta went to my head, you know, like I was invincible and super-macho and could do whatever the hell I pleased with as many Vamp ladies as I pleased. But then I realized they were all doing whatever they pleased, too.”

“What’s wrong with that if you’re having fun?”

Phineas slowed his steps and lowered his voice. “They didn’t see me as a person. You think we’re a minority in the real world, you should try the vampire one. I was a curiosity that all the ladies wanted to experience, and once it was over, they moved on to the next form of entertainment.”

“So you got tired of one-night stands?” Freemont wrinkled his nose. “Is that even possible?”

“Yes, it is. Eventually, I realized that being wanted as an oddity is an insult. I want to be appreciated for being myself.”

Freemont nodded his head slowly. “You want . . . respect. And that’s why you told Tiffany that stuff.”

“You got it, bro.” Phineas continued down the hall toward the lobby. Yes, he wanted respect. He wanted love. He wanted the brass ring, the whole shebang, the happily-ever-after that the other guys were getting. But he was having trouble finding the dream girl. LaToya had slipped through his fingers like mist, a dream that never became reality.

A different vision invaded his mind. Sky-blue eyes and a long mane of hair that glimmered with shades of brown, red, and gold. Beautiful, impossible Brynley. She wasn’t a dream, but a nightmare. Dressed in a fur coat.

He gestured to a door they passed by. “That’s Corky Courrant’s office. I snuck in there two weeks ago when we were shooting the Blardonnay commercial. I was searching for a clue as to where she could be hiding, but she’d already cleaned it out.”

“Bummer.”

Phineas nodded. “If she takes the bait tonight, we’ll find her.” He pushed open the doors to the lobby, and they were greeted with a chorus of high-pitched squeals.

He joined Tiffany, signing autographs, while Freemont protected him from any ominous-looking legs, arms, and breasts he was asked to sign. The fun lasted about ten minutes, and then it happened.

Three armed men crashed through the front doors, shouting and waving their weapons. The crowd, mostly women, screamed and scrambled toward the back doors.

“Everyone down on the floor and shut the hell up!” one of the intruders yelled. In case anyone had trouble understanding his thick Russian accent, he punctuated his demands by shooting a few bullets into the ceiling.

As the blare of gunfire echoed about the lobby, the screams quickly hushed. Sheetrock particles rained down, leaving traces of white powder on the intruders’ black coats. The crowd dropped to the floor, women huddled together, quivering with a few frightened whimpers.

Phineas remained standing and motioned to his brother to stay put. Freemont had crouched behind the receptionist’s desk with Susie and Tiffany.

The Russian guy was the leader, Phineas figured. A Malcontent, no doubt, sent by Corky. He was armed with an automatic pistol and an AK–47. The guys flanking him were mortal, judging from the bite marks on their necks. They either served Corky voluntarily, or she had them under vampire mind control. One was tall and skinny, with a narrow face and long nose. Rat Face, Phineas dubbed him. And the other guy, short and square, was Blockhead. The three thugs scanned the room before focusing on him.

“You.” The Russian Malcontent smirked. “You are the one called Dr. Phang.”

“What do you want?” Phineas asked.

“You will come with us. The queen wants you.”

Phineas paused as if considering the invitation, then shrugged. “No thanks. I don’t know any queens.”

The Russian pointed his automatic at the nearest girl, the cheerleader with Phineas’s autograph on her thigh. “You will come, or this one will die. Her Majesty, Queen Corky, must be obeyed.”

“Oh, that queen!” Phineas raised his hands. “Sure. Why not?”

With a sneer, the Russian motioned to his minions. “Prepare him for the journey.”

Rat Face and Blockhead approached him slowly, slipping their pistols into the shoulder holsters beneath their black coats.

“Take off your jacket,” the Russian ordered, keeping his pistol and AK–47 trained on nearby girls.

After Phineas removed his tuxedo jacket, Blockhead grabbed it and rifled through the pockets. He stuffed Phineas’s wallet and cell phone into his own coat pockets. Phineas kept his face blank, careful not to show how relieved he was that he’d deleted all contacts and messages from his phone.

“Roll up your sleeves,” the Russian demanded. “We have heard MacKay embeds tracking chips in all his vampires.”

“I no longer work for them.” Phineas shoved his shirtsleeves up to his elbows. “Angus cut the chip out last night.”

The Russian gave him a dubious look. “You have no wound on your arm.”

“It healed during my death-sleep.”

The Russian jerked his head toward Rat Face. “Check him.”

Rat Face took a small electronic device from his pocket and skimmed it up and down Phineas’s arms. “He’s clean, Dimitri.”

“Check him for weapons,” the Russian ordered.

Blockhead skimmed his hands over Phineas. “He’s clean.”

“Very well.” Dimitri inclined his head. “We will now escort you to the queen, where you will appear on her show.”

“Sounds good to me.” Phineas put his jacket back on. “It’ll be good publicity.”

Freemont straightened and adjusted his hat. “My client will expect reimbursement, you understand. He doesn’t do appearances for free.”