West Coast Witch (16 page)

I was silent for a long moment. Well, what could I say about that? I had known the
moment I met Teresa that she was a killer. She at least had the instincts for it.
She was a vampire, after all, and an old one. But she’d just told me a story of how
she’d hunted, captured, and turned a man. And, well, sure the guy sounded like a pretty
bad sort, but who was in the right of all of this?

I wasn’t sure what to think of it. Was she trying to scare me off?

“Well,” I finally said, trying to bring myself to something resembling calm. “I mean,
it’s not like you do a lot of killing these days. You guys are public, so you can
let the cops take care of a lot of stuff, right?”

She nodded. “For the most part. Though, there are just some things the humans are
ill-equipped to handle. We’re not exactly your average criminal. We’re faster, stronger,
and tougher.”

“Yea, but by how much, I’ve always wondered.” I said.

“It varies, greatly. When the last time we fed was, how old we are…what we do to hone
our abilities, even our progenitors influence it. These all can influence this.”

“Fascinating.” I remarked. “This is all pretty new to me.”

“Really? You’re a witch. Isn’t knowledge of your enemy pretty much required?”

I realized then that I had slipped. Oh, shit. Amy was going to kill me. My mind was
totally racing for an answer.

She switched subjects, seeing my distress obviously. “How would you like to meet the
band?”

“The band?” I glanced towards the small stage. They were wrapping up their set, it
looked like.”Sure, they're pretty darn good.”

I stood up first, and held out my arm for Teresa. “Such a gentleman. Come on, let's
get you introduced.” We walked to the stage, where Teresa spoke up. “Hello, ladies.”

One of the band members, a woman with short blue hair, looked up. “Why, hello, hello,
Teresa. Who's the boy toy?” A wicked smile crossed her face, and a little shudder
went down my spine. “You know I like blonds.”

“Emily, he is not for you.” She purred, her voice containing just a hint of danger.
“This is Eric Carpenter. Eric, this is Emily Dupont.”

“Absolutely charmed, Eric.” Emily flashed her white teeth in a smile. “Any friend
of Teresa's is a friend of mine.” She looked to Teresa. “His aura is absolutely clean.
Wherever did you pick him up?”

“He found Ishmael, actually, and he ever so kindly agreed to drink with me.”

“How am I to refuse a beautiful woman?” I quipped.

Teresa’s purse started to ring. “Oh, sorry.” She said. “It’s work. I'll be right back.
You two make nice now, all right?”

“But of course.” Emily said. “I'll keep him company. Mind if we go back to your table?”

“Go right ahead. I'll be right back.” She walked away, pulling her phone out and answering.

Emily and I walked back to the booth. As we walked, I took stock of Emily. She was
a beautiful woman, there wasn't any doubt of that. Her blue hair was cut short and
spiky, which worked with her violet eyes. She wore a Clash t-shirt and jeans, which
struck me as very unlike what a classical violinist would wear.

“So, Eric, what do you do?”

“Well, I tend bar at Cameron's. It's a place down by SF State.”

She leaned forward and smiled. “A bartender? Fascinating. And how did you end up at
the Last Drop? You look a little too...white-collar for a vamp club.”

“Some personal business.” I said.

Emily smiled wider. “That just makes me more curious. After all, what kind of human
bartender has personal business with Ishmael?”

I figured then to go on the defensive. Emily might have been a friend of Teresa's,
but I wasn't by any means fond of her. She was working me over for information. For
what, I couldn't tell. “A man who values his privacy.”

If she got the hint, she didn't take it. “Indeed. But you're not just anyone. Your
aura is fantastic.” Her striking eyes met mine. “Tell me, have you ever met a Red
Angel before?”

Her eyes sent a shiver through my spine. It wasn't an unpleasant one either. Her eyes
spoke for themselves. This woman was wicked, and she was very interested in me. And
whatever I seemed to think, she was drawing me in.

“No,” I shook my head, trying to break the eye contact. Her eyes seemed to just follow
mine, and I couldn't quite draw mine away.

“How fun.” She slid closer to me in the booth, so that we were sitting next to each
other. “How about we go somewhere quiet, and you can tell me all about what you're
doing playing in the big leagues, sugar?”

A very physical part of me wanted to say yes. It had been way too long since I had
been with a woman, and Emily was hardly ugly. If it had been Matt, he would've already
spilled everything he could have. I told myself I needed to break this. She was working
something over me, a power of some sort. I forced myself to focus. I needed anything
to get out of this. Mentally, I took stock of what I could do, and took a deep breath.

“Is something wrong?” She smiled, and leaned in close to whisper into my ear. “Is
it because you've never met a Red Angel before? We can be quite charming when we want
to be.” I really wanted to surrender to her, to just feel those lovely lips.

I forced myself out of it. Score one for logic. In a quick motion, I reached for my
belt, and had the knife out. I pressed the dull end of the blade against her stomach,
and I applied just a little force. At that moment, I was rather glad there was a table
between us and the now-noisy bar.

“I don't think so.” I hissed. “Listen, I don't give a shit what your game is. But
I'm warning you now. Just back off, and I won't have to use the business end of this.”
I kept my voice at a whisper. “Now, I'm not an expert on Arcanes, but it seems like
Red Angels don't have the developed sense of smell vamps and weres have. So, I'm going
to go out on a limb and guess that I'll have to tell you this is a silvered blade.”
I wasn't in the mood for a repeat of what had happened with Darius-even if she looked
a lot better than Darius had.

Almost instantly, her demeanor changed. The lust flowed away from me, but she still
smiled. “Clever man.” She slid away, and I closed the knife. “Tell me, are you really
Teresa's date? Or are you the new blood bag bodyguard?”

“I'm not a bodyguard, by any means. We were having a nice date, until you were introduced.”

She chuckled. “I'll have to tell her you passed the test.”

I glared at her, almost ready to flip the knife out again. “What test?”

“Your mental fortitude. You passed with flying colors. Most men don't last two minutes.”
She smiled. “It's a little game we used to do. Teresa is rich, powerful, and she is
next in line for power over the dominant supernatural power in the Bay Area. She screens
potential dates, subtly.”

“Subtly? You were damn near humping my leg.” I decided then that I would rather not
deal with this. “I think you should excuse yourself before Teresa comes back, Emily.
I won't mention this to her, mostly just because I'm a really freaking nice guy. Personally,
I can't trust you on this 'test' thing, so I'm just not going to talk about it.”

“Very well, as you wish.” She smiled, and stood up. “Until next time, Mister Carpenter.”

“If, next time, you try working whatever that was on me, I can assure you there won't
be a third time.”

“Control issues, much?” She laughed. “Au revoir.” She swung her hips as she left,
leaving me looking just for a moment. I didn't want to, but Emily's body was magnetic.
Something was different about Red Angels, that was for sure.

As she walked away, I saw Teresa walk back into the bar. She gave me a quizzical look
before sitting down. “Emily left?”

“She had to go help pack up the sound equipment.” I tried to keep a straight face.

She shrugged. “Oh, well, I'll have to catch up with her later.”

“So, that was Ishmael, I take it?”

She nodded. “Yes, and I hate to cut our date short, but I believe we have a lead on
Darius.”

“Darius?” I gave her a pointed look. “You’re serious?”

She nodded. “Yes. Would you like to accompany me?”

“Yea, I really would.”

Teresa covered the drinks, much to my protest, and we headed out to her car. I didn’t
want to cut the date short, but if she was going to go out, and hunt Darius herself,
well, I had to. I never said that I was particularly wise in my decision making, but
I will say that I was damned curious, and I had a sense of closure that prevented
me from wanting to back down.

It only took a few minutes for me to realize something. “We’re leaving San Francisco.”

“Yes, we are. The source gives Darius at a beach house down the coast. We’ll move
to engage him before sunup, and we’ll be able to get your answers.”

“Sunup,” I echoed. Which, actually, brought up a question. “So, how do you actually
deal with sunlight. I know you guys don’t actually burn up like in movies, but what
actually happens?”

“We lose most of our powers. We’re not as strong, or as fast. We’re weaker, but not
incapable. It’s why we tend to have a staff or employees. It’s for protection.” She
looked at me, serious, and said. “I trust you can keep this in confidence?”

“I won’t go spreading rumors around. Besides, with so many people spouting random
facts about vampires, what makes mine any more valid than some crazy Joe in the tabloids?”

“Smart man.” She said. “What armament do you have on you? I only smell that silver
knife.”

“That’s all I have.”

“Oh, hell.” She rolled her eyes, treating the statement like some sort of curse. “Open
the glove compartment.”

I did, and found a pistol in the glove compartment. “Oh, no.” I said. “I don’t know
how to use a gun.”

“The fundamentals are simple. You hold it in a firm grip, use the sights to aim it
at your target, and apply a moderate amount of pressure to the trigger.” She smiled.
“Simple, yes?”

“What about a safety?”

“It's an older pistol. You can't engage the safety until a round's chambered.”

I laughed. “Well, when you put it like that…” I murmured. “It sounds so much easier.”

“When we get there, I’ll show you a proper grip for it. A gun’s a pretty powerful
thing. Respect it, and it will treat you well. There should be an extra magazine in
there as well. Take it as well.”

I did, and for the next twenty minutes, as she drove, Teresa gave me my first gun
safety lesson and operational instructions.

“Take care of it, please. That gun’s easily several times your age. I got it in the
Depression.”

“Seriously?” I looked down at the gun. It was extremely well kept, then, if it was
that old.
 
The gunmetal was polished and maintained. The grips were, however, newer, some sort
of polymer. “I’m guessing silver bullets.”

“Indeed. When you shoot, you shoot to kill.”

“Right.” I murmured, and practiced loading and unloading the magazine, just to familiarize
myself with the action. When I learned something, I never went half-assed. Well, except
maybe in chemistry.

We pulled off to the side of the road after about forty minutes of driving. She shut
off the lights, and opened the door. “We go on foot from here. No lights.”

“You know, unlike vampires, I can’t see in the dark.” I remarked.

“It’s a full moon. You’ll do fine, Eric.” She looked to me, and even in the darkness,
her eyes still looked lively. “I have faith in you.” She went to the back of the car,
pulling out a tactical vest, a black thing that had a pistol holster and some pockets
for various objects. She opened up a case, which had a much more modernized pistol
and a butterfly knife. She stowed both on her.

We walked down from the highway to the beach. Built into the cliff side that the highway
sat on was a wood staircase, with sand on it from many happy beach goers scaling up
from the shore.

One of the things I loved about California was the Pacific Ocean. The moon was high
in the sky, casting light with the stars over the dark water. We were far away enough
from San Francisco that there wasn’t as much light pollution. It was fantastic.

And a beautiful night for a hit, I supposed. I loaded the pistol, and shoved the extra
magazine into my back pocket. I felt my blood race, anticipation crawling up into
me, practically narcotic as we moved towards the beach house.

It was a small house, by most standards, but due to its location, I was sure the property
had to be worth several times what it would be in the suburbs.

As we approached, Teresa smiled. “I can hear your pulse quickening. It’s been years
since I’ve hunted with a mortal. Exhilarating, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure that’s exactly the word I’d use.”

“You never went hunting, or something, with your father?”

I chuckled. “Not exactly. My grandfather raised me, and he was a Broadway actor before
he married my grandmother. He wasn’t exactly the gun-totin’, whiskey-drinkin’ southern
man.”