Kitty Raises Hell

Chapter 10

I did not want to walk for six blocks with these two glaring at each other, sizing each other up, while I trailed behind like a stray dog. I knew that’s what would happen, them marching together and posturing, and me prowling off to the side. I could holler at them and say that I was taking the car. Then again, I didn’t want to miss anything good.

So, I skulked along, listening hard to catch everything they said. Except they didn’t say a word. By nature and profession, I could not abide silence.

“So. Roman. Where’s home for you?” Like I was trying to strike up a casual conversation with just anyone. But hey, that was my motto, wasn’t it? Vampires and werewolves are people, too.

Too bad some of them didn’t go along with my attempts at normality.

He didn’t answer. Not a word. Silly me, I couldn’t let it go. Had to keep poking until I got a reaction. “Come on, just a little hint?” I said. “You don’t have to tell me where you’re from originally. It took me years to get that out of Rick. I’m just asking where you hang your hat lately. Can I guess? San Francisco? Miami? Although I can’t imagine a vampire enjoying someplace like Miami.”

Vampires didn’t need to breathe, but I could almost hear Roman’s exasperated sigh before he said, “I don’t appreciate vapid attempts at conversation.”

Now what did I say to that? “Huh. Vapid. That’s a new one. I usually just rate irritating.”

Rick chuckled.

We arrived at Psalm 23.

Along with Arturo’s blood, control of the city, and a slew of vampire minions, Rick inherited God knew how much property around town in the form of corporations and holding companies, which formed the basis of his predecessor’s wealth. Places like Obsidian. Another of those places was the trendy nightclub Psalm 23. It was dark, stylish, with a reputation as a hip young nightclub, a place to see and be seen. A meat market for the cool people. Maybe even a literal meat market. The place had a lot of shadowy corners and sheltered booths, and after dark, a few vampires could always be found lurking there, drawing in prey. Like spiders, as Rick had said.

I usually wasn’t dressed well enough to get in without an argument. Or maybe it was the fact that some of the bouncers were vampires and didn’t like me on principle. Not that I ever spent any time there for fun.

Tonight I was really not up to dress code in my jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers, but Rick waved us through and guided us to an alcove behind the bar, containing a small table and several chairs. This was his equivalent of my table in the back of New Moon. Impromptu office and vantage point. Rick offered me a drink; I took a soda. He did not offer Roman a drink.

While Rick and I sat, Roman remained standing a moment, surveying the main space of the club.

The place was surprisingly hopping for a Sunday night. Two bars, a large one in front and a small one in back, had people lined up, hip and well-dressed twenty-somethings in packs and in couples, most of them flirting. A DJ booth presided over a dance floor, which was empty now. Small tables here and there held another dozen people, nibbling on appetizers and sipping cocktails. Martini glasses glowed with a rainbow of concoctions smelling of alcohol. The air was heady with it. Some terrible hip-hop remix of an old eighties song thumped in the background.

We were quiet for a moment, watching Roman. He watched us in turn, and none of us twitched, none of us revealed a flicker of emotion.

Roman sat. “Hunting grounds for you and your people, I suppose?”

Rick didn’t blink, didn’t react. He regarded him with his thin, amused smile.

The stranger continued. “I suppose you even have your regulars, the ones who come here again and again, who’ve fallen under your spell and offer themselves to you. Your own herd. Like milk cows.”

Vampires could draw blood from a person without killing, and I never asked too much about where Rick and his followers acquired the human blood that maintained their existence. They could even use a strange hypnosis to lull their prey and make them want to be bitten and fed on, which could be erotic for them both. They could also make their prey forget entirely what had happened. Clubs like this became prime feeding grounds. A suave, alluring vampire could come here, attract a young, vibrant creature who was also on the prowl for some kind of fulfillment, and if all the victims remembered was that they’d had a really good time, they’d probably come back for more. The parasitic circle of life—or undeath—was complete.

It was a pretty obvious setup when you knew what to look for. And the club made a hefty profit by overcharging for alcohol.

“Typical,” Roman said, contemptuously. “Conventional. I’m sure you’re aware, being conventional makes you predictable.”

“That’s not what we came here to discuss,” Rick said.

“She called me a demon hunter. I suppose that’s close enough. I’ve tracked one here.”

“Demon,” I said. Matter-of-fact, skeptical. “Horns, hooves, pitchfork. That kind of demon?”

“No,” Roman said. “When it appears, you may not even see it, but it smells of fire, brimstone. You feel a sense of overwhelming dread. Of evil. The Band of Tiamat sent it to destroy you.”

So, it was a demon. The thing had a label now. I almost felt better, like I was finally getting a grip on this. I could start searching the Internet.

It couldn’t possibly be that easy.

“You know a lot about it,” I said. “About the Band of Tiamat. About me.”

He gave a wry smile. “You aren’t exactly secretive about who you are and what you do. Five members of the Band were killed during your stay in Las Vegas, and soon after you are afflicted by... something. Obviously, they blame you for whatever happened.”

“And you’ve arrived to do something about it,” I said.

“For a price,” Rick added. Roman inclined his head, a barest nod.

Of course for a price. Of course for an ulterior motive. He was a vampire. They didn’t have any other kind of motive.

The way Rick was watching the guy—frowning, body straight and tense—I could tell he didn’t trust Roman. He didn’t like having this mysterious vampire of unknown power camping in his territory and dropping implications. Really, we had no reason to even believe him.  

Once you started seeing the world in terms of conspiracy theories, such theories became darned easy to formulate. They were everywhere.

I said, “Here’s the thing. There’s a certain kind of con, where the con artist shows up someplace and conveniently he knows exactly what the problem is and how to solve it. This is because he created the problem for the express purpose of arriving in the nick of time to solve it. For a price.”

“There’s another alternative,” Rick said. He glanced at me; I raised a questioning brow. Our silent conversation didn’t exactly impart any information. “The priestess of the Tiamat cult—did you know she’s a vampire?” Roman made a noncommittal gesture indicating that he should continue. No hint of yes or no. Rick continued. “Are you working with her?”

Ah, the great vampire conspiracy. I should have known Rick would take that route. I wanted to argue, because there was yet another alternative: Maybe Roman was telling the truth, and maybe he really could help.

“You’re both right not to trust me, of course,” Roman said. My alarm bells were still ringing because even that line was part of the con. Now he’d pull out a résumé and references from the mayor showing what a great demon hunter he was. He didn’t, though. “You think I’m working for the priestess of Tiamat? Then why would I offer to end these attacks, when all she wants to do is destroy the werewolf and wreak havoc in your territory? Or you think that this doesn’t involve the Band of Tiamat at all, and that I’m merely using them as an excuse to play my little trick on you? Did my research, found a likely rube with a likely story I could use to divert blame from myself... you’re right. It’s a very good con. I wish I’d thought of it. But you need my help. I’m here to remove that creature from the face of the earth, and I guarantee you don’t have the skills or knowledge to do it yourself.”