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He’s standing behind the bar, polishing glasses with a towel. He could be a Hispanic Clint Eastwood stand-in. Weather-beaten, ta
Usually, you’d peg him as one of the good guys.
Today, however, his mood is black and dangerous. Today his shape-shifter name fits him. Rattlesnake.
I look around.
The bar is deserted.
Unusual for a Saturday afternoon.
He’s in my head. What did you expect? I lost two hosts. That crazy bitch killed one outright and took off with the other. His body was found yesterday in the desert. I thought Williams was a menace. His wife is worse.
I’m sorry. I had no idea. I thought having her brought here was better than the alternative—sending her out to hunt on her own. The Revengers have left us alone for a while. She was frantic to feed and I didn’t want to take the chance she’d do something to attract them.
The Revengers are a powerful human group sworn to exterminate the vampire race. They have been around since the time of the Crusades when vampires and heretics were hunted with the same fervor. There has been no activity lately to attract their unwanted and dangerous attention. My intention was to keep it that way.
Culebra throws the towel down, snarls, Vampire hunters are the least of your worries. Once word gets around, how many hosts do you think will come back here? Or vampires looking to safely feed? Sanctuary has been violated. I’m not sure I can fix this. I’m not sure I want to.
His words trigger a spasm of alarm. Why not? This is your home. Your livelihood. What would you do?
Retire. Sit on a beach. Think of myself for a change. Drink tequila all day and fuck all night. Sounds like a pretty good plan right now.
This is so unlike Culebra, I don’t know how to react. Is he simply venting? He can’t be serious. He’s run this place for decades. It’s where I come to feed. It’s where I’ve come when I’ve needed help. It’s where he saved David’s life and where I saved Culebra’s.
He must be kidding.
Do I look like I’m kidding?
He blames me for what happened. There is so much malice in his tone, the realization hits me like a physical blow. I wish it were physical. I wish he would hit me. Yell. Scream. Get it out of his system. No physical injury could be more painful than Culebra’s hostility.
Don’t be too sure, vampire. He leans toward me. His tone is dry, vibrates in the back of his throat like the warning sound of a rattler before it strikes.
The animal in me responds to the threat. I tense, take a wary step forward, two predators sniffing each other out.
No. This isn’t the way it should be between us. I step back, shaking my head. Why are you doing this? I thought we were friends.
His laugh is merciless. We are friends when you need something from me. I owe you for saving me from the witch Belinda Burke, but even that was not done without ulterior motives. You had your own score to settle. The drug lord Martinez wanted you dead. She sold you out to him. You lost Max because of what happened in Mexico. Admit it, A
And what if I did? He’s begi
His eyes narrow as he watches and listens. I don’t care. I had a reason for coming here today and I fucking well plan to get what I came for.
“Williams is dead.” My voice is shrill, my hands windmill around. The story erupts like a geyser. “I just get back from France where that maniac Lance and his crazy sire Julian Underwood attempted to use me in some stupid plan because they think I’m the reincarnation of a Basque goddess, and now I find out that Mrs. Williams has more than likely kidnapped David so she can use me to carry out a stupid plan of her own. I’m tired, scared, in need of counsel. It’s why I came here. To see the wisest man I’ve ever known. I know he’s here somewhere, Culebra. Under all that self-pitying, tortured, indulgent load of crap you’ve been spewing, I know he’s still here. You can beat me up later, when we’re all safe. Right now, I need my friend.”
I run out of words and invective at the same time. Part of me feels relieved to have gotten the story out, part of me wonders if I’ve driven Culebra out of my life forever. Either way, I’m too weary to care.
Culebra is still staring, his body rigid as he peers at me with cold eyes. I don’t try to get into his head. I can’t take any more abuse.
The seconds tick by. I break the stalemate first. This is useless. I may as well go straight to Frey for a strategy session. I can’t even remember now why I came here. I turn to go.
Culebra’s words reach me at the door.
“Someone really thought you were a reincarnated Basque goddess? Now that’s crazy.”
CHAPTER 34
Sarcasm. A very good sign. I sneak a look over my shoulder and Culebra is reaching under the counter. He pulls out a couple of Coronas and holds one out. I traipse back to the bar, sink onto a stool and take the proffered beer. We clink bottles and drink.
After a moment I venture a tentative, “What was all that stuff about retiring? You wouldn’t really close this place down would you?”
He waves a hand. “There might not be anything left to close down. Look around. That Williams woman drove all my customers away, hosts and vampires. She was nuts. She killed a mortal without a shred of remorse and when I tried to stop her, she knocked me cold. I thought you said she was newly turned.”
“She is. Williams turned her when he was in need of blood. Not more than six or eight weeks ago. About the time of Ortiz’ funeral. Until now, she’s never had to feed on her own. Williams must have been letting her feed from him.”
I know how powerful that co
Love fucks up a lot of things. Maybe if I’d kept a clearer head about Lance—
Culebra is in my head before I realize those last thoughts were left unguarded.
“I’m sorry Lance betrayed you. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“Why not?” I put the bottle down, rest my elbows on the bar.
“I was an idiot. Lance and his sire were part of some nutty Basque traditionalist group that believed their goddess, Mari, would return to earth and signal a resurgence of the old ways—whatever the hell they are. Julian Underwood convinced Lance I was Mari. Partly, I suppose, because of Williams’ insistence that I was this Chosen One. Anyway, Underwood and Williams devised a plan. Long story short, they sent Lance to keep an eye on me. Williams told Lance to tell me that you sent him.”
I lean forward, waiting for Culebra to make a comment on my gullibility.
To his credit, he doesn’t. Not even in his head. I continue. “It worked. Lance and I became close. Williams made the mistake of trusting Underwood. He probably knew nothing about the Basque thing. Thought Underwood’s goals were the same as his. He was wrong and ended up a pile of ash in a torched car.”
“And what about Underwood and Lance?”
“Underwood is a corpse. Lance isn’t. At least not yet.”
Culebra is quiet for a moment when I finish. His dark gaze feels like a drill boring into my head.