Dark and Stormy Page 3

  “Did you call just to say hello?” Othello replied.

  “Well, no…”

  “Listen, Quinn, I’ve got things to do, so—”

  “I need a boat.”

  “A what?” Othello asked, surprised.

  “A boat, and someone who’s been to Fae…and probably someone who knows how to drive a boat.”

  Othello was silent on the other line for at least a minute before responding. “Is this what you’ve been up to lately? You’ve been trying to figure out your own way in?”

  I sighed, knowing what she was getting at, even if she hadn’t said it directly. Months ago, after our little foray in New York City, Othello had promised to put me in touch with someone who could get me into Fae. Unfortunately, that someone had turned out to be none other than Nate Temple—the self-proclaimed King of St. Louis and Othello’s boss.

  That’s right, the only man I knew who could get me into Fae was the man I’d drawn a shotgun on.

  My luck in a nutshell.

  To be fair, he’d caught me at a bad time. Fresh from a nerve-wracking meeting with the Winter Queen and learning I’d been manipulated by the Chancery, I hadn’t exactly thrown out the welcome mat. Of course, it might have helped if the bastard hadn’t broken into my apartment in the middle of the night on a whim. At this point, however, I was willing to let bygones be bygones…but it seemed the billionaire wizard had a hard time letting things go.

  Stubborn much?

  “Well, it’s not like I can expect anyone else to help me, can I?” I asked, bitterly.

  “That’s not fair. Nate’s got a lot on his mind right now, that’s all. I’m sure you two could settle this if you simply met up and talked things out.”

  A brief flash of irritation spiked. “I don’t have time to nurse the wizard’s precious feelin’s,” I said. “If he feels like callin’ to apologize, I’ll be happy to listen. But if he wants to keep actin’ like a spoiled child, then he can go fuck himself.”

  Othello sighed. “He’s not the only one acting like a child.”

  “What was that?” I growled.

  “Nothing. Just marveling at how remarkable it is to have such similarly pigheaded friends. So,” she continued, before I could retort, “you need a boat. And a crew. And someone who’s been to Fae. Is that right?”

  “Aye,” I grumbled, reminding myself that it was best not to pick a fight with the person whose help you needed.

  “Couldn’t you ask one of the Faelings in your area?” Othello asked. “I mean I know you’re not on the best of terms with the Chancery, but surely you could rope one of their number into it.”

  “Aye, I could, but I can’t risk it,” I replied. “Not unless I want the Chancery gettin’ wind of what I’m up to. Besides, most of the Fae here were exiled for a reason. I’d end up owin’ whoever I asked.”

  “Ah, so you’d rather owe me,” Othello purred.

  I frowned. Something about the way she said that made my Spidey-senses tingle. “Aye, what of it?” I asked.

  “Let’s say I get you everything you’re asking for…you’d owe me a favor then, right?”

  I thought about that for a moment. Othello and I had traded favors back and forth for a while now, but lately I’d been doing all the asking. Hell, I already owed her for the phone in my hand; if she managed to hook me up with everything I was asking for, I’d be firmly in her debt, no doubt about it. “Aye. So what is it ye want?” I asked, cautiously.

  “I want you to apologize to Nate Temple.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Othello, I—”

  “That’s my condition. I get you what you want, and I’ll put you on the first flight to St. Louis as soon as you get back from your…Faecation. Once you’re here, you and he can have a nice, quiet chat. You apologize to him for pointing a gun at him, and I’ll make sure he apologizes to you for popping into your apartment unannounced.”

  “Why can’t he come to me?” I insisted. “He’s the one who can snap his fingers and appear wherever the hell he pleases.” That wasn’t me being hyperbolic, either; the man could literally create gateways that would take him around the world using his magic—the physics of which still baffled me. Of course, if that failed, I was pretty sure he could use his private jet.

  Because every rich asshole I’d ever met had a private jet.

  “Because,” Othello said, with a sigh, “it’s not safe for him to leave St. Louis right now. Things here are…less than ideal.”

  “How bad?” I asked, catching the frustration in Othello’s voice.

  “Bad enough that Nate can’t afford to have another enemy. In fact, he needs all the friends he can get, right about now.”

  I frowned. “Fine, but he better apologize, too, or I walk.”

  Othello chuckled darkly. “Don’t worry, he owes me plenty of favors.”

  I sighed. “Alright, well, about my Fae tour guide—”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Othello said, sounding like the cat who ate the canary, “I have just the vampire.”

  Chapter 4

  Alucard Morningstar, Othello’s vampiric candidate, ambled into the Seven Deadly Inn with an easy smile and cool, calculating eyes. I tried not to stare, but it was tough; the man was about my height, built lean and roguishly handsome—like a young Daniel Day Lewis squaring off against the French in The Last of the Mohicans. He’d dressed casually in a pair of black jeans and boots, sporting a tight white t-shirt that stood in stark relief against his dark brown hair and eyes—not to mention his slight tan. If I was being honest, though, the tan was easily the most eye-catching.

  Vampires, as a rule, weren’t tan.

  But then I guess Alucard wasn’t exactly your average, everyday vampire.

  I tried to ignore the Daywalker as he sidled up next to me at the bar, at least until—despite several competing smells—I caught a whiff of his cologne, a crisp, citrusy scent like freshly peeled oranges beneath the summer sun. I leaned in a bit, trying to detect the faint aroma of blood, that sweet, metallic odor that rode every fanger’s sweat glands—Eau de Dracula—but all I got for my trouble was a raised eyebrow.

  “Are you smelling me, cher?” Alucard asked.

  “A girl can never be too careful,” I replied, enigmatically.

  Alucard grunted. “I can’t argue with that. They’ll invite anyone in around here, seems to me,” he said, flashing a grin with too much fang in it.

  I jabbed him in the arm with my fork. “Knock it off. If the Chancery finds out a Master vampire is in town, there’ll be hell to pay. Best to keep a low profile.”

  “Well then,” Alucard drawled, “you may want to pull your fork out of my arm before the natives get restless.” He eyed the fork disdainfully as though it had done something to offend him. I cursed and quickly withdrew it. “That’s better,” he said, dabbing at his bloody arm with a napkin he’d snatched off the bar. “Glad to see your field is up and running. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to get stabbed by a utensil.”

  “Let me guess, Miss Scarlet with a knife in the kitchen?” I asked, playfully.

  “Well, you got the knife bit right, at least. But it was Mrs. White. In the study,” Alucard added, grinning, his fangs retracted.

  I cocked an eyebrow, surprised that Alucard had gotten the reference. Most vampires were remarkably out of touch with all things modern, especially frivolous mortal contrivances like board games. Not that I minded; I could live a nice, full life without ever seeing what a vampire’s version of Candyland looked like.

  “Clue was on the list you gave me,” Alucard explained, with a shrug.

  I frowned for a moment, then perked up, remembering that I’d given Alucard a list of movies to watch during our last letter exchange. Seemed like he’d done his homework. Of course, that reminded me I still hadn’t responded to the letter he’d sent a few weeks back. I hadn’t even opened it, honestly. It wasn’t even Alucard’s fault; his letter-writing skills were topnotch. Excellent penmanship. The problem was that, deep
down, I knew it would never work out. I was a Freak, sure, but Alucard was a vampire. An immortal who fed on mortals to survive. No matter how fun he was to talk to, I knew better than to try and build a relationship on a foundation caked with blood.

  “Right,” I said, finally, glancing away to hide my guilty expression.

  “It’s alright, cher,” Alucard said. “Othello filled me in. Seems like you’ve had a busy few months. Taking out a serial killer, your friend going missing, losing a boyfriend…”

  “Jimmy wasn’t me boyfriend,” I hissed, whirling around.

  Alucard put his hands up in surrender, but that grin remained. “Glad to hear it.”

  I leveled a finger at him. “Ye better watch yourself, or I swear I’ll find out where ye sleep and put a stake through your tiny, black heart,” I threatened.

  “Oh, I don’t mind telling you where I sleep. You’ll just have to decide for yourself what you want to do to me when you get there,” Alucard replied, winking.

  I rolled my eyes, but felt myself blushing. “Dream on, fanger,” I said, turning away once more.

  “Oh, I will, cher, don’t you worry. But before you go stabbing me with that fork again, how ‘bout you tell me why we’re here? Not that I’m offended by the décor, mind you,” Alucard said, taking in the strip club with one long, admiring look.

  Before I could respond, Vanity made her way to our end of the bar, thrusting a Church Key—the long paddle-like bottle opener used by bartenders everywhere—into her back pocket. “Hey, Quinn. The usual?” she asked.

  Alucard arched an eyebrow and coughed into his hand.

  “Aye,” I replied, elbowing the Daywalker as hard as I could in the ribs. “But make it a double.”

  I was pretty damn sure I was going to need a stiffer drink than usual to get through tonight without shooting anyone. Awkward social situations like these always made my trigger finger itch.

  No wonder I had no friends.

  “Alright. And you?” Vanity asked, eyeing Alucard up and down like a bar of soap she wouldn’t mind using for the next couple weeks until it fell apart in her hands.

  “He’s gay,” I said, waving her off. “Very, very gay.” Alucard exploded into a coughing fit.

  “Hmm…well, that’s a shame,” Vanity said, shrugging. She turned and headed towards the wall of liquor, fetching a bottle of whiskey off the shelf. I watched her pour four fingers worth in a short glass while I did my best to ignore Alucard’s vengeful stare. “So, what can I get you?” she asked Alucard as she returned with my drink, no longer the least bit flirtatious.

  Alucard sighed. “I don’t suppose you carry blood of the innocent, do you?”

  Vanity smirked. “Fresh out.”

  “I’ll take a Jack and Coke, then,” he said, dispassionately.

  While Vanity prepared Alucard’s drink, I studied the club, taking stock of the place. Alucard was right; the décor was worthwhile, but it sure as shit wasn’t the tamest place I could have chosen. Happy hour was in full swing, and a slew of businessmen fresh off work had swarmed the place, their ties loosened, clutching their first round of drinks the way some people do their morning coffee. There were at least seven girls working, some serving, some dancing. The music wasn’t loud enough to be oppressive, especially not this early in the evening, but it was there in the background, like a heartbeat, pumping energy into the place.

  “Here you are,” Vanity said, passing Alucard his order before wandering towards the other side of the bar where a small contingent of off-duty cops had congregated—their corner of the bar a veritable testoster-zone.

  I turned to Alucard, prepared to answer his question, when I realized he was actually drinking his Jack and Coke. I gaped at him. “What are ye doin’?” I asked, yanking his arm down, his drink spilling a little in the process.

  “What?” Alucard asked, eyes wide, frozen like I’d caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.

  “Ye can’t drink that,” I hissed, pointing to his Jack and Coke.

  Alucard snorted, then polished off the whole thing in one smooth chug. He smacked his lips. “You know, cher, if I was a religious man,” he said, licking the excess liquid off the curve of his hand like a cat, “I’d thank God every day for this Coke shit. Soda came round after I was turned, more’s the pity.”

  “How d’ye do that?” I asked, flabbergasted. As far as I knew, vampires couldn’t say God’s name in any fashion without consequence, and they sure as shit couldn’t consume anything except blood. Their bodies would instantly reject it. Water was an exception, but even that they could only drink in small increments—a trick vampires routinely used to conceal themselves when out in public.

  That’s right, folks, the next time you see someone drinking water at a bar while everyone else is having a good time…stake that motherfucker.

  Or at least spike their drink with a little holy water.

  “You aren’t the only one with peculiar abilities,” Alucard said, shrugging. “Hell, you find me a Bible and I’ll solemnly swear I’m up to no good.”

  I snickered before I could help myself; guess he’d watched Harry Potter, too.

  Good vampire.

  “Aye, well, what else can ye do?” I asked. I already knew Alucard was a Master vampire; he’d confessed as much before he’d gone toe-to-toe with Magnus, the Master of New York, to save a harem of vampire thralls. Of course, I still wasn’t sure what being a Master vampire entailed, exactly. From what I understood, they were exceedingly rare, and exceptionally elusive. But it turned out that Alucard was rarer, still—even Magnus had talked about the former Master of New Orleans like he was a Goddamned bloodsucking unicorn. I’d been skeptical, myself, at least until I saw Alucard turn into a flaming angel of death during his fight with Magnus.

  It was hot.

  Pun intended.

  Alucard shrugged in response to my question. “Still figuring that out.”

  “Is that how ye got the tan?” I asked, pointing at the exposed skin of Alucard’s throat.

  “Naw, that was a gift from the Council. Thought it would be fun to lock me in a cell and let the sun have me, after what I did to Magnus. Apparently, I’m a danger to vampire society. Course, when that didn’t work, they tried to starve me out. And, when that didn’t work, they offered me his job.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Does that make ye the Master of New York?”

  “I’m still on the fence,” Alucard said, rubbing his fingers along the condensation dripping down his glass. “And we’re about to have company.”

  “We what?” I asked.

  I felt someone collapse onto the barstool beside me, jostling my arm. I spun around, prepared to throw down with whoever had decided to interrupt our reunion—Freak or Faeling—only to discover it was only one of the off-duty cops I’d seen pounding shots a few minutes ago. He was a big, broad bastard with a buzz cut so severe I could see scalp beneath, a small pool of sweat already marring his too-tight t-shirt, eyes bleary and bloodshot.

  He smelled like booze and bad decisions.

  “Well, hello there, gorgeous,” he said, propping his head up with one meaty paw. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “Sorry, I don’t work here,” I said, before turning away.

  “Oh, I knew that,” he said, hurriedly. “Wait…why would that matter?”

  “Because,” I said, still turned, “it means ye can’t pay me to spend time with ye.”

  Alucard sniggered, then suddenly became very preoccupied with the ceiling. Of course, it was too late; the big guy was already sliding off his barstool, towering over us both. He folded his arms across his chest. “You think that’s funny?” he asked.

  Alucard sighed. “Does this always happen when you’re around?” he asked, flicking his eyes at me.

  “Does what always happen?” I asked.

  “Hey, pretty boy, I’m talking to you,” the big guy said, before Alucard could respond. “Did you think that was funny, what she said?”

  Alucard rol
led his eyes, but swiveled on his stool so he could stare up at the much larger man. He leaned back, resting both elbows on the bar top behind him, his t-shirt pulled taut across his chest. “No, I didn’t.”

  The cop glared down at the vampire, grunted, and uncrossed his arms, clearly feeling better now that he’d asserted his dominance.

  “What I find funny is you thinking you ever stood a chance with someone as classy as this lady,” Alucard said, his eyes as flat and emotionless as his voice. Like a shark. I stiffened, recognizing that raptorial gaze for what it was—the stare of a man who’d killed, not out of necessity, but for fun.

  Because he liked it.

  The cop froze under those eyes. Any other drunken lout might have disregarded the smaller man and picked a fight, but a cop knew better. You couldn’t protect and serve as a career and ignore stares like Alucard’s, stares that guaranteed extreme and indiscriminate violence. It would be like dismissing the leader of a drug cartel, or a mob boss, or a senator—suicide, one way or another.

  The pool of sweat around the big man’s throat widened almost instantaneously.

  “Well, whatever,” he said, skirting around us like we had the plague. He headed back to his buddies at the end of the bar and, within seconds, had the whole damn precinct looking at us.

  “Time to go,” I said, tossing back my whiskey. It burned all the way down, just the way I liked.

  “You’re the boss,” Alucard drawled, slipping off his barstool. I noticed Vanity standing nearby, eyeing Alucard, her stare steady and gauging. Guess my little ploy hadn’t paid off. Oh well, she’d probably have made a move on him at some point, anyway.

  Sometimes we women simply can’t help ourselves.

  We spot the baddest man in the room...and go straight for him.

  Chapter 5

  We made a beeline for Alucard’s car, huddling beneath his umbrella, the rain careening off its slick surface to join the pooling liquid at our feet. The streetlights and signals cast eerie glows across the wet asphalt, making it hard to tell where the lights ended, and the roads began. I noticed that Alucard kept the umbrella firmly over me—allowing his left shoulder to get wet to keep me dry.