Vampire State of Mind, page 6
Hands heavy with dignity, I passed the tranq gun back to its owner and managed to walk all the way back to my parked car before shock caught up with me.
Chapter Seven
Next morning, as soon as I arrived at work, I was greeted with, ‘Well, if it’s not the hero of the hour!’
‘Don’t. Just don’t. It was horrible, Liam. Really. Never let me get volunteered for anything like that again.’
Liam shoved the daily paper under my nose. There, spread across the front page, was a truly dreadful picture of me leaving the Museum Gardens, ice-cream stains across the front of my shirt and an inexplicable, but heroic, smear of blood across my cheek, which I suspected someone had Photoshopped in. ‘You “helped save lives”, apparently. You should be proud of yourself, Jessie.’ His voice was gentle. ‘And, for the record, I wouldn’t have let you go if I’d known how bad it was.’
I stared at my picture. ‘Does my nose really look like that?’
‘Only sometimes.’
‘Great! Well, they can keep it. I couldn’t be a Hunter, going through that all the time. There’s plenty of people like me out there, let them recruit from that five per cent and leave me alone.’
‘No, Jessie,’ Liam laid the paper down, folded so that the ‘nose shot’ was less visible, which unfortunately meant that my chest was on the crease-line, ‘five per cent of the population is like me. I don’t think there’s anyone out there who works like you do. By the way,’ he swivelled his chair so that he faced his computer and couldn’t see my expression, ‘talking of that, Sil came by earlier.’
All the reactions that I should have felt facing down the hell-hound – the nausea, increased heart rate – hit me like delayed shock. ‘What?’ I asked faintly. ‘When?’
‘’bout ten minutes ago. Came to find out how you were.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘Honestly. He looked shitty, if that makes you feel better.’
‘What, not brushed his hair?’ I pretended to be immersed in sorting through some of the papers on my desk, not even seeing them, just keeping my hands busy.
‘Come on, Jessie, we both miss him. I’m sure he’d come back if you asked him. With Zan doing the admin I bet running the city doesn’t take up all his time.’
It was far, far too late to tell Liam the truth now, so I muttered, ‘Budget cuts. It’s him or you,’ which shut him up, and an unusually sullen silence descended on the office.
I stared at my e-mails, all documents, giving various Otherworlders permission to enter the city on a temporary basis, until the print ran into a formless blur. Remembering, whilst trying not to, that evening when the place had been full of swirling paper, falling like moths around us as Sil and I had screamed at each other with a passion which could only ever find its outlet in fighting and vehemence.
And then I’d thrown him out. The best associate I’d ever had, Liam’s friend, my nemesis, my downfall. Sil. Because he was getting too close, because I was afraid.
‘Penny for them?’
I jumped, and dropped the sheaf of papers. ‘Bloody hell! Where did you come from?’ Malfaire, cross-legged and elegant on Liam’s desk, raised an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t hear you come in!’
‘No. You didn’t.’ He stood up and stretched, gracefully and oddly familiarly. ‘Too busy navel-gazing?’ He was wearing a navy-blue suit with a collarless shirt which laced up down the front, dark glasses hid his eyes. He couldn’t have looked any cooler if he’d slithered in coated in ice.
‘I was thinking. Where’s Liam?’
A flash of eyebrows: was that meant to be suggestive? ‘Making coffee. I think he might be leaving us alone together.’
‘I’ll kill him, I’ll bloody kill him,’ I muttered, still trying to switch my head from thinking about Sil to talking intelligent English. ‘So, what can we do for you today?’
‘Apart from make me coffee and give me the opportunity to chat with a, quite frankly, delightful young woman?’
‘I’m not that young!’
‘She’s not that delightful, either.’ Liam came in, carefully balancing three mugs and a plate of our best shortbread. Weird though our visitor may be, he clearly merited top-class treatment – Liam usually just brushed off the custard creams when someone new came in. ‘Trust me.’
‘I came to get your RSVP for the Run tomorrow night. The organisers need exact numbers, you see, and they were slightly concerned that after all your excitement yesterday, you might not want to attend.’ Malfaire removed his glasses, and marmalade-coloured eyes met mine. ‘Are you still planning to attend, Jessica?’ Although his words were business-like, he was scanning me up and down in a way that made me feel slightly uncomfortable; a tinge of magic ran along with his gaze and tickled my skin like a snake’s tongue.
‘I’m not sure.’ I took my mug from Liam and tried to conceal the ‘a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle’ logo by cupping it in my hands. ‘Last night I …’
‘I read the papers. Quite a triumph, by all accounts.’ There was a note of amusement in his voice again.
‘Yeah. But Jessie is still a bit shaken.’ Liam wasn’t looking at Malfaire, he was watching me with concerned eyes. ‘There was a bit of a misunderstanding with a couple of Enforcement officers too, and we still haven’t got to the bottom of that. So maybe mixing with Otherworlders isn’t such a great idea right now.’
He was completely ignored. ‘It is something of a triumph to be invited. Certainly for a human. In fact, I cannot recall any human being requested to attend the Dead Run. A great coup for your department, in fact.’ Hot damn. He certainly knew the buttons to press. York Council would be absolutely wetting its collective padded underwear at the prospect of scoring one over all the other districts that had hosted the Run to date. There would be so much triumphant crowing that the Town Hall would sound like a free-range chicken farm at dawn. ‘And I can promise there won’t be a single hell-hound.’
I pretended to think, propping my chin in my hands and wrinkling my nose, whilst in reality giving our guest a once-over. He should have been good looking. Heart-shaped face, small mouth, just enough stubble and dark-blond floppy hair randomly scattered with lighter streaks, like he’d been on a surfing holiday. There was just this … oddness that stopped me from puddling at his feet, this slight sense of wrongness … What the hell was he? Vampire, demon, or a lucky human? His eyes gave nothing away, neither human nor Other, and trying to scan him was like running my mind over sheets of glass.
If I went to the Dead Run, at least I’d have a chance to find out. ‘I suppose, if it’s safe …’ Plus, think of the kudos. We might even get a rise … hell, we might even start getting paid at post-decimal rates.
Liam groaned. ‘Jessie, are you sure?’
But Malfaire cut his words off again. ‘You will enjoy it. A spectacle, I think they say, something worth seeing. And the Run is being done a little differently this year, had you heard?’ Malfaire carried on conversationally, ignoring Liam’s narked expression. ‘In a simulcrum of the City of York. I think they felt it might add a little more drama to the proceedings.’ He sighed. ‘It’s all about “visual experience” these days, not a pure exhibition any more.’
I almost asked if there would be an attendance fee; after all, I still needed to replace those sandals, and I was already on first-name terms with the girls in the shop where I bought my tights, but when he cocked his head inquisitively towards me, I realised I was supposed to come up with something slightly more intelligent.
‘I … err … I don’t really know very much about it.’
‘No? And yet you knew how to bind a hell-hound?’ His lips twitched when I shrugged. ‘But I suppose you would.’
‘This is the first time the Run’s been held on our patch,’ Liam chipped in. ‘And, from what I gather, no-one else gets told much. The organisers are very “need to know”.’
Malfaire looked at Liam with his head slightly tilted. ‘You are very protective of Jessica, aren’t you? You care a great deal.’
Liam flared red. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, making a spluttering noise, and finally managed to breathe. ‘She’s my boss. I just want to make sure I get paid!’
‘Of course.’ Giving off stylish yeah, pull-the-other-one vibes, Malfaire set to flicking imaginary fluff from an immaculate trouser leg. This drew my attention to the slender length of his thighs and his perfect, form-fitting, tailoring. My mouth should be watering, but wasn’t. Dear God, don’t tell me Sil had ruined me for other men; I’d be doomed to a life filled with cats. I’d turn into Rachel …
The telephone rang and my brain pinged back to reality with an out-of-proportion gratitude. While Liam dealt with the call, my visitor smiled his honeyed smile. ‘So. Can I tell them that your answer is yes?’
‘I …’
‘Is something worrying you? You seem very hesitant, Jessica. Surely you wouldn’t want the vampires to think you are afraid of them and their kin?’
This made me bridle. How dare he imply that I’d ever be scared of a bunch of overly image-conscious, dentally challenged creeps? But he was right. If the word got out that I’d turned down an invite, then someone somewhere would draw that conclusion, and the next step might be an en masse attempt to give me something to be scared of. ‘Malfaire – I – look, it’s just that … I had a warning. About some kind of danger? At the time I thought it was stupid, but with what happened with Enforcement, this invitation, and the Run and everything … are you sure it’s safe?’
The lazy smile died from his face, his eyes hardened. ‘Danger? To you? Where did you hear this?’
‘Vamp called Daim Willis. His demon is Tezrael of the Asgarths. I once did Tezrael a favour and the other day he returned it.’
Malfaire put his coffee mug down very carefully and leaned towards me. I noticed that he smelled of lemon-water and something smoky, and that his skin was very cold when he touched me, cupping my chin in his hand and brushing his eyes over my face to take in all my features. ‘If anyone wished you danger, Jessica, then they would have to go through me first.’
‘That’s,’ I had to stop and clear my throat, ‘very kind of you.’
He released my chin, but his fingers trailed over my skin slowly before he pulled back. ‘I must leave now, so much to do. Take care, and I hope we shall see each other tomorrow.’
And he was gone. Disappeared out of the office as though he’d never been; apart from the half-drunk coffee and the biscuit crumbs, he could have been an illusion.
Liam hung up the phone. ‘Enforcement. No-one there has a clue what happened or how anything got past the shielding. They’re “investigating”, for which read “ignoring the whole thing”’. He stared at me. ‘God, Jessie. You look like you’re going to pass out.’
I touched my face, feeling the cold ridges Malfaire’s fingers had left. ‘Is he, or is he not, totally freaky?’
‘Dunno about freaky, but he’s a bit too smooth for my liking. No-one can be that smooth without having a whole load of weirdo under the surface. He looks like one of those guys you start talking to at a party only to find that they’re a secret train spotter and you have to listen to the lists of “engines that got away”.’ He sighed. ‘Shame they won’t let us shoot train spotters on sight; the Treaty wasn’t all good news.’
‘And still nothing?’
He shook his head. ‘Nope. I was trying like crazy, but, it’s like he’s metal or something. Impervious.’
‘Did you Google him?’
Liam tapped a finger on his keyboard. ‘Couldn’t get anything. Maybe using a false name?’
I chewed my lip. ‘Could be, I suppose. Not like an Otherworlder not to want us to know exactly who they are, though. Do you reckon Zan would have anything on him?’
‘Hard to tell, if he’s using a false name. We could try getting a furtive picture of him, but that’s your job not mine. Last time I did the “concealed camera” thing all we got was four shots of the inside of my pocket and an inexplicable photograph of a pigeon.’
‘Oh no, I am not creeping around taking secret photographs. Can’t you just describe him to Zan?’
‘I’m not sure Mr Social Phobia has a baseline to go from, we’d have to start with defining “walks upright” and I haven’t got that many years left to me. Picture would be better. You could pretend it’s for your “album”. The special, secret one you keep under your bed …’
I threw my phone at him. This was getting to be a pattern; if I wasn’t careful I’d need a new one.
Chapter Eight
The Hagg Baba restaurant was located in one of York’s better streets, one where the cobbles still stood proud. Its simple, understated exterior bore only the carefully symbolic sign, and mirror-effect windows of any other York eaterie, only the folded-back shutters and faint slaughterhouse-whiff of the fresh blood cocktails gave it away as an Otherworld favourite.
‘What’re these for?’ Rach fingered the black shutters as we went past.
‘Blocking out the light. It’s as good as midnight inside for the creatures that can’t take daylight. Ghouls, that kind of thing.’
‘Oh.’ She glanced around to see if anyone was looking, and then adjusted her underwear with a swiftly subtle hoik. ‘These tights are murder.’
‘It’s worth it, you look very nice.’ Rach was clad from head to foot in borrowed dark-blue satin, while I wore a more serviceable knee-length dress in a kind of black-and-red embossed velvet material which looked as though it had been copied from the walls of a Chinese takeaway. My dark hair was piled up on top of my head and pinned loosely in place, a style that was meant to look carefree and relaxed but actually made me look more as though I’d been in the vicinity of a small detonation. I caught my reflection in a window and cursed under my breath. I’d made a real effort tonight, but I was still one windy day and a mixed-wash accident away from presentable.
A uniformed man took our coats, and Rach hissed at me, wide-eyed, ‘Is he a vampire?’
‘No. Human.’
‘Oh.’ Disappointed, she stared out of the windows into the street outside. ‘How about him? Over there? The foxy looking guy with his arm around the blonde?’
‘Human.’
‘Oh, blast.’
‘Can you really not tell? Doesn’t looking at a vampire make you feel all …’ I waved an arm in lieu of words, ‘odd?’
Rach gave me a look. ‘You mean horny? I’ve heard about what they do, how they mess with your head to get you to – do whatever they want.’ She gave a half-scared, half-hopeful shiver.
‘They can. But for some reason it doesn’t work on me.’ I shrugged. ‘Don’t know why.’
She turned away to stare around the restaurant foyer. ‘But then you’ve always been a bit strange yourself, Jessie, haven’t you? Maybe that’s why.’
Gosh, thanks Rachel.
We were shown to our table (not a good one, right at the back, but at least handy for the toilets) and sat down. I adjusted my dress carefully, so as not to let the three tranq syringes I had in my pocket show, which would be the equivalent of pumping a shotgun in a crowded bar.
‘What’s that lump in your skirt?’
‘Ssssh, Rach! Just a precaution.’ I pushed the narrow tubes with their sleeved, wide-aperture needles further down so that they lay flat along the pocket seam. I’d decided that the gun would be overkill and I could work the little hypodermics by hand if it was essential.
‘Why? Do you think it might be dangerous?’ She shifted in pleasurable fear. Like most of the generation too young to remember the Troubles, vampire attack for Rach was a sexy, moodily lit scene from a late-night film, rather than the subtle back-alley assault that it tended to be in real life.
‘No, but it is my job to be prepared. I’d hate to see the headlines if I let something kick off that I could have prevented.’ Yeah, I needed another sarcastic caption like I needed two holes in my throat.
‘Oh.’ Rachel lost interest in my sartorial peculiarities, and stared at the waiters coming in with laden trays. ‘We don’t have to eat anything funny, do we?’
‘No, it’s all right, there’s a human option for us.’ I turned my attention away from her again, scoping the room but coming up with nothing more menacing than the blackness caused by a Shadow squatting near the bar, invisible in this non-light, drinking gin. The place was crowded out because the Hagg Baba was one of the few places in the city where real blood, brought in from the States where they paid a premium to donors, was served. Apparently, human blood is as different from synthetic as low-alcohol lager is from Stella. I’d investigated the Hagg Baba a couple of times during boring moments, but the paperwork all checked out, so I had to assume it was legit.
The human menu turned out to be more than adequate, with roasted quail served alongside exquisite terrines of vegetables, and lovingly embellished Beef Wellington sitting amid a vat of onion gravy. ‘So, now what happens?’ Rach asked, refilling her glass with the, seemingly, limitless free wine.
‘Dunno. From what I’m told, they read out a list of the runners and then everyone … well, it’s a bit hard to explain but … the race doesn’t actually happen here.’
‘So there’s, what, like a bus or something?’
‘No, it’s here, but it’s not here, if you see what I mean. The actual race takes place in another dimension. Y’see, what it is, this world is where a lot of dimensions touch,’ I used the cruet to build a demonstration model, ‘and some clever dick has found out how to open the door to certain places. A hundred years ago, no-one knows why, it opened by accident to the demon dimension, hence the vampires and the werewolves and everything, but today it might be …’ Earth was destroyed as the pepper pot fell over. ‘Are you listening?’
