Chrissy Andrews.
Xhex eased sat back in her chair. When was she killed?
How do you know shes dead?
Dont play games, Detective. Why else would someone from Homicide be asking about her?
Sorry, Im in interrogation mode. He slipped his shield back into his inside breast pocket and sat in the hard-backed chair across from her. Tenant below her apartment woke up to a bloodstain on his ceiling and the guy called the police. No one in the apartment building will admit to knowing Ms. Andrews, and she has no next of kin that we can locate. While we were going through her place, though, we found tax returns listing this club as her employer. Bottom line, we need someone to identify the body and-
Xhex stood up, the word motherfucker banging around her skull. Ill do it. Let me get my men organized so I can leave.
De la Cruz blinked, like he was surprised she was so quick. Youah, you want a ride down to the morgue?
St. Francis?
Yup.
I know the way. Ill meet you there in twenty.
De la Cruz got to his feet slowly, his eyes sharp on her face, as if he were searching for signs of trepidation. I guess its a date.
Dont worry, Detective. Im not going to faint at the sight of a dead body.
He looked her up and down. You knowsomehow that doesnt concern me.
FOUR
As Rehvenge drove into the Caldwell city limits, he wished like hell he were going directly to ZeroSum. He knew better, though. He was in trouble.
Since leaving Montrags Connecticut safe house, hed pulled his Bentley over to the side of the road and shot himself up with dopamine twice. His miracle drug, however, was failing him again. If hed had more of the shit in the car, hed have fired up another syringe, but he was out.
The irony of a drug dealer having to go to his dealer at a dead run was not lost, and it was a damn shame there wasnt more of a demand for the neurotransmitter on the black market. As it stood now, Rehvs only supply was through legitimate means, but he was going to have to fix that. If he was smart enough to funnel X, coke, weed, meth, OxyC, and heroin through his two clubs, surely he could figure out how the hell to get his own vials of dopamine.
Ah, come on, move your ass. Its just a goddamned exit ramp. Youve seen one before.
Hed made good time on the highway, but now that he was in town, traffic slowed his progress, and not just because of congestion. With his lack of depth perception, judging bumper distances was tricky, so he had to go far more carefully than he liked.
And then there was this fidiot in his twelve-hundred-year-old beater and his overactive braking habits.
Nonoby all that is holy dont change lanes. You cant even see out your rearview mirror as it is-
Rehv punched on the brakes because Mr. Timid was actually thinking he belonged over in the fast lane and seemed to think the way to get into it was to come to a dead stop.
Usually, Rehv loved to drive. He even preferred it to dematerializing because it was the only time when he was medicated that he felt like he was himself: fast, nimble, powerful. He drove a Bentley not just because it was chic and he could afford one, but for the six hundred horses under the hood. Being numb and relying on a cane for balance made him feel like an old, crippled male a lot of the time, and it was good to benormal.
Of course, the no-feeling thing had its benes. For example, when he banged his forehead into the steering wheel in another couple minutes, he was just going to see stars. The headache? No prob.
The vampire races stopgap clinic was about fifteen minutes past the bridge he was just getting on, and the facility was not sufficient for the needs of its patients, being little more than a safe house converted into a field hospital. Still, the Hail Mary solution was all the race had at the moment, a bench player brought in because the quarterbacks leg was snapped in half.
Following the raids over the summer, Wrath was working with the races physician to get a new permanent location, but like everything it was taking time. With so many places sacked by the Lessening Society, no one thought it was a good idea to use real estate currently owned by the race, because God only knew how many other locales had been leaked. The king was looking to buy another place, but it had to be secluded and
Rehv thought of Montrag.
Had the war really come down to murdering Wrath?
The rhetorical, initiated by his mothers vampire side, rippled through his mind, but triggered no emotion whatsoever. Calculation carried his thoughts. Calculation unencumbered by morality. The conclusion hed reached as hed left Montrags did not waver, his resolution only growing stronger.
Thank you, dearest Virgin Scribe, he muttered as the beater slid out of his way and his exit presented itself like a gift, the reflective green sign a tag with his name on it.
Green?
Rehv looked around. The red wash had started to drain out of his vision, the other colors of the world reappearing through the two-dimensional haze, and he took a deep breath of relief. He didnt want to go juiced to the clinic.
As if on schedule, he started to feel cold, even though the Bentley was no doubt a balmy seventy degrees, and he reached forward and cranked the heat. The chills were another good, if inconvenient sign the medication was starting to work.
For as long as he had been alive, hed had to keep secret what he was. Sin-eaters like him had two choices: They either passed as normals or they got sent upstate to the colony, deported from society like the toxic waste they were. That he was a half-breed didnt matter. If you had any symphath in you, you were considered one of them, and with good reason. The thing about symphaths was, they liked the evil in themselves too much to be trusted.
For fucks sake, look at tonight. Look at what he was prepared to do. One conversation and he was pulling the trigger-not even because he had to, just because he wanted to. Needed to, was more like it. Power plays were oxygen for his bad side, both undeniable and sustaining. And the whys behind his choice were typically symphath: They served him and no one else, not even the king who was a friend of sorts.
This was why, if an everyday, average vampire knew of a sin-eater who was out and about in the gen pop, by law they had to report the individual for deportation or face criminal action: Regulating the whereabouts of sociopaths and keeping them away from the moral and the law-abiding was a healthy survival instinct for any society.
Twenty minutes later, Rehv pulled up to an iron gate that was downright industrial in its function over form. The thing was without any grace whatsoever, nothing but solid shafts bolted together and topped with a curly wig of barbed-wire coil. To the left there was an intercom, and as he put down his window to hit the call button, security cameras focused on the grille of his car and the front windshield and the drivers-side door.
So he was not surprised at the tense tone of the female voice that answered. SireI was not aware that you had an appointment?
I dont.
Pause. As a nonemergency walk-in, the wait time could be rather long. Perhaps you would like to schedule-
He glared into the closest camera eye. Let me in. Now. I have to see Havers. And this is an emergency.
He had to get back to the club and check in. The four hours hed blown already this evening were a lifetime when it came to managing the likes of ZeroSum and the Iron Mask. Shit didnt just happen in places like those, it was SOP, and his fist was the one with Buck Stops Here tatted on the knuckles.
After a moment, those ugly-ass, rock-solid gates slid free, and he didnt waste time on the mile-long driveway.
As he came around the last turn, the farmhouse up ahead didnt warrant the kind of security it had, at least not if you took it at face value. The two-story clapboard was barely a colonial, and it was totally pared-down. No porches. No shutters. No chimneys. No plantings.
Compared to Haverss old crib and clinic setup it was the poor relation to a garden shed.
He parked opposite the detached bank of garages where the ambulances were kept and got out. The fact that the cold December night made him shiver was another good sign, and he reached into the Bentleys backseat to take out his cane and one of his many sable dusters. Along with numbness, the downside of his chemical mask was a drop in core temperature that turned his veins into air-conditioning coils. Living out his nights and days in a body he couldnt feel or warm was not a party, but it wasnt as if he had a choice.
Maybe if his mother and his sister hadnt been normals, he might have Darth Vadered himself and embraced the dark side, living out his days fucking with the minds of his comrades-in-harm. But hed put himself in the position of being head of his household, and that kept him in this stretch of neither here nor there.
Rehv walked around the side of the colonial, pulling the sable in close to his throat. When he came up to a nothing-looking door, he rang the button that was tacked onto the aluminum siding and stared into an electronic eye. A moment later, an air lock popped with a hiss, and he pushed his way into a white room the size of a walk-in closet. After he stared into a cameras face, another seal popped free, a hidden panel shifted back, and he descended a set of stairs. Another check-in. Another door. And then he was in.
The reception area was every clinics patient-and-family parking lot, with rows of chairs and magazines on little tables and a TV and some plants. It was smaller than the one at the old clinic, but it was clean and well-ordered. The two females sitting in it both stiffened as they saw him.
Right this way, sire.
Rehv smiled at the nurse who came around the reception desk. For him, a long wait was always one in an exam room. The nurses didnt like him spooking the folks in those rows of chairs, and they didnt like him around themselves, either.
Worked for him. He wasnt the socializing kind.
The exam room he was led down to was located on the nonemergency side of the clinic, and it was one hed been in before. Hed been in all of them before.
The doctor is in surgery and the rest of the staff are with other patients, but Ill have a colleague come take your vitals as soon as I can. The nurse left him like somebody had just coded down the hall and she was the only one with paddles.
Rehv got up on the table, keeping his coat on and his cane in his palm. To pass the time, he closed his eyes and let the emotions in the place seep into him like a panoramic vista: The walls of the basement dissolved away and the emotional grids of each individual emerged from out of the darkness, a host of different vulnerabilities and anxieties and weaknesses exposed to his symphath side.
He held the remote to all of them, instinctually knowing what buttons to push on the female nurse next door who was worried that her hellren wasnt attracted to her anymorebut who had still had too much to eat at First Meal. And the male she was treating who had fallen down the stairs and cut his armbecause hed been into the booze. And the pharmacist across the hall who up until recently had been lifting Xanax for his personal useuntil hed found the hidden cameras put in place to catch him.
Self-destruction in others was a symphaths favorite reality show to watch, and it was especially good when you were the producer. And even though his vision was now back to normal and his body was numb and cold, what he was at his core was just banked, not spent.
For the kind of shows he could put on, there was an endless source of inspiration and funding.
Shit.
As Butch parked the Escalade in front of the clinics garages, Wraths mouth did some more pull-ups on the curse bar. In the headlights of the SUV, Vishous was spotlit like some frickin calendar girl, all sprawled out on the hood of a very familiar Bentley.
Wrath unclipped his seat belt and opened his door.
Surprise, surprise, my lord, V said as he straightened and knocked on the sedans hood. Musta been a short meeting downtown with our buddy Rehvenge, huh. Unless that guys figured out how to be in two places at once. In which case, I need to know his secret, true?
Mother. Fucker.
Wrath got out of the SUV and decided the best course was to ignore the Brother. Other options included trying to reason his way out of the lie, which would suck because of all Vs failings, none were intellectual; or in the alternative, instigating a fistfight, which would be only a temporary diversion and would waste time when they both had to get their Humpty Dumptys put back together.
Going around, Wrath opened the rear door of the Escalade. Heal your boy. Ill deal with the body.
As he lifted the civilians lifeless weight up and turned, Vs stare locked on a face that was beaten beyond recognition.
Goddamn it, V breathed.
At that moment, Butch stumbled out from behind the wheel looking like a hot mess. As the smell of baby powder wafted over, his knees went loose and he barely caught the door for support in time.
Vishous flashed over and took the cop into his arms, holding him close. Shit, man, how you doing?
Readyfor anything. Butch clung to his best friend. Just need to be under the heat lamp for a bit.
Heal him, Wrath said as he started for the clinic. Im going in.
As he walked off, the doors of the Escalade shut one after the other, and then there was a glow like clouds had broken free of the moon. He knew what the two were doing inside the SUV, because hed seen the routine once or twice: They were wrapped around each other, the white light of Vs hand suffusing them both, the evil that Butch had inhaled leaching out into V.
Thank God there was a way to cleanse that shit out of the cop. And being a healer was good for V, too.
Wrath came up to the first door of the clinic and just stared up into the security camera. He was buzzed in immediately, and the instant the air lock had resealed, the hidden panel to the stairs popped open. It took no time at all to get down into the clinic.
The king of the race with a dead male in his arms wasnt stopped for a nanosecond.