“Looks like you gotta brain after all,” Nicky said. “Now sit your ass down and start talking.”
“It’s like Snow said,” Aloysius began. “We’ve been trying to start a new life. We thought maybe we’d open up our own escort service, fall back on what I know. It’s not like I can just go around shooting people in the ass with magical arrows like I did in Make Believe—”
Holy shit! Aloysius was a freaking cupid?
“—so with Snow’s business experience, we figured we could make a go of it. But we needed resources to start a business and I wasn’t going to let Snow carry me financially. I had to contribute something.”
“So you thought you’d double-cross your boss and put him out of the picture?” I asked. “Having him killed seems a bit extreme.”
“That wasn’t the plan,” Aloysius ground out. “He was supposed to be ruined financially. They were supposed to sabotage his business. I don’t know what the hell happened with those vampire chicks. Freddy the Ferret called me after Halloran bit it and told me they were going to be bringing in Sophia.”
“Why?” I demanded. “What would they want with her?”
Aloysius shook his head. “No fucking clue.”
Nicky tapped his gun with his fingertips. “Sure about that?”
Aloysius thought for a moment, then ran a hand down his face. “Okay, so Sophia was pissed when she found out the Sandman was fucking around on her. I told her who he’d been with. I happened to overhear a conversation between her and that one agent. What’s his name . . . ? Spalding. He paid her a visit one day when Halloran was out, and . . . well, they spent a few hours up in her room. When he was leaving she warned him if he didn’t hold up his end of the deal, she’d tear him limb from limb and eat his cock for breakfast.”
“Good God,” I breathed. “Ian took her out to keep her quiet.”
“When you guys showed up, I figured it was only a matter of time before the Agency showed up, too,” Aloysius explained. “That’s why I took off. I put a few things in order, then I came to get Snow so we could get the hell outta here.”
“Please, Nicky,” Snow pleaded, gripping Aloysius’s hand. “He didn’t intend for anyone to get hurt. We just wanted out. We were planning to leave tonight, but you showed up and I had to pretend that everything was business as usual.”
“Where are you gonna go?” Nicky asked. “The Agency has people everywhere. They’ll track you down eventually if they want you bad enough.”
Snow nodded. “We know. We just need a head start.”
Nicky sent a glance my way and I saw conflicting emotions pass over his face before he turned back to Snow. “We can give you a couple of hours. After that, you’re on your own.”
“Thank you,” Snow gushed, her voice thick with tears of gratitude—whether real or counterfeit, I couldn’t tell. “I’ll make it up to you, Nicky. If you ever need anything . . .”
Nicky stood, peering down at Snow and her lover, his shoulders square and strong, a force to be reckoned with. “Don’t worry,” he said. “If I want a favor in return, I’ll find you.”
Chapter Eleven
Nicky checked his watch for what had to be the thousandth time since we’d been sitting in the Escalade, keeping an eye on the front door of Happy Endings, waiting to intercept the Agency goons if they showed up before Snow and Aloysius managed to get out of town.
“It’s been two hours,” I assured him. “I don’t think the Agency is going to show.”
He checked his watch again as if by some miracle it had advanced more than fifteen seconds. “If nothing happens here in the next ten minutes, we’ll head out. I can drop you at the house and still get some time in searching for Dracula.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “The deal was that I could come with you tonight.”
“There was no deal,” he shot back. “You . . . distracted me into agreeing with you.”
I rolled my eyes. “I can’t help it if feminine wiles are too much for you to handle.”
“Oh, trust me, doll,” Nicky drawled, his voice going low, “I can handle ’em.”
I swallowed hard, the heated look he gave me setting my blood ablaze. To hide the flush in my cheeks, I turned my gaze back to the building across from us.
“So, you weren’t kidding that Snow was pissed as hell at you.”
Nicky sighed. “I knew Snow from before she went into the business. She was a sweet girl before that asshole husband of hers left her for the Ordinary dame. She needed a friend when things went south with her husband, needed some money to get back on her feet, so I helped her out. I had no idea she’d use the money to set up Happy Endings.” He shook his head. “I tried to talk her out of it, offered to help her find something else, but she wouldn’t accept any more help from me. I checked in on her now and then, though, made sure her business didn’t get the wrong kind of attention. I didn’t think it was anything, you know? Just being a good friend, looking after a Tale who needed it. But it was more serious for her. I sure as hell never intended to hurt her.”
I turned my gaze back to him. “You don’t need to justify anything to me, Nicky. I know you’re not a love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy.”
“That’s what I’m trying to say, Trish,” he said. “I’m not.”
At this, my brows came together. “What are you getting at?”
“Once I get everything wrapped up here, I’m leaving.”
“But you just got back!” I cried, my heart fluttering with panic. “You can’t leave again. Not now.”
“Why should I stay?” he asked, pegging me with a gaze so intense, I had to look away. “Give me one good reason.”
I couldn’t tell him the reason that was making my heart pound against the wall of my chest. So, instead, I opted for the obvious. “You have businesses to run. You can’t just put all those people out of work because you have issues you’re dealing with.”
“Since Juliet died, I’ve been slowly selling off my business interests,” he said. “What I couldn’t sell quietly to my competition, I’ve been handing off to Eddie Fox to set him and Red’s Gran up for life. I owe that guy a shitload—I make good on my debts. The house’ll be last to go.”
“But you love that house,” I insisted.
He shook his head. “I did once, but not anymore. Too many memories I could do without.”
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
He nodded, his expression impossible to read. “How about you?” he asked, turning the tables. “Do you think you’d ever leave Chicago? Quit your job with the FMA?”
“I’m needed here,” I told him. “I don’t know anyone else who can do what I do when I read the dead.”
“Is it just the dead?” he asked. “Or can you read the living, too?”
“Only if they let me,” I said. “Well, most of the time anyway. Sometimes people let me in accidentally.”
“What about me?”
I turned away to stare out the windshield. “What about you?”
“Have you ever read me?”
I shrugged, swallowing hard to remove the lump rising in my throat. “Yes.”
“What did you see?”
But before I could respond, a shadowy movement a few doors down from Happy Endings set my hair on end and brought me to full attention. “There,” I said, pointing. “In the shadows near the drain spout.”
Nicky’s face went deadly in an instant as he caught sight of the three figures slinking along the walls, the undulating shadows disguising them as they crept toward the alley. He threw open the car door and hopped out, hurrying around to the back of the Escalade. By the time I managed to climb out and join him, he’d already strapped on his belt loaded with both iron and wooden stakes and had added a quiver of arrows and his crossbow to his cache.
Without looking up from his weapons store, he snatched one of the iron stakes from his belt and passed it to me. “Keep this with you.”
“I’m going to need more than a gun and an iron stake,” I muttered, shoving the stake into my pocket. A deadly looking curved blade caught my eye, and I grabbed it before Nicky could voice the protest I saw forming on his lips. “Don’t tell me I’m not going. We’ve already had that discussion.”
He turned his eyes to the building, searching the shadows as he closed the hatch with a quiet click. “Shit,” he muttered. “They’re going up to the roof. I gotta get up there.”
We padded across the street on silent feet until we reached the alley between Happy Endings and the massage parlor next door. He motioned for me to stay put and be his eyes and ears. Then, before I realized what he was doing, he fired a grappling hook gun, sending the hook flying up three stories.
“Where the hell did you get that?” I whispered.
He shrugged. “I know a guy.” Then he was scaling the bricks like something out of a freaking comic book.
“Okay,” I muttered. “The whole Spider thing makes sense now. . . .”
Beatrice . . .
I whirled around with a startled gasp at the sound of the voice behind me, my fear instantly replaced by irritation. “Where are you, damn it?” I mumbled under my breath, searching the shadows with narrowed eyes. Suddenly, the shadows shifted and a figure emerged—just an amorphous dark mist at first, but as it drifted closer, the mist began to solidify and take form before my eyes.
As it moved closer, I slowly edged back, the desire to finally get a glimpse of my mystery stalker keeping me from calling out for Nicky. But when my back hit the brick wall, I began to seriously rethink the wisdom of keeping quiet. I snatched the iron stake from my pocket and opened my mouth to yell for Nicky, but the shadow was on me in an instant, its hand muffling the sound of my scream.
Be still, he said, his voice in my head even though a full mouth began to take form in the mist. Then his dark gaze locked with mine. In the next moment, the man stood before me, fully formed, his black shirt gaping to reveal a sculpted chest.
“Come to me, Beatrice,” he said, his velvety soft voice working its way under my skin and into every fiber of my being. A fog began to descend upon me, making the world around us go hazy, the edges blurry and indistinct. “I need you. . . .”
I tried to respond, to tell him to piss off, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. And that gaze . . . it was infinitely dark and deep, and I felt myself drifting into it, a connection between us pulling me in.
No, no, no . . .
I tried to break away as ghostly images, mercifully indistinct, drifted to me. Scenes of violence and gore were lurking just on the periphery, but I couldn’t quite make them out.
His icy cold fingertips lightly skimmed down the curve of my cheek to beneath my chin. His touch was tender, airy—and not quite solid. With a shock, I realized that the man standing with me was a creature of fog and mist. He wasn’t really there.
The realization seemed to break whatever spell he had over me, and I blinked, severing the connection from my thoughts to his. And with an energy that erupted from deep within the center of me, I screamed, lashing out with the iron stake. He burst apart in a million atoms of shadow, and re-formed a few feet away, a smug smirk curling his lips.
“That’s my girl. . . .” he taunted, slowly backing away. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he spun around and hurried down the alley.
Oh, hell no!
I’d be damned if he was going to get away that easily. I ran after him, my legs pumping as I raced to catch up with him. As the shadows in the alley began to grow deeper I slid to a stop, giving myself a mental smack upside the head. What the hell was I doing? Hadn’t I just walked into a trap two nights before doing the same damned thing? I wasn’t about to brand myself too stupid to live by falling for that trick again.
I glanced around, searching for any sign of movement. As I slowly began to back toward the street, I shifted the stake to my left hand and palmed the gun Nicky had tucked at the small of my back. “This isn’t over!” I called into the darkness. “I’ll find you, you son of a bitch!”
“Trish!”
I spun around with a start, gun out in front of me, ready to open fire. Nicky’s hand shot out, grabbing the gun from my hand before it’d even registered that he was standing there.
“What the hell’s going on?” he demanded, dragging me into his embrace. “Are you all right? I heard you screaming.”
I nodded against his chest, which was damp with what I realized must’ve been vampire blood from his altercations on the roof. “He was here, Nicky,” I told him. “Dracula was here.”
Chapter Twelve
Nicky was pacing furiously, a dark scowl on his face. “You should’ve told me.”
“Why?” I asked from my seat on the sofa. When he came to an abrupt halt and pegged me with a withering glare, I didn’t even flinch. Meeting his gaze, I clasped my hands between my knees to hide the fact that they were still trembling.
“Why?” he repeated. “Because Dracula’s been in your head, Trish! You know I’ve been tracking him for two years—you didn’t think to mention he’s been chatting with you?”
“We haven’t been chatting,” I corrected, trying to keep my voice level but rapidly losing my patience. “He’s been intruding. It’s not like I invited him in. Besides, I wasn’t even sure who it was. I’ve never met Dracula—I have no idea what his voice sounds like!”