Bring On The Night (9 page)

“Will there be side effects? You said I won’t change. Could there be other things?”

“I don’t think so, since it was just her claws she got into you. If she’d bitten you, there might be things. You might like your steak a little bloodier, maybe get a little edgy around the full moon. It varies. Sometimes people with a bad temper don’t deal real well with it. Sometimes it makes them violent. I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“A werewolf can only make another werewolf on the full moon, right?”

“Yep.” She tore the bandages into strips and laid them across his flesh then started taping them down.

“How do... how are vampires made?”

“By drinking. Vamp drinks from you, makes you drink from them. The next night you wake up a vampire. Pretty simple, really.”

“How does it work? Is it some kind of rapid infection?”

She met his eyes, the corners of her mouth giving the suggestion of a smile. “It’s not like that. If my blood were put under a microscope, a doctor or somebody could tell I wasn’t normal. I don’t think they’d be able to pinpoint what causes...”

“Vampirism?” he asked.

“Yeah, that.” One side of her mouth curled up. “There’s a mystical element that can’t be quantified, with vampires, werewolves and other things. You’ve gone off the map here, Brandy.”

“Here be dragons.” He examined her unabashedly, his gaze traveling over the planes of her face, the fall of her hair, her throat and neck.

“Looking for something?”

“You look like a normal woman.” He reached out and took her hand, feeling the bones in her fingers, running his thumb over her palm. “I mean, not quite, but mostly. I guess I’m looking for some sign of what you are.”

Jessie pulled her hand away and stood. “How about this?” She leaned over him, smiling. She opened her mouth enough for him to see her teeth, letting her fangs slide out of her canines.

Giving an indistinct shout, Brandon dragged himself halfway up the bed before he realized she had no intention of harming him. She burst into laughter, crawling back onto the bed and slapping at him playfully. “That was a very manly sound, can you do it again?”

He joined in her laughter. “How ’bout you not scare me like that again? Damn.”

“I couldn’t resist,” she said, still giggling.

A giggling vampire. What the hell. “Can I see your fangs?”

“I just showed you my fangs.”

“I mean a good look. Come on.” He scooted closer to her, his hand briefly touching her arm. “Please.” He gave her a smile.

“You know, a normal guy would just want to see my boobs.”

Laughing again, he replied, “You can show me those, too, but I want to see your fangs first.”

“Weirdo.” She tilted her head back and opened her mouth.

He came closer, peering at her teeth. They looked normal. “Can you, uh, extend your fangs?”

She closed her mouth and lowered her head, rubbing her face with her hands. “Give me a minute. You’re giving me performance anxiety.”

They burst into laughter again. She raised her head, giving him a clear view of her canines as the fangs extended. Brandon brought his hand up, clearly wanting to touch them but thinking better of it at the last second. He looked at her, asking permission silently. She shrugged. Was that amusement in her eyes? Carefully, he touched one fang with his forefinger, testing the sharpness of the point. A tiny drop of blood welled up on the tip of his finger, bringing a sharp intake of breath from her. Did she even need to breathe, or was it just a leftover habit? He watched as her eyes grew dark and he wasn’t sure whether he should feel alarmed, or perhaps something else.
She’s a blood sucking monster
.
A really
smokin
’ hot blood
-
sucking monster
. She put her hand on his uninjured shoulder and drew him closer.

A sharp knock sounded from the door. As it opened, Kirkbride stood in the doorway. He took one look at Brandon and Jessie and pulled a stake from inside his jacket, rushing at the vampire.

Jessie pinned Kirkbride on his back to the floor, kneeling over him, holding his wrist and yanking the stake out of his hand before either man was fully aware she’d even moved.

“What the hell!” Brandon jumped up.

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Kirkbride pushed futilely at Jessie to get her off his chest. “Did you bite him?”

“No, I didn’t bite him,” she said, annoyed. She stood, tossing the stake at him. He caught it and came to his feet, glaring at her.

He turned his anger on Brandon. “Get your shirt on and go downstairs. Haywood’s in the hotel restaurant. He’s waiting for you.”

“But...”

Jessie noted the hard glint in his eyes as Kirkbride invoked his inner Badass Marine and snapped, “Do as I say!”

“Brandy, just do as he says. It’s okay.” Jessie gave him a wink. “Everyone needs to throw a big diva hissy fit every now and then.”

Brandon shook his head, grabbed a clean shirt and shrugged into it carefully. “I don’t like being told what to do,” he said to Kirkbride. “But just this once, I’m gonna let it slide, seeing as how I’m starving.” He strolled to the door and gave Jessie a smile, then a scowl at the minister. “No hair pulling,” he called out as he closed the door behind him.

Kirkbride gave Jessie a withering look. “I trusted you with his safety.”

“Nothing happened! He needed my help with fresh bandages.” She retrieved her book and sat on the floor, her back against the foot of the bed. She wouldn’t look up at him.

He lowered himself to the floor, sitting directly in front of her. He took her chin in one hand and pulled her head up, forcing her to meet his eyes. She’d come across plenty of ministers with all the moral fiber of a wet towel, corrupt hypocrites who bent with the wind and sold faith and forgiveness for a little coin. She knew how to handle them, how to play their game. Sometimes she encountered the other kind—the real deal—the ones with integrity, honor, and a kind of steel in their spines that only came from a true, deep belief in the God they served. Kirkbride was such a man. There was no game she could play with him, so she stopped trying.

“He was curious.” She lightly pushed his hand away. “He asked some questions, and he nicked his finger on one of my fangs.”

Kirkbride blinked as if not sure of what he’d heard. “What was his finger doing in your mouth?”

She restrained herself from voicing any of the lewd replies popping into her head. “He was curious about my fangs. He asked to see them.”

“He asked to see your fangs?” The level of incredulity in his voice brought a giggle out of her, and for a split second she thought she saw the shadow of a smile in his hard blue eyes. As quickly as it came, it flickered away. “Am I gonna have to worry about you and Brandy?”

This time it was taunts of jealousy she bit back. “No. You do not have to worry about me and Brandy. I mean, yeah, he smells good.” The memory of Brandon’s scent stirred her. “He smells amazing, luscious, even. He smells...”

He waved his hand to stop her. “Okay, I get it. You need to feed, don’t you?”

Abashed, she nodded. “Oh yeah. Bad. Know where I can find a nice juicy pedophile?” His face clouded with fury and she raised her hands in surrender. “Joke! Joke! Very bad joke. We could steal a pint or two from a blood bank.”

“I am not taking donated blood away from people who need it.”

“Hey, I need it. I’d leave a twenty, if you wanted.”

He didn’t seem amused. “I’ll get you blood from a butcher shop. I’ll bring it when I pick you up tonight.”

Not relishing the thought of cow’s blood, she curled her lip. “Dinner and a movie, huh? You’re a cheap date.”

“I’ve tried all my regular sources and I can’t get a bead on their hideout. We’re going to talk to someone I don’t have very many dealings with. I’m taking you with me because it might be dangerous. Haywood’s going to stay with Brandon for the time being.”

“What, now you don’t trust me?” It surprised her, how much that bothered her.

He sighed, suddenly looking weary and older than his years. “I would imagine it’s not easy. What you do, your nature leading you in one direction, your intentions leading you in another. Brandon doesn’t realize he’s playing with fire by flirting with you.” He paused, gazing at her thoughtfully for a long moment. “If I didn’t trust you, I’d throw you out the window and let you burst into flames. This is serious business and I need to see that it’s finished.”

This was why Jessie didn’t like dealing with true believers—they could still make her feel bad. She’d said as much to the king in an offhand way once. His dark eyes had bored into her as he told her she didn’t want to live long enough to leave her conscience behind. It was too precious a thing to lose, even for creatures such as themselves. Chastened, but not too eager for him to know it, she said, “I hear you, Brother William. So where are we going tonight?”

“To see a man named Johnny Watanabe. He runs much of the local criminal underworld, especially on the waterfront. The girl you asked me about the first time we met, Minx?”

She nodded.

“Her pimp, Nico, works for Watanabe. They want these killings to stop as much as anybody else.”

“Bad for business, bringing cops around, especially with the articles Brandon’s been writing.”

He nodded. “I heard Nico’s been out doing some looking of his own. I’d like to know what he’s found, if anything.”

She thought for a moment. “What’s your relationship with Watanabe?”

Kirkbride shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I have one. We’ve met a few times, that’s it.”

“Friendly or not?”

“He gives money to the shelter sometimes. I guess I’d have to say, neither one of us feels the need to antagonize the other.”

“Besides,” she smiled slightly. “There are worse monsters out there in the dark, right?”

He looked away. “Why do you want to know all this?”

“I want to know what I’m walking into. How’s Rowdy doing?” She both wanted to and didn’t want to know.

He found her book and picked it up to examine it, looking over the front and back covers both. She couldn’t tell if his curiosity was genuine, or if he didn’t want to answer her question. Finally, he spoke. “She’s doing better than I thought she would. It’s the first time she’s been through something like this, but she’s pretty tough. So is Haywood. They want the pack dead. We get that done...” He opened the book to flip through some of the pages.

Quietly she asked, “What about you? How are you, William?”

He didn’t speak for a long time. “I took a shower before I came here. You can still smell it on me, though, can’t you?”

She could: gasoline, smoke and the nightmare of burning flesh. She knew without asking that he’d done it on his own, taken the boy’s body—
Lenny, his name was Lenny
—somewhere private, away from prying eyes. She imagined him praying over Lenny once again, before starting the fire. He would’ve stayed, of course, to make sure it was done and the ashes scattered. She knew without him telling her because of the tell-tale scents clinging to his hair and his skin, the drawn look of his face, and the hollowed-out wasteland of his eyes. She knew there was no comfort she could offer him, so she didn’t try. She merely nodded.

* * * *

The hours crawled by, the sun taking its damn sweet time to slide down to the horizon. Too keyed up to sleep again, Jessie tried more yoga, alternating with sit-ups, push-ups, crunches, pacing the room, a tiger in a zoo cage. A smattering of daytime television, several failed attempts at reading. Finally she plugged herself into her MP3 player, trying out different songs to fit her mood of free-floating nervous energy. She settled on Radiohead and lay on the bed with the lights off, listening, waiting for nightfall.

* * * *

“Oh, goody, a strip club.” Jessie laughed as they entered the club. “Bet you bring all your hot dates here.”

“Only the scary ones.” The pink-and-purple strobe lights from the stage lit Kirkbride’s face.

“Be careful, William.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “You keep sweet talking me like that I might start to like you.”

“Hang back a minute so I can talk to the bodyguard.” He left her standing at the bar.

“You bet,” she called after him, rolling her eyes. Buddy Guy’s
I Gotta Try You Girl
pumped through the sound system. A leggy blond did a slow grind on the stage, working the pole like she thought it was Hugh Jackman. A gaggle of paunchy middle-aged guys in suits grouped together like an office outing, stared at her, some of them with their mouths hanging open. Waitresses dressed in lingerie carried drinks. One or two looked to be the owners of fake IDs. In the shadows at the edges of the room, Jessie spotted what she sized up as members of Watanabe’s organization. Most were young, made of muscle, concealing weapons under their tailored jackets, their tables full of plenty of liquor and arm candy. She picked out the door to backstage, the mandatory fire exit, and the guarded VIP area of the second floor.
Got
himself
a good view, and probably a secret exit, too
.

Kirkbride spoke to a hulking man in a dark gray suit. William wore khakis and a dark blue button-down shirt. Nice, but out of place here and a sign of his relative poverty compared to the rest of the clientele. The shirt didn’t hang on him. More muscle there than he liked to show.
Might come in handy if this gets stupid
. She turned to the bar, catching the bartender’s gaze and motioning him to her.

“What can I get you, darlin’?” he said with a sleepy drawl.

“A bloodbath, please.”

“I know two ways to make one, raspberry liqueur, merlot, and cranberry juice, or vodka, pomegranate juice, and raspberry syrup.”

Impressed, she gave him a smile as she kept her eye on Kirkbride in the mirror behind the bar. “The first one sounds good, babe.” The music changed to Muddy Waters,
I Just Want to Make Love to
You—
the
Electric Mud
version. She swayed along, thinking idly somebody, probably Watanabe himself, preferred their sexy slow and steady rather than loud and rowdy, a nice change from the last strip club she’d been in.