Dark Tomorrow (Bo Blackman Book 6) (21 page)

There are a few whimpers from the cowering shoppers. ‘You’re not going anywhere near her,’ the guard spits.

‘It’s fine,’ rings out a clear, imperious voice. We all turn. Standing less than a few metres away is a well-dressed woman in a tailored suit.

‘Ma’am…’

She flicks a hand dismissively at the guards. ‘Bring her up.’ She turns on her heel, leaving them no choice but to drag me along as we follow.

The top-floor offices of Magix have changed since the last time I was here. A woman’s touch, I suppose. There are soft furnishings and bright colours. It looks more like a comfortable living room than the headquarters of one of the wealthiest shopping conglomerates in the world. The woman sees me looking around. ‘Do you like it?’ she enquires.

I shrug; I don’t really give a hoot what the Magix offices look like. Then I remember I’m trying to get on her good side. ‘It’s wonderful,’ I say. ‘So bright and airy. The way the pink accents the olive green is inspired.’

A muscle tightens in her jaw and I realise I’ve injected a tad too much enthusiasm into my voice. ‘Sorry. I’m on edge and I don’t mean to sound insincere.’

Her eyes widen a fraction. ‘Is that an apology from the great, infallible Bo Blackman?’ She places a hand over her heart. ‘I’m shocked.’

‘I’m not infallible,’ I say stiffly. ‘Especially not with these cuffs on.’

She smiles. ‘Yes, my predecessor did get some things right.’

Considering I put her predecessor in jail, where he managed to get himself killed, I decide that this isn’t the direction I’d like the conversation to going. ‘What’s your name?’ I ask instead.

‘You may call me Isabella.’

I wonder if she’s like Madonna and has no surname. This time, however, I manage to be more circumspect. ‘It’s lovely to meet you.’

Isabella smiles again and sits down, elegantly crossing her ankles. She gestures to the seat opposite and I plonk my arse down awkwardly. But I am still wearing the stupid handcuffs so it’s not entirely my fault.

‘Why have you come here?’ she enquires.

I lean back and try to look nonchalant, countering her question with one of my own. ‘How’s your profit margin these days?’

‘We’re not in any danger of going under,’ Isabella replies. ‘But thank you for your concern.’ She already looks bored.

‘I used to work for an insurance company,’ I say.

‘Bruckheimer and Berryhill.’ She’s done her homework.

‘Yeah. I paid them a visit this week. Mr Berryhill was concerned that they would lose a lot of their clients now that there aren’t so many vampires to worry about.’

Her eyes dance. ‘So you helped him out by drinking a pint of his blood and snapping a photo. Don’t tell me you’re here to offer me the same service because, if that’s the case, I shall respectfully decline.’

‘I’m told the experience is rather orgasmic,’ I say before adding hastily, ‘but no. That’s not exactly why I’m here.’

Her eyebrows rise. ‘Not exactly?’

‘Look, I know your company has put a lot of money into anti-vampire stuff. These handcuffs, the tasers, all that other shit. If there aren’t any vampires, then all that will go to waste. You need tribers like us.’

Her mouth twitches. ‘So you’re here to ask us to come out in public in support of you.’ She pauses. ‘And against Mr Hale.’

It’s good to know she’s been keeping up with current events. ‘I am.’

‘It is true,’ Isabella states carefully, ‘that we will lose some custom. But you saw what things are like downstairs. We are not worried. We can recoup our lost profits elsewhere. I understand your position, Ms Blackman, but going against a powerful member of the government would not be in our best interests.’

‘Hale won’t be around for long,’ I growl.

She looks only mildly interested. ‘You can’t kill him. You know that if you do, his message will become all the stronger.’

I grit my teeth. ‘I am aware of that.’

‘Well, then.’

I repeat my point. ‘More vampires mean more profit for you.’

‘We will manage.’ She stands up. ‘If that’s all…’

‘What about Kakos daemons?’ I burst out.

For the first time I see real interest in her eyes, although her response is controlled. ‘What about them?’

‘Kakos daemons are far more of a danger to the public than vampires.’

‘They are,’ she agrees. ‘But apart from the odd heart banquet, they tend to keep out of the way.’

‘That’s not true. They have more power and more control than anyone realises.’

‘Which is the key point. If people don’t realise the Kakos daemons are a serious threat, they won’t spend money on protecting themselves against them.’ She gestures towards me. ‘Impasse.’

I swallow. ‘There are ways to inform the public of the danger. Streets of Fire is owned by a Kakos daemon. I bet there are other high-profile companies too.’

She tilts her head to the side. ‘Perhaps this one.’

Buggering hell. Fortunately, she just laughs. ‘I jest. Besides, even if the public wanted to find ways to keep themselves safe from daemons, we don’t have anything that would work. We’re not in the business of lying to our customers, Ms Blackman.’

‘Kakos daemons can read minds. They can manipulate thoughts and feelings.’

That’s obviously not news to Isabella because her expression doesn’t change. ‘We can’t guard against that.’

‘Actually,’ I tell her, ‘you can.’ I stand up, wobbling slightly. ‘I have the secret ingredient.’

I’m rewarded with a sudden flare in her eyes. She masks it quickly but I’m satisfied that I’ve caught her interest. ‘Go on,’ she says.

‘Lobby parliament on our behalf and I’ll give it to you.’ Hope has the remnants of Maria’s blood donation; just a few drops will be enough for Magix to get their boffins onto creating a synthetic version. I get a wealthy corporation helping out the vampires – and a means for all of us to guard against the Kakos daemons. It’s win-win. And then some.

‘What a fascinating proposition,’ she murmurs.

I smile. I’ve got her and we both know it. Now all I need is to find out what she knows about the art of bodysnatching and I’ll really be getting somewhere.

Footsteps sound behind us. I glance over my shoulder and frown as one of the guards appears. He’s holding out a phone. ‘For you, Miss Isabella.’

‘Thank you.’ She takes the phone and puts it to her ear. I tap my foot impatiently on the floor. I wish she’d get on with it.

She hangs up and jerks her head at the guard. ‘Release Ms Blackman.’

He doesn’t look happy but he does as he’s told while she turns to a television set, picks up the remote control and changes the channel. ‘Oh dear,’ she tuts. ‘You might be too late.’

I have no idea what she’s talking about until I see what she’s watching. It’s CCTV footage of me posing in Mildred’s lift, followed by Mildred herself being dragged out, obviously against her will. Sodding hell. The camera flashes to Vince Hale looking sorrowful. Although the sound is off, there’s no doubt what he’s saying; he’s telling the world that I’m a monster, that vampires are irredeemable.

Screw him. I’ve had just about enough of this.

The rage which burns through me is cold and dangerous. It’s not simply that Hale is making me – and by extension all vampires – look like crazed criminals, it’s that he’s using Mildred to do it. Whoever the hooded men really are, they’ll now know we’ve got her. Anyone who’s used their services will go underground and any faint hope we had of finding them and those responsible will fade away.

I don’t know how many children are involved but even if only one loses their chance of a real life because of Hale’s actions, it’s one too many. A tiny voice prods me, insisting that he thinks he’s doing the right thing and that he doesn’t understand what’s really happening. I don’t care. He’s pushed and he’s pushed and this is the last straw. I’ve been holding it together since the bombs went off. Now I’m not.

I march out of Magix like a whirlwind. Plenty of people notice me but no one dares get in my way; whether that’s because they’ve seen the Mildred footage or because I just look damned scary, I’m not sure. I don’t bloody care either way.

I step onto the road, into the path of an oncoming car. The driver slams and flings open the door. ‘You crazy bitch! What do you think you…?’ His voice falters as he recognises me. ‘I didn’t see who you were,’ he babbles, abruptly backtracking. ‘I’m sorry. I…’

I shove him out of the way and get into his car, leaving him gaping after me as the tyres squeal and I speed away. My phone rings but I ignore it. I only have two things on my mind: get to Hale and kill him.

The lights ahead flick to red but I squeak through. A car coming in the opposite direction smacks into my tail end and I’m jolted painfully to the side. I lick my lips. Pain is good; pain is my friend. My phone starts ringing again; vexed by the sound, I’m about to throw it out of the window into the oncoming traffic when I see the caller display. I pause and breathe. Then I answer.

‘Hello, Bo,’ Michael’s familiar voice drawls. ‘What are you up to?’

I swerve round a cyclist. ‘Oh, you know the usual,’ I mutter. ‘I’m going to kill a guy. Drink his blood. Make him scream. That kind of thing.’

‘Mm. I saw the news. I thought you might be upset.’

‘Upset? Upset is what happens the corner shop runs out of blue raspberry lollipops. Or when Kimchi eats my shoes. I’m not upset, Michael. I’m incandescent.’

‘You’re going to kill Hale.’ It’s not a question.

‘You bet your sweet arse I am.’

He sighs heavily. ‘Bo, you won’t get past security.’

‘He won’t stay locked up inside the Houses of Parliament forever,’ I growl. ‘I’ll wait for him to come back out and talk to his adoring public. Then, when they’re all watching, I’ll…’

‘What? Sink your teeth into his neck and kill him live on air? That’ll really endear vampires to the watching public.’

‘The man is a liability. He’s not going to stop coming after us. Either we take him out or he’ll do the same to us. It’s dog eat dog ‒ and I’m the pit bull.’ I nod to myself and speed up even more. I rather like the image of Vince Hale as a yapping Chihuahua.

‘Bo, this isn’t sensible. You’re better than this.’

‘Nope.
You’re
better than this. I’m not.’

A woman with a pram steps onto the street. I slam on the brakes and glare at her. She pulls back abruptly, her features frozen with fear.

‘There are smarter ways to bring him down,’ Michael says. ‘If you want to do this, then of course I can’t stop you.’

‘Got that right.’

‘But you’ll regret it.’

My lip curls and I pull up the handbrake, ignoring the honks from the cars behind me. ‘Is that a threat? Or a promise?’

‘You’re not a crazed guzzler. You’re Bo Blackman. People are looking to you to know how to act, Bo. We need you calm and level-headed.’ He laughs. ‘I admit that it’s not often I’ve seen you in that mode but you’re certainly capable of it. Do you remember when you told me you loved me? The look on your face… I wasn’t sure whether you were going to attack every Montserrat vampire who was staring at you like you were nuts or get down on your knees and propose.’ His voice softens. ‘You were so magnificent. You
are
so magnificent.’

I reach forward and turn the ignition key. The engine clicks off. ‘Your faith in me is misplaced,’ I tell him, not for the first time.

‘No, it’s not.’

I rub my eyes. ‘He’s never going to stop, Michael. Hale is going to keep going until every one of us is dead.’

‘Rogu3 is inside Hale’s computer.’

‘He won’t find anything incriminating.’ My back straightens. ‘Hale is too clever to leave a digital trail.’

‘But you’re cleverer. Think, Bo. How do you stop him without physically attacking him? How do you keep people on the vampires’ side?’

‘I can’t.’ The car horns behind me reach a deafening crescendo that make it difficult to hear Michael. ‘Hang on.’ I start the engine again and pull into the side of the road, letting them pass. Several drivers wrench their heads round, snarls visible on their faces. When they see who’s been blocking their path, their expressions go slack. I’m the stuff of nightmares. Apparently.

‘There has to be a way,’ Michael says.

‘There isn’t. Hale doesn’t care about anything apart from his mission to destroy us. I even told him about Alice Goldman and he made it clear he couldn’t give a flying…’ I falter.

‘Bo?’

‘Is Rogu3 there?’ I ask suddenly.

Michael sounds satisfied. ‘You’ve thought of a way.’

I flex my fingers. ‘Yeah. Maybe I have. Put him on the line.’

***

There’s still a group of journalists outside Parliament, some talking to camera and others fiddling with their microphones. There’s no sign of Hale. I grab hold of the nearest guy. ‘Where is he?’ I ask gently. ‘Where’s Hale?’

The journalist stares at me. ‘He went back to his office,’ he stammers. He points to the left towards Portcullis House where all the MPs are housed. Well, at least it’ll be easier to get in there than into the Houses of Parliament themselves.

I nod once, release the man and stalk away. The journalists try to follow but, when I spin round, glare at them and bare my fangs, they think better of it. That’s a first, I think sardonically. I should try it more often.

I loosen my shoulders and try to appear relaxed. A group of wide-eyed tourists gawks at me. When one pulls out their phone to take a photo, for once I take advantage and stop momentarily and pose. I’m not threatening, I project with my smile; I’m just here to plead my case with calm conviction.

As I swing left towards the Portcullis House entrance, something catches my eye. I frown and turn, my relaxed demeanour transforming in an instant. Standing less than twenty feet away is the female Kakos daemon. She’s in full human glamour, proving that whatever magic my body gained from drinking Maria’s blood has now dissipated. My feet try to spin away, my body telling me to run. I clench my fists and turn towards her.

She tilts her head as if amused and walks towards me. ‘Ms Blackman.’ Her voice flows over me and I can feel goose bumps rise up on my skin. I pay close attention to my thoughts; the last thing I want is for her to mess with my mind again.

‘You worked it out,’ she says mildly. ‘That’s a shame. It would have been so much easier on you if you’d simply done as I’d requested.’

‘Is that how you knew I was coming here?’ I demand. ‘Because you’re still in my mind? You’re still reading my thoughts, no matter where I am?’

She tinkles out a laugh. ‘Oh no, it’s just that you’re so very predictable. It wouldn’t take a genius to realise that, after your most recent starring role, you’d come here to confront the human responsible. I wanted a ringside seat. It’s unfortunate that Michael Montserrat calmed you down before you got here.’ She wrinkles her nose. ‘He can be so pesky. It’s only going to get worse now he’s human, you know.’

I fold my arms. ‘Well, you’re the one to blame for that.’

‘Hmm. His turning is more complicated than you think.’ She shrugs fluidly. ‘It doesn’t matter, though. He’s not going to survive for long. None of you are. We would have let you escape.’ Her smile is so evil that I shudder. ‘Now we’ll just kill you all.’

She takes another step forward as if she’s about to make good on her promise right here and now, in front of everyone. Maybe she wants witnesses. Maybe that’s her plan. I flinch then I lift up my chin and meet her eyes. I replay the meeting I just had with Magix in my head and the daemon freezes.

‘It won’t work,’ she says, her expression masked. ‘They won’t be able to reproduce the gypsy’s blood.’

In that instant, I know I have her. I drop my hands and smile – and this time it’s genuine. ‘Are you willing to bet the city on that?’ I enquire.

‘We’ll kill her.’ She licks her lips. ‘It’ll be a pleasure. Young hearts are tender morsels.’

I know she’s reading my mind but it doesn’t matter. Read away, bitch. I’ve got you now. ‘You know how I’ll feel about that but it won’t change anything. I already have enough of her blood to give to Magix. I’m not going to take any more from her because I don’t need to.’ I eye her with amusement. ‘How different will things be for you when you can’t tell what your victims are thinking? How easy will it be then to rule the city?’

Her calm façade is slipping. ‘We have been far more lenient than the vampires ever were.’

‘You’ve been responsible for thousands of deaths. Blood is on your hands,’ I hiss. ‘Although you and I both know that the truth doesn’t matter. It’s all a matter of perception. If London perceives just how powerful Kakos daemons really are, you’ll be finished. People are afraid of you but they don’t know the truth. Not yet. When they do, you’ll rue the day you attacked the Families. It’ll go down in history as the day you sealed your fate.’ I lean forward. ‘Manipulate my mind again and it’s a fait accompli. A fated fait accompli. Get it?’

I can see from her stance that she’s itching to attack me. She can bring me down in a heartbeat but I’ll still have enough time to yell out what she really is to the journalists behind me. Even if they don’t believe me, my words will sow a kernel of doubt and that will be enough. Hope will make sure that Magix get Maria’s blood. If it brings the Kakos daemons down then it works for me.

For the briefest moment, the daemon almost loses control. Shadows of her tattoos appear across her unblemished skin. My smile broadens. ‘Another time, Bo Blackman,’ she spits. Then she turns and melts away, disappearing into the crowds which are starting to gather.

Despite my confidence, I can’t deny my relief. I pause for a moment, checking myself over mentally. I don’t seem to have a headache so I think I’m still me.

I take a breath and address the watching humans. ‘I’m here to talk to Vince Hale,’ I say loudly. ‘I want to come to an arrangement with him whereby the remaining vampires are left free. Our country is built on ideals of justice and liberty. I want to ensure it remains that way.’ I resist the urge to add a wink. He can’t kill me now, at least not today.

As soon as I go inside Portcullis House, alarms begin to shriek as they recognise that a vampire has entered the premises. The sound is high-pitched and piercing. I stop and, as slowly as possible, lower myself to the ground. Security guards rush in from all directions. Michael was probably right: I’d never have got close to Hale in the mood I was in before.

‘I’m here to see Vince Hale!’ I yell. ‘I just want to talk.’ I wait to be cuffed but it appears that politicians are more concerned with propriety – or at least the appearance of propriety. There are a few barked orders then I’m hauled to my feet.

A phone rings somewhere. I hear a mutter as it’s answered, then one of the guards glances in my direction. ‘Let her go. The Right Honourable Vincent Hale would be delighted to meet her. I’ll escort her to him.’

Good grief. Do they really use MPs’ full titles when they talk about them? No wonder hardly anything gets accomplished here; they’re all too busy showing each other deference and regurgitating meaningless words.

I don’t wait to be hauled to my feet. I pull myself up and dust down my clothes. ‘I have to look respectable for the Right Honourable Vincent Hale,’ I say, arching an eyebrow at the guards. Their expressions range from downright terrified to awestruck.

The guard who answered the phone steps forward. ‘This way, ma’am,’ he says. He holds out his arm.

Like an eighteenth-century lady in a castle, I take it. Someone finally manages to turn off the alarm and we get into the lift. I’m half-expecting to see a long-coated, white-gloved man whose job is to press the lift buttons but we are alone.

The moment the lift doors close, the guard turns to me. ‘I must know your intentions, Ms Blackman.’

I blink. He gives off an impression of coiled strength and concealed power. ‘I told you, I’m here to chat to Vince Hale.’

‘Is chatting all you plan on doing?’

For a security guard, he asks a lot of questions. I meet his eyes. ‘Who are you?’

‘Just answer the question.’

I take a shot in the dark. ‘MI7?’

The guard doesn’t react. ‘Ms Blackman…’

The lift doors ping open. I use my arm to wedge them and look at him. ‘There is a group based somewhere in London,’ I say. ‘It’s been trafficking children and implanting their bodies with the souls of adults. Vincent Hale has released footage of me capturing one of them. The other “children” will have been alerted to the situation and will be trying to flee the country. I suggest you watch all exit points for unaccompanied minors before there’s a real tragedy on your hands.’ Without waiting for an answer, I sweep out.