The Burning Bush (21 page)

“Stop it.” I targeted MeShack with my eyes. MeShack laughed and put his hand back on my waist.

“We switch when we get to VIP,” Zulu said. He had been paired with Nona and wasn’t overjoyed about MeShack and me walking in together. But we did all agree that I didn’t want to be paired with a possible Rebel traitor.

Nona laughed. “Fine, you make bad date anyway.”

I glanced over my shoulder. Zulu held her hand and had the other one stuffed inside a pocket of his indigo jeans. He wasn’t wearing a shirt either. His cords were like a string of Christmas lights attached to his arm. They glowed and pulsed with his anger.

“Focus everybody,” I said. “Remember. Don’t speak to Dante unless you have to. No fighting. Stay calm regardless.”

“We got it, La La,” MeShack muttered. “You’ve also been saying that the whole ride over.”

I sucked my teeth as I stumbled in the water. “What are you doing, keeping notes on how many times I say things?”

“You’re just in a lovely mood right now. I mean, why wouldn’t I want to remember every little priceless quote that comes out of your sexy mouth?” MeShack chuckled.

“And you’re the one who needs to stay calm,” Angel shouted from behind Zulu.

“Oh shut up, both of you.” I stumbled and MeShack helped me regain my balance, grabbing my arm to steady me. He’d been here a hundred times clubbing or performing with his band. My legs trembled on the watery surface as we climbed a flight of liquid stairs. My other hand clasped the ice banister. Cold seeped into my gloves.

“This place should be called Torture instead of Liquid,” I whined.

The only part of Liquid that wasn’t water was the stage. It consisted of a large wooden box painted red. Power Surge, a popular Air Witch band, played on the stage. The lead singer’s name was Easy. A white plastic cone hat topped his head. Long, sky-blue hair draped his shoulders and fell down beyond the waistline of his white plastic pants.

“Sex with the lights on!” Easy screamed. “The lights on, baby.” He rolled his small hips. “All night long. Let the lights make you crazy.”

“Clown,” MeShack muttered as we continued our way up the watery stairs.

“You could use some competition. It may humble you,” I said as women screamed and tried to jump onto the red stage.

Easy bounced up and down on bare feet.
“If your light bulbs don’t work, then don’t call me!”

“You think
he’s
my competition?” MeShack smirked, raising his eyebrows. “That’s not music, that’s just some idiot screaming over a bass track.”

“You’re so jealous.” I glanced behind me, checking to make sure everybody was doing okay. All the Mixie–Rebel pairs followed behind us, looking straight ahead with grim faces. A few Supes dancing in the back of the watery dance floor studied our weird line. It was probably the first time they’d seen so many Mixies and Rebels in one place. Purebloods tended to keep clear of undesirables.

Two bald Vamps stood at the top of the steps, dressed all in black, and sneered at me. “This way, Miss Vesta.”

We followed them. A couple snarls and barks came from the Rebels behind me. I held my hand up, and shockingly, they all quieted.
I hope Nona is okay with my ordering around her Rebels.

Upstairs in the VIP lounge, the floor resembled crude oil. Tables and chairs slowly rose and fell like objects drifting on waves. Uneasiness came to my stomach along with the need to vomit. I held my hand to my abdomen, wondering if this was what people meant in books that described motion sickness on boats.

“It takes a while to get used to the feeling up here in the VIP section.” MeShack leaned toward my ear. “Are you feeling dizzy or sick?”

“I hate this club,” I said through clenched teeth as I tried to keep my supper down. MeShack chuckled.

Power Surge changed to a new song, but from up in VIP, the words were harder to make out. I spotted Dante immediately since he and his Vamps were the only ones in the entire VIP area. He sat at a circular, white table in a white-on-white designer suit. A soft, blue light glowed in the table’s center. The two baldheaded Vamps guided us to him and stood behind Dante. Two female Vamps sat on his right. An empty chair was on his left. If he thought I was going to sit there, then he was insane.

MeShack, Zulu, Nona, and I sat down in front of him. Everybody else positioned themselves behind us. Dante’s eyes strolled over each face as if taking in every tiny detail, and then he targeted me with his pale-green eyes.

“I’m surprised you showed up.” Dante placed his hands on the table in front of him. “The muscle behind you is unnecessary. There won’t be any fighting tonight.”

“Are you sure about that?” Zulu asked. Under the table, Zulu put his hand on my thigh.

“Your hair is up. I love the way your neck is exposed.” Dante stared at it. “Are you flirting with me?”

MeShack loudly blew out air. “I’m already bored with this blood pimp.”

A waitress came forward in a silver bikini and white wig. “What can I get you?”

No one said anything. I glared at Dante. He had killed all ten of my Pixies. I would burn him ten different ways, starting with the pathetic equipment that lay between his legs.

“My friends don’t want anything, and my drink is on its way now.” Dante gestured for somebody to come forward as the waitress walked away.

A brown-skinned Mixie came over. A silver collar wrapped around her neck declared she was Vamp-owned, a voluntary slave to Vamps. She was probably owned by the Bottelli family, since a B hung from the silver collar.

I tensed, taking a closer look at her. She had her dreadlocks in a high ponytail, just like me. She wore a lavender plastic corset so close to mine that I actually looked down at my own corset to see if it was still on. White plastic pants clung to her hips and legs. She gave me a weak smile and sat next to Dante in the empty seat I had assumed was meant for me.

Clearly, Dante had already known what I was going to wear before I came to Liquid. I kept my face still, frozen in my glare.
You want me to know that you have a spy in MFE? Message received.
Fine. That settled that. The spy would burn just as badly as Dante would.

“I must admit I wasn’t expecting the factory bombing.” Dante caressed the tops of the Mixie’s breast with his fingertips. “Zulu is such an out of control individual. After my delivery of the dead Mixies last month, I assumed he would stomp over with his pretty little arm strings and try to rip my heart out.”

“Why did you want to meet?” I interrupted. Venom was in my voice.

“You’re the one who wanted to meet with me,” Dante insisted.

MeShack was right. Dante’s games were boring.

I rolled my eyes. “What do you want?”

Dante leaned in my direction and bared his fangs. “I want my money back.”

“Or?” Zulu raised one blond eyebrow.

Dante broke the Vamp-owned Mixie’s neck. It happened so quickly. A crack sounded, and then she was gone. The broken silver collar dangled from her neck. I screamed inside my head. It took every bit of energy to stay seated. I pushed heat into my core, swirling it around and around inside me to build my body’s temperature. With my feet against the water floor, steam rose all around us.

“That wasn’t to scare you, Lanore.” Dante wiped his hand on a handkerchief, balled it up, and flung it at the Mixie’s limp head. “It’s just that I wanted you to fully understand who you’re dealing with. I don’t think you really knew before.”

“I already knew you were a sick, murdering bastard.” I spat the words out as if something vile coated my tongue.

“I’ll give you one week to hand over two million dollars,” Dante said. “I doubt it will be a problem. My people tell me Zulu is worth more than that. Then you’ll get—”

“Fuck you,” Zulu roared. His cords gleamed white. A raw, hot rage rushed into my own cords with a blistering fury.

Shuffling noises filled the VIP area. Dante’s Vamps hissed as they looked behind me. I turned to see Rivera and several habbies march toward us with long, blue guns that had silver tips. The bullets in each gun would be government issued, possessing all the metals and herbs that could harm Supes. Rivera glanced at Dante and then scowled at me.

I flashed a wide, treacherous smile at Dante. “How silly of me, Dante. I almost forgot. I have moves of my own I haven’t made yet.”

Okay. Rivera is here. Now what?

I headed toward Rivera, pretty sure Dante was studying my every step. I motioned to Rivera for us to walk farther away before talking. I didn’t want any of the Rebels or Dante listening to what I was going to say.

What
am
I going to say?

“Lanore, you better have a load of evidence if you expect me to take Bottelli in for those murders,” Rivera said.

“He just killed the Mixie next to him. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“I don’t care about that,” Rivera snapped.

“Your officials would. Dante is big news right now. I’m sure a couple rich Humans who invested in the factory and have lost a ton of money would love to see that bastard in jail for a night.”

Rivera paused and considered what I’d said. An ashtray-like odor drifted from his skin and mixed with that cooked oil scent he always exuded. I wrinkled my nose, hating being so close to him.

“Do you have a suspect for the Burning Bush Murders?” Rivera asked after a minute.

“Yep. An art teacher,” I replied.
And Judge Brass’s son.
I couldn’t tell Rivera the Brass connection. He would want me to leave the Brass family alone; but if I did, I wouldn’t have any other suspects to check out.

“Why is the teacher a suspect?” Rivera asked.

I glanced over my shoulder. Dante peered at us with dark eyes.
You’re worried, aren’t you, sicko?

“The art teacher had sex with the first victim and had a relationship with the second,” I said, turning back to Rivera. “I’ll write up a report and e-mail it to you tonight.”

“Okay. So Dante killed the Mixbreed over there?” Rivera asked. “Now you listen, Lanore, and you listen good. Don’t you ever call me and have me come out like this again. You understand? I won’t deal with you wasting my time and fighting your stupid battles.”

I nodded. “Okay. But that’s kind of disappointing considering we’re partners and everything.”

“We’re not goddamn partners.” Rivera threw a look at some of the habbies who’d come along with him. “Take Bottelli and his minions in for questioning!”

“For what?” Dante shot up from his chair.

“For the dead Mixbreed girl you had your arm around,” Rivera answered.

“This is absurd! She signed a contract with a No Fault clause. I’m not liable for any injury or death that may have come to her.” Dante glanced at me. “And neither are any other members of the Bottelli family.”

“Then have your lawyers bring the contract to the station. We’ll be happy to go over it.”

Dante laughed as he stood up, adjusting the diamond cufflinks on his shirt as if they’d moved out of place. He glided over to me. Rivera fished out some handcuffs from his pocket. They dropped to the ground with a splat, splashing water everywhere.
Rivera makes bad cops look good.

“No need to cuff me. I’ll voluntarily walk in,” Dante said.

Letting the handcuffs remain on the watery floor, Rivera shrugged and took out a cigarette. Dante strolled behind me, making my skin crawl. He leaned my way and whispered, “I won’t even make it to the police station. You know that, right?”

Dante was implying that he would just bribe Rivera once they left the club. I twisted his way with no reply, knowing Rivera would take his money and release him with no problem.

Dante winked. “Oh, yeah, and I forgot to mention, since it just utterly slipped my mind. Ben is a very smart boy, Lanore. You’re doing a great job with him.”

I froze for a moment as something dark seeped into my pores—pure rage. It was worse than any anger I had ever experienced. At the mention of Ben, I wanted to fill Dante’s entire body with white-hot fire. Steam rose and billowed around me. If we had not been surrounded by water, the whole area would have already been engulfed in flames.