Urban Fantasy Collection - Vampires (56 page)

THE SHOW MUST GO ON

W
hen I woke up, Talbot was snapping his fingers in front of my eyes and calling my name. I was wet and I was still a cat. The lights were too bright and my heart was beating in my ears. Was I drunk? Did vampires get drunk? Did cats get drunk? For that matter, why was my heart beating? I was breathing too fast and my skin was all tingly.

“C'mon, Tabitha. Get up!” Talbot told me. I sneezed a pitiful cat sneeze at him and it made my head pound.

“Meow,” I said, meaning, “God, I feel awful.”

“It's probably just transformation sickness,” Talbot explained. “Try turning back to normal and see if that helps.”

It was hard to concentrate with my head pounding, but I managed it. It was even slower than before, my body chilling and expanding like a balloon slowly being filled with cold water. After a few minutes, I was myself again, panting on the floor. I even had clothes on. The dull ache in my head eased up and the world stopped spinning in circles.

I blinked a few times, steadied myself, and stood up. “Okay. That was both awesome and shitty at the same time. So, what? I can turn into a cat, but only if I want to start tripping and then barf?”

Talbot looked at my eyes closely. “Your eyes are dilated.” He held my right eye open with his fingers. “Okay, better. They're normal now.”

I started to rub my eye, but stopped myself when I remembered my eye shadow. I touched my cheek and looked reflexively to the mirror to check my makeup. No reflection. An inexplicable rage welled up inside of me and I turned on Talbot.

“You better not have fucked up my makeup, asshole!” My claws were out before I even thought about extending them. I wanted to tear him apart, drink his blood, drain him dry, and then tear the pieces up when I was done. I knew my reaction was over the top, but I couldn't explain what was happening. Talbot seemed just as surprised as I was, even more so because I had actually slashed his forearm with my claws, moving too fast for even Talbot to avoid. We both looked down at the blood.

“I—” I didn't know what I was going to say, but I opened my mouth to say it. Talbot wasn't interesting in listening.

“Your makeup is fine. Get your ass out there and do your job.” He walked into the bathroom and began washing the cuts out with soap and water.

“Talbot?” I followed him into the bathroom, reaching out to him.

“Just go, Tabitha!” he yelled. Closing his eyes, he let out a sigh. “Just go out and dance. We'll talk about this later. I probably pushed you too hard.”

Of course it was his fault, I cursed inwardly. Talbot was the one with experience. Talbot was supposed to know better, to teach me. I left the room and headed toward the stage. “Dumb, fucking asshole,” I said aloud.

My emotions were a mess. Edginess does not even begin to describe what I was feeling. Imagine that someone ran over your cat, and then backed into your new car trying to get away. Imagine that when the police came, the officer laughed and told you to buy a new cat. Picture how angry that would make you. I was that mad at everyone and everything, and I could not understand why.

In the dressing room behind the stage, Candice and Sharon were getting ready to go serve drinks and sell lap dances. Sharon said hello and I flipped her off in response. She shrugged it off, but I could smell her anger.

Candice looked up at me with that stupid innocent look she always gave to Eric. “Did somebody wake up on the wrong side of the grave this morning?”

I don't even remember hitting her. She just seemed to lift up out of her chair and fly backward through the air of her own accord. One of the mirrors shattered as she hit it and there was a blinding flash as the lights around it exploded. Bouncing off of the wall, she landed facedown on the floor. Shards of glass landed all around and over her, like glittery sprinkles. It was pretty in a violent, deadly sort of way. It was too much trouble to get to her throat with all the glass in the floor, so I leapt over her and landed on the steps leading up to the stage.

I smiled back at Sharon and she froze, evidently hoping that if she stayed still, I'd leave her alone. “One word and I'll put you right fucking next to her.” She was used to being around vampires and it probably saved her life. I'm sure she was terrified, but she knew better than to show it. It was one of the first things Eric told new girls. I'd been with him long enough to know how true it was: Fear was like a good marinade to a vampire. Running could get you killed. Hold still, submit, and you might have a chance.

A weird taste played across my tongue, bitter and sweet at the same time. I knew I had tasted it before, but I couldn't think clearly enough to figure out where. By the time I hit the stage I had all but forgotten about Candice. Jasmine was out there doing her Little Red Riding Hood routine, managing to look innocent and sexy all at once. Her long brown hair trailed behind her, down over the hood and cape. The light creamy texture of her skin stood out in perfect contrast to the bright red cape, a thin layer of baby oil glistening on her skin, her pink nipples hard and erect.

I decided to play the Big Bad Wolf. When I walked out from behind the stage, I could hear the emcee asking Marilyn what was going on. I couldn't remember what his name was; only that he was a pig who always tried to get us to suck him off. Tonight, I decided, he would get his wish.

I hit the stage and Jasmine looked back at me, pretty brown eyes wide in surprise. She was down to her G-string and the little red cape. I strutted up to her and pulled the G-string off. It was what the guys really wanted to see anyway. Jasmine protested, but I was having fun. Excitement emanated from the audience. The scent filled my nostrils and made it even harder to think. I showed my fangs to the crowd and they cheered. As far as they knew, this was all part of the show. Jasmine's scent was the most thrilling of all: fear and uncertainty, combined with sweat and a hint of sex.

It woke the inner predator in me. I began a routine of my own. I danced around her, stripping; Jasmine relaxed and started to dance with me, closer than I would have normally found comfortable. When the tips started rolling in, she whispered her thanks into my ear.

But Jasmine's terror started to return when she realized that I wasn't going to let her leave the stage. By the time I was down to my own G-string, we had collected more money than I normally did in an entire night, but I didn't want money. Talbot had made his way to the edge of the stage and was whispering just loudly enough for me to hear him.

“Let her off the stage, Tabitha! Let Jasmine go backstage and then follow her. Something is very wrong here and we'll figure it out. Just don't hurt her.”

I wanted, no, needed, Jasmine to run, but she wouldn't do it; she'd been trained too well. Like Sharon, she knew running from a vampire would get you killed for sure. If you didn't run, then you had a chance. I pulled her close to me, pressing her back to my chest, and whispered in her ear, “Let me taste you and you can leave.”

She nodded slightly and I sank my teeth into her neck. Fresh blood touched my tongue and it felt hot enough to burn. It was more than a taste. The liquid warmth ran down my throat, into my core, spreading like traces of fire along my veins. She sagged in my arms, another trick, designed to cue a vampire that she'd had enough. The audience went wild.

Somehow, I let her go. She stumbled toward the rear of the stage and into someone's waiting arms. I didn't care who. That one taste of fresh blood unleashed a monster inside me. I hesitated momentarily in the calm before the storm. Sounds grew even louder than before. I could hear people all around the club, both voices I knew and those I did not know.

“Didn't I tell you this was an awesome club?”

“Fake blood, you can tell by the way…”

“Lap dance…”

“What the hell is she doing, Marilyn…”

“Get off the stage, Tabitha.”

“Don't know, boss. I haven't seen him, but his ex is going nuts…”

Music flickered brightly above the speakers, wave after wave of electric blue. I heard rather than felt the terror of those around me, high-pitched and frantic like a mad guitar solo. Sensory confusion. In a detached way, I realized I was tripping again.

One sound flashed red, more enticing than the others, a sensual pulse: a summons, pulsing faster. Heartbeats. I was the monster and the monster was me. It felt like I was gaining control over myself, like I was winning. All sense of right and wrong flowed away to be replaced by the new morality: drinking blood, good; not drinking blood, bad.

I remember shoving Talbot to one side, leaping for the emcee. People screamed as I bit through the emcee's pants into his femoral artery.

“How's that for a suck job, asshole?”

Claws raked down my back and I kicked in my vampire speed without having to concentrate, fluidly, as easy as sneezing. I remember laughing, long purple streams of laughter rising over my shoulder. Power over life and death was mine. Killing led to drinking blood. Not killing led to not drinking blood. Killing became a virtuous act.

Even Talbot was too slow to stop me. I moved like a whirlwind, dancing through the crowd. His attempts to stop me were like cheap scares in a haunted house. He could jump out at me, growl at me, but he couldn't touch me any more than a dancing plastic skeleton with glowing eyes could. A series of bleeding lines on backs, faces, necks, and chests slid beneath my claws and it was fun, like finger-painting.

I felt warm inside and out. These stupid perverts didn't need their lives. I did. I needed all that they had to give and more. I deserved it. They were cattle, little more than fast-food wrappers. And I…I faltered. The new morality flickered, replaced by my former sense of right and wrong. I saw what I had done and it sickened me. I staggered backward.

Twang.

Pain lanced through my chest as I fell to the floor. In the distance, across the club, I saw Marilyn. She had taken her arm out of its sling so she'd have both hands for the crossbow. Beyond her, people were pounding on the doors, but they wouldn't open. Talbot was beside me, picking me up, charging through the crowd to get me out of there.

“Use the crystal, Marilyn!” he yelled behind him, and instantly there was silence. Then, I heard the unmistakable sound of bodies hitting the floor.

I blacked out, not comprehending exactly what had happened.

When I came to, I couldn't see. Someone had closed my eyes, but I could hear voices. It sounded like they were in another room. Unable to move, I listened carefully. Bugs skittered inside the walls and what sounded like a larger thing, a mouse, probably, thumped its leg against the floor as it scratched at a flea. There were birds on the roof. A man was chanting over the speaker system in the main club. His words were nonsense mixed with what might have been Latin. I also heard Marilyn.

“I want you to have Magbidion check her out as soon as he's done with the mind job on the customers, Talbot. I want him to check her and everything she's touched. She's a stupid girl, but I looked into her eyes after she'd turned. She's still too human inside to do something like that.”

Liquid splashed against the sides of a mug. I couldn't smell what it was. They were too far away. “Thanks,” said Marilyn.

“Look, he's just going to have to put her down,” Veruca said. “There is something wrong with him. Whenever he turns a new slut, she winds up defective.”

“No,” Marilyn disagreed. “It isn't that. Something happened to her.” She stopped talking abruptly.

Talbot paced back and forth across the floor. It sounded like he was walking on wood. They had to be in the office, since I doubted they were on the stage. “Do you think it was a spell?” he asked. “You know Eric pissed off the local Alpha. I wouldn't think a religious type like William would stoop to this, though.”

Marilyn sipped her drink carefully. The aroma of coffee, strong and bitter, reached my nostrils.

“I couldn't say, Talbot, but you tell Magbidion that I'm not paying his fee until he finds out what on God's green earth happened.” She fiddled with a package that crackled and when she next spoke she sounded like she had a cigarette in her mouth. “Could you?”

A mechanical lighter clicked and Marilyn inhaled deeply. “Thanks,” she told him.

“I think I'll spare myself the secondhand smoke, Marilyn.” Talbot coughed. “I'll get back to you when Magbidion has more information.”

I heard the door open and close and then open again.

“Talbot,” Marilyn called down the hallway.

“Yes?”

“She didn't drink a junkie or anything tonight, did she?”

“No,” he answered. “I brought her some of Eric's stash from the fridge in the break room. I meant to ask you to check your ledger and see whose turn it is to give more this week so that I could replace it.”

“Not from here in the office?” Marilyn asked.

“No,” Talbot answered. “According to Veruca, Roger pitched a shit fit when you fed Tabitha some of his stock last night, said for us to stay out of the office fridge…”

“Like he ever drinks cold blood,” Marilyn snapped.

“And that Tabitha should have to hunt, like Veruca,” Talbot finished.

“Well,” Veruca interjected defensively, “that's what he said.”

“The stash in the break room is all Eric's, though,” Talbot continued, “so I thought that'd be okay.”

Marilyn took a long drag off her cigarette and blew smoke into the hallway. “Have Magbidion check the blood. All of it.”

“Will do,” Talbot replied.

I knew that blood had tasted funny.

SPIKED

I
t was a warm August night so I didn't mind flying home. Roger had been right to get Rachel out of there, but I was still a little pissed that he hadn't come back to give me a ride. He did know I was going to win, right?

It didn't take as long as I thought it would for me to fly back to the Pollux. I landed on the old theater's roof. Across the street, the Demon Heart's large neon sign was off and a
Closed
sign hung on the front doors. My watch had stopped, but I didn't think it was closing time yet.

The scent of blood hit me before I had made it halfway across the street. The smell wasn't quite as strong at the back door, but when I walked in I had to pause, allow myself to adjust. Whatever had happened, I was relatively certain that going into a feeding frenzy wouldn't help. Down the hall, in the business office, Marilyn and Talbot were talking. They looked my way when I opened the door.

Marilyn looked stressed, puffing away at a cigarette, her arm in a sling. Talbot was pretty well banged up. His shirt was shredded, and I could see scratches on his arms, chest, and back. The ones on his back looked particularly deep. The sorcerer Magbidion was with them. Sometimes I call him Mag because it gets on his nerves. He wasn't with the local mages' guild, so he was free to work for vampires; I'd used him before. In fact, I'd been meaning to call him. I made a mental note to have Mag look at the silver bullet while he was here.

“I was just telling them they did the right thing when they used the Somnolence Crystal,” Magbidion told me. “I was able to fix all the humans out there, but you'll need a new Somnolence Crystal. I can have it ready tomorrow for fifteen grand.”

“Fifteen thousand?” I asked incredulously. I seemed to recall the last one costing less than that.

“Pay it,” Marilyn snapped. “And I don't want to hear any complaints about the fifty thousand we owe him for cleaning up the mess tonight. It was worth every penny.”

“What the hell happened?” I walked past them into the office and slid the company checkbook out of the drawer. The carbon copy above the check I was writing caught my attention.

“Who the fuck is Fergus Jenkins and why did we write him a check for thirty thousand dollars?”

Talbot shrugged. Marilyn's eyes narrowed, but her mouth stayed firmly shut. “Anyone?” I asked again.

“Who wrote the check?” Veruca asked innocently.

I looked closely at the signature. Roger had signed my name. He never dots his
i'
s. He also he made the
e
in
Eric
look more like a
c
and connected it to the
r
. When I write my name the
e
stands alone.

“Roger,” I said flatly, “I'll ask him about it.” I sniffed the air. It was hard to tell over the carnage, but I didn't smell him. “Isn't he back yet?”

Veruca shook her head. “I don't think so. I'm headed out, though. If I see him, I'll ask him to call you.”

“Fine.” Someone was going to have to explain this to me eventually, but in the meantime I wrote Magbidion a check. He reached for it, but I held back.

“What am I paying sixty-five thousand dollars for?” I asked.

“Fifteen thousand for the new crystal. I could do it for five, but then it wouldn't put paranormals to sleep. It costs ten to cover werewolves, ogres, those kinds of things, and another five to make sure that it doesn't put any of the Demon Heart staff to sleep along with the riffraff. I have to key them in individually.”

“I know that. I mean the rest of it.”

“Ask them.” Mag pointed at Talbot and Marilyn. “You don't want to pay me to explain it to you.” I held the check back out to him. He took it, shook my hand, and started to leave. “You know,” he called over his shoulder, “you'd save a lot of money if you just agreed to be my champion.”

Ever since Mag had seen me fight that demon in El Segundo he'd been after me to champion his cause when the time came. Magbidion hadn't been born with magic; he'd cut a deal to get it. He was going to lose his soul unless he had a champion who could kill whatever demon it was that he'd made the deal with. Mag lived in fear of repo day, and I wanted no part of it.

“Let's keep it cash and carry for now,” I told him. He headed for the exit and then I remembered the silver bullet in my pocket.

“Mag,” I said, following him out to the hallway, “Let me ask you something.”

He stopped and peered at me from beneath bushy brown eyebrows. As far as I knew, it was the only hair on his body and that was why he let them grow a little wild. “What is it?” Mag asked.

“I found this bullet out at Orchard Lake in the skull of a werewolf. You ever see anything like it?” I handed him the bullet. He promptly dropped it.

“You can't just hand somebody a thing like that!” Mag wiped his hands off on his pants. “It's a soul stealer.”

I knelt next to it. “I've been carrying it around in my pocket.”

“You can hold it safely.” He emphasized the
you
. “You're a dead thing.”

“Sorry.” I picked it up and held it out in my palm. He bent over to examine it more closely. Lines of blue shone on his face, cast by the runes carved into the bullet. “If death wasn't enough to pull your soul out of your body,” Magbidion continued, “then this won't be a problem for you.”

He took a ratty-looking pair of wire-framed reading glasses out of his shirt pocket and put them on. Magbidion traced his finger over one of the symbols, the same symbol Rachel had recognized. “It only kills werewolves.” He sighed. “You want to be careful, though. It's not made to kill vampires, but it shape-locks anything supernatural that it hits. You get hit with one of these and there'll be no turning to a bat and flying back to the crypt until you get the bullet out. The silver would probably set you on fire too. Hell, I didn't have anything to worry about.”

“Then you hold it.” I handed it to him. The way I dumped the bullet into his hand made me remember having handed it to Rachel. Good thing it only worked on werewolves.

“It has souls inside of it, too.” He crossed his eyes. “Two, four, six…hold still…eight…nine…Lot of ‘em in there. Fella could make some impressive wards with these guys.”

“Wards?”

“Are you kidding me?” Magbidion tapped the bullet. “Werewolf souls are perfect for wards. They're supernatural and mundane at the same time…. Human, yet not human. Perfect for keeping normals and paranormals at bay. I hear it took about thirty to erect the wards over at the Highland Towers and they're damn near impregnable.”

He made a series of motions in the air.

“Looks like you're trying to adjust the focus on an invisible camera,” I told him.

“I am.” Mag paused. “Well, kind of.”

He kept motioning and my stomach turned. The sound of fingernails on a chalkboard rose from the bullet. “It's a tricky artifact,” Mag explained. “I nearly missed it, but this bullet is linked to something…some things. More bullets, maybe? I could tell for sure if I saw the gun.”

With each adjustment he made, the sound got worse until with a final twist it stopped. Seven little blue cables of light extended three feet from the bullet's base. Magbidion touched one of them and bit his lip. “It's no good. Someone would have to follow the trail and you don't have enough money to pay me to do that.” He perked up. “Unless, of course, you want to be my champion.”

“I'll think about it.” I took the bullet back. “For now, why don't you tell me what you can.”

“This bullet is connected…it has five little brother bullets, and all of them are tied to one another and more importantly, to one hell of a gun.” He took off his glasses and put them away. “It's powerful magic. I couldn't make something like that. Whoever made it is either real bad juju or had a demon to help them.”

“Now I just have to find a tracker, right?” I put the bullet back in my pocket. “How much do I owe you for the info?”

“I'll put it on your tab.”

“I'd rather write you another check.”

“Just let me know if you decide to make any wards with that stuff. I've always wanted to work with the real thing.”

“It's a deal,” I agreed.

He started to leave, then stopped himself. “Can I park my RV in the Pollux parking deck tonight? The first floor is tall enough.”

“Anytime,” I told him, meaning it. I followed him out the back door and watched as he walked over to a ragtag RV with what looked like a decade's worth of dust and grime on it. He unlocked it and looked over his shoulder at me.

“You know Talbot could probably follow the bullet's trail back to the gun if he knew to look for it.” He tapped his temple. “Cat's eyes.” He climbed in and the vehicular behemoth came to life, spewing a cloud of black smoke from the tailpipe.

I walked back inside and returned to the office. Marilyn hopped out of my chair as I approached, moving to a folding chair across the room. Talbot loomed near the door as usual. They gave me a rundown on what had happened and it didn't make me the happiest boy in the world to find out that my newly turned girlfriend had gone batshit and tried to kill every human in my club. “How's Candice?”

“They're keeping her overnight for observation,” Talbot said matter-of-factly. “Broken clavicle, cracked sternum, a pretty good concussion, and a fair assortment of cuts and bruises; I wouldn't expect her to work for a while even if she does decide to come back. We had six girls working when it happened. Jasmine will be okay in a day or two. She's weak from the blood loss. Kaylee got off with bumps and bruises, and Sharon and Desiree were just scared half to death. Lil's dead, though, and that emcee you were trying out, Rick…we'll need to find a replacement. He's dead too.”

“Fuck! That stupid bitch!” I stood up, brushing past Talbot to stick my head out into the hall. Tabitha's new scent drifted toward me from the dressing room.

“It wasn't her fault, Eric.” Marilyn sighed. I turned to look at her, my hand still on the door. “Magbidion was surprised that she lasted as long as she did before exploding.”

The question I was about to ask must have been betrayed by my expression, because Talbot answered it. “I fed her cold blood again tonight. I got it out of your emergency stash in the break room fridge because I didn't have much time.”

“And?”

“And Magbidion said somebody spiked your blood,” he concluded. “Not the blood in the office fridge that you and Roger share. Just the stuff in the break room…just yours.”

“It's easier to get to,” I said. “Anybody can get into that break room.

“Call the girls and tell them that the Demon Heart is closed until I get this all sorted out. Everyone still gets paid,” I told Marilyn.

It's not like I need the money anyway, which I've tried to explain to Roger more than once. It doesn't matter if we turn a profit. The Demon Heart's all about food supply, not money. Managed properly, the club could lose twenty grand a month and we'd still be fine. As it was, we usually made money anyway, assuming we didn't have to shell out for a lot of high-priced magical stuff. Maybe it would have been cheaper to be Magbidion's champion. I just didn't know exactly what it entailed, aside from killing the demon, and as usual, I didn't want to know.

“Damn werewolves,” I griped. “Do you think they could be behind this? I mean I get the attack at the hockey game, but—”

“You got attacked at a hockey game?” Marilyn wheezed. She'd walked around behind the desk and started dialing, receiver in hand.

“Yeah. I killed the Void City Howlers.” I shrugged. “They were werewolves. Didn't Roger and Rachel tell you about it?”

“Veruca told you they aren't back yet,” Talbot reminded me.

“Shit. They left first. They really should have gotten back first.” Marilyn hung up the phone and the three of us walked back to the fridge in the break room. Talbot slid past me and opened it. I kept five pints of blood in there for emergencies and weekends, in addition to the supply Roger and I share in the office mini-fridge. There was generally at least one night each week when I wound up drinking blood out of the fridge, usually when all the girls were busy and I just didn't feel like going out. There were two left, pushed to the back behind various salad dressings, bottled water, diet sodas, and the remains of Candice's pizza; Magbidion had marked both bags with a big red
X
. Marilyn reached past me for a bottle of water with a large
M
etched into the cap.

I picked up one of the blood bags and shook it at Talbot. “What the hell did he say is in these things?”

Marilyn set her water on top of the fridge, took the bag from me, put it back in the fridge, and closed the door. She stood facing me, but her eyes were on the floor. “Someone tried to slip you the be-all-end-all of Mickey Finns, Eric. Magbidion did two thousand dollars worth of mojo over it and said it was something mixed with werewolf blood. He took one with him to study it, but we already know it makes the vampire who drinks it go berserk. He thinks that at the beginning it gives the victim a mild euphoria and erodes their self-control, but when the drinker next tastes human blood, warm blood, from the source—”

“They go apeshit,” Talbot concluded. “We're just lucky that it wasn't you.”

“I'd have killed everyone,” I said softly. “Is there any way to know who did it?”

“No.” Marilyn shook her head. “All of the girls use this room, and our security's not all that tight to start with.” She grabbed her water bottle and took a drink. There was a bruise on her right arm, like it had been grabbed too hard, but it was her left arm in the sling. I thought back to the slap. Had I grabbed both arms? I didn't think so, not that I could ask. “Hey, did I do that, too?” seemed a little insensitive.