Darkling (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #3)

Darkling (Otherworld/Sisters of the Moon #3) Page 3

"Not good news," she said. "You told Camille and Delilah yet?"

"No. I'm going to take off early. I need to fill them in before Chase finds any more victims. This isn't really our department—well, not theirs—but they should know. And I better call Wade and ask him to meet me out at the house. You want a ride home when I'm done?" I picked up the phone and started to punch in Wade's number.

Iris nodded. "Might as well." She looked around. "I was hoping… oh never mind," she added, her gaze glued to the house sprites in the corner booth who by now were so intoxicated that one of them had keeled over face-first on the table. He was going to have a nasty backache in the morning, considering he was kneeling on the seat of the booth.

I stared at her for a moment. "You were hoping to find a date, weren't you?" I smiled as she blushed and ducked her head.

"No—yes—I mean—"

Relenting, I reached out and patted her hand. "That's nothing to be embarrassed about. Why don't you go over and talk to that group of louts while I'm on the phone. Maybe sober, they'll wash up better than they look now." As I picked up the receiver, Iris took a deep breath and slid off her bar stool. She cautiously approached the group of sprites and I kept one eye on her to make sure she was okay while I waited for Wade to pick up.

Wade was the first vampire I met Earthside, and he ran the local V.A. group. Vampires Anonymous was a support group for vamps who were having trouble adjusting to life as one of the undead. It sounded silly in theory, but it helped to have a social life that didn't depend on cruising the blood bars and Supe clubs all night long. Breathers just didn't understand some of the dilemmas and problems we faced. Sometimes, we needed a safe place to vent.

When I'd joined, Wade enlisted me in his pet cause: turning vampires away from preying on innocents and teaching them how to feed without killing. At first, I wasn't sure what I thought about his idea, but the more I examined my own reactions, the better I liked it. Of course, the self-control went against our innate natures—there were certain urges that came with the life… or afterlife… that I hadn't ever confided to Delilah or Camille. But they could be corralled with the right amount of caution and care.

But I made it clear to Wade that I wasn't about to extend my newfound enthusiasm to the nutjobs of the world. Once somebody crossed the line between antisocial geek boy and active harmful sociopath, they forfeited their rights and became fair game. And, quite often, dinner.

When Wade answered the phone I ran down the situation and asked him to meet me at home in an hour. "I just have one request," I said, staring at the counter. "Please leave your mother at home."

Wade and I'd dated for a bit, if you could call it that, but I hadn't been comfortable with his advances. And his mother had been the deciding factor in my ending our budding romance. Now we were just buddies.

"No problem. I set her up on a date with Count Creakula," he said, referring to an old-school vampire we knew who mainly kept to his loft, puttering among his collection of moldy old books.

Relieved, I signed off. Somebody had turned Belinda Stevens into a vampire out of spite, leaving Wade stuck with an overbearing albatross who wasn't about to let go of her little boy. Stuck forever, unless somebody got busy with a stake. I'd considered it more than once but had managed to restrain myself. Sooner or later, though, somebody, somewhere, was going to get fed up with the woman and dust her.

As I hung up, I noticed that Iris had reeled somebody in.

The sprite walking her back to the bar was close to sober. On second look, he was also pretty damned cute with curly black hair that kissed his shoulders, a sparkle in his eye that warned he might be full of piss and vinegar, and biceps that glistened even under the dim bar lights. Take away the smell of booze and the spilled mustard on his muscle tank and he'd wash up mighty fine.

Iris glanced up at me and I pointed toward the clock. "I've got to run, Bruce," she told him. "I'll give you a call tomorrow."

He nodded, an eager look on his face. "Right then. But not before noon. If I don't get my tea in the morning, I'll be speaking in one-syllable words." A clipped British accent echoed in his voice. He'd probably spent some time among high society, even if he was slumming with the boys now. He waved as we headed out the door.

The night was atypical for January—far colder than usual with a blustery wind picking up. We were due for a major storm. Camille had confirmed the forecast with her magic. The wind elementals were working their way down from the Arctic, bringing with them a snowstorm that would be pounding the area by tomorrow night. She and Delilah spent the entire day making certain that everything was tied down or put away. Morio had helped, along with Chase. I'd been asleep during the actual work but when I came up from my den around sunset, I noticed that the storm windows had been hung and the porch cleared of all the clutter that had accumulated over the holidays.

As Iris and I set a good pace along the sidewalk, she zipped up her jacket and stuck her hands in her pockets. I wasn't cold—I'd never be cold again—but it was obvious that the wind chill was playing havoc. On the way to my car, which was parked in an all-night parking garage three blocks west of the Wayfarer, she chatted away.

"This winter's been odd," she was saying. "When Camille first thought it was unnatural, I figured it was her imagination, but now I think she's right. I can feel it, too—there's something in the air. We're due for another snowstorm. We never have more than one or two snows during the winter, but this year, it's been off and on for over a month."

I nodded, unsure of what to say. I was neither a weather mage, nor a meteorologist. But when I paused to examine the energy of the city, there was something that didn't quite click.

Iris changed the subject. "Maggie is near to taking her first steps, I think."

I beamed, a ray of pride burning through my chest. I'd been working with her, trying to help her learn how to balance and stand. "I hope I'm awake to see it. What makes you think she's getting close?"

"She's been using the coffee table to brace herself. That tail of hers gives her the most problem—and the wings. I don't think she's quite got hold of the notion to compensate for their bulk by leaning forward a little. She tried once, but she leaned so far that she toppled over." Iris giggled. "I didn't dare laugh. Her feelings turn on a dime and I've seen her go from smiling to crying if you so much as give her a sour look."

"I noticed that, too," I said. Hmmm, the bulk of the wings and tail. I hadn't thought of that. "I'll work on teaching her how to offset the extra weight."

"Good thing, but be careful—she's very sensitive lately."

"I've noticed that." Maggie was finely attuned to nuances in demeanor and I was cautious to avoid teasing her too much. "She'll get the hang of it pretty soon and then, watch out. We're going to have to… well… gargoyle-proof the house. She's too young to understand what trouble she could get into and we don't want any accidents."

Iris gave a vigorous nod. "That's for certain. Look at what happened when Delilah got hold of the Yule tree. If that had been Maggie, she could have been killed. I'll go shopping and pick up some baby-proofing supplies. They should work the same."

We were a block away from the parking garage when we passed an alley. A noise caught my attention, and I froze, motioning for Iris to stop talking. Muted cries drifted out, along with the sound of rough laughter. Something was going on between the two brick buildings that loomed over Wilshire Avenue, and whatever it was, wasn't good. The noises were muffled by the sound of the rain hitting the pavement, but I could still catch a girl crying out, "No, please don't!"

I glanced down at Iris and she gave a slight nod. We flattened against the damp bricks and slowly inched our way down the gloom-filled alley. It was dark enough that we were able to blend into the shadows. I made no noise at all as long as I didn't shake my head vigorously and rattle the beads that were braided into my hair. Iris was almost as quiet as I, and we shuffled along until we were far enough down the back street to see what was going on.

In the dim light coming from an apartment halfway up one of the towering buildings, we could see two men accosting a girl who looked to be in her early teens. One of the men had an arm wrapped around her waist and he was struggling to keep his hand over her mouth. The other man had ripped open her blouse and her pale young breasts gleamed in the dark night. He reached out to finger her budding nipples and I tensed.

Iris sucked in a deep breath. I touched her arm, motioning for her to stop where she was. Slipping through the shadows, silent as a knife, when I gauged that I was about two yards away from them, I closed the distance with one leap to land right beside the man who had hold of the girl. My fangs extended as a rush of adrenaline washed through me.

The man was tall and pale, wearing a short trench over what looked to be a pair of khaki trousers. He had a Panama hat on, the brim pulled low over one eye. His buddy was wearing a pair of jeans and a thick sweater.

"Didn't count on company, did you, boys?" I said, grabbing Mr. Smooth by his jacket collar. He let go of the girl and I gently pushed her out of the way.

"What the fuck—" he started to say as I lifted him up, slamming him against the side of the building with one arm. His buddy turned to run but Iris muttered something and there was a flash of light in front of his eyes.

"Shit, I can't see, man!" he said, stumbling past me. I stuck my left foot out, looping the toe of my boot around his ankle and yanked. His feet slid out from under him and he hit the ground, hard.

"What the—" he started to say, but then Iris was on him and I'm not sure what she did, but he slumped to the ground. She hurried over to the girl, who was cowering against the opposite wall, clutching her blouse closed across her breasts.

I turned my attention to my captive and knocked his hat off so I could see his face. He struggled but there was no way in hell he could get away from me. A look of shock washed over his face when he realized that he was powerless, caught in the grip of a woman barely skimming five one, with glowing red eyes.

"What's your name, jerk wad?"

He struggled and I shoved him harder against the wall. "I asked you for your name, boy!"

"Okay, okay! Robert. I'm Robert. Jesus, what the crap are you on?" He squirmed but I gave a little squeeze to his windpipe and he immediately froze.

"Get this straight. Nothing about me is of any concern to you. The only thing that matters is what you were doing with that girl. Tell me, freak, what were you going to do to her? And don't say you were giving her a tour of the city. I'm in no mood for idiots." I flashed a sideways glance at Iris. She was comforting the girl.

He let out a strangled gulp and said, "None of your business, bitch."

"Ten, nine, eight…" I gave another squeeze, careful to avoid crushing his trachea. "You know, it's cold out, and I've had a bad day. Maybe you'd better talk faster."

"Jesus, let go! Let go!" He seemed to get the message that I held all the cards because he slumped in my grip. "Okay, okay! We were taking her to a party."

My boy was starting to turn blue. I eased up just a tad on his larynx.

"They were trying to rape me," the girl said, sniffling. She stepped out of the shadows and I could see that she was dressed in skintight jeans, a blouse, and a leather jacket over the top of that. Poor kid looked tired and cold. "They told me they'd take me to a party where I could get some sleep and something to eat, but instead, they brought me here…"

"Where did you meet them?" I asked her, while motioning to Iris. "Search him, would you?"

"At… at the bus station," the girl whispered. "I just got into town. I don't have any place to stay. I was trying to find a spot at the station where I could hide out and take a nap when these guys found me. They had a girl with them, and they all asked me if I wanted to go with them to a party. They said there would be food there and a place I could sleep. When we got outside, the girl disappeared and these guys… they brought me here."

An old story, even back in Otherworld. I pointed to a step leading into one of the businesses on the bottom floor of the Whitmore Building and said, "Sit down for a minute. You're safe for now."

Iris finished patting Robert down and held up a nasty-looking gun. I knew that iron didn't affect her but it would burn my hands. Not all of the Fae were affected by the metal, but some of us—even half-breeds—definitely held no love for it, cast iron, especially. I let go and watched as Robert tumbled to the ground.

"Stay put or you're dead," I said, taking the gun from Iris. My hand sparked on contact, but the fact that I was a vampire helped rather than hindered me. I couldn't feel the pain as the iron burned my skin. And ever since I'd made the transformation to vamp, I tended to heal from most wounds within minutes or hours. Too bad the wounds that Dredge had inflicted on me hadn't been able to heal up before I died, but he'd killed me too quickly afterward.

Pointing the gun at Robert, I said, "Nice, huh? You like to play with guns, do you?"

His eyes grew wide and I gave him a slow smile. Oh yes, this could be quite the fun little game. He scrambled away, pressing his back against the wall. "Don't shoot me, don't hurt me, lady! I'm sorry. Just let us go and—"

"Shut up and sit still." I opened the chamber and shook the bullets out into my hand. Then I put my hand around the long barrel of the gun and held it up where Robert could see nice and clear. Slowly I bent the barrel back on itself. "There, that's much better. Now this can go back to doing what iron does best—rusting."