Crimson City Part 5

Dain bit into the sausage egg burrito and, with his mouth half-full, asked: "You jealous?" It didn't seem

likely.

Cyd choked and made a point of downing half of her orange juice in one swig. "I spend more time with

you than any other living being, human or otherwise. Should I be jealous?"

Dain downed all of his OJ. "Not yet," he said with a wink, then crushed the can against his forehead.

He'd hoped to a elicit a disgusted look, but Cyd only gave a shake of her head and a laugh. "Whatever,"

she said. "Look, you won't need the car until the afternoon. How about I take it and drop you off. I'll pick you up when you're ready to go out to the base."

"Are you planning to go out to the base with me?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged. "Okay. Your call."

They switched seats and Cyd drove him to the taxi depot. Dain got out of the car and leaned in through the open window. "I'll just be a couple of hours at most. I'll call your comm."

"Be good," Cyd called as she peeled back out into traffic.

Dain took a sky taxi to the rooftop of Dumont Towers, straight to the helicopter pad. It didn't escape his notice that Fleur hadn't simply invited him to meet her at the ground-level doors. When the taxi landed,

she was already waiting for him, looking as sharp and as carefully attired as the last time he'd seen her. This time she held a large leather bag. "I'm a little disappointed with all this," Dain said. "I figured you might fly me around yourself." "That's a little too personal," Fleur responded. He arched an eyebrow. "You afraid to get too close?" She smiled wide, purposely letting her fangs show. "Aren't you?" She checked her watch and looked up into the sky. "Here we are."

A helicopter with the Dumont crest emblazoned on the side landed on the pad. The pilot waved them forward.

"Ready?" Fleur asked.

"Ready."

"Watch your head." They ran across the landing pad and slipped into the transport under the whirr of the propellers.

"We're not going far," Fleur shouted, handing Dain a headset. He slipped it on and the nimble helicopter took off immediately, whipping around in an arc and setting off in the direction of Beverly Hills.

The dropoff came not five minutes later, high above Rodeo Drive on a rooftop with no visible protective fencing, just a length of red velvet rope encircling the pavement to indicate the landing target. Fleur and Dain disembarked and ran to the safety area outside the circle, Fleur stopping for a pa.s.sing word with a redhead in a lowcut party dress who waved to the pilot to hold his position.

The amused glance of Fleur's friend was nothing compared to the expressions of surprise and disdain on the faces of the other vampires who pa.s.sed them. Dain ignored them and stepped toward the edge of the rooftop. His pulse raced as he swayed over the city. No safety netting, no security measures. There was nothing to stop a human from hurtling off the side to his death.

Strata +1 at its finest.

The unusually high bird's-eye view made it difficult for Dain to get his bearings at first. He looked for the landmarks, but they were hard to see; the shapes of the buildings weren't obvious in the dark and the lights from the city below were surprisingly dim. Entirely new marketing directed at the vampires cluttered the sides of buildings and were embedded on rooftops like giant television screens projecting upwards into the sky.

"Not what you thought?" Fleur asked.

"I've been to the bottom of your strata, but never this high."

She pointed to a set of colored lights dotting the four corners of just about every rooftop. "Think of that building as a sort of hub. Treat it like a compa.s.s, and think of the directional lines as similar to subway lines." Fleur swept her arm. "Like the red line there. It pa.s.ses from the hub along that red line of lights."

They stood on the roof for a few more minutes, then Fleur directed him to a walkway that reached across to an adjacent building. Through the windows beyond he could see some kind of restaurant. She gestured for Dain to proceed and he started out over the city, noticing several of these casually stationed paths suspended from nearby buildings.

The walkways were ridiculously thin, like one lane zip-lines that were likely used for moments when the fangs didn't want to expend the energy to suspend themselves in the air. As Dain picked his way across, he noticed it was also particularly convenient for discouraging the presence of other species; he wasn't the type to balk from high-risk activities, but one misstep on these walkways and his mortality would definitely be showing.

Fleur led Dain through a door on the side of the building and, once they were inside, it was as he'd guessed; a bustling dining establishment dripping with ma.s.sive crystal chandeliers and huge Limoges vases spilling forth freshly cut hothouse flowers. Within seconds of being seated at an emerald silk tufted booth, a gloved steward wheeled out a lacquered cart filled with bottles of champagne nestled into crushed ice.

"The usual, Miss Dumont?"

"Please."

Dain looked around while the steward opened the bottle. The men wore tuxedos, the women, simple dresses in rich, jewel-toned fabrics. And diamonds. They wore diamonds to dine though this was obviously just an ordinary midnight meal. "What is this place?"

"A caviar bar," Fleur said with a careless shrug. "Would you care for some... or just champagne?"

"Champagne's fine." Dain shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked out the window. This high up, the view was pure midnight blue; there was only a twinkling of dimmed lights from the lowlight advertis.e.m.e.nts and marquee signs below.

The steward poured two flutes and left the remainder of the champagne in a small silver ice bucket. Dain turned the bottle and looked at the label. He raised an eyebrow at the vintage but Fleur didn't seem particularly concerned with price; she probably had a drink here every day.

She leaned over the table, the spicy scent of her perfume wafting under his nose. With the corner of her mouth turned up in a mischievous grin she asked, "Are you quite comfortable, Reston? Really, I thought you would get a kick out of this, but we can go if you prefer."

"I'm fine."

"I see." Fleur stared into his eyes, then let her gaze drop to his neck. He could feel his pulse beating there.

In truth, he was feeling pretty overwhelmed. Surrounded by vampires and completely isolated from his own kind, Dain wasn't fine. After all, these were the people who'd killed his wife. His adrenaline had kicked in, and he was sure the blood rushing through his body wasn't unnoticed by Fleur. Watching her stare at his neck, he had to wonder about her natural blood hunger. Everybody had a breaking point.

"Don't be nervous," Fleur said.

"I'm not nervous."

Her glance flicked to the tabletop. Tiny flecks of gold paper littered the surface. Dain hadn't even realized he'd been shredding the label off the champagne bottle.

"That's habit, not nerves," he said. Why was she trying to put him at ease? He nodded to a couple of vampires dressed to the nines heading out the door. "Is this how you live all the time? Ever have the urge to put on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and just go to a burger joint?"

"Maybe. But don't pretend this isn't better. Haven't you ever had the urge to live like a prince?"

"Maybe," he admitted. "But I prefer not to have to live according to a bunch of silly expectations, either."

She rolled her eyes. "Every stratum has expectations. So... let me get to know you. What do you actually like?"

Dain laughed in surprise. "What do I like? h.e.l.l, I don't know. I like dancing in the rain and long walks in the park holding hands. How's that?"

"Useless lies," she said. "Though in all honesty, I will admit to sneaking into the human stratum once just to smell the flowers. I suppose that counts as a long walk in the park."

"Have you ever eaten French fries?" he asked.

Fleur gave a delicate snort. "No. Fois gras?"

"G.o.d, no. Gone to the batting cages?"

"Of course not. Do you fence?" she asked. "And do you prefer saber or epee?"

"Neither. Fencing is for wimps. I prefer a weapon more like this." Dain took a severe-looking dagger out of his boot and laid it on the table.

"Oh, my. That's rather large," Fleur said in mock-horror. She looked amused. Reaching down under the table, she came back up with a knife twice the size of his. "I prefer something more like this."

They both started laughing.

Dain caught his breath. "Favorite color?" he asked.

"Red, of course," she said coquettishly. "You?"

"Black. Favorite comic book hero?"

"Easy one. Dr. Jean Gray. You?"

Dain stopped smiling. He couldn't remember reading any comic books; the old memory banks completely failed him on that one. He stared down at the table and could feel her sense the change in his mood. The lightness between them slipped away. He looked up, moistened his lips and asked, "Have you ever killed a human?"

Fleur looked at him in surprise. "That's a rather personal question."

"I know."

"Please don't ask a question you wouldn't answer yourself."

"I've killed a human," Dain said, staring at her intently. "Several. On the job. Most of them deserved it."

Fleur seemed to need a moment to process his statement. "I have never killed a human," she finally said. "But I have taken one's soul."

It wasn't quite the answer he'd expected. Fl.u.s.tered, he leaned forward for clarification. "You've... ?" Then, realizing what she'd just admitted, he leaned back into the booth as far from her as he could get.

Fleur chewed the corner of her lip and looked away. "Yes. I made a human, vampire. It was an accident and a mistake. I regret it, and I've apologized for it."

Dain swallowed. "That's big of you."

She gave him a stony look. "Don't be a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I was very young. It was horrible. And I don't intend to ever let it happen again."

"Can you help it?" He couldn't help a sort of morbid fascination.

"Of course I can help it," she said quickly. Perhaps a little too quickly. "Believe me, self-control has been an obsession of mine ever since."

"What happened?"

She took a long sip of champagne, obviously stalling. She put the crystal flute down and looked like she was about to signal the waiter, but Dain wasn't willing to let the matter go.

"What happened?" he repeated. "I need to know that I have nothing to worry about from you. I'm sure you can sympathize."

"I'd rather not talk about the specifics." Fleur gave him a pointed look. "I'm sure you can sympathize, having killed, yourself. But know this. While the bloodl.u.s.t is unpredictable and very powerful when it hits, consider that I was young and not skilled in the art of controlling it." She looked into Dain's eyes. "I thought I was in love. I was just... completely swept away."

"Pa.s.sion," he said.

"I'd never felt anything like it before, and I haven't since. Of course-" She reached over the table and grabbed him by the throat, mimicking how he'd handled her on his turf in the Triangle. There was a smile on her face, and she was obviously trying to make a joke, but he could feel her fingers run along the pulsing vein in his neck. "-if you play with fire, you should expect to get burned."

More unsettled than he cared to reveal, Dain dislodged her hand with a laugh. Likewise trying to keep things light even as the tension built inside him, he said. "Fire? I don't carry matches around anymore. You'll have to ask my partner."

Fleur leaned back against her side of the booth, pressed her finger into the gold paper flakes on the table until they stuck to her skin. She shrugged. "Fair enough. Anyway, we're not here to play games."

Dain nodded. At last; maybe he was going to get some information. "What are we here for?"

Fleur reached into the bag beside her on the seat, and pulled out a fairly wide black leather zippered case upon which her initials were stamped in gold. She laid the case on the table and unzipped it, producing a thick ream of files. Her hand hesitated for a moment, but only for a moment, and she flipped the case around toward Dain.

One glance told him these were intelligence files.

He held his palm up. "You can show me yours, but don't expect me to show you mine."

She gave him an amused look, then shrugged.

He paged through the files. "These are werewolf cases."

"They always claim we make these things up to turn the humans against them. I wanted you to understand that we have our reasons."

"Okay. So these appear-and I say appear, because I'm not ruling out the possibility of photo-doctoring-to be crimes against humans by werewolves. The bodies aren't desiccating the way vampires do, and the wounds seem consistent with the usual dog M.O. What does this have to do with the deaths of your brothers?"

"They don't." She shoved the files away, and Dain was tempted to ask for them back, just to have time to look over the vampires' methods of a.n.a.lysis. "These are from long ago, but they show you the danger of the city. They show you how no one tells the truth. How no one works together. We could have given you this info a long time ago... but we didn't.

"What do you think this is about?" Fleur continued. She gestured around her, and then to them. "I bring you up here to strata plus-one. Out in the open for everyone to see, and I don't even try to dress you to pa.s.s. You walk as a human, completely safe under my watch, with my name on the line. You ask me very personal questions, and I actually answer you honestly. Then I show you cla.s.sified doc.u.ments."

He stayed silent and Fleur finally c.o.c.ked her head to one side. "It's about trust, Dain Reston. I want us to be able to trust each other."

Trust. Dain studied her face. She was serious. And he wanted to believe her. "We forgot to toast when we drank," he said, and raised his gla.s.s. "To a new partnership. To trust."

"Trust," Fleur echoed, tipping her flute into his. The crystal sang out sweetly.