Nocturnal Part 38

"What did I miss?" I tried to sound peppy.

"We just convened," said d.i.c.k. "As you are all aware, the clients are arriving instantaneously. We probably should have postponed, but of course n.o.body could have apprehended Lucy's absence. Speaking of which, I'm sure no one wishes to arrogate her duties, but if she's not back by tomorrow we're going to have to discuss an emergency distribution of her clients. I've already set a meeting for ten o'clock in the Ferlinghetti Room. Which we'll cancel if Lucy surfaces, as we trust she will. So, Kimberley and Angie, I guess this will be your chance to fly solo. Are you ready?"

Kimberley jumped in before I'd even opened my mouth. "Oh, yes, d.i.c.k, the presentation is completely ready."

"Well, I would certainly like to attend, but my presence is required by a major client," d.i.c.k said. "So you three are going to handle Macabre Factor this morning."

Kimberley batted her eyelashes at d.i.c.k. "d.i.c.k, since Lucy isn't here, someone is going to have to take the lead. I'd like to volunteer. I coordinated the market research and I'm the most familiar with the account. And I've got the presentation right here on my laptop, ready to go."

Kimberley was the most familiar with the account? I cursed silently, but I couldn't really blame her. We had both been laboring in Lucy's chain gang for months; of course she would be plotting a break out as well. The only difference was that she didn't care if there was collateral damage. But there was nothing I could do without making myself look like a faker, a whiner, or a tattletale.

I looked at Les, expecting him to be claiming his free ticket to the ladies' mud wrestling show that was about to begin, but he was busy digging dirt out of his fingernail with the cap of his pen. I made a mental note to myself to stop fantasizing about him.

d.i.c.k didn't miss a beat. "I suggest you handle the presentation conjunctively. Two heads are better than one." He waved the backs of his hands at us. "Well, go ahead. Mustn't keep the clients waiting. Although since they're vampires, I suppose they are immutable immutable." His arch delivery indicated a joke, so we all laughed. Kimberley grabbed her laptop and rushed out the door.

In the hall I saw Les walking in the wrong direction, to the Creative Department rather than the Kerouac Room.

"Les, aren't you coming?"

He turned around. "Listen, Angie, I'm swamped with another account. Do you think you could do this one without me?"

His expression was plaintive. I had never noticed before that his hazel eyes were flecked with dark stripes, like a cat's, but with him staring so intently at me I couldn't miss it. Most of the people in Creative were chronically behind, the mark of an artist being asked to work in a widget factory. Les, however, had never asked me for special favors. I wondered why he was starting now.

"Yes, all right, but only if you promise to keep your phone on in case they have any questions that only you can answer. Is that fair?"

"I owe you one. And Angie, please don't tell d.i.c.k I didn't show, okay?"

"Okay."

He surprised me with a brief hug before dashing down the hall.

When I arrived at the meeting Kimberley and the founders of Macabre Factor were already there, chatting amiably under a photograph of a cloud of cigarette smoke with Jack Kerouac inside it. Although I knew their legal names from the various contracts we had signed, Douglas and Marie Claire Paquin, they insisted on being called by their noms de sang, noms de sang, Suleiman and Moravia. These vampires didn't seem to be the daylight avoiding type. Even though it was nine a.m. they were as bright-eyed as game show contestants. Suleiman and Moravia. These vampires didn't seem to be the daylight avoiding type. Even though it was nine a.m. they were as bright-eyed as game show contestants.

"Good morning, Suleiman, Moravia." I hurried to say, "I'm so sorry to be late."

"No, please, do not worry about it," Suleiman answered, as he bowed over my hand. "Theresa made us very comfortable."

Suleiman's accent was British plus something else, possibly Indian. His black hair was slicked back from his slightly receding hairline with a shiny hair gel, probably the one from their line called "Sleek." His eyes were dark and thick-lashed and his skin was olive-toned. His outfit was straight out of Hedda Gabler Hedda Gabler: a pinstriped cutaway frock coat, paisley vest, and a red silk cravat secured with a pearl tie tack. He was unusual without being over the top, and despite my better judgment I was intrigued. I also wanted to know where he bought his clothes.

Once, when Lucy had referred to the clients as "the vampires," Moravia had corrected her.

"We don't say 'vampires,' we refer to those in the vampire lifestyle in the vampire lifestyle."

Since then we always used the politically correct term, at least to their faces. I a.s.sumed the vampire lifestyle meant dressing in black, frequenting night clubs, listening to Goth music, and drinking b.l.o.o.d.y Marys. Although I'd never been to a vampire club, I felt I understood something about their chosen lifestyle. Taking on an unusual persona gives you an entree into a world that is glamorous and different from your own mundane life. You can easily recognize who belongs and who doesn't. I can't count the number of late-night, coffee-driven conversations I've had with other actors about how much different (and better) our world was compared to the nine-to-five one. Of course, I recanted those statements when I couldn't make my car payments, but I still understood that need to feel special.

"Will Lucy be joining us this morning?" Moravia's breathy voice interrupted my reverie.

Human Resources had already told us yesterday that until we had some definitive answer about Lucy's whereabouts we were to simply say Lucy was "unavoidably delayed."

"Lucy was unavoidably delayed this morning," Kimberley answered. "But Angie and I can't wait to show you the great concepts we've prepared for you."

Moravia nodded and leaned back in her chair, giving me a view of the tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, perfectly round and the size of small cantaloupes. Her cleavage could support a pencil upright. She bore a close resemblance to Elvira, Mistress of the Night, who appears in display ads (not ours) in liquor stores every Halloween. Her long black hair was parted in the middle and worn loose down her back. Her face was an artful display of all of her company's wares, with translucent white skin, black-rimmed eyes that could give Cleopatra a run for her money, and juicy red lips. Moravia might have been plain if you caught her just out of the shower, but then you probably wouldn't be looking at her face. The two were the perfect spokesmodels for their brand, and that was the pitch.

Kimberley projected the first ill.u.s.tration, of Suleiman and Moravia in a red Ferrari convertible driving out of a Transylvanian-style castle on a mountain. Suleiman was smiling at Moravia while she laughed with her head thrown back, her hair blowing in the wind. Both were wearing sungla.s.ses and had visible fangs. Moravia's dress was cla.s.sic Vampira, with jagged-edged sleeves, while they'd put Suleiman in a playboy smoking jacket. The caption under the picture read: "You're going to live forever. Make sure you look good." Below that the words "Macabre Factor Cosmetics" dripped down the page in a spidery Gothic font.

The rest of the ill.u.s.trations had the same combination of style and campy humor: the couple at a Hollywood-style party, toasting each other with gla.s.ses of red liquid; skiing down a mountain dressed in bright parkas, red lips sparkling against the snow; in the stands at the horse races, shielded from the sun in huge hats. Kimberley ran down the campaign logistics-the magazines, the websites and blogs, the rollout in select cosmetic and department stores-and I helped her the same way I helped Lucy, filling in relevant details and statistics.

Finally it was over and we were silent. Now was the moment of truth.

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Long, delicate fingers caressed the stem of a winegla.s.s, trailing upwards to catch a few small beads of condensation on the gla.s.s. Sultry eyes the color of the sky during a summer storm bored into me from across the cloth-covered table, with all of the woman's not-inconsiderable powers of compulsion behind them. I knew what she was trying to do, which didn't make it any easier to resist.

Taking a deep breath, I forced my gaze away as nonchalantly as I could to look through the bay window beside our table. Staring at the rippling black waters of a little man-made pond, dotted with reflected lights and a single white swan, beat falling into a black enchant by looking into Veronica's eyes. The bird floated, serene and oblivious, as a laughing young couple threw bits of bread at it to try to lure it closer.

Swans were pretty but vicious if you got too close. Much like my dinner companion.

She was still waiting oh-so-breathlessly for my reply. With a sigh, I dragged my attention off the sights outside and back to the mage, careful not to meet her gaze directly.

"Look, it's not that I don't need the money, but I don't kill vampires for magi. First and foremost, I'm human. I can't compete with you guys. Second, I'm a private detective, not an a.s.sa.s.sin. Not to mention that it's still illegal to kill vamps without a signed warrant."

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to look into those overbright eyes and change my mind. Hey, I hated vampires as much as the next human, but I wasn't about to go hunt one down hunt one down like a crazy person and get myself killed. My job was scary enough without adding angry vampires to the list of stalkers trying to get a piece of my hide to make up for the grief I caused them. like a crazy person and get myself killed. My job was scary enough without adding angry vampires to the list of stalkers trying to get a piece of my hide to make up for the grief I caused them.

"Shiarra, I'm not asking you to kill him. Just," Veronica paused, her persuasive tones trailing off into a throaty "hmm" before she continued, "just find out what he's up to. Detain him if necessary. Find the location of a little trinket for us. My coven will take care of the rest."

Her cherry lips curved in a smile more predatory than any vamp's, her pinkish tongue darting out to run suggestively along her upper lip once she noticed that was where my attention was focused. G.o.d, I hate magi.

In the back of my mind, I wondered darkly why Jenny, our receptionist-slash-bookkeeper, had set this appointment without checking with me first. Belatedly recalling that she went over the bills with my business partner on a regular basis, I realized she must have decided the need to pay our bills outweighed my likely moral outrage. Under any other circ.u.mstances, the moment I found out a potential client was an Other, I walked. Jenny knew this. She also knew that since money was so tight, I'd probably at least agree to hear the mage out.

After finding out what she wanted, though, I was starting to regret agreeing to stay through dinner.

"I know I made the news with that whole Were incident at the Emba.s.sy last month, but honestly, that was my first run-in with supernaturals. I don't have the experience or the equipment to deal with vampires."

I tried to sound reasonable, though I was afraid I was coming across more testy and frightened. This woman really put me on edge, though I tried to tell myself it was what she was asking me to do, not the aura and crackle of magic surrounding her, that did it. Maybe it had something to do with her coming on to me? Either way, I didn't like it.

"Frankly, I don't think you could pay me enough to put my life on the line against a vampire. Shouldn't you be getting a half-blood? Or another mage to deal with him?"

Little furrows appeared between those perfectly shaped brows of hers. Her hair was a lovely mahogany shade that didn't quite match the dark brown of those eyebrows, framing her delicate, oval face. I hated that she could pull the look off so effortlessly. My hopelessly curly red hair would never look as sleek and sophisticated as her artfully careless 'do. It was probably spelled to look that way.

"The Ageless would know us for our magic. That wouldn't work at all. A half-blood would kill first, ask questions later. Same with a Were." She paused, thinking. "Unless, of course, he killed them first."

I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms over my chest. "Not really helping your cause here."

The woman started tapping her perfectly manicured nails on the table, leaning back as she eyed me anew. Something in that look told me wheels were turning and her plans were changing. Uh-oh.

"A human is our only chance. You have no taint of magic, no scent of change on you. You also now have some familiarity with, and have proven yourself capable against, supernaturals."

For a moment, Veronica's lip curled faintly in a sneer, venomous but gone almost as soon as it appeared. I would have missed it if I hadn't been staring at her lips and nose, avoiding looking directly into her eyes. Her features resumed that intent, predatory look that told me she was only barely hiding her contempt for the lowly pure-blood human, doing what she could to put me on edge. Sadly, it was working.

"As I said, we do not want him dead, just watched. You can get close without fear of injury, since he has plenty of willing donors and is known for his restraint. The worst that could happen is you being banned from his places of business."

It was my turn to tap my nails. "Aside from an abrupt, painful death, that is is the worst thing that could happen to me. Alec Royce owns half the nightclubs and restaurants in the city. Those are the places I go to track my marks." the worst thing that could happen to me. Alec Royce owns half the nightclubs and restaurants in the city. Those are the places I go to track my marks."

I glanced at my watch in an effort to give her the hint that I wasn't going to stick around much longer for this crazy talk, even if she was picking up the tab.

She gave an overly dramatic sigh, no longer hiding her annoyance. She dropped the sickly sweet tones she'd been affecting and finally put a cap on the d.a.m.n aura she'd been exuding since this dinner started. No wonder the waiter hadn't come to refill our gla.s.ses in almost an hour.

"Shiarra Waynest, you forget yourself. The other half of the city belongs to The Circle, and we are more than prepared to compensate you. Fifty thousand, plus expenses, and an extra ten thousand if you find what we're looking for. Five thousand up front, and your pick of equipment from The Circle's own security vaults. We'll give you protection, and more work if you do well at this job."

I sat back, speechless. Five grand to start? My usual take only came out to two thousand, sometimes up to four if the job was tricky or somewhat dangerous. Plus equipment? Expenses? Maybe this really was was a G.o.dsend in disguise. I wondered if she might know that I had debt up to my ears and a car payment that was killing me. Plus I think my PI license was about due for renewal, and let's not forget taxes coming just around the bend. Mental note: get Jenny a very, very nice thank-you card and a bonus. a G.o.dsend in disguise. I wondered if she might know that I had debt up to my ears and a car payment that was killing me. Plus I think my PI license was about due for renewal, and let's not forget taxes coming just around the bend. Mental note: get Jenny a very, very nice thank-you card and a bonus.

Taking my stunned silence as a bad sign, Veronica narrowed her eyes and threw another bone on the table. "Is that too little? Fine, make it ten if you get the information, and another twenty if you find the location of the artifact."

Lifting my napkin up to my mouth to hide the fact that I couldn't snap my jaw shut, I took just a moment to close my eyes, take a breath, and remind myself that I'd be walking right into a death trap if I took this job. I thought bleakly about the stack of bills that seemed to grow larger every day. Most unsettling was the one from my landlord that had appeared in my mailbox a few days back. I hadn't quite been able to bring myself to open it yet. My cut of the deposit for this job would be enough to cover the demands of my landlord, and maybe a few of the other creditors demanding a good chunk of my income.

"Well?"

Though I couldn't help but feel I was betraying something inside myself, something important, I gave her the words she wanted to hear, however grudgingly. "I'll do it. What is it I'm looking for?"

Veronica leaned back in her chair and smiled grimly, a sly light in her eyes. I really hoped I would live long enough to regret this.

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JACOB * GIDEON * ELIJAH * DAMIEN * NOAH.

ECSTASY * RAPTURE * PLEASURE.

HUNTING JULIAN * STEALING KATHRYN.

DRINK OF ME.

Books by Kate Douglas

WOLF TALES * WOLF TALES II * WOLF TALES III.

WOLF TALES IV * WOLF TALES V * WOLF TALES VI.

WOLF TALES VII * WOLF TALES VIII.

WOLF TALES 9 * WOLF TALES 10.

DEMONFIRE * h.e.l.lFIRE.

Books by Jess Haines

HUNTED BY THE OTHERS * TAKEN BY THE OTHERS.

Books by Clare Willis

ONCE BITTEN * BITING THE BRIDE.