Curran nodded. “Okay, we’ll take the Jeep.”
“They don’t permit any technology past the fourteenth century AD in their territory. You’ll have to ride a horse.”
Curran’s face snapped into a flat Beast Lord expression. “I don’t think so.”
“You can jog if you want, but I’m getting a horse.”
A low rumble began in Curran’s throat. “I said we’ll take the Jeep.”
“And I said they will put an axe into your carburetor.”
“Do you even know what a carburetor is?” Curran asked.
I knew it was a car part. “That’s irrelevant.”
Doolittle cleared his throat. “My lord, my lady.”
We looked at him.
“Take it outside my hospital before you break anything.” It didn’t sound like a request.
A careful knock echoed through the door. A young woman stuck her head in. “Consort?”
What now? “Yes?”
“There is a vampire downstairs waiting to see you.”
CHAPTER 4
The vampire sat on his haunches in the waiting room, an emaciated monstrosity. Vampires were nocturnal predators. Daylight burned their skin like fire, but the People had recently gotten around this restriction by applying their own patented brand of sunblock to their undead. It dried thick and came in assorted colors. This particular vampire sported a coat of bright lime-green. The sunblock covered the undead completely, every wrinkle, every crevice, every inch. The effect was vomit-inducing.
The vampire turned its head as I walked in, its eyes focusing on me with the intelligence of its navigator, sitting in an armored room miles away. The nightmarish jaws opened.
“Kate,” Ghastek’s dry voice said. “Curran. Good morning.”
“What are you doing here?” Curran asked.
The vampire folded itself, perching in the chair like some mummified cat. “I have a direct interest in determining the nature of that necklace. We have suffered great losses, we must account for them. Have you found a way to remove it?”
“No,” I said.
“So the boy’s life is still in jeopardy,” Ghastek said.
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
“It’s being handled,” Curran said.
“I would like to be involved in that handling.”
“I’m sure you would,” Curran said. “It’s hard to believe, but I go whole days without worrying about your likes and dislikes.”
The vampire opened its mouth, imitating a sigh. It was an eerie sight: his jaws unhinged, his chest moved up and down, but no air came out.
“I believe in civil discourse, so please forgive me if I sound blunt: you took a child away from his parents against their will. In other words, you abducted him by force. Last time I checked, that constitutes kidnapping. I have a very capable staff, which, should I give the word, would present a very compelling case to the Paranormal Activity Division.”
“The PAD can bite me,” Curran said. “I also have a very capable staff. I’ll drown you in paper. How would you like to be sued?”
“On what grounds?” The vamp looked outraged.
“Reckless endangerment.” Curran leaned forward. “Your journeymen dropped two vampires in the middle of a crowded restaurant.”
“There were extenuating circumstances and you were unharmed.”
Curran’s eyes acquired a dangerous glint. “I’m sure the public will take that into account, especially after my people plaster the sordid horror story of the Arirang Massacre over every newspaper they can find.”
The vamp bared its fangs.
Curran’s upper lip trembled in the beginning of a snarl.
I stabbed a throwing knife into the table between them.
The man and the monster fell silent.
“There is a child being slowly choked to death upstairs,” I said. “If the two of you could stop baring your teeth for a second, you might even remember that.”
Silence stretched out between us.
“I simply wish to help,” Ghastek said.
Yeah, right.
Curran’s face looked set in stone. “We don’t need you.”
“Yes, you do,” Ghastek said. “You have the necklace, but I have Lawrence. He dated Amanda for over a year. I think you will be interested to know that Colin Sunny, Amanda’s father, has a sister. She is married to Orencio Forney.”
“Orencio Forney, the DA?”
“Precisely,” Ghastek said. “After yesterday’s affair, the Sunnys are staying in Forney’s house. I trust you understand the implications.”
I understood them, alright. The Sunnys had just become untouchable. If the Pack attempted to pick a fight with the DA, the tide of negative publicity would drown us, not to mention that every cop in the city would make it his personal mission to complicate shapeshifters’ lives whenever possible.
Curran’s face hardened into that blank, unreadable expression. He saw the writing on the wall as well, and he didn’t like it. “Have you asked for an interview?”
“In the politest terms possible. We were extremely persuasive, but they are unavailable for comment.”
“They aren’t asking for Roderick?” What the hell?
“No, they are not,” Ghastek said. “I found it extremely odd as well. The DA has circled the wagons. If you want any background on the boy and his mother, our Lawrence is your best bet. Give me access and I will share.”
I looked at Curran. We needed that background.
His face was unreadable.
Come on, baby.
“Fine,” he said.
A wise man once told me that a man’s house said a lot about his soul. Over the years I had come to the conclusion that was complete bullshit. The Keep, with its foreboding, grim towers and massive fortifications, might have indicated something about Curran’s need to protect his people, but it said nothing about how much responsibility he dragged around. It said nothing about the fact that he was fair and generous. And it sure as hell gave no hint that underneath all that Beast Lord’s roaring, he was hilarious.
The Casino, on the other hand, looked like a beautiful mirage born of desert heat, sand, and magic. White and elegant, it nearly floated above the ground of the large lot decorated with fountains, statues, and colored lamps. All that beauty hid a stable of vampires. Undead, forever hungry, and gripped in the steel vise of navigators’ minds, haunted its slim minarets. A casino milking money from human greed occupied its main floor, and deep inside it, the People brewed their schemes and machinations with the ruthless precision of a high-tech corporation, interested only in results and profits.
I parked the Jeep and peered at the Casino through the windshield. I didn’t want to go in. Judging by the surly look on his face, Curran didn’t want to go in either.
We opened our doors at the same time and headed toward the Casino.
“We’re doing this for the child,” Curran said.
“Yes.” It was good to remember that. “We’re just going to go in and talk to them.”
“And not kill anybody,” Curran added.
“Or anything.”
“And not break things.”
“Because we don’t want a giant bill from the People.”
“Yes.” Curran’s face was grim. “I’m not giving them any of the Pack’s money.”
I nodded. “We’ll be good, we won’t have to pay any damages, and then we’ll come out and take a nice shower.”
“Wash the stench off. I can smell the bloodsuckers from here.”
“I can feel them from here.”
I could—the sparks of vampiric magic tugged on me from the white parapets.
“Thanks for doing this,” Curran said.
“Thank you for coming with me.”
Get in, get out, don’t cause a giant war between the Pack and the People. Piece of cake.
We passed through the tall arched entrance guarded by two men with curved yataghan swords. The guards wore black and looked suitably menacing. They very carefully didn’t look at us.
Inside, a deluge of sound assaulted us: the noises of slot machines, refitted to work during magic, metal ringing, music, beeping, mixing with shouts from the crowd surrendering their hard-earned money for the promise of easy cash. Lemon-scented perfume drifted through the cold air—the People were keeping their customers awake, because the sleeping couldn’t gamble.
Curran wrinkled his nose.
“Almost there, baby,” I told him, zeroing in on the service entrance door at the far end of the vast room.
A large overweight man spun away from the machines and ran into Curran. “Hey! Watch it!”
Curran sidestepped him and we kept walking.
“Asshole!” the man barked at our backs.
“I love this place,” Curran said.
“It’s so serene and peaceful, and filled with considerate people. I thought you’d enjoy the ambiance.”
“I adore it.”
We passed through the service entrance. One of the journeymen, a man in black trousers, a black shirt, and a dark purple vest rose from behind the desk.
“How can I help you?”
“It’s alright, Stuart.” A woman descended the stairway on the side, walking into the room. She was five two and looked like an anatomical impossibility created from adolescent boys’ dreams. Tiny waist, generous hips, and an award-winning chest, wrapped in dusky silk. Her hair fell down past her butt in red wavy locks, and when she smiled at you, you had a strong urge to do whatever she asked. Her name was Rowena and she ran the People’s PR department and piloted the undead for a living.
She was also in debt to the witches, which in a roundabout way caused her to be in debt to me. If I asked a favor, she had to grant it, a fact we both carefully hid from everyone.
“Mr. Lennart. Ms. Daniels.” Rowena fired off a beautiful smile. “Lawrence is waiting for you upstairs. Follow me, please.”
We followed, Rowena’s shiny perfect butt shifting as she walked up the stairs two feet in front of us. Curran heroically didn’t look at it.