Six, p.27
Six, page 27
“All right; I get it!” she snapped.
“If enough humans actually found out that vampires exist, well, you don’t have to be an expert in history to figure out what they’d do,” Morgan said. “The problem is that vampires came up with a brilliant idea to wiggle their way into human culture as crazy figments of the imagination. I mean, they’re on kids’ cereal boxes for Chrissake!”
“Yeah, I guess that was a really good idea,” Paige muttered.
“I thought if I could even get one journalist to just listen—”
“My dad is a presenter on a show about alien abductions!” Paige cried. “I love him, but he’s not going to be up for the Pulitzer anytime soon. Of course he’d believe you, but no one in their right mind would believe him!”
“It was a baby step, a whisper campaign,” Morgan snapped back. “He was the perfect choice. I mean, do you know how hard it is to find someone who married the granddaughter of a real-life vampire?”
“Because of you that vampire came after my mom! Because of you—” she trailed off. “Wait, why the hell did your uncle attack me anyway?”
Morgan hung his head in shame. “My source was afraid that your great-grandfather was coming after you, and your father told me that he had given you Uncle’s number. When Irvine found out, he demanded that we clean up and remove any evidence.”
“Wait, you were only after my phone?” Paige asked.
“Irvine isn’t subtle. While I was cleaning out your apartment, he said he was just going to grab your purse and run. I had no idea he was going to break your neck. I suppose it’s lucky that you bit him first, and luckier still that you’re the one-in-a-million freak who’s never gotten or been vaccinated for chicken pox.”
Paige slumped to the mat. “This was just a terrible—a terrible accident?” she asked as she buried her face in her hands. An uncontrollable mix of laughter and tears filled her shaking hands.
“Paige, are you all right?” Morgan asked. He awkwardly rested one of his hands on her shoulder.
“Do you have any idea whatsoever what happened to me after this little accident?”
“I know that there is one of those fangwankers doing terrible things to female werewolves,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. “I didn’t believe Irvine initially when he said that those monsters had found a way to domesticate—”
“Don’t you dare describe me like I’m some Pomeranian,” Paige growled.
Morgan tugged at one of her ringlets. “I would say poodle—”
Paige bared her teeth. Morgan took the hint and backed to the far side of his mat. He watched as Paige’s left hand formed a fist.
“So is that what you and your uncle think?” Paige snarled. “That we’re just a bunch of helpless women kept by an evil vampire?”
“Well, there aren’t any female werewolves other than the ones controlled by vampires, so, yeah,” Morgan said. “Most women die the first time they change because the hormones are so strong—”
“What?” Paige barked.
“That’s what my uncle and my father said, all right? The change is tied to hormones, and most women have it pretty bad already—”
Paige hopped to her feet and stormed to the kitchen. Before she could yank on her shoe, she caught sight of Mordred glaring at her in the chrome table trim. She glared right back.
“My dad always said that the last few werewolves were all a bunch of testosterone-pumped idiots who would end up in the grave soon enough. He made me promise when I was just a little kid that I’d do better, that I’d use my brain instead of my claws.”
“How’d that work out for you?” Paige asked as she found the willpower to force her left hand to tie her sneakers.
“Are you going to tell your vampire master everything I say?” Morgan growled.
“I don’t have a vampire master,” Paige snarled right back.
“Oh, I hope that you do,” he said in a voice so low and guttural that it actually made Paige shudder. “I want you to tell him everything, exactly how I’m going to expose him and all his kind. I want the vampires to know what a mistake it was when they let me escape and when they killed an innocent woman and a helpless little girl!”
“You’re insane,” she said as she grabbed her bag.
“And you still smell like a vampire,” he hissed in her ear before shoving her toward the door. “You tell them that Morgan Blaylock remembers everything and that he’s coming for all of them.”
Paige winced as she felt a stabbing pain in her right temple. For a moment as she closed her eyes, she could see a woman’s face sinking into a pool of blood. She bolted for the door and didn’t stop running until she was five blocks away. She grabbed her head again and whispered, “Mordred, what aren’t you telling me now?”
Before her hallucination could answer, Paige heard the distinctive sound of a woman’s scream coming from an alley nearby. Despite her better instincts, she turned to run toward the sound.
21
“And this is why you’re not Batman, Paige,” Paige muttered as she found herself at the base of a fire escape. She looked up at the open window where Friday the 13th played at an insane volume. She leaned against the alley wall and tried not to wretch at the mix of old trash smells.
She shook her head and wandered back to the street. She could feel her phone vibrating in her bag, but rather than head toward home, she started wandering in a random direction. The spring air was deliciously warm even at night, and the breeze playfully tangled her hair. She followed her nose to a taco shop and proudly ordered beef tongue and horchata for a few moments of peace and pleasure.
She pulled out her phone to find plenty of messages from Kyle; it was only the last one that made her gulp. “You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered.
“Ivan wants to meet, tonight.”
She hurried out of the taqueria, licking her fingers before she frantically dialed her phone.
Kyle answered with a predictable string of expletives before finally saying, “Jesus, Paige, are you OK?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No, we did yoga and argued,” Paige grumbled. “Look, we might not need to meet with scary dude—”
“Paige, you don’t just find this Ivan guy; he finds you. This might be our only chance to get some real answers.”
“What if there isn’t some big conspiracy, Kyle?” she asked. “What if this was just some big, trumped-up acci—”
“Someone drugged us, right, Paige? Don’t you want to know why?”
“Fine. Where do I need to go?” she sighed. “I hope I can show up in yoga pants.”
“Just get to the nearest L-train. Apparently he’s got a representative sending a car. Text me the stop.”
“Oh, this doesn’t seem like a bad idea at all, Paige,” she muttered. She wandered to the nearest CTA L-stop and reluctantly sent the message.
“It could still be all about me, you know,” Mordred hissed in the back of her ear.
Paige shuffled back and forth under a streetlight. Her apprehension only grew as a solid-black Lincoln town car with tinted windows finally rolled up to the curb. “Dad would kill me for this,” she muttered as she approached. Much to her surprise, it rolled right on by, and a bright red Prius pulled up. A guy with a smartphone rolled down his window and said, “Um, are you Paige DeMarco?”
“Yes,” she said.
He looked pointedly at the backseat. Kyle waved weakly. She hopped in beside the equally confused redhead.
“Um—?” she grunted as they rolled into traffic. “Did we just get picked up for a secret meeting in an Uber?”
The driver smiled cheerfully. “It’s not that far. Are you visiting Chicago, or are you locals?”
“Just visiting,” they said in unison.
“Normally we don’t do these multiple destination trips, but I was in the area—”
Paige had already tuned out the chipper driver. She tried to figure out just where they were heading on a Tuesday night in Chicago. Instead of driving to some abandoned warehouse or a foreboding junkyard, the Prius came to a halt in front of a coffee shop.
“Here you go,” the happy driver said.
Kyle and Paige exchanged looks. Not only was it a local coffee shop called Java Jones, but it was even advertising a gourmet cupcake bar.
“Why am I more terrified than ever?” Kyle asked as they climbed out of the hybrid.
“Well, I’ve never heard of a mass murder in a cupcake bar,” Paige said as she looked for dark corners or suspicious individuals. A lone barista waved as they gawked on the sidewalk.
She finally opened the door and said in a singsong voice, “Come on in; we’re open!”
The werewolves reluctantly wandered inside. The dinky little barista, a slip of an Asian girl with pink-streaked hair and a T-shirt with Hello Kitty on it, was as threatening as a cotton swab. She swished her hipster pigtails back and forth and motioned to a dizzying array of frosting-laden confections.
“Should we get something?” Paige asked.
“We have forty-two different varieties of locally roasted fair-trade coffees,” the barista said with a huge smile. “Not to mention the largest selection of teas in the Greater Chicago area and single-origin cocoa.”
“Just some waters to start and a menu if you have it,” Kyle said.
“Sure thing!”
“She’s so happy, it’s unnatural,” Paige muttered as they settled down in one of the many cozy seating areas that lay empty on a Tuesday night. “Wow, the peppermint tea here is really strong, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I can’t even smell you,” Kyle muttered. He grimaced as he felt the kick to his shins. Both of them smiled and sat still as their waters were set in front of them.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Paige hissed.
“You know, you should really try our Legendary Jade Dragon tea. It’s the best,” the barista called over.
“Still looking,” Kyle said. “And you know, you’re a female berserker. It can get a little fragrant, you know—”
“No, I didn’t know—” she hissed. She was interrupted by the front door opening with a cute little clink. “What is he doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” Morgan asked as he saw Paige in a purple velour armchair.
“Where have you been all my life?” Kyle asked.
“I got a call to meet a contact,” Morgan said. “Who is this guy, Paige?”
“Kyle, Morgan; Morgan, Kyle,” she said, still looking frantically around the room.
The barista saw her eye movement and gave a wave. “You ready to order?” the barista called out.
“Wait, this is what you called a pudgy nerd?” Kyle asked, sizing up Morgan’s shredded arms. “Please, find me more fat dweebs.”
“Well, he doesn’t look like this normally,” Paige hissed.
A third water appeared in front of Morgan, as well as a menu.
“You know what you want yet?” the barista asked. “We have forty-two—”
“We’re fine,” all three of them barked.
“OK, OK,” she said as she wandered back to her counter.
The door opened again. All of the werewolves turned to watch a couple get cupcakes and chai to-go.
Morgan sniffed the air. “Damn, that’s strong mint. I can’t even smell her,” he muttered.
“See!” Kyle said as Paige fumed. “So you’re an actual, wild—”
Morgan cocked his head. “Paige, he’s like us?” he asked with a raised brow.
Before they could talk further, the door opened again. This time a very tall, shockingly bleached-blond gentleman strode into the bar like he owned the place. Even though he clearly had piercing, bright-blue eyes, his lack of eye crease made him look decidedly Asian. He calmly ordered a double-chocolate cupcake and an extra-large macchiato before approaching the stunned trio.
“Very good; you are all here,” he said with a cheerful, old-school dad smile. He grabbed one of the other table’s chairs and dragged it over to the group. “I know we haven’t met in person yet, but I was so eager to meet each and every one of you.”
Morgan, Kyle, and Paige stared as the barista brought him a cupcake with pink hearts and silver dragées, as well as a mug of foamy caramel drizzle that could easily double as a kiddie pool. The stranger took a long sip and made a satisfied moan before setting it back on the table. “Cupcake?” he asked.
“You’re—” Kyle started.
“Ivan Lyashev, at your service,” he said. “I thought since you were all looking for me and I was in the Chicago area that I’d have a little meet and greet.”
“I was supposed to be meeting someone else—” Morgan said as he made a move for the door.
Ivan raised his hand and pointed to the empty seat next to Paige.
“You normally get drops of information about various vampire movements in the United States. You took a position at MedCentric because you were tipped off that it was part of the money-laundering circuit for a family called the Matsuoka and you’ve been very carefully following cash inflows and distributions all across the East Coast, but because you’ve stayed out of the way and seem hell-bent only on a personal vendetta against the vampires that killed your parents outside Savannah in the nineties, I’ve had no reason to interfere.”
Morgan slowly settled into the empty armchair.
Ivan gave him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder.
“You’re very careful, Mr. Wolfe, and I applaud your dedication and overall discretion. Think of this as a courtesy call from someone who admires your work. You have a brilliant future in accounting, you know. I would stick with it rather than dabbling in journalism. Also, you should put your uncle on a short leash for playing with fire.”
Ivan turned to Kyle. “Ah, Mr. O’Hara,” he said, “how is the family?”
“O’Hara? I thought your name was just Kyle,” Paige mumbled.
“You wanted to know where you could purchase a very specific blend of fertility drugs, did you not? I’m afraid my confidentiality agreements won’t let me reveal my exact suppliers, but I wanted to confirm that the drugs did indeed come from Hong Kong and are thus out of your family’s jurisdiction. I also wanted to add that I was extremely surprised by who made the final purchase, but I can reassure both you and Miss Carmichael that it wasn’t any relation of either of yours.”
Kyle and Paige both furrowed their brows.
Ivan finally turned to Paige.
“You look more like your great-grandfather than your father, you know,” Ivan said. “It’s quite remarkable.”
“So, are you older than you look?” Paige asked.
“I was tasked with finding you for a specific purpose, but I also want to issue a sincere apology for what you must have gone through. I am a diplomat and peacemaker for all the great families, and I understand that you have been greatly wronged.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. She looked away to study the menu. She felt her heart jump into her throat as she read the tagline right on the front page. “Over forty-five varieties of fair-trade coffee available.”
Paige peered over at the barista, who had started to mop the floor behind the register. The barista gave a saucy wink.
“Like I said, I am truly sorry,” Ivan said.
Paige didn’t move fast enough to avoid the knife slicing across the back of her hand. Ivan shoved his blade into a bag before flipping his chair up to form a shield. She blinked, and he was already at the door.
“Business is business,” he said before running.
Morgan had almost made it to the door when the mop handle smacked him across the face. The barista leaped over the counter and swept the werewolf’s leg with the speed and skill of a master martial artist.
Kyle lunged at her and ended up crashing into a mountain of confections. Morgan barely made it to his feet before getting pummeled by the little girl again. Paige swayed as the world started to spin.
The barista poked Paige with her mop, sending her sprawling back into the chair. She clucked her tongue. “You should have tried the tea; then maybe you wouldn’t be so sleepy, little puppy girl.”
“Who are you?”
“Ivan arranged replacements after our previous breeding program was destroyed. It’s a shame you’re so skinny, but you’ll have to do.” This time when the barista smiled, she showed off her fangs.
The smile was short-lived as a terrible, guttural snarl came from the floor by the bar. The evil barista ducked just in time as Morgan swiped with his claws. Their attacker yanked a pistol out of her apron and fired.
“Morgan!” Paige screamed as a flurry of darts landed on his chest.
The werewolf seemed unfazed by the plastic barbs and took another swing at the barista. She started swearing profusely in Chinese as she had to scramble over tables. This time when she fired, she unloaded the entire magazine into Morgan’s neck. He swayed a little, took a few more halfhearted jabs, and then planted face-first into Ivan’s untouched cupcake.
The strange vampire kicked him a few times for good measure. Paige’s eyelids fluttered heavily. “Ladies first,” the vampire said as she yanked Paige to her feet.
Paige stumbled while the barista zip-tied her wrists. “You know, I was expecting so much more fight from a pack of ferals,” she said, clucking her tongue. She shoved Paige toward the back of the bar. As Paige stumbled into the kitchen area, the smell of peppermint faded and was replaced by blood.
“Oh god,” Paige moaned as she saw the broken pieces of the actual staff of Java Jones. She retched as she saw a hand still gripping the counter, while the chef’s knife and the torso of the cook remained on the floor.
“Move in, move in,” the vampire barista called to the kitchen exit. Paige’s feet finally gave out, and she toppled to the bloody floor. She could see the terrified face of a woman not much older than herself frozen in a scream as she stared at the stump where her head used to be attached to her spine.
“You should be unconscious by now,” the barista sighed. She decided to finish the job by kicking Paige in the face with her hot pink Chucks until the werewolf girl finally passed out.
