Nancy A Collins-Vamps 02 (6 page)

As she began pushing the heavily laden cart back to her apartment, she passed the remaining low-income six-story structures that had yet to be bought up and 52

turned into overpriced lofts. Cally thought about how nice it would be to finally go out on the town for the sake of having a good time, not because she needed to roll drug dealers in order to pay the light bill or buy a new pair of shoes. Ideally, she would have preferred to go out clubbing with Peter, but that was impossible.

Suddenly a tall, gaunt male figure stepped out of a darkened doorway just ahead of her, blocking the path.

Cally quickly recognized him as Johnny Muerto, one of her former schoolmates at Varney Hall—on those rare occasions he’d bothered to come to class.

“Looky what we got, boys,” Muerto said with a nasty laugh, motioning to his half dozen followers, who emerged from the shadows to cut off Cally’s escape.

“What’s the matter, oldie? You get lost on your way to Bloomingdale’s?”

Muerto was scarecrow thin with a face that resembled a skull with skin stretched over it. An unruly shock of hair, as black and shiny as the feathers on a crow, hung down to his shoulders. Rumor had it that Muerto had personally driven stakes through the hearts of two old-ies who’d made the unfortunate choice of slumming on New Blood turf.

“What are you talking about, Johnny?” Cally asked.

“I’m no oldie and you know it.”

Muerto’s lizard lips pulled back into something that was more snarl than smile, revealing yellowed fangs.

“The grapevine has you attending Bathory Academy.” 53

“And you
believe
that?” Cally retorted, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. Even though she was pretty good at hand-to-hand and could summon storms and lightning, there was no way she could take on all seven gang members at one time, and they knew it.

“Well, you certainly ain’t hanging round like you used to. So what am I
supposed
to think?”

“I’m surprised you think at all.”

“Ah. You hurt me, Cally
.
” Muerto tapped his rib cage with one crooked, clawlike finger. “Really, you do.”

While she was distracted, a shifty, rat-faced gang member reached out and snatched the laundry cart away from Cally.

“Keep your hands off my stuff, you creep!” she yelled as he dug through her belongings, tossing clothes in every direction.

“Muerto! Look at this!” he squealed, holding aloft a school blazer.

“Give that back!”

Cally tried to snatch the telltale jacket, only to have her arm grabbed.

Muerto pointed at the crest. “What’s this? Looks like a big ol’
B
. Wonder what
that
stands for?”

“I
said
give it
back
, Johnny!” Cally shouted.

“Oh, I’ll give it back to you,” Muerto said. He twirled the jacket like a matador’s cape, keeping it just outside her grasp. “But first you have to surrender 54

that kiss you owe me.”

Cally raised her right hand and an arc of electricity shot from her palm, striking the rat-faced gang member. Then she turned and fled.

“Don’t just stand there!” Muerto shouted.
“Get
her!”

Cally ran as fast as she could, the gang cackling and screeching at her heels. She knew better than to scream for help. The families who lived in the shadows of the Williamsburg Bridge had learned long ago that it was safer to turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to those things that wandered their neighborhood after the sun went down.

Cally ducked between a couple of tagged-up old warehouses, but halfway down the alley she was driven to the ground by a pair of razor-sharp claws slamming deep into her back.

“Quick, tie her hands!” Muerto screeched, resuming his human form. “She can’t call lightning if they’re pinned behind her!”

Cally bit her lower lip as one of them planted a knee in her back and tied her hands together with a length of wire. Although her vampire heritage meant her broken ribs were already healing, the pain she felt was still very real.

Two gang members yanked her to her feet by her bound wrists, holding her between them.

“What a shame,” Muerto sneered. “Like my mama 55

used to say: ‘All that flapping, only to die within sight of the cave.’”

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with,” Cally spat.

“
Kill
you? Is that what you think I want to do?” Muerto feigned indignant surprise. “All I ever wanted from you was a kiss. Just one little
kiss
!” Muerto’s tongue flickered, tasting the air like a snake. “The first time I try, you punch me in the throat and knee me in the cojones! The second time you nearly fry me and then run away! Why? Am I so damn ugly to you? Or is it because you think you’re so much better than me?

Is that it?

“
I could have been nice to you, Cally.
Very
nice. But now I’m about to be very nasty. And when I’m finished with your fine, oldie ass, my boys are going to be even
nastier
.”

Suddenly the alley was awash in the blinding glare of xenon headlights. Muerto instinctively raised his stick-thin arms to cover his light-sensitive eyes. Cally could see the outline of a car blocking the alleyway behind the gang members.

“Let the girl go,” the driver said, stepping out of the car. His voice was very deep, with a distinctly Mediterranean accent.

“You’re on Impaler turf, asshole! Back off!” Muerto snarled.

The passenger climbed out of the car and spoke in a 56

voice as hard as steel. “He
said
leave the girl alone!”

“On whose orders?” Muerto hissed, flashing his fangs in defiance.

“Mine,”
the passenger said.

The driver reached inside the car and switched off the headlights, revealing two men dressed in the dark suits, black shirts, and crimson silk ties of the Strega.

The driver looked to be in his early thirties, with a huge head and hands the size of catchers’ mitts. His passenger was considerably younger but carried himself with the confidence of a much older man.

A look of open fear crossed Muerto’s face, and his sallow features grew even paler. “A thousand pardons, sir! I didn’t realize it was you!”

“That much is evident, fool!” the younger man snapped. “Now do as I command and let the girl go!

She’s a friend of the family.”

“Forgive us, sir! We had no idea!” Muerto pleaded as he freed Cally’s hands.

“If I want to hear your voice, Muerto, I’ll ask you a question. Now go fetch her belongings.”

“Yes, sir! Right away, sir!”

“Now!”

As Cally watched Muerto and his gang screech in fear and instantly take wing, she was reminded of the flying monkeys from
The Wizard of Oz.

“Are you all right, Miss Monture?” the younger man asked.

57

“I’m okay, I guess. But how do you know my name?

Have we met before?”

“No. But I know who
you
are, Cally,” the stranger said, flashing a warm smile. “After all, my sisters have done nothing but talk about you for the last few days.”

“Your sisters—?”

Running his fingers through his excellent haircut, he straightened the lapels of his Armani suit. “Allow me to introduce myself: I am Faustus Maledetto. But you can call me Lucky. And this is my driver, Bava.”

“
Maledetto?
Then you’re Bella and Bette’s—?”

“Older brother?” He laughed and nodded. “Yes, I am. I just happened to be about on business, as it were, when I saw your predicament.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“I saw the lightning strike,” he explained. “There are no other fledglings in the city who can do such a thing.”

Cally lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “So your father’s talked about me as well?”

“Of course,” Lucky replied. “Ours is, after all, a family business.”

There was a loud rattling sound and Cally turned to see Johnny Muerto trotting up the alley, pushing the laundry cart as fast as it could go.

“H-here’s the clothes, sir!”

“Don’t bring them to
me
, you moron! They belong to
her
!” Lucky said, winking at Cally.

58

“Sorry, sir,” Muerto said sheepishly, turning to Cally. “I mean, I’m sorry, miss. I folded them as best I could—”

Lucky stepped forward and grabbed Muerto by the scruff of the neck. “Hear me, Muerto, for I have no intention of repeating myself on this matter: this girl is under protection of the Strega. If you, or one of your pathetic followers, so much as
look
in her direction again, I’ll rip off your head, savvy?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Muerto stammered.

“Good.” Lucky shoved the gang leader aside, taking out a crimson silk handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe his hands. “Now get out of my sight.”

“Yes, sir.” Muerto bowed as he backed his way down the alley. “You are most merciful, sir.”

“I despise that little
scarafaggio,
” Lucky spat as he watched Muerto scuttle back to his gang. “If it were up to me, I would have destroyed him.” He turned to his driver and pointed at the laundry cart. “Bava, put Miss Monture’s things in the trunk.”

“Hey! What’s going on?” Cally asked as Lucky’s undead servant popped open the trunk of the Lexus.

“There’s no need to be alarmed,” Lucky assured her.

“The
least
I can do is drive you home.” Cally was not sure whether she should accept Lucky’s offer. Even though he was her friends’ older brother, he was also one of the Strega and there-fore a very dangerous man. Besides, she
did
have a 59

boyfriend, even if she couldn’t tell anyone he existed.

Peter might not appreciate her taking rides from this handsome young guy.

Still, there was something about Lucky Maledetto that intrigued her. Cally glanced at her watch. She
was
running late and the man
did
just rescue her. Under such circumstances, it would be terribly rude to turn down his offer—wouldn’t it?

“Here you are, safe at home,” Lucky said, turning around to smile at Cally.

“Thanks for the ride, Lucky.”

“It was nothing. It’s good to finally put a face to a name. You’re even prettier than my sisters said.”

“Thanks.” Cally could feel her cheeks turning pink.

“I’m glad we met tonight, too, Lucky. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”

“I’m just glad I could be of some assistance, that’s all.

Speaking of which, doesn’t your family have undead to handle errands, instead of placing you at risk?”

“It’s hard to keep undead servants in a two-bedroom condo, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me,” he apologized. “I forget that not everyone lives the lifestyle my family does, even those with Old Blood pedigrees. I can send Bava to help get your laundry to your apartment if you like.”

“No! No! There’s no need to do that,” Cally replied 60

as she climbed out of the car. “You’ve done
more
than enough already. Please give my best to your family.” As she turned to go inside the building, Cally glanced up and saw the curtain covering her living room window suddenly drop back into place.

Oh, boy.

Her mother was waiting for her just inside the door. “
What
are you doing getting mixed up with the Strega?”

“You’re
spying
on me, aren’t you!” Cally replied angrily.

“It’s not spying if I just happened to be looking out the window!” Sheila retorted. “And you
still
haven’t told me what you were doing getting out of a car full of Strega goons.”

“They weren’t goons!” Cally replied. “At least, not all of them.”

“That man I saw unloading our laundry from the trunk of the car—is that who you’ve been seeing?” Cally rolled her eyes in disgust. “You’ve got to be
kidding
, right? Do you really think that’s the kind of guy I’d go for? Besides, he’s undead!”

“What about the one who waved at you? Who’s that? Vinnie Maledetto’s son?”

“So what if it was?” Cally said testily as she trundled the laundry cart down the hallway. “Lucky gave me a lift back home, that’s
all
. He was just being nice because I go to school with his sisters.”

61

“You hang out with Vinnie Maledetto’s kids?” Sheila gasped, a stunned look on her face.

“Duh,
yeah
! They’re my
friends
, Mom. Bella and Bette, remember? I went to Bergdorf’s with them yesterday.”

“You only told me their first names!” Sheila protested. “You
never
said they were Maledettos!”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Cally grunted as she removed the folded laundry from the cart onto her bed.

“Maybe if you paid half as much attention to me as you do to your stupid vampire movies, you’d know what was going on in my life!”

“
That’s
who you’ve been sneaking off to see, isn’t it?” Sheila said accusingly. “The Maledetto boy! Don’t lie to me. I
know
it’s true!”

Over the years Cally had learned that it was far easier to tell her mother whatever it was she wanted to hear rather than try to reason with her. On those rare occasions when her mother felt compelled to interfere in her life, she was like a terrier going after a rat. Better she believe a lie than know the truth.

“Okay!” Cally sighed. “Yes! I’ve been sneaking off to see Lucky Maledetto!
There!
Are you happy now?” The look of consternation on Sheila’s face was replaced by alarm. “Cally, you’ve got to promise me that you’ll
never
see that boy again! And you have to stop being friends with his sisters, too! Vincent Maledetto is 62

the sworn enemy of your father!” Sheila said. “There is a vendetta between your bloodlines!”

“Why should that matter to me?” Cally snapped. “I don’t even know who my father really
is
!”

“Cally, you have to believe me! The Maledettos are nothing more than assassins and thieves!”

“That might be true,” Cally replied, pulling herself free of her mother’s grip. “But at least Vinnie Maledetto is actually
involved
in his kids’ lives, okay? He
cares
about them! That’s more than I can say about
my
dad—