Dave Carver (Book 1): Thicker Than Blood (19 page)

A man, who’d been sitting on a couch, stood up when we came in. I recognized him immediately. It was Craig, the vampire that was supposed to be imprisoned in the pyramid trap.

Chapter 26

The shorter, fatter vampire rose from his seat, his eyes flickering from Flavian to me and back. He had on a new pair of glasses. The thick lenses made him look like an owl as he stared. My mouth dropped open in astonishment.
What the hell?
This guy was supposed to be locked in an inescapable prison. So what was he doing here, in a penthouse apartment?

Flavian put himself between me and Craig. Smart move, because I was about one twitch from driving my knife through the vampire’s bespectacled eye. I was confused and angry. My usual response to these particular emotions was violence.

“Captain Carver,” Flavian said, “this is an associate of mine. As you are my guest here, I must ask that you treat him with respect.”

“I know exactly who he is,” I growled. “He’s the guy that put two of my people in the hospital. He’s the guy that kept me locked in a garage. He was working for Roberto.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Flavian said. “He was working for me.”

I finally pulled my glare away from the trembling Craig. “What?”

“He was—and is—gathering information for me in the elders’ camp.”

“Oh,” I said. “What?”

“He’s been reporting to me about the activities of the elders’ agents in this city. I imagine I knew about your capture even before your friends at the Round Table did.”

“You’re spying on the elders?” I asked. “Why?”

“We are at war, Captain. Surely an experienced warrior like yourself recognizes the value of current and up-to-date information intelligence on the enemy.”

“But they’re not
your
enemy.”

“Aren’t they?” Flavian shook his head in a way that was both patronizing and pitying. “I’ve told you several times already: I do not wish to oversee the destruction of humankind. I oppose any activities that would result in that tragedy. As such, what would I be if I allowed Elder Sangre and his cronies to run rampant?” He smiled, a creepy, toothy expression. “A monster, wouldn’t you say?”

I looked at Craig. “So you just let Roberto and his friends march into the office. Seems like a weird way to prevent the destruction of the human race.”

“T-t-there was nothing I could do,” he stammered. “The ambassador’s primary order was to be sure that I wasn’t discovered. If I did anything to stop the attack, Bobby would have been suspicious.”

“And he did,” Flavian said, “allow your friends to pursue him back to your location.”

“He did?”

“The attack was already such a disaster,” Craig said, “which I was happy about, by the way—I figured there was no sense in keeping you. That was another one of my orders: get you released as soon as possible.”

“Well, thanks for that,” I snarled. But then I paused. Craig, whether I liked it or not, had saved my life and set me free. I put my knife away. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome.”

I looked back at Flavian. “But that doesn’t explain how he’s here. He’s supposed to be locked up underneath my office.”

The ambassador looked serenely at the ceiling. “All in good time, Captain, I assure you. All will be made clear.”

The blue light overhead flowed brighter and a wave of energy pulsed from inside it. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. The light cast weird shadows in the ornately furnished room. They wavered as if emanating from a flickering campfire, but the blue light itself was steady and still. It bounced off of the curtains, making me feel like a shark in an aquarium. Flavian and Craig had to be feeling the same way. They may have been dressed up as civilized people, but they were predators. It had to be driving them just as crazy as it was me being in this cage.

“This is my safe house,” Flavian said. “As you know, I’m a very powerful individual. So powerful that psychics and mages employed by your order will sometimes try to eavesdrop on my conversations from afar. Usually I’m able to block them out, but you know what they say: There’s always someone better than you are. The light in this room makes it impossible for those sorcerers to hear what is said.”

I frowned. “I thought you weren’t working against the Round Table.”

“I’m not, but that has not always been the case. The subtext was clear:
And it may not always be the case.
Maybe I was projecting that last part, but I needed to remember that Flavian was dangerous. We had a mutual enemy and a common interest. Other than that…well, that was a problem for another day.

The ambassador watched me for a moment. “Shall we begin?”

“Why not?” I said.

“Before we start,” the ambassador said, “I’d like to remind all of us to take care to whom and where you speak of this meeting. This room is shielded from prying eyes and ears, but it is important to remember that in order for this partnership to be effective, it must remain secret.”

I nodded. “Got it. But you need to remember that this isn’t a partnership. I’m only here because I need to find and destroy this Gauntlet and take out the traitor. When we’re done with that, we’re not gonna roast marshmallows in your backyard.”

Flavian’s eyes were cool and dispassionate. “Very well. Shall we call this a temporary alliance?”

“Call it whatever you want,” I said. “As long as everyone knows what it is.”

“Very well. Please have a seat, Captain. If only to assure me that I’ve made the right choice in trusting you.”

I frowned, but he had a point. If I’d been trying to make a pact with someone and he refused to sit, it’d make me suspicious, to say the least. Most likely, I’d think he was planning some sort of double-cross. Though it made my skin crawl and my soul itch, I sat down on the edge of the couch cushions.

Flavian’s eyes reflected blue light. “Welcome to the brotherhood of darkness.”

I shot out of my seat as if someone had lit a stove.

The ambassador laughed. “I was only jesting, Captain. I apologize—please sit.”

I sat back down, taking deep, slow breaths. I brushed the hilt of my knife. You know. Just to make a point.

“Alright,” I said. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Why, the best way to save your people from themselves, of course.”

“What are you talking about? There may be a traitor in the Table, but the main threat’s coming from your people.”

“Are you sure about that?” Flavian gave me a maddeningly knowing look before turning to Craig. “Now, my friend, would you be so kind as to tell Captain Carver the story that you told me?”

Craig swallowed nervously and licked his lips. He told me a story. By the time he was done, I was questioning everything I’d ever done. My entire life. Everything I thought I stood for. When he was done, I was literally shaking with rage. I was angrier than I’d ever been in my life.

Chapter 27

An hour after sundown I was crouched in the front seat of a van. I was covered, head to toe, with a moldy-smelling, moth-eaten blanket. The van was parked in a dark alley in a neighborhood of the Bronx where only a third of the streetlights worked. The rest flickered dangerously, constantly threatening to join their compatriots in darkness. Craig sat on the hood, a lit cigarette dangling in his fingertips. Occasionally, he’d take a drag, filling his lungs with dark smoke. Some habits die hard, I guess—some even survive death. Like me, he was dressed all in black, his stomach straining the seams of his shirt. There was a duffel bag on the dirty ground near his feet. Every once in a while he’d give the bag a soft kick, as if reassuring himself that it was still there.

There was a familiar excitement pumping through my veins. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, but before I joined the Round Table, I’d been a member of a group of amateur vampire hunters. We’d been crude, but our tactics had been the same as the ones that Craig and I were now using: hide out in an alley, wait for the target to show himself, and strike. It was amazing I’d lived long enough for Bill to find me.

The night was cold—far colder than it had been even the last few nights. Old Man Winter was making his annual last stand, and it made me shiver under the thin blanker.

The old cliché about New York is that she never sleeps. In my experience that’s true about every major city in the world. There’s always some sort of nightlife in an urban center, even if it isn’t all human. This alley, though, was the closest I’d ever seen to a still night in a city. The city may not have been asleep, but this neighborhood was definitely resting her eyes. No one was in sight. No televisions flickered in windows. I didn’t know where the people had gone, and I didn’t really care. The fewer witnesses the better.

I missed my sword. There hadn’t been time to go back to the office so I could retrieve it. The knife in my hand was nearly as effective, and it was easier to conceal, but I missed the comforting weight of the magic in the sword. I also held in my hand a brick that I’d pried from the foundation of a nearby building.

I was silent and still. I knew how to wait in ambush. We’d been in position for half an hour now, and I was starting to get anxious. He was out there, somewhere. The target. Watching the alley, sizing Craig up, waiting until he was sure it was safe before he showed himself. I prayed that no stray bit of moonlight would pierce the windshield and give me away. If the target saw someone lying in wait, he’d bolt, and we’d lose our chance. Especially if he recognized me.

A man appeared at the end of the alley. Tall, broad-shouldered. With each step he took, I could see the sword under his long dark coat. He reached the van and leaned against the hood.

“Cold night, huh?” He had a deep, rumbling voice.

“I guess,” Craig said.

“You people don’t really feel cold, do ya?” He nodded at the duffel. “That it?”

Craig nodded.

“Mind if I take a look?”

I held my breath and put my hand on the door handle. Then I froze, possum-like, to be sure the target hadn’t detect the subtle shift under my weight. I was in luck. He was so focused on the bag that he didn’t notice anything.

The target set the bag on the hood, unzipped it, and took out a package that was wrapped in the morning’s edition of the
Times
. He frowned as he unwrapped the paper. The target’s finger scraped against the object within. He let out a small grunt of pain, as if he’d been stung by a wasp.

I closed my eyes tight, a second before a flash of light erupted from the opened package on the hood. It looked like the headlights of an oncoming train. The insides of my eyelids lit up, bright white, as the rushing wave burst from within the package.

As quickly as it had come, the light faded, leaving the alley as dark and abandoned as ever. The target lay on the ground, clutching at his eyes and screaming in pain and anger.

I jumped out of the van, landing hard on the trash-strewn ground. I held my knife in one hand and the brick in the other. The target lay on his back. His eyelids fluttered, struggling to open. The device that Flavian had provided had seen to that. I wasn’t sure what was in the charm, but it had worked like…well, like a charm. I’d have to ask May what could do something like render somebody blind with as little as a touch.

I drew the target’s sword from inside his coat and tossed it aside. It landed on the ground with a metallic
clunk
.

“Hey,” I said. “Fuck you, you traitorous asshole.”

His eyelids started working overtime, struggling even harder to open. No surprise. My voice was probably the last thing he’d expected to hear.

Bill Foster’s voice was a pained gasp. “Dave? That you?”

“Yeah, Bill,” I said. “It’s me.”

And I slammed the brick into the back of his head.

Here’s what happened:

After I’d left the office that morning, Bill had returned. He’d gone down into the basement alone and he’d spoken to Craig. If Craig helped him find the Gauntlet of Greckhite, Bill would release him from the prison cell. He hadn’t known what my mentor had been talking about, but Craig had jumped at the offer.

As soon as he was loose, the vampire spy reported to his boss. Flavian, of course, knew exactly what the Gauntlet was, and what it could mean for the war, so he headed out in the sun to find me. Believing that I’d eventually find my way to the one person in New York who might know about ancient goblin weapons, he went to wait for me at the apartment of Abelard Taylor.

What I didn’t know:

Why was Bill after the damn thing? What was so important that he was willing to murder an old man in his bed? And what was he planning on doing with it?

I didn’t have answers to those questions. But I was going to get them. Before I did whatever I was going to do—and I wasn’t sure what that would be—he was going to tell me why. He was going to explain, in that damned fatherly voice, why he betrayed the Round Table.

Why he betrayed me.

It had been a little over an hour since Craig had helped me drag the heavy, unconscious weight of Bill Foster into the basement of the office. He’d be waking up soon. I stood in the darkened bullpen and adjusted my weapon belt so both hilts were within easy reach. And I headed down into the basement, to interrogate the closest thing I could remember having to a father.

Bill was where I’d left him: ass on the floor inside the pyramid trap, back against the wall, legs splayed like a teddy bear’s. His head was slumped so the wool of his beard touched his chest.

“Open your eyes,” I whispered.

No response.

I slowly and deliberately turned my back to him and headed to the work bench in one the basement’s dark corners. It was full of rusty tools: saws, hammers, screwdrivers. And an old coffee can full of nails. I pulled a nail from the can, careful to avoid pricking myself with the tetanus-y end, and turned to face Bill. His eyes were still closed and his chest moved with slow breath.

“Come on, Bill. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Still nothing.

I sighed, shook my head. And I flicked the nail at the fence.

If you want to know about the paranormal mechanics of a pyramid trap, you’ll have to talk to Dallas or May. All I know is this: It had a lot of power, and it doesn’t like when someone tries to cross.

The rusty nail his aluminum gate. A roar erupted from deep in the earth and washed over me like choppy surf. It was loud enough to make an entire cemetery sit up and yell to turn down the noise—they were trying to sleep. The nail bounced off the gate. Before it touched the ground it disappeared in a puff of acrid smoke. The symbols carved on the sandstone block and on the gate glowed with a hot orange light. There was no other physical sign that anything unusual had happened, and even those lights were fading fast.

But Bill’s eyes were open now. He smiled lazily and climbed like a cat, unfurling itself, to his feet.

“Well, that thing sure as hell beats an alarm clock, don’t it?”

“That’s how you want to start this?” As hard as I tried, I couldn’t keep the anger from making my voice quiver. “With a joke?”

“Start what, kid? I’m the one locked in your little dog cage. If anybody oughta be startin’ somethin’, it’s you.”

“You betrayed the Round Table, Bill,” I said quietly. “I want to know why.”

“Somebody been puttin’ funny ideas in your head, Dave.”

“Funny ideas.” To my own ears, my voice was a broken growl, weak and fragile as a glass sculpture of a gladiator. “Is it a funny ides that you let a vampire out of this dog cage? That you made a deal with him for some old weapon?”

“I don’t know what in the lord’s name you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Spare me. I talked to Craig. He told me the story.”

“And you believe him? Just ‘cause some vamp piece of hog-feed tells you?” Bill shook his head. “I dunno, Dave. Sounds to me like you’re the one not huntin’ with a full clip. Or maybe you ain’t as pure as you’re makin’ out. I’m startin’ to think you weren’t really a prisoner in that garage.”

My hand dropped to my sword. “No. You don’t get to sit there and call me traitor.”

Bill eyed me for a moment, his eyes cold, his lips pursed. “You’re a real big man, ain’t ya? Standin’ there with your sword. Let me out and we can see who the bigger man is.”

I laughed. “Nice try. But you’re not getting out of that cell till I figure out what to do with you.”

“And what’s that gonna be?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Maybe I’ll turn you over to the Commanders and let the council deal with you.”

“Or?”

“Or maybe I’ll kill you myself.”

He laughed, a sound I’d  heard a thousand times and never associated with anything but warmth and home and family. Now it was a dark sound, the mocking howl of an animal that cared nothing for me.

“Then I guess I’ll have to wait and see what happens, huh, Dave?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess we both will.”

I was back in the bullpen, sitting at an empty desk in the dark, when the front door opened. May stormed in, her windblown hair bright in the gloomy office. Her forehead was scrunched up and her eyes were narrow and hard. When she saw me, her grimace deepened, and she marched over and punched me in the shoulder.

Not the greeting I was hoping for.

“Ow!”

“You idiot!” May snapped. “Where the hell have you been all day? I’ve had Earl combing the city for you.”

“Oh,” I said. “I’ve been here for about an hour.”

“And before that? You went to the hospital and spoke to Rob. After that it’s like you disappeared.”

“Sorry, May,” I said. “I’ve been busy—“

“Too busy to pick up a phone. After last night. After Guyana. The vampires are after you—specifically, you—for some reason. You can’t vanish like that on us. On me.” She closed her eyes and took a slow breath. “I just…I thought I really lost you this time.”

“Hey, May,” I said, putting my hands on her shoulders. “I’m…well, I’m not hurt. But I have some really bad news.”

She looked up at me, tears that she refused to shed welling in those big, gray eyes. “What?”

I told her everything. I told her about where I went when I left the office after our last conversation. About my trip to Dallas’s store and to Taylor’s apartment. I told her about killing Roberto. About meeting with Flavian.

And I told her about Bill.

When I finished talking, May was sitting on the floor, her knees pulled up against her chest. It made her look small and weak. It broke my heart to see her like that. For what felt like a long time, she stared at a spot on the ceiling where some black vampire blood remained. Her face turned slowly to stone.

“I want to talk to him.”

“I know you do,” I said. “And you will. But not right now. Loretta’s definitely planning something with that stolen ship. She’s not counting on us knowing about it. We can’t let her land.”

“What can we do about it?”

“Call in the Navy,” I said. “
Guinevere
can hold off a ship that size, no problem. Especially if they don’t know she’s coming.”

“I don’t know…” she said. “I don’t want to leave you here. Not with him in the basement.”

I shook my head. “This is my job, May. This is my city. I have to protect it. and if it’s gonna burn…” I felt a bitter smile cross my face and I squeezed her hand.. “I guess I’ll go up with it. I want you on that ship. It’s the closest thing to being there myself.”

I didn’t mention the other reason I wanted May in charge of the marine operation. She was less likely to be hurt onboard Guinevere. She didn’t mention it, either, but from the look she gave me, she knew what I was thinking. Of course she did. She always knew what I was thinking.

Instead, she said, “I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I, to be honest,” I said. “But it’s what we have.”

I wrapped my arms tight around her. She squeezed my chest to her. Just before pulling away, she kissed me. She tasted like strawberries. I kissed her and hugged her even tighter. Then she was gone, in a whirlwind of red-gold hair.