Read Dead and Kicking Online

Authors: Lisa Emme

Dead and Kicking (4 page)

Chapter Six

There are a lot of scary things that go bump in the night that norms,
what we call you non-magical folk, prefer to think are just stories.
Vampires, witches, werewolves - they all exist - along with a myriad of
other fantastical supernatural beings.
Basically, if it’s made its way into literature, you can bet there is an
actual kernel of truth from which the tale sprouted. Most non-humans prefer to keep their
interactions with norms to a minimum but there are some that deal with humans,
even
need
humans for their existence. The Cimmerian was what resulted from
that need, providing an avenue for human-supernatural interaction, some would
even say exploiting it, while ensuring that for the most part, the shadow world
stays just that, in the shadows.

The one story that norms manage to get
wrong more often than not is the zombie.
Zombies are not the shambling, brain sucking monsters you see in
Night of the Living Dead
, at least they
aren’t when they’re done right. When
called from the grave by a skilled and powerful practitioner, a zombie looks
almost alive. They can walk, run, talk
to some extent, but most importantly, they have superhuman strength. They aren’t indestructible, but because they
are magically animated and feel no pain, they can take a lot of damage before
they stop. The good thing about zombies
is that they can only be made by someone with the extremely rare gift of
necromancy. A gift so rare, it has been
generations since the last one was recorded.

As with anything though, there is
always someone looking for an easier way.
These are usually low level sorcerers that resort to blood magic to try
and create a zombie. Jacks are one of
the most heinous of these attempts and until now, I thought they were just a
story.

As we saw on the video, to create a
jack, the sorcerer has to use the magical energy released by a violent death to
reanimate the body with the spirit of another, usually someone who is really
good at astral projection. Basically,
the second sorcerer, the guy we saw convulse on the video, is spirit walking
using the dead guy’s body. He’s hijacked
it.

“I didn’t think that was really
possible.” Tess shook her head and
looked at me. “Is it?”

“I’ve only read about it. I didn’t think it had ever been done either.”

“It’s not possible,” Holly replied
adamantly. “This whole thing must be
some sort of scam.”

“I don’t know,
it looked pretty real to me. But how did
they do it?”

“No, not how,” answered Tess, “but
why?”

***

After much back and forth, we finally
gave up trying to figure out the how and the why, and came up with a plan. Tess and I felt we had to tell somebody about
the video. Holly thought we should just
forget the whole thing but was outnumbered.
Obviously, we couldn’t take it to the police. We would have to go to the Cimmerian and the
Magister. After all, it was his
bailiwick so to speak. But, since the
video belonged to Bryce and he more than likely died trying to get it to the
Magister himself, I felt we owed it to him to figure out a way to use it to get
his sister out of debt as well. Not to
mention, it would cut the last ties holding him here and he could go on his
ghostly way.

“This whole thing is a mistake. But if you insist on going, I should go with
you.” Holly looked at us worriedly.

“No, for the last time, it’s too dangerous
for you to go.” Tess shook her head.

The only way to get to the Magister
was to go to one of his clubs downtown.
The aptly named Dante’s Inferno, was a
multi-leveled nightclub that catered to the Cimmerian, mostly vamps and their
human entourage, but shifters and werewolves like Tess were also welcome.
Werewolves are pretty pack oriented though, tending to
keep to Wolf-only bars and most don’t associate with vamps if they can help
it. Holly had never been part of the
Cimmerian, managing to fly under the radar and keep her gifts hidden. We didn’t want to change that by bringing her
to the attention of the most powerful baddie in town.

“Well, if it’s too dangerous for me,
it’s too dangerous for Harry.”

“I have to go. I’m the one making the
deal. Besides, I’m not completely
defenceless.” Like Tess, I also spent
time under her uncle’s tutelage, mainly learning Kali, a martial arts style
that focused on the ability to fight both with a weapon or empty handed and where
the goal was to inflict serious, if not lethal, damage to your opponent as
quickly as possible. I was also taking
along a little extra protection in the form of my katana, a weapon I had been
training with at Gran’s insistence since the age of twelve.

“They’re never going to let you in
wearing that thing.” Holly gestured to the blade.

“Sure they will. They won’t even notice it.” I slid the katana into its sheath and
adjusted its harness across my back. I
liked to wear it across my back with the handle just to the right, behind my
head. It made for the fastest access,
allowing me to already have it in motion in a downward defensive sweep the
moment it cleared the sheath. The
black strap of the harness crossed my chest, but for the most part blended in
with the black leather bustier I donned for the occasion. Of course, the little ‘no-see-me’ spell I had
cast on it, would also help.

Both Tess and I had changed into
clothes suitable to mix with the crowd at Dante’s, which meant we were both
wearing a lot of black and showing a lot of skin. Luckily, the three of us had all dressed up
as biker chicks last year for Halloween so finding something to wear wasn’t a
problem.

Up top, I had on the short leather
bustier that left my midriff bare and gave me the appearance of more cleavage
than I actually had. Down below, I was
wearing the equivalent of daisy dukes in black leather over top of some lacy,
fishnet stockings. I finished off the
ensemble with a pair of black, knee-height, lace up Doc Martens and a
silver-spiked dog collar. The collar
sounds over-the-top, but it wasn’t. It
was actually the most important piece I wore besides my katana. The spikes were real silver and the collar
itself would indicate to the vamp population that I wasn’t on the menu. I pulled on a black leather jacket to ward
off the chill and to cover my bare shoulders and arms. I looked totally badass or hilarious,
depending on whom you asked.

Tess was similarly dressed, but
showing a great deal more bare skin. With
her werewolf metabolism she wouldn’t feel the cold and besides, she was
supposed to be the distraction so that I could go unnoticed.

Chapter Seven

It was just after midnight when we
arrived at Dante’s and as expected, the party was just getting started, the
line was only half a block long rather than the full block it would be
later. It didn’t matter,
we weren’t planning on waiting in line.

As I had hoped, the bouncer at the
door was a low-level vampire. He looked
like something out of a Goth nightmare.
Actually, he looked a lot like Ozzy Osborne,
round, purple lensed glasses and all, so it was a surprise when the words out
of his mouth sounded straight out of Jersey rather than jolly old England.

“Hey! Youse
gals will have to get back in line.”

“We’re here to see Mr. Arroyo. I have an appointment.” I tried to keep on my best poker face.

Bouncer Ozzy
just laughed. “Yeah, youse and all these udders.”

I stepped up closer to him and made
eye contact. His pupils widened in
surprise. Usually people try to avoid
direct eye contact with a vamp no matter how low level.

“You need to let us through. I have an appointment.”

“Uh, yeah. I need to let youse through. You
have an appointment.” He reached over
and unhooked the velvet rope that blocked the entrance. The crowd in line started to complain. Tess shot them a cheeky grin.

“So long suckers,” she said.

“Tess!” I grabbed her arm and pulled her through the
door. “Don’t tease the animals. We’re trying not to be noticed, remember?”

“Okay, okay, but that was nuts. It was so ‘these aren’t the droids you’re
looking for’.”

“What?”

“You know, from
Star Wars
? Obi-wan?”

“I know what you’re talking
about. I’ve only watched it a bazillion
times with you. But I don’t see what it
has to do with right now.”

“You don’t think it was a little
strange that the bouncer back there just let us in?”

Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. As for the reason why it worked, that was
something I preferred to leave in Egypt, you know, the
land of denial.

I was saved from replying when we
came to the end of the long, dark hallway leading into the club. As we stepped through the door our senses were
assaulted. The music was hearing-loss
inducing loud; some sort of thrash metal, Slayer or Metallica maybe. The main floor of the club was a seething
mass of bodies. It was hard to really
see anything except glimpses because of the low lighting and the strobe effect
lights flashing on and off all over the dance floor. It was enough to send an epileptic into seizure.

Across the wide expanse of the main
floor there was a curved staircase that led up to a second level balcony. It provided a more intimate setting with lots
of dark corners where the cutters and the blood whores could indulge in their
addictions while low level vamps trolled for their next meal.

The atmosphere of the club was
wired. I could feel the energy pulsing
around the room. It was a heady
experience and for a moment my knees buckled as I soaked it all in.

“Hey.
Are you okay?” Tess looked at me
with concern and grabbed my arm to steady me.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” I took a deep breath. “Can’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“It feels so alive. Like the whole place has a pulse.”

Tess frowned and dragged me away from
the door towards a stand up table against the wall. “Get a grip on yourself. We don’t need you getting all high right
now. Are you sure you can do this?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I shook off her concern. “It just took me by surprise, that’s
all. I’ve got it under control now.”

The waitress came by and we ordered a
couple of beers while we scoped out the place.

“That’s where you need to go, there.”
Tess pointed to a wall of windows over the dance floor. “It’s the Magister’s
private lounge.”

“Yeah, but how do I get up
there?” Frowning, I searched the
perimeter of the room closest to the windows.
There had to be a staircase or something. After a few minutes, my scrutiny was
rewarded. A door opened in the side of
the wall and two large, gorilla-like men came down a hidden staircase and then
stood on either side of the open door.
They looked like Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum on steroids, almost identical twins in dark
suits with dark coloured shirts and ties.
They were all upper-body strength, bulging necks and biceps, with narrow
waists.

Tess had noticed them as well. “Great.
How are we going to get past the goon squad over there?” I had been wondering that myself. They weren’t vamps but they probably weren’t completely
human either.

“I think the direct method is the
best approach.” I downed the rest of my
beer then set off across the room.

“Hey! Wait up! What are you going to do?” Tess hurried after me.

“Trust me. I’ve got a plan.”

Tweedle -one and his brother, Tweedle-two, had
been watching me since about halfway across the room. You had to give them credit, as security they
knew what they were doing. While I doubt
if I appeared as a threat, they quickly discerned that I was going to be
something they needed to deal with momentarily.

As I approached, the closest goon put
up a hand to stop me.

“This is a private entrance.”

“I need to see Mr. Arroyo.” I tried to sound as business-like as anyone
could while yelling over top of Metallica’s
Thunderstruck
.

“Mr. Arroyo doesn’t see anyone
without an appointment.” Tweedle-one dismissed me by turning his gaze back towards
the dance floor.

“Oh, he’ll want to see me. Just tell him I have a message from Bryce
Chow, a very important message.”

“And why would I want to do
that? What’s in it for me?” He leered at me, making it obvious what he
thought he should get.

“How about your
life, asshole.”
Tess glared at him. I gave her a
quick elbow. Antagonizing the gorilla
wasn’t going to help.

“Yes, your life.” I looked at him appraisingly. “I imagine that’s probably what you will lose
when Mr. Arroyo finds out you turned us away and he didn’t get the information
we have for him.”

The two Tweedles
shifted uncomfortably. That had got
their attention. They had a little
tête-à-tête
then Tweedle-two
went up the stairs, leaving the first guy to give us the stink eye.

“I’m going to enjoy kicking you two sweethearts
to the curb.” He punched his fist into
his hand menacingly. How
cliché.

“You can try.” Tess made her own fist. I pushed her back to a table along the wall.

“Will you put a sock in it? Geez, I can’t take you anywhere.” And she was the one supposed to be keeping
me
out of trouble. No surprise really. Tess was like a Chihuahua when challenged,
all hackles on end and a mouthful of teeth ready to snap your finger off. Major
faux
pas
, I know, to compare a werewolf to a dog, they absolutely hated that,
but the description was apt.

Tweedle -two arrived back downstairs and whispered something to his
partner. From the look on Tweedle-one’s face, I knew we were getting in to see the
Magister. I tried to keep from looking
too smug as I approached the door.

As I passed by and started up the
stairs, Tweedle-one stuck out his arm to stop
Tess. “Just her.” He hitched his thumb to point at me then
looked back at Tess with a smile. “You
stay.”

“What? No way.” Tess pushed his arm away, but the two men
just moved to block the door, arms folded across their bulging chests.

“It’s okay Tess. Wait here and watch the door. Make sure no surprises follow me up.” Brave words, when I really didn’t know what
awaited me upstairs. I turned and
started up before she could protest, hoping she knew better than to start
trouble with the Tweedle brothers.

The narrow staircase had a little jog
about three quarters of the way up. When
you came out at the top, you were at the back of the room but facing the wall
of windows. The stairs came right up out
of the floor with a little half wall on either side to keep anyone from falling
down and breaking their neck. The room was plush, done up with shades of
burgundy and charcoal, with a thick, deep pile carpet and upholstered seating
around the periphery. In the centre of
the room, closer to the front near the windows, a large
u-shaped leather sectional faced out to look over the dance floor below. It was occupied by several people and despite
never having seen him before, I knew the Magister the moment I saw him. How could anyone not notice the sheer power
that came off him in waves? He was of
average build, appearing to be in his mid to late thirties, of course you
probably had to multiply that number by at least twenty to come anywhere close
to his real age. He was clean shaven
with short brown hair, a hawkish nose, and a distinctly Mediterranean
complexion. He was flanked on either
side by a scantily-clad woman, both human arm-candy if
ever I saw it, with barely enough fabric between the two of them to make even
one dress.

At one end of the sectional sat a
tall, brooding man who looked like he fell straight out of the pages of
GQ
; his dark hair slicked back, his lean
frame clad in what was probably a bespoke designer suit. The weird sixth sense I have that helps me
distinguish between low-level vamps and other more dangerous ones,
was off kilter when I looked at him. He
read as a powerful vampire, but seemed to be human. Whatever the case, I definitely felt a danger
vibe when I looked at Mr. GQ. He must
have sensed my stare, because he looked over at me in disdain before returning
his gaze to his drink and the dance floor below.

A thin, slightly greasy looking vamp,
dressed like an undertaker in an off the rack, three piece suit, stood guard at
the top of the stairs.

“Well, well, what do we have
here? Someone sent up dessert.”

He sniggered at his own joke and
looked over to a nearby table where a couple of his cronies joined in. He reached out with his hand as if to caress
my face.

“Don’t touch me.” The words came out a little more forcefully
than I had intended. A hush came over
the room and suddenly we were the centre of attention. I concentrated on keeping my breathing regular
and my heart from racing, silently thanking Gran for making me learn just how
to do it. “I’m here to see the
Magister. He’s expecting me.” The words came out steadier than I would have
thought.

The vamp pulled his hand back as if
burned and took a step back. Across the
room, Mr. GQ rose from his seat. I was
beginning to think that this plan was a very bad idea; okay, I already knew
that, but it looked like it was time to make a hasty retreat and cut my
losses. I was just about to turn and
make a run for it back down the stairs when a gravelly voice, oozing with
seduction said, “Don’t be afraid, little one. Come closer.”

There were close to a dozen other
people, human and vampire, in the room, but I knew the comment was directed at
me. It was like his voice had whispered
directly in my ear. A chill ran down my
spine and I shivered.

He pushed the closest bimbo from his
lap. “Girls, go powder your noses or
something.” The two bimbos in question rose, one with a little moue of distaste on her face, and
left the room through a door at the back that I hadn’t noticed before.

“Come, come. You wished to see me and now you can. Come forward.
Don’t be shy.” His voice was
husky, like a smoker’s and still carried a hint of his Spanish descent, but it
had a pull like a siren call.

Too late to back out now, I had no
choice but to move forward. I took a
tentative step, all eyes still on me, then another. I scanned the room. Mr. GQ, still standing on the opposite side of
the sofa, stared at me, the contempt plain on his face. I was obviously something beneath him and it
was an affront that I should be here in his presence. Or maybe it was that I dared to stand before
the Magister? Whatever the case, his
disdain only made me more determined. I
took a deep breath then strode with more confidence than I felt to stand not in
front, but just off to the side, opposite from Mr. GQ.

Now what? Was I supposed to bow or something? GQ stared at me menacingly. The Magister laughed. “My dear Tomas. Sit, sit.
You’re going to scare our little mouse with that look of yours.” He gestured for Mr. GQ, a.k.a. Tomas, to sit
down.

Tomas reluctantly sat back down at
his end of the sectional and grabbed his drink.
I took that as my cue to speak.

“I…I’m sorry for disturbing
you.” I paused, what the hell was I
supposed to call him? Your
Majesty? “Mr. Arroyo. My name is –”

A noise at the stairs drew our
attention. The greasy guard came
forward. “Excuse me Magister, but
Detective Nash is here to see you.”

Unbelievable! The guy was like a bad penny, always turning
up where he wasn’t wanted. Was he
following me or something? The last
thing I needed was to have him here when I showed the Magister the piece of
evidence I withheld from the police. Not
to mention the whole break and enter thing.

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