Crossed: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Unturned Book 2) Page 13

  “Get in.”

  “Oh, thank…” He glanced over his shoulder at the church. “You,” he spat.

  He climbed into the back seat and yanked the door shut as if he thought something might jump out of the church after him. He hugged his arms around his chest. “Please get me out of here.”

  I rolled up the window. Sly gassed the car.

  I watched Odi in the rearview mirror. The further we drove away from the church, the more he relaxed. He let his arms down. His shoulders dropped. He muttered something under his breath that I didn’t catch.

  I turned to look at him over the seatback. “You good?”

  “Yeah,” he said with zero conviction.

  “Odi, meet my good friend, Sly.” I hooked my thumb in Sly’s direction. “Sly, this is Odi, my apprentice.”

  Sly kept his eyes on the road. “A pleasure.”

  “Hey,” Odi said.

  That summed up the conversation for the remaining ten minutes of our trip back to the Manoogian Mansion.

  The mansion sits almost square with a three-way intersection in a posh Detroit neighborhood—Kid Rock supposedly lived down the street, but keeping track of celebrity homes wasn’t my thing, so I didn’t know that for sure. The Manoogian and its neighbors sat along the Detroit River, and I bet they all had a sweet view out back. If you spent most of your days on the east side, you probably wouldn’t even recognize this area as a part of the city. Contrary to its reputation, not everyone in Detroit was poor.

  Sly pulled to the curb a hundred feet or so back from the top line of the T that formed the intersection. The position allowed us a clear view of the front of the mansion ahead of us, so we didn’t have to look too obvious about casing the joint. When Sly cut the engine, the silence in the wake of its rumble made the car’s inside feel stuffy and pressurized. That, and Sly’s palpable disapproval of Odi’s presence, gave me a tinge of claustrophobia.

  “Now what?” Odi asked eagerly. “You gonna break in? Search the place?”

  Sly twisted in his seat and looked at Odi as if he’d suggested we all head up onto the porch and piss on the door. “Were you this dumb before you were turned, or did you bump your head when you got bit?”

  “Sly,” I warned.

  Odi held up his hands. “I’m just sayin’, dude. You can’t see anything from here.”

  He was right. It was dark. A nearby streetlight cut some of the shadows, but no lights were on inside the mansion itself. The only thing I could see was the shrubbery lining the outside of the square lawn, the U-shaped driveway that curved around past the front door and back out to the street, and a glint in a couple of front windows from the streetlight’s reflection.

  “It doesn’t look like anyone’s there,” I said.

  Sly shrugged. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Which is the middle of the day for a vampire. If he’s in there, what’s he doing? Sitting in the dark?”

  “Could be in a back room, or on the lower floor. I heard there used to be a bowling alley down there.”

  “Cool,” Odi said. “Let me go check it out.”

  This time, both Sly and I looked at him like he was daft.

  “I can shadow walk.”

  “I’ve seen you shadow walk,” I said.

  “You didn’t see me in the back of your car last night.”

  Sly raised an eyebrow.

  “Doesn’t matter.” I pointed toward the mansion. “You don’t have an invite.”

  “Mayor’s not living there, so it’s city property. No invite necessary.”

  “But if Goulet is living there?”

  “No big. The whole invite thing doesn’t apply between the undead.”

  I appraised him over the seatback, admittedly a little impressed. “Toft’s kept up with his homeschooling, huh?”

  “He gave me an old, smelly book to read.”

  Sly barked a single, humorless laugh. “Vampire training manual. Now I’ve heard everything.”

  “Still doesn’t matter,” I said. “I can’t send you in there. Too risky.”

  “Fine. I won’t go in. I can just peek through the windows.”

  I looked to Sly for his thoughts. He waved a noncommittal hand. No help at all.

  “At the very least,” Odi said, “you need to know if he’s really crashing here.” He crossed his arms and leaned back. “But I guess you or your friend could go check it out, take a chance these hoity-toity neighbors don’t call the cops on your ass. Cause you can bet, in this hood? They’ll have three cruisers here in five minutes, tops.”

  Sly rested his hands on the steering wheel and ducked his head. “He’s right.”

  Odi jerked back. “I am?”

  “He is?” I asked.

  “Sitting out here, watching the place? We don’t have time for that. We could wait all night, and if we don’t see any sign of Goulet, we still won’t know for sure if he’s staying here or not.”

  Sound logic. But I was surprised Sly had changed his mind enough to trust Odi with the job.

  Until Sly followed up with, “And it’s the kid’s neck, not ours.”

  “Dude, you are a cantankerous old guy, aren’t you?” Odi said. He actually sounded hurt.

  I pointed at Odi. “Walk the perimeter. See what you can from the outside. And stay on the outside.”

  “Roger that.”

  He slipped out and disappeared into the darkness under a nearby birch tree.

  I thought I would catch a glimpse of him in the light when he crossed the street, but I didn’t see any sign of him after he left the car. I felt a weird swelling in my chest. Was that…pride?

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  “Kid’s a bit squirrely, don’t you think?” Sly asked.

  “Ah, he’s all right. For a vamp.”

  “Hmm.” He glanced at his closed ashtray. Probably had a roach in there. Instead of going for it, he smoothed his hands over his lap and settled into his seat.

  We sat in silence for a while. No sign of movement at the mansion. I wondered what I’d do if Odi didn’t come back, if we sat there until dawn, and I never saw him again. Would I feel bad? As goofy and naive as he was, Odi played for the dark side now. Vamps could be tame, but they were still demons, soulless, and dependant on the blood of others. How much of Odi’s quirky behavior was habit carried over from life? How long would it take for those habits to wear off? Ten years? Twenty? If he made it to one-hundred years undead, would he even remember the person he was today?

  “Smoke’s coming out of your ears,” Sly said.

  I shrugged.

  “You’re worried about him.”

  I shrugged again. “I feel sorry for him. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I’ve seen him full vamp only once. Otherwise, it’s like he’s a misguided teen with a sad backstory.”

  “But he’s a vampire.”

  “I am aware.”

  “Don’t let yourself forget, brother. There’s a reason killing demons is good business.”

  A car approached from behind us, the shine of its headlights obscuring any details of its make or model. I tensed, hoping it wasn’t a cop coming to check on a couple of strange men staking out the mayor’s mansion. If they decided to search the car, the pistol in the glove box loaded with silver bullets and the shotgun in the trunk sitting next to the box of silver slugs could raise some eyebrows. Or get us arrested since neither weapon was registered.

  The guns and ammo were courtesy of a unique arms dealer who specialized in anti-supernatural weaponry. That acquaintance Sly had mentioned back at the shop.

  The car drove on past and turned left at the intersection, away from the mansion.

  Sly and I both let out a tense exhale.

  After twenty minutes, I started to fidget. The cold air had seeped into the car, along with the soggy smell of autumn, which actually complimented the pot scent. I pulled my coat closed and buttoned it. I would have liked to turn on the heat, but we couldn’t very well keep the engine runni
ng. This wasn’t stakeouts for amateurs night.

  “He should have had time enough to look in every window by now,” Sly said.

  I opened my mouth to respond. The sound of the back door opening then slamming shut stopped me.

  Damn, the kid’s gotten the shadow walking down pat now.

  I turned in my seat. “So what did you—”

  My voice caught in my throat at the sight of him. I actually wondered a second if it even was him.

  His face was a bloody mess. Cheek bones crushed. Lips torn. Some teeth missing. A section of his red hair was burnt away, his bared scalp blackened—kind of looked like my handiwork. And, shit, one of his ears had been ripped off, leaving behind a bloody pucker of flesh around the canal. He shuddered while pressing a closed fist against his chest as if trying to hold himself together—literally.

  With obvious, painful effort, he said two words before falling sideways across the backseat.

  “He’s here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I popped open the glove box and pulled out the gun loaded with the silver bullets. My heartbeat kicked into overdrive. A red sheen dropped across my vision.

  Sly reached for my arm. “Sebastian, wait.”

  I slipped loose before he could get a grip and barreled out of the car.

  The chilly night stung my heated face. I clenched my jaw so tightly I thought I might break my teeth. I left the car door open, rounded the front of the vehicle, and marched toward the mansion. As I reached the middle of the street, stepping into the light, I heard Sly get out of the car behind me.

  “Sebastian, don’t.”

  It wasn’t his words that made me pause.

  I saw him. Goulet. He stood at the top of the stone stairs leading up to the porch. The mansion’s door hung wide. He had turned on a light in the foyer. Its glow framed him in a rectangle. Much like I had seen in my vision, he wore a vest and dress pants, but without the suit coat. He had his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows. It was hard to tell through the darkness and distance between us, but I thought I could make out splattered stains on his forearms. Odi’s blood.

  I squeezed the gun’s grip at my side. If I’d had my finger on the trigger, I might have accidentally shot the street.

  Goulet maintained his human appearance, but I could see the cold bloodlust in his eyes, even while one corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk.

  The brand on my shoulder seemed to vibrate. It felt like the magical energy trapped behind the brand wanted to break loose, consequences be damned. But I didn’t need magic. I had silver. I didn’t care how old this fuck was, a dozen rounds of silver in his chest would take him down like any other vamp.

  I trudged toward the curb. My thumb checked that the pistol’s safety was off.

  A strangled cry from behind me turned my blood to liquid nitrogen. I heard a word in the cry—Don’t!—but it mostly sounded like the screech of a chimp with a mouth full of nails. I had one foot on the curb.

  Goulet wore his long, tightly curled hair down instead of in the pony tail I’d seen in my vision. Unlike Mr. Greasy, Goulet’s locks looked clean, beautiful even. They flowed down his shoulders nearly to his waist. He swept his hair back behind his shoulders as if getting ready to pose for a picture. I knew he wanted to make sure I saw his face, the challenge in his stare that said, Go ahead, come take your shot. No. Not a challenge, I realized. A seduction.

  Something tugged at a deep and primal part of my consciousness. My blood seemed to react to his gaze and roared through my veins as if trying to rip me open from the inside out.

  I finished my step up onto the curb. My shoes squished into the damp grass frontage on the street side of the sidewalk. I eased my grasp on the gun.

  What the hell’s wrong with you?

  I took another step forward, which was fine. I would need to close the distance if I wanted to get a decent shot. But I needed to aim the damn gun at him, too. No matter how much I tried, my own arm refused my commands.

  Some kind of commotion went on behind me. One of the Nova’s doors opening. Gasps and grunts. The scrape of soles on cement.

  I didn’t turn back, didn’t take my eyes off of Goulet. Hell, I barely breathed. All I wanted was to come face to face with him. To bask in his presence. To—

  To kill him, damn it. Kill him. Kill him.

  —know this powerful being.

  I heard the huffing and clumsy footsteps grow nearer to my back, but I was still startled by the hand on my shoulder. The contact was enough to jerk me out of my obsessive desire to approach Goulet.

  “Look…at me.” The voice sounded like a Shop-Vac sucking up a puddle.

  I turned around.

  Odi stood crookedly before me, his damaged face more hideous in the streetlight. He still held one fist against his chest while he wobbled on bent legs. It took effort to decipher his words through his wrecked mouth.

  “Your mom isn’t here.” Flecks of spittle and blood sprayed from his ripped lips. “He…wants you. Will use his thrall.”

  His thrall.

  The hungry vampire’s favorite trick to turn a human into a mindless blood bag. Not all of them could do it. And some better than others. Age was definitely a factor. In Goulet’s case, his reach was remarkable. If I’d gotten much closer, he could have turned me into his puppet. Or, as Mr. Greasy had promised, follow the newest trend among Detroit vampires and turn me into one of them.

  Sly hung back by the car. “Come on, brother. It’s time to leave.”

  I looked down at the gun in my hand. I thought about what Goulet and his neatly dressed posse had done to my home. About Mom, and what he might have planned for her. And poor Odi, a kid who should have been in high school, and whose biggest worries should have been about which colleges to apply to and how to work up the nerve to ask a girl to the prom.

  “Don’t,” Odi said. “We can still get your mom back. But only if you walk away.” His voice was a sickening slush, the sound angering me even more.

  I wanted to turn back to the mansion, give Goulet one last nasty glare, a promise that I would see the end of him. I buried the urge and helped Odi back to the car.

  I didn’t look back as Sly pulled away. But I could feel Goulet watching me. That feeling stuck with me even once we were a dozen blocks away. I thought that feeling might never leave.

  At least, not until I turned Logan Goulet into ash.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Even at four AM, Toft’s disguised and dutiful troll, Mortimer, stood ready to open the door to the Black Rose for us. Odi had an arm over my shoulders, and I took the bulk of his weight as he limped along into the club. Sly stayed behind in the car, parked illegally at the curb.

  Toft waited for us inside, standing in the center of the club, wringing his hands. Two hours after closing time, the place still carried the smell of sweat, perfume, and aftershave.

  Toft’s gaze took in Odi as we entered, then he snapped his chin up, pulled back his shoulders, and leveled the Glare of Doom at me. (Not really a vampire power, and good thing, or I’d have dropped dead right there.) His normally slick and parted hair was a tangled mess. His dress shirt was untucked. He wasn’t wearing shoes, either. Just a pair of argyle socks. A pinkish smear on his chin gave me a pretty good idea of what he’d been doing before we had called to let him know we were coming. But his disheveled condition made me wonder if it had been more than feeding. He looked like he’d rolled out of bed and dressed in a hurry, only vamps don’t sleep at night. My mind rebelled at riding any further down those rails—he might have been four-hundred, but he still had a twelve year-old body.

  “What have you done?” His voice was pitched deep and didn’t at all match his young face.

  “Not me,” I said, sounding more defensive than I’d meant to. “This was Goulet’s doing.”

  “You stupid son of a whore.” Toft grasped the edge of one of the round tables and tossed it over his shoulder as if it were made of paper. It crashed onto the stage and b
roke into several pieces. His glamour broke to reveal his true face. A fat, black vein at his temple pulsed like a small heart. A pinkish hue matching the stain on his chin coated his fangs. He opened his mouth wide enough to unhinge his jaw with a sharp pop. His tongue was a deep red. A reptilian hiss rattled from the back of his throat.

  Odi tensed against me. He had yet to unclasp the fist against his chest. He clenched it even tighter now.

  “You’re the one who sent him after me,” I said. “If you didn’t want him involved in my affairs, you shouldn’t have made him my apprentice.”

  Toft closed his mouth, the jaw bone popping again as it moved back in place. “I told you to stay away from the Elder.”

  “I agreed to take Odi on. That settled the blood oath. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

  “It was for your safety.”

  “It was about protecting your investment.” The sound of my blood rushed in my ears. I could feel each heartbeat thrum through me like the strike on a bass drum. “So stop bitching and protect him.”

  Toft’s red eyes gleamed for a moment. I could tell he wanted to kill me, and it irritated him like hell that he couldn’t, not without ruining his plans for Odi’s future. His face smoothed over. The popping vein receded. His fangs drew in to look like normal canines again. “He needs to feed. He’ll heal faster.”

  That hung in the air for an awkward moment. Which made me realize why Sly had insisted I not forget what Odi really was—because it had been so easy for me to do.

  Toft looked beyond me. “Mortimer will take him from here.”

  “Wait,” Odi said then broke into a coughing fit. A clot of blood the color and consistency of tar hit the carpet at his feet. I had to take on more of his weight to keep him standing.

  Toft frowned. “There’s no reason to wait.”

  Odi pulled his clenched hand away from his chest and held it out. With his palm up, I could now see something the color of burlap behind his curled fingers. He opened his hand.