Night Owls

24

THERE WAS NO conversation on the ride to Boston, even though Elly must have been bursting with questions. Val was glad she kept quiet, though. As well-intentioned as the girl’s inquiries might have been, Val was only barely holding her rage in check. She didn’t want to go snapping Cavale’s sister’s head off after she’d spent the night protecting one of Val’s own from the Jackals.

They parked on a side street in Southie. The Mustang was a bitch to parallel park; Val would make Chaz figure out how to wrangle it back out of the space if he was worried about his paint job. Provided he’s capable of driving at all. The thought made her pick up the pace.

South Boston was predominantly Irish, which made Ivanov and his people the outsiders. Val had heard stories of mob activity, but the players were almost always human. She saw a few ogham marks scratched into brick walls, a clear indication that there was at least a coven or two of Irish bloodsuckers, but Ivanov’s crew was in charge here as far as the supernatural set was concerned.

The Stregoi hung out at a bar on L Street, a tiny place that had been built during the Depression. The sign by the door suggested its maximum capacity was fifty people, but any more than thirty would feel cramped.

Ogham marks gave way to Cyrillic lettering as Val, Cavale, and Elly got closer. She couldn’t translate the words, but she knew Ivanov’s sigil. It was everywhere here: chalked onto walls, spray painted onto street signs, carved into doorways. Every now and then, though, she saw something surprising. Some of the Cyrillic symbols had been slashed through, as though someone were trying to erase them. No, those aren’t scratches. They were too uniform. They were Ogham runes. Ivanov’s rival, looking to send a message.

A bouncer stood outside the bar, arms folded, an expression of boredom on his face. Ivanov’s mark stood out on his arm in fresh, dark ink. It was so new, the tattoo was still smeared over with Vaseline. He held up a hand to stop them, maybe check their IDs, but Val growled, “Let us in,” and pushed some Command into it. He stepped aside obediently, his eyes wide with outrage. It wasn’t nice to order another vampire’s minions around, but considering how Katya had kidnapped Val’s, she couldn’t really muster a shit about protocol or good manners.

Inside, the bar was wasn’t quite at capacity, but it was damned close. Picking the vampires out of the crowd was easy: plenty of heads swivelled around as the three of them entered, but the humans quickly dismissed them. The four vamps kept staring, gaping at Val. A few sets of fangs slid out, but no one made a move. Elly and Cavale flanked her, just in case.

“Where’s Katya?” she asked, catching the eye of the closest vampire.

He was tall and bulky, his tee shirt stretched tight over his muscled chest. Yet, when Val stepped up close to him, he looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I . . . I don’t . . .”

“I’m right here, Valerie,” came her silken voice from the rear of the bar. The crowd parted, revealing her standing beside a pool table. She’d shucked the suit and returned to her regular street-rat chic: a manufacturer-distressed tee shirt with the logo of an ’80s hair band artfully flaking off, an equally fake-scuffed leather jacket, jeans that had been ripped on the assembly line, and a pair of Doc Martens that had possibly actually earned their scratches. “I didn’t think we’d see you so—” she choked on the words. Val had been moving from the first syllable, crossing the room in the space of a breath and catching Katya by the throat.

Katya snarled. She planted her palms flat on Val’s chest and shoved. It felt more like a kick. Val went flying, crashing back into a cluster of barflies and knocking them down like bowling pins. Cavale and Elly had started forward to help, but neither of them got very far before they were each restrained by a pair of regulars. One of the vampires made a grab for her, but Val was too fast, already back on her feet and lunging for Katya once more.

Her claws raked down Katya’s face before the other woman could catch her wrist.

“I’ll have your fangs for that,” Katya hissed, squeezing until the bones ground beneath her fingers. Val swung her other arm up, but someone reached out and held it steady.

“Valerie. Katya. What is this about?” Ivanov had emerged from his office, still in his impeccable suit, and stood regarding the two vampires as though they were unruly siblings scuffling over a toy. That’s all Chaz is to them, really.

“I came for my Renfield.”

“He’s missing?” Ivanov frowned. “He was with you when we left.”

“And she was talking to him alone while you and I were in the house. Probably giving him Commands. I should never have—”

Katya let go of Val’s wrist. “I did not.”

“You did it once before. Why would I believe you now?”

Ivanov smiled. “Valerie. Katya wouldn’t do that.” He glanced at his second in command and corrected himself: “. . . again.” He considered Val a moment. She’d managed to get the Jackals’ blood off her face, but she hadn’t taken the time to change her clothes. “I see your Hunt was successful.” He gestured behind him and the men holding Elly and Cavale released them. “And I also see you’ve brought me Value’s children.”

“She didn’t bring us,” said Cavale, brushing off the sleeve of his jacket. “We came on our own.”

“To hear my proposal?”

He ignored Val’s warning look. “If you’ll agree to help Val with the Creeps, sure, we’ll hear it.”

The smile turned shrewd, one businessman recognizing another. “I believe we can work together. If you’d be so kind as to step into my office . . . ?”

Elly cleared her throat. “What about Chaz?”

Ivanov answered her, but it was Val he spoke to. “So quick to blame my Katya. I give you my word, she does not have him, and did not order him to make his way here. These Jackals you fought—is it safe to assume they know your boy has what they want?”

“They do.”

“And they’ve seen you with Charles?”

Ice coursed through Val’s veins as Ivanov’s meaning sank in. “. . . yes.”

“Then perhaps they’ve taken what is important to you, so you’ll consider a trade.”

“We never saw Bitch.” Elly’s voice was hushed. She looked at Cavale for confirmation. He nodded back grimly.

It made sense—more sense, even, than Katya trying to steal Chaz away again. The scent she’d caught outside of her house earlier hadn’t been the Jackals descending on Sunny and Lia’s. It had been Bitch, lying in wait. “I have to go,” she said. There might still be a trail, if she could get home fast enough. She could have easily dismissed Bitch’s scent as part of the Jackals’ blood that covered them all. But if she went back to where the Mustang had been abandoned, got out of these clothes and retraced . . .

“I’m owed an apology,” said Katya. “She can’t come in here and threaten me, then just walk back out.”

Val tensed. She could fight her way out, but not without endangering Elly and Cavale. She had no doubt that they were both good—she’d seen more than enough evidence of their skills in the last two hours—but the three of them against six vampires and a bar full of regulars weren’t odds she wanted to play.

Ivanov spared her the decision. “Later, Katya. Let her tend to her own, hmm? If she can put her worries about Charles to rest, I believe her apology will be more heartfelt, don’t you?”

Katya looked like she’d stuck her fangs into a lemon, but she relented. “Fine. Go. Give him my regards when you find him.”

Cavale came forward and placed a hand on Val’s shoulder. “You go on ahead. We’ll come find you when we’re done here.”

She almost argued, but leaving Cavale and Elly here would kill two birds: the meeting would appease Ivanov, and Val could get to Edgewood much faster if she didn’t have to drive. She handed the keys over to Cavale. “Be careful, okay?” It was almost exactly what she’d last said to Chaz, too. She fought down the pang of guilt. No time for that.

Cavale pocketed them and grinned. “If you find him before we’re back with you, don’t tell him I’m driving his baby.” He gave her a little push. “Go,” he said. “Before they change their minds.”

With a deferential nod to Ivanov, Val got the hell out of the bar. She was halfway down the street before the bouncer on the door even realized someone had passed by.

ELLY WATCHED THE door swing closed behind Val. The vampires backed off, their expressions oddly relieved. What had Val done to set them all on edge like that? The only one who appeared sorry to see her go was Katya. She was old—Val had pegged her at around a hundred and fifty—but she looked like a grounded teenager, pouting at the door. She’d picked up a pool cue and was wringing it in her hands, probably imagining it was Val’s neck. Elly could hear the wood cracking; she almost expected Katya to bite off a chunk of it.

“If you’ll follow me,” Ivanov said softly. Even he seemed reluctant to provoke Katya. The hush followed them down the short hallway, the murmur of conversation only starting up again as Ivanov closed the door.

The room was elegantly appointed. Where the front of the bar belied its age in its creaking floorboards and dated décor, Ivanov’s office would have done equally well serving the head of a law firm. Leather-upholstered chairs sat on either side of the massive desk. A crystal decanter sat on a silver tray, though Elly was fairly certain the red liquid inside wasn’t wine set to breathe. The framed paintings on the wall were probably originals, worth more money than she could ever imagine.

Cavale pulled out a chair for her. She could see him scanning the room for potential weapons. Aside from the door behind them, the only other way out was a tiny window about five feet off the ground. You’d have to be a contortionist to get through that. If there was trouble, it was a squeeze through the window or a dash through a bar filled with Ivanov’s lackeys.

The back room of a tiny pub seemed like a strange place for someone like Ivanov to make the base of his operation. Father Value hadn’t talked too much about the vampires’ organization. Maybe being on his own away from the Brotherhood, he hadn’t thought she or Cavale would need to deal with them. The best she could come up with was that the vampires tended to keep within their colonies, no more than ten or twenty per. In bigger cities, there might be ten major ones, usually less.

The rest of what she knew about vampires had to do with killing them.

“Would you like a drink?” Ivanov sat, glancing between the two of them with a satisfied smile.

“No, thank you,” said Cavale. “We can’t stay very long. Val needs us.”

“Ah, Valerie.” He said it with a sigh, as if she were a wayward child. “Quite the Hunter, isn’t she?”

It was probably a rhetorical question, but Elly saw an opportunity. “She is. But I was told there weren’t many Creeps left up this way to fight. Why are you looking to bring her back to it now? And hire us, too?”

Ivanov smirked at her barrage of questions. “Even if their numbers are dwindling, it’s still a job left unfinished, isn’t it? And, since Valerie came to me needing help with a nest of them, I think you’d agree that they can cause much trouble even in their decline.”

“Why us, then? The vampires out front looked tough enough. Why not appoint Hunters from your own ranks?”

At first, Elly thought he was gesturing between them. Then she realized he was motioning at her arm, where Silver and Pointy lay nestled against her skin beneath her sleeve. “Why use a rowan stake when you have silver to hand? It’s the same principle. Use the best tools you have before choosing from the lesser.”

She couldn’t argue with that; the way Val had fought at Sunny and Lia’s spoke to years of training. And she’d said she was rusty. “All right, then why us? Why not find the Brotherhood and bring them in on it? They have to know more than we do.”

Ivanov shook his head. “But they don’t, my dear. Not from what I understand.”

Elly stole a sideways glance at Cavale. His posture was casual, almost bored, but below the desk’s level—and out of Ivanov’s line of sight—his index finger tapped rapidly against his thigh. He’s nervous.

Ivanov didn’t seem to have picked up on Cavale’s agitation. “The man who raised you two was a font of knowledge before the Brotherhood threw him out. He trained recruits for decades, and his protégés were among the most successful. Then there was a falling-out. I’ve not been privy to the exact details, but let us say he wanted to try tactics more extreme than the Brotherhood had the stomach for.

“They turned their backs on him, but not before they tried taking his two wards away from him. He . . . refused.”

One of her earliest memories was of being in their room, in the dark. She’d been curled up against Cavale, listening to raised voices on the other side of the door. One of them was Father Value’s. She remembered their door opening, the light spilling in to reveal an unfamiliar silhouette. Then the darkness had bubbled up like ink and engulfed the figure.

She’d always thought the last part might have been a dream, but from Cavale’s grimace, she now knew it wasn’t. “He killed them, didn’t he? The ones who came to take us?”

Cavale nodded. “He was chanting something. He’d lain wards to keep the Creeps away, but I think he activated them on the people who tried to come into our room. We did a lot of running, after that.”

“He never stopped learning, did he?” said Ivanov. “I’ve somewhat of a fondness for rare books, myself, and there were more than a few times I caught wind of one, only to learn he’d found it a week or a day before I had. Once, it was by a handful of hours.”

Elly had accompanied Father Value on the occasional book hunt, and knew at least a few of the hidey-holes where he’d stashed his precious tomes. Over the last few days, she’d toyed with the idea of retrieving and selling some of the less dangerous ones if she needed money. Perhaps she’d find a buyer in Ivanov.

“So what’s your proposal?” asked Cavale.

“Merely that you make yourselves available to me, should the need arise. I’m willing to pay you a monthly retainer. You can do as you please most of the time, but if I call upon you, I will expect the job to get done promptly.”

“I already have a job.”

“Yes. You read tarot cards to gullible, tittering housewives. How exciting.”

Cavale let the insult pass. “That’s what I do for pocket change. I meant my real job.”

“You’ve done quite well for yourself, vanquishing the local beasties. I’m not asking you to stop, Mr. Evans. Merely to make me your priority client.”

Cavale didn’t respond. Ivanov turned to Elly. “And yourself?”

“I’ll do it.”

That got Cavale to sit up. “Elly—”

“I said I’ll do it. Will you promise to send help when the Creeps come back for Justin? They’re going to be plenty pissed about what we did tonight. If they don’t come back and try again tomorrow, I’ll have my spike melted down.” She stuck out her hand to shake, her sleeve pulling back to reveal said spike’s tip peeking out against her wrist. “We’ll need the backup.”

Ivanov didn’t bother with a dramatic pause. He stood and shook. His stone-cold hand eclipsed hers. She could feel the power in his grip; if he wanted to crush her bones to dust, he could. But he didn’t, smiling magnanimously as he settled back in his chair. “Good, good. You have my word, we’ll come to your aid should you need it. Mr. Evans, I hope you’ll consider the offer as well. Sleep on it, perhaps.” He pulled a ledger and a pen from his drawer and set them aside. “Now, I have some figuring to do, and you’ve a missing person to find. Go, and tell Valerie I hope her Charles is safe.”

CAVALE FUMED SILENTLY until they were on the highway. Elly watched Boston recede in the mirror, steeling herself for the argument. When it came, though, he didn’t yell.

He sighed, which was so much worse.

“I know why you’re taking his offer.”

She sucked in a breath to answer, but he held up a hand.

“Elly, you have a place to stay. I’m not . . . I’m not going to throw you out. You can crash with me as long as you want.”

“I’m not going to leech off you.”

“So do something closer to Crow’s Neck.”

“What, get a real job? Can you imagine me behind a desk? Cavale, I’d stab someone with a pen in the first week. Or even flipping burgers? I’d boil someone’s head in french fry oil. Then you’d be bailing me out.”

“So take cases with me. We can branch out, cover more of the state. Hell, you could write our shopping lists and I’d consider it rent well earned.” He changed lanes, glancing at her as the streetlights splashed over her face. “You don’t have to work for the vampires.”

“No, I don’t have to, but it’s not a bad offer, either. Think about it—they find Creeps and point us right at them? It’s what I want to do anyway. They’re just doing the research for me.”

“And what if it’s not Creeps he points you at? What if he sends you after the other colonies? You heard Val; turf wars aren’t something you want to be in the middle of.”

She reached over and patted his arm. “I’ll be okay. I promise. I’m a big girl now.”

“Yeah, well. I’m still your big brother. I can’t help worrying.” He paused as if weighing whether to say more. She had to strain to hear him when he spoke again. “I never stopped worrying about you.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. The chain of streetlights ended, and Elly was grateful for the darkness. She bit her lip to keep from sniffling.

Cavale’s cell phone chirped in the center console, saving her from the burden of an awkward reply. Elly picked it up and read the name on the caller ID. “It’s Val.” She hit the speaker button and said hello.

The other woman sounded upset. “Bitch’s trail went cold. I don’t know where she took him.”

Elly and Cavale exchanged a look. Creeps weren’t known for taking hostages. Val had to know that, too, but better not to say it out loud.

“Sit tight,” said Cavale. “We’re on the way home. We’ll do some scrying when we get there and we’ll find him, okay?”

“Fuck,” Val said, and, “Okay. Fuck.” Then she cut the call.

Cavale stepped on the gas. The Mustang roared toward home.