Pure Blood Part 22

I found a teller and showed my s.h.i.+eld and the key. She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I can't let you into someone's private box. Vincent was a nice guy. I can't imagine he's doing anything wrong."

"Well, somebody thought he was, enough to kill him," I said. Her mouth and eyes formed quarter-sized O's. "So since any rights Mr. Blackburn might have had to his privacy ceased when he died, how about letting me take a look?"

Sure, I probably traumatized the woman for life, but if she thought a drug-pus.h.i.+ng, drug-using blackmailer was "nice," she had bigger problems than me.

The safe-deposit box was a big one, with a flat folding lid. The teller set it in front of me on an oak table and left. I was in a small cubicle, about the size of a handicapped bathroom stall, the walls all done in red velvet and the chair upholstered. I felt like I was inside a well-lit coffin.

"You better have something good for me, Vincent," I muttered as I popped the lid. A stack of file folders greeted me, all neatly labeled with names and dates. I picked up the first one, and glossy photos fell out. n.o.body outside of Internet perverts probably wants to know the contents, but suffice to say I wasn't aware there were so many uses for a lit candle.

All the folders were like that. At the bottom of the box were two DV ca.s.settes and a bunch of CD backups of the photos. I settled in for the long haul and began going over each folder, making a note in my book of the names.

Halfway through, I found roger davidson burdock, and opened the manila folder to find Boot Guy staring me in the face. Vincent had clipped his Fortune Fortune article to the top of the glossy of Roger in a dress. It was a nice dress, probably Gucci. article to the top of the glossy of Roger in a dress. It was a nice dress, probably Gucci.

At least now I knew why he looked familiar.

The folder underneath Roger was tagged seamus malachy o'halloran. I stopped, fingers just touching the manila. I had guessed someone in the family, but Seamus himself? He was a scary guy, no denying it, but a perv as well? Where did he find the time?

Only a single strip of negatives lay in the folder when I flipped it open. I held them up to the mellow bulb in the ceiling and winced at what I saw. Seamus, like Samael nee Arthur, liked control, and he didn't seem too picky about the gender or age of his partners.

I took a breath of stale air and shoved the negatives back into the folder, bending it double and tucking it under my tight black polo s.h.i.+rt. It made an odd bulge, but I zipped up my jacket and managed to come off as mildly pregnant rather than deformed. The rest of the files and photographs went back in the box. I had the key. They were as safe as I could make them.

Then I left the bank and walked two blocks down from Main Street to the O'Halloran Building. My blood was pumping like I'd just done a five-mile run and the were was panting in my ear, feeding on my slow-burn rage.

Seamus was a murderer and a s.a.d.i.s.t and he was over. Through. Done. When I finished, his life and reputation would be sc.r.a.ps that stray dogs wouldn't pick at. Perversely, I thought of Shelby as I strode through the O'Halloran lobby and punched the b.u.t.ton for the highest floor the elevator went to. She'd be horrified at this course of action, but I couldn't help feeling that, were her leg healed, she'd be here next to me.

At least, that's what I told myself to keep my mind off what a bad idea confronting Seamus O'Halloran was, and it worked until the elevator doors dinged open.

Seamus's secretary was a nice-looking girl, with icy eye shadow and couture clothes she probably couldn't afford. She looked up at me and gave an audible squeak. In the slick waiting area I probably stood out like a h.e.l.l's Angel in a roomful of priests.

"I need to see Seamus," I informed her, flas.h.i.+ng my badge. She squinted at the gold s.h.i.+eld like it was covered in Sanskrit.

"Mr. O'Halloran O'Halloran is very busy," she finally said, sitting back and folding her hands. is very busy," she finally said, sitting back and folding her hands.

"I have no doubt," I said. "But consider this-would you rather interrupt him or have me kick open his office door?" I c.o.c.ked my head toward the frosted-gla.s.s double doors that concealed the inner office. "I'm sure these are hooked to a central alarm that has a direct line to the Nocturne City PD. You can deal with me or a dozen uniformed officers. And those guys never wipe their feet."

Her lip curled but she reached for the silver phone on her desk, which had enough b.u.t.tons to control a s.p.a.ce station. I put my hand over hers to stop the call. "Just open the door."

She opened her mouth to say something else prissy, and I let my eyes flame to gold. Sometimes the direct approach is best. The secretary swallowed and then pressed a switch on the underside of her desk. The lock on the inner doors clicked open.

"Smart choice," I told the secretary. She just sat frozen with her head in her hands as I pushed open the doors, letting them bang against the wall. Seamus was pacing back and forth with a phone pressed against his ear, holding the base in his other hand like a movie magnate. His head shot up when I came in.

"Hang up the phone," I told him. "We're going to talk."

"Hold on, Herb," he said into the receiver. "Minor glitch on this end."

"Don't make me ask you again," I warned. "Hang up."

"What in seven h.e.l.ls is going on?" Seamus hissed at me. "How dare you bust in here, you little b.i.t.c.h?"

I walked over to where the phone was plugged into the wall and gently unclipped it, laying the cord on the floor. Seamus jiggled the receiver. "Herb? Herb? s.h.i.+t!" He turned on me. "Do you have any idea who you just hung up on?"

I crossed my arms. "I don't care if it was Lord Ganesh himself. We're going to talk about Vincent Blackburn. Oh, and the poisoned blood you used to kill Vincent, and the car bomb that almost killed your niece."

I'd expected Seamus to deny everything, yell and wave his arms and swear a lot. He was a rich white guy, after all. What I didn't expect was for him to close the distance between us and backhand me across the face.

Had I been a normal woman pus.h.i.+ng thirty, the blow would have flattened me. As it was, my teeth clacked together and I tasted blood on my lip. My neck snapped around, and I held there for a second, waiting for the ringing in my head to dissipate.

Seamus watched me, face florid red. He looked like he was bucking for a heart attack. I shook my head once and then met his eyes again.

"You hit like a senior citizen, Seamus." I would be calm. I would not rise up to the challenge the were perceived. I could probably tear Seamus's arms and legs off with my bare hands, but he didn't need to know that.

"Get out," he ordered. "Before I teach you the lesson you so obviously need."

"Since you mention lessons," I said, taking the strip of film out of my pocket, "I've got one for you." I tossed the strip on the carpet between us. "Always make sure you get all the negatives when you pay someone off."

Seamus looked at me, at the film, back at me, then crouched and picked it up. He turned his back on me and went to the broad window behind his desk, holding the film up to the light.

"Good composition," I said. "Well framed. The faces are very clear. Vincent might have had some actual talent. His sister mentioned he was a painter." I put my hands in my jacket pockets to disguise the rubbery fear that was working its way out of my stomach and strolled across the carpet to Seamus. "But I guess we'll never know, since you had him murdered."

He whipped back to me, the film clutched in his fist. "You think this changes anything? You'll never prove I poisoned that queer. I'm a G.o.d in this town, little girl." A shadow of ink started at the corners of his eyes and bled across the pupil. The small hairs on my neck p.r.i.c.kled and my lower back twinged, the were equivalent of a red flas.h.i.+ng light and an alarm klaxon. I blazed on.

"Of course you didn't hold the needle, Seamus. But you ordered someone to." Or he had forced Vincent into killing himself, by using the Skull. "After all this, witches and magickal wars and blood feuds, it's something so pedestrian. I'm kinda disappointed, honestly. Multiple killings over a bunch of dirty pictures. Puts things into perspective."

Seamus laughed, shaking his head like I was a very stupid toddler who had messed my pants. "You are so focused on what's there in black-and-white, little girl. You can't see that an addict would do anything for drugs and cash. He'd snap some compromising photos, and he'd also cut a deal when he got caught."

Before I could apply that to any sort of sense, Seamus's hand flashed out and twisted in my hair, bringing my face close to his. His eyes were pure black now as he pulled down his power, like the daemons I had encountered. In a human face they were terrifying.

"And now I think I've confided enough to you," Seamus said softly. "Don't resist," he added when I struggled against him, snarling. "Or I'll just kill you outright."

The compulsion slipped over me like plunging into a pool of hot ice-everything was warm and solid and I just didn't care anymore. It wasn't like a dominate, all heavy limbs and clouded senses, like being drunk. I was still perfectly aware that I was standing in Seamus's office, looking into his eyes, but I saw it all from a small spectator box in the back of my mind. My body and my consciousness were no longer under my control.

"Good," Seamus breathed when he saw the compulsion take hold. "Now walk." Still holding my hair, he led me across the office to a small metal plate set in the wall. He pressed the b.u.t.ton and a piece of the wall slid back. I had an odd sort of tunnel vision-directly in front was clear but everything else was a swirl of light and sound and overwhelming sensation.

Seamus dragged me into a small compartment and we started to move, downward. After what seemed like a long wait the door opened and he commanded, "Out."

"What's that you've got there?" said a familiar sharp voice. Seamus grunted.

"She burst into my office and started spouting accusations about Vincent Blackburn. Nothing too deep, but enough to be serious." He let go of my hair and I went to my knees because that seemed like a natural thing to do. "Do what you want," Seamus said. "I put her under far enough that even if she snaps out of it, she won't remember a thing."

Joshua, wearing a new dark suit worth more than my car, stepped into my field of view and whistled. "I love the perks of this job, Seamus. I really do."

"I'll need my car at seven," said Seamus. A door clicked somewhere and he was gone.

Joshua stroked his jaw and regarded me. "Well. All alone, eh, Luna? Remind you of anything?"

Alone, on the floor of someone's van while a beach bonfire rages in the distance. No one is going to hear me if I scream. He holds me down, the rampant snake on his arm poised to strike. I scream anyway.

I beat on the walls of the working Seamus had put me under. I knew what was going to happen, but I couldn't move, could only stare blindly ahead while Joshua put a finger under my chin and commanded, "Stay."

At that moment, I wanted to die. Just go to nothing so I wouldn't have to live what Joshua was going to do to me over and over in my mind, like I'd lived with the presence of his bite for fifteen years. But I didn't die; I stood like a department-store dummy while Joshua disarmed me and tossed my badge into the trash.

"Too bad things turned out this way," he muttered. "You would have made one h.e.l.l of a Serpent Eye. Armed and vicious, just the way I like 'em."

No. No. I had escaped him once before. This wouldn't happen. Someone would come, I'd break Seamus's working ...

"Unfortunately," Joshua sighed, "I have to exercise pack law instead of what I'd really prefer to do." He looked me over, head to toe, and if I could have screamed, I would have been breaking gla.s.s.

Then Joshua reared back and hit me, hard in the face. I went sideways into a wall, falling like a human-sized board.

"You wouldn't know about pack law," said Joshua, cracking his knuckles. "Our pack law, since you deserted deserted me. But the gist is, you humiliated me. And now I'm allowed to punish you." His foot connected with my midsection and I groaned, curling into a ball. me. But the gist is, you humiliated me. And now I'm allowed to punish you." His foot connected with my midsection and I groaned, curling into a ball.

"No," said Joshua calmly. "No defending yourself. You're going to lie there and you're going to take it. It's a small thing compared to what I had to deal with when you ran off." He kicked me again and then I really wished I was dead. My head was pounding and my body was aflame, but I couldn't move. I stayed limp and unblinking as Joshua straddled me and picked my head up. "Seamus says that you're still aware underneath those gla.s.sy eyes. Hope it's true. I hope you feel this."

He bent his head, and he kissed me, not in the way Dmitri kissed me but the way a were would. He sc.r.a.ped my lips with his teeth and violated my mouth with his tongue, snarling. I smelled his arousal, and then everything exploded as he slammed my head backward into the floor, rhythmically, the slightest smile on his face. Black starbursts appeared in my vision as Joshua hauled me to my feet. The back of my head was cold and wet and I smelled blood, which was merely unpleasant in my detached little s.p.a.ce.

Joshua pinned me against the wall and examined my face. My head sagged to one side as dizziness took the reins. "No way, you're not pa.s.sing out," he said. "Not until we're through. As long as I don't kill you, the pack says it's fair play." He stroked my cheek, from jaw to lips. "And I don't want to kill you, Luna. You're so much more useful alive."

He kept beating me, holding me up with one ropy arm while the other delivered were-strength blows to my face, my torso, my stomach. Finally he hit me so hard that my breath wuffed out of me and spattered blood across his face from the cuts his kiss had opened. He reared back, smearing at his eyes. "Seven h.e.l.ls!" He looked down at the fine droplets on his s.h.i.+rt. "Well, that's just fantastic. Six hundred bucks down the drain." He let go of me and disappeared. I heard water running across the room and Joshua muttering curses.

I slid down the wall and welcomed the blackness that closed in. I was dropping fast over the edge of unconsciousness, and I probably wouldn't wake up. The working didn't let me be too bothered about that part. All my brain cared about was that the pain would stop soon. Below, in the deepest part of my unconscious, the were clawed and howled for life as I sank further and further into the black pool.

I slipped over onto my side and landed on something square and sharp. The fact that the pain penetrated my magick-induced state started a tiny flame in my animal brain, the ingrained instinct to live that every creature possesses. The square plastic shape was my cell phone. Using fingers made of numb twigs, I shook it free and slapped b.u.t.tons at random. The phone squawked at me and I tensed, antic.i.p.ating the blow when Joshua saw what I was doing.

It didn't come. He was talking on a phone I couldn't see. "Yes, it's Joshua Mackleroy in the O'Halloran Tower. Yes, the security office. Could you send over a change of clothes? I've had an accident." He slammed the receiver down and cursed again.

I rolled so my body covered the cell phone. Everything was still either in agony or nothing at all. I felt like a log, but I had broken through Seamus's working. I remembered how hard it had been to force Benny Joubert to kill himself. Seamus's magick wasn't perfect yet.

"Un-f.u.c.king-believable," Joshua said to me. "Half an hour for a freaking dress s.h.i.+rt. Guess that means we've got more quality time together, eh, Luna?" He crouched down and lifted one of my eyelids, checking the pupils with concern. "Don't go into shock, woman. I'd be disappointed if that's all it took. You haven't even seen half of what I can do."

He'd had a big mouth when I'd first met him, and it hadn't changed. Normally, someone rail-skinny and c.o.c.ky like Joshua wouldn't even register as a challenge to me. I could subdue suspects twice my weight even when it wasn't close to a full moon. But I was bespelled, grievously injured, and trapped.

So as Joshua reached out to feel my pulse, I did what any self-respecting girly-girl would do and poked him, right in the eye.

Joshua howled and went back on his b.u.t.t, clapping a hand to his face. "You b.i.t.c.h! b.i.t.c.h! You f.u.c.king blinded me!" You f.u.c.king blinded me!"

Get up, I commanded myself in a dead voice, knowing that if I didn't move now the Coast Guard would be fis.h.i.+ng me out of Siren Bay. My legs screamed, stiff and heavy, as I stumbled like a drunken prom queen across the room. Joshua grabbed for me and I went down, clutching the edge of a plain steel table. I levered myself to my knees and saw a neat row of walkie-talkies in chargers on the table, as well as three stun guns plugged into outlets, green indicator lights winking merrily. I commanded myself in a dead voice, knowing that if I didn't move now the Coast Guard would be fis.h.i.+ng me out of Siren Bay. My legs screamed, stiff and heavy, as I stumbled like a drunken prom queen across the room. Joshua grabbed for me and I went down, clutching the edge of a plain steel table. I levered myself to my knees and saw a neat row of walkie-talkies in chargers on the table, as well as three stun guns plugged into outlets, green indicator lights winking merrily.

Groaning, Joshua got to his feet and came for me. I s.n.a.t.c.hed up the closest stun gun and depressed the firing b.u.t.ton, las.h.i.+ng out blindly as Joshua's hand closed on the back of my neck. There was a zap, and a fizzle of smoke, and the room filled with the scent of burning hair. Joshua screamed, a high animal sound of pain, and crumpled in a ball, unconscious. The stun gun gave off a last spark and fizzled out.

I hauled myself up, using the table and then the wall. Joshua lay on his side, the zipper on his suit pants fused into one strip of silver from the shock. I'd nailed him right in the b.a.l.l.s, and that was as it should be.

"f.u.c.ker," I muttered thickly, too feeble to offer a kick to go with the epithet. I knew I should check and see if he was dead, but right at that moment, with my face bleeding and my ribs spasming every time I took a breath, I not only did not care if Joshua was shuffled from the mortal coil, but I would have helped him along by shoving him in front of an express bus.

A door stood to my left, steel-reinforced. I stumbled over and jiggled the handle. Locked. A keypad glowed at my hand and I cursed, which came out as a grunt. Needed the code. I cast a glance back at Joshua. He wasn't moving, but who knew how long that would last? I couldn't be here when he woke up.

Seamus had dragged me into a hidden elevator to get me into the room-I just had to find the panel to call it. My vision was still somewhere in the region of p.i.s.s Drunk, blurry and vertiginous. I ran my hands over the wall, cheek pressed against the cool plaster, until my fingers brushed a b.u.t.ton. Not really caring if was an alarm or to call the elevator, I pressed it and let my aching body sag.

After a few seconds the elevator door slid open. I scooped up my badge and gun and phone and half fell through the sliding door. The c.r.a.p would certainly hit an industrial-sized fan if someone found those in here with Joshua's zapped body.

Inside the elevator I hit the down b.u.t.ton and went to the floor, my legs finally saying "Enough" and giving out. The elevator stopped after a long ride down and opened into some sort of executive washroom. A bald man in s.h.i.+rtsleeves was was.h.i.+ng his hands. He saw me and sprayed water all over himself. "Christ!"

He came running over, catching the door before it could close and bending toward me. A red silk tie dangled in my face. "Are you okay, miss? I'm Marty, from corporate accounting. Do you work here?"

I tried to talk. My tongue was sticky and coated with blood, and it was a few tries before I managed, "Help me up?"

Marty and I struggled to our feet and he regarded me like I was the climax of a horror movie. "Geez. This is just awful. Do you want to stay here while I call the police?"

"No police," I muttered, bracing myself on the wall.

"Look, if you're worried about pressing charges or filing a suit..." Marty started. Hah. Good one. If anything, Seamus O'Halloran would be suing my a.s.s for trespa.s.sing when this got out. That would be my luck.

"Just let me leave," I told Marty. The words hurt. My jaw was throbbing and I had that sharp sprinter's pain that told me some ribs were broken.

He stepped aside, helpless in his thousand-dollar suit and handmade tie, and let me stagger out of the washroom and into a hallway where I saw an exit sign glowing like Promethean fire. Centuries and a thousand gray stairwells later, I exited a side door and almost walked into the traffic on Yager Way.

"Thank the bright lady," I muttered. Now I could collapse on the sidewalk and wait for a beat cop to find me. They'd call Mac, and I could explain, and someone someone would go after Seamus O'Halloran. would go after Seamus O'Halloran.

I didn't like the feeling of having lost, not at all, but there was precious little I could do in this state except sit on a pile of recycled newspapers and tally up the number of my body parts that hurt.

"Luna?"

My head snapped up. Joshua. No, couldn't be. Who was I kidding, of course it could. Well, this time I would kill him. I decided then and there that if I saw Joshua again I was going to rid the world of his carca.s.s and call it finished.

Someone grabbed my shoulders and I lashed out. "Seven h.e.l.ls!" Dmitri shouted, catching my wrists. "Luna! Calm down!"

I stared into Dmitri's face and couldn't help it. Tears started, making b.l.o.o.d.y rivulets down my ruined face. A thin pale line formed around Dmitri's mouth when he got a good look at me.

"Hex me. Who did this to you?"

"How-how are you here?" I asked stupidly. Dmitri checked my pupils and touched a spot on my cheek that stung.

"You called me. Well, my phone rang with your number and I heard someone talking about the O'Halloran Tower, and then a bunch of noise. Figured I'd better haul a.s.s. Are you all right?"

"No," I said, pleased to have a question I could answer with one word. And Dmitri had been the last person I'd called the night before. One of the b.u.t.tons I'd punched on my phone must have been send. "No, I'm as far from all f.u.c.king right as one can get. And I think I might get sick ..."

"Might" became a moot point as I bent double and vomited into the gutter. Dmitri steadied me and held my hair out of the way. "s.h.i.+t. You need a hospital."

"No. No hospital," I said vehemently. Seamus could easily track me there, and I'd have nowhere to go.

To Dmitri's credit, he just nodded in that unflappable way of his and looped one of my arms over his shoulder, taking baby steps while half dragging me. "Bike's this way. I parked it. Wasn't sure if I'd have to go in after you."

"I don't think Irina would like that," I grumbled. Anything I said now would be put down to pain-induced rambling, and I was going to make the most of it. "Fake b.i.t.c.h. Bleaches her hair."

"You make it real difficult for people to help you sometimes," Dmitri said. "And Irina's not like that. She's a good girl."