Biting Oz: Biting Love, Book 5 (24 page)

“Good grief. Eating bad cheese just to be trendy?”

“Hey, people eat raw fish. And blood sausage.”

“Which reminds me. Did your bribe work?”

“I think so.” She held up crossed fingers.

“At least now I know why the Dudes have been so angry lately, if their most popular product disappeared.”

“I wonder what happened to the shipment.”

“Delivered to the wrong address, probably.”

She gave me a look. “With our post office?”

“Stranger things have happened lately.” Like vampires. Which reminded me, I didn’t want to deal with any sexy vampires, or even snarky spouses of sexy vampires. So I nudged her toward the PAC’s side entrance.

For all the trouble I went to avoiding sexy vampires (and snarky friends), it turned out I needn’t have bothered. I never saw Glynn and saw too much of Nixie.

Oh, Glynn came. Er, arrived. Whatever. I knew he was there because at seven ten Mishela flitted by with a flirty wave and an embarrassing thumbs-up. She wouldn’t be here without her shadow, so he was somewhere in the building.

Just nowhere near me.

I was not dejected, but by the time I made my way to the pit, everyone was already in place and had eaten all the good chocolates. Not really, but it felt that way. Then Nixie latched on to me the moment I sat down—literally, grabbing my elbow in a grip of death. “So, spew. All the gory details.”

So much for avoiding confrontation.

I tried to distract her. “Hey Nixie, what’s the best thing you can play on a guitar? Solitaire.”

“Seriously, girlfriend. Was he any good?”

I almost wished she was asking about the knickknacks. I cut a significant glance at Julian, he of the supervamp hearing.

Nixie grinned. “Nothin’ he doesn’t know. Or isn’t willing to learn. Spill.”

“Um, isn’t it time to start?” I glanced out into the audience. Less than half full. Earlier than I thought. “Hey, what’s the only thing a violin is good for?”

“Lighting a viola. Even I know that one, but it won’t work. Details. Juicy. Now.”

Thankfully, that was when the doors closed and Takashi cued tuning. So, later than I thought. I picked up my clarinet to match pitch. Nixie snatched up her alto sax and Julian touched bow to strings.

His hand froze. His nostrils flared. The tips of his fangs popped out between his lips.

All hell broke loose in the lobby. Screams and shrieks, the shrill yip of a dog, barely muffled by the closed doors.

Julian was gone in a puff of smoke. A swirl of mist. Whatever. Nixie barely caught his dropped cello.

While she fumbled with his oversized guitar, I tossed my clarinet on its peg and sprinted out of the pit and up the aisle. I expected Glynn to come shooting from the stage, but as I ran, my brain kicked in and I realized where he was and why, and why the hullabaloo was in the lobby.

That was where Mishela was.

Dorothy made her first entrance through the house, coming from the inner lobby. Glynn would be with her.

From the ruckus, so was the bad guy.

I burst out the house doors. Glynn and a knobby masked dude were tussling midlobby. A handful of latecomers, standing just inside the outer lobby doors, stared.

Julian weaved from side to side over the wrestling pair, judging his moment. Suddenly he darted in and jabbed the masked head.

Glynn followed Julian’s punch with an elbow smash that would have taken off the head of an elephant. It only stunned the masked guy, confirmation if I’d needed it that this was a vampire.

Nixie edged out behind me. She had a pole and jammed it through the theater house doors as an impromptu bar. Hopefully Mishela had done the same with the other house door. We didn’t need more of an audience for this. Nixie said, “Did they get him?”

“I think so.”

Glynn pulled the masked vampire to his feet.

“Good. Now we’ll find out who he is…damn.”

Glynn tore off the mask, revealing Gollum-like Steve.

“Shiv,” Nixie said.

I didn’t know that could be a name, but maybe vampires took knife names like metal bands added umlauts. “Who’s Shiv?”

“A foot soldier, one of the Lestats. I’ll give you the 4-1-1 later. This explains why the kidnapping attempts were so lame. Shiv’s a fuckup. All Ruthven’s homies are.”

“Ruthven?”

“A v-guy rogue-lord and businessman who… It’s complicated.”

“Later?”

“Later.”

Shiv was blustering. “Lemme go! You can’t pin anything on me. It was dark and I had a mask on so you couldn’t know it was me…shit.”

Nixie just rolled her eyes.

“You’re caught, Shiv.” Glynn shook him. “It’s over. We know you’re trying to kidnap Mishela and why.”

Mishela stepped up, fists on hips. “Is that why you took my ‘Hello Cthulhu’ panties? To get my scent in order to
track
me?”

“No, Mishela, never.” Steve—or Shiv—blinked at her. His eyes got big and glossy, and his lower lip stuck out and trembled. “I just wanted a token. Something to remind me of your sweet self.”

“Aw,” Nixie said. “Puppy love. Cute but messy. Better push his nose in it before it gets any worse.”

”Let Shiv go, darlings,” a new voice said. “He was working for me.”

The voice was a rich alto. The knot of showgoers near the outer doors parted, and a stunning woman step through. Her long black gown was backless—with a neckline down to her navel, almost frontless too. Black eye shadow and blood-red lipstick was a look most women couldn’t carry off, but it painted her exotically beautiful. She looked like a perfect fictional vampire.

I blinked. This was probably the real thing.

As she glided past the paying customers, she handed them all colorful slips of paper. They looked at the papers, then each other.

Then the showgoers,
our audience
, trooped out the lobby door. I stared after them in disbelief.

The woman sauntered toward the other vampires. “Hello, Julian. How’s the little wifey?” Her voice was a deep purr, Catwoman but for the snide, mocking way she said wifey. I liked Halle Berry but not this woman.

Julian’s glare said he felt the same. “Camille.”

She sauntered past him to stand before Glynn. “Hello, darling.”

He stared down his high druid nose at her. “Is this Nosferatu’s minion?” His Welsh accent rolled like thunder.

“Is this the Ancient One’s little fetch boy?” A wicked smile on her full lips, she poked a single red nail into his chest. “It’s lieutenant, darling. Get it right.”

The nail dug, quick and sharp, into his shirt. Through it, a red flower appeared. He growled low.

She laughed. “Second lieutenant, actually, now that Ruthven’s gone.”

“Congratulations,” Julian said. The word was iced with sarcasm.

“Thank you.” Eyes never leaving Glynn’s, she licked her bloody fingernail. “It opens up the position of third lieutenant. Interested, darling?”

I expected him to smash her face or slash her with his knife. But he only stared at her, breathing through whitened, distended nostrils.

She smiled. Slowly extended all her nails, reaching for his face—to kiss him or claw him, I didn’t know and didn’t care.

I flew out of the house doorway. “Leave him alone.” Glynn could take care of himself, but strangely that didn’t matter in my need to defend what was…mine. Aw, hell.

Julian stopped me with an arm. But not before Camille’s head swiveled.

“And who is this?” She sniffed the air delicately. Her ruby lips quirked to a nasty little grin. “How droll. What is it with you Alliance boys and your human whores?”

Glynn slapped her. Her head snapped back, the surprise on her face unfeigned and instantly gone. Her nails lengthened to claws and she slashed them across his face.

I jumped, but Julian stopped me. “Let him handle it.”

A condescending smile crossed Glynn’s face, his striped skin already healing. He raised the hapless Shiv until he dangled. “This yours?”

“Of course, darling.” She cocked her head, black hair rippling past her shoulder. “Is that a trick question?”

“Here’s the trick.” Glynn reached into his jacket and pulled out his long knife. He grinned at Shiv. “This won’t stop you, but it will slow you down.” With a single muscular slash, Glynn beheaded the rogue. Blood spurted from the stub. The bony head fell with a muted thud.

I looked away.

“Camille,” Glynn purred. “Don’t make the mistake of going after my girls ever again. Any of them.” His gaze flicked to me, a stern look that seemed to say, “This is the monster you’re getting involved with.”
 

Yet I saw a yearning to be understood beneath the austerity.
 

Then he looked away. I was left wishing I could comfort him somehow.

“Good thing the carpet’s red,” Nixie muttered. She touched me on the shoulder, sass softened with compassion. “Don’t worry, it’s temporary. The only way to permanently stop a v-guy is cremate him or burn him in the sun. They’ll slap Shiv’s head back on, stick him in the ground for a few days and he’ll be good as new.”

I still didn’t look at the body.

“Don’t touch
any
of our humans.” Julian’s voice was frigid as death. “Go back to Chicago, Camille. Run home where you belong.”

“Oh, but I am home.”

Camille’s sly, loaded tone jolted my gaze toward her, to see what type of snake could talk without hissing.

She wore a ripe gloat, the kind that holds a hand of queens when every last dime has been bet. “Is this any way to treat a fellow Meiers Corners businesswoman?”

“I’ve no time for games,” Glynn said. “Get out.”

“Of course. After I give you this.” She offered one of her colorful slips of paper.

He just glared.

She held it out to Julian. “You?”

When he glared too, Nixie said, “Oh, for shit’s sake,” and started for her.

“Nixie, no.” Julian snapped up the paper so fast his hand blurred.

Camille’s smile broadened. “I have more for tomorrow night. And the night after. In case you find time for games.” She gave Glynn one last leer.

Then, with a dramatic swirl, she collapsed into a river of smoke, flowing along the lobby carpet and out the door.

Julian glared like he wanted to snap out his lighter and make her a fuse.

“What the hell?” Glynn snatched the paper from Julian’s hand. Scowling, his eyes darkened to royal blue—royally pissed. “This is why the house is so sparse.”

Avoiding the headless body, I sidled over and angled my head to see.

It was a flyer for a brand-new goth nightclub called Fangs To You. The club’s address was the Kalten building.

It featured a coupon for free drinks—for tonight.

Chapter Eleven

“Damn.” Julian tossed back a shot of whiskey, then plunked it down in a row of empties that stretched the width of the table. Apparently, the older the vampire the more it took to get drunk, because Julian was still red-eyed, long-fanged and apparently clear-headed. “This was their plan all along.”

We ringed a table right in the middle of Nieman’s Bar, but Julian’s fanged state wasn’t a problem. Not just the PAC had been emptied by Camille’s free drinks.

“I can’t believe we fell for it.” Mishela, back in her tomboy flannel and cap, toyed with her soda. “The kidnapping attempts were a diversion, to keep us from seeing them finishing the club.”

“Not just a diversion,” Nixie said. She was systematically destroying every bowl of bar peanuts within reach. “If you’d gone MIA, Scary Ancient Dude would have been flinging-apeshit mad. You know Nosy’s MO. Anything to fuck up the Alliance.”

Anyone else, I would have asked what the hell they meant. I was sort of used to not understanding Nixie.

Fortunately, Julian had gotten to be a competent translator. “Mishela’s kidnapping would have upset the Ancient One, distracted him and disrupted the Alliance. You’re right. That could have been Nosferatu’s primary plan, with Camille as a backup.”

“A one-two punch.” Nixie mimed a jab-cross. “Knock us off balance with Shiv, then KO with this shit.”

“Perhaps it’s not that bad?” Glynn nursed a Red Special, which smelled uncomfortably like brandy and blood. “Perhaps the townspeople will check out the club, find it not to their liking, and life will return to normal.”

I jumped on that. “Of course. The novelty attracted them. It’ll wear off.” Then I shook my head. “But in the meantime, it’s free drinks. No self-respecting Meiers Corners—” I tried to think what our noun-forming suffix might be. Corners-ite? Corners-zian? Corners-erella? Gave up. “No MCer turns down
free
.”

“What chaps my ass,” Nixie said, “is that those good Corners folk could have come back after downing their drinks. They didn’t.”

Glynn frowned. “So?”

“So the shiny-new’ll wear off, sure. But maybe too late for us.”

I tried to steal a peanut, nearly got my hand chomped. Small, fast and pregnant is a dangerous combination. I shook out my fingers. “I hope not. If we lose our audience, that’s bad. But all the quaint local shoppes the Sparkasse Bank invested in will be in trouble too.”