Red Angel Read online

  Connor doesn’t question this but I see the doubt in his eyes. ‘OK. Shall I park the bike round the corner?’

  ‘Yes. There’s no need for you to be eaten alive by them too.’ He looks so relieved that I almost laugh. ‘Go home, Connor. It’s late and I’m in the mood for nothing more than having a few drinks and collapsing. You deserve some time off.’

  He smiles at me, gunning the engine. A few of the journalists’ heads turn in our direction. It takes them less time to react than it would for Kimchi if he caught sight of a squirrel. Somehow I feel even more like prey than I did when I was fighting X.

  It’s a good thirty minutes before I extricate myself from the hordes. When I finally escape into the building, all I’m craving is some peace and quiet. At least Drechlin, the dentist with whom we share the building, has apparently gone home. It’s a good thing too – I’ve barely put my foot on the first step up to the New Order offices when I hear Kimchi’s exuberant barking. Unless he acts this happy when everyone arrives at the door of New Order, I can only wonder how on earth he knows it’s me. He almost bowls me over when I open the door, leaping up and placing his paws on my chest. He tries to lick my nose but I pull back so he can’t quite reach it.

  ‘Down!’ I order.

  He licks my neck instead. I sigh in mock exasperation and fondle his ears. That’s when I realise that the office is packed and everyone is staring at me.

  Even when we first moved into these premises, there wasn’t a great deal of space to go around. Now that New Order includes two representatives from the Gully, Bancroft and Stuart Families, it’s definitely a tight squeeze. I lift my hand up awkwardly in greeting. They all continue to stare.

  Unfortunately it’s Dahlia who breaks the silence. ‘Bo!’ She picks her way over to me in a manner designed to remind us how delicate and fragile she is. ‘I’m so glad you’re alright!’

  I bite back my sarcastic response and force a smile. ‘I’m glad to be back. How are things here?’

  Arzo raises his eyebrows. ‘Not as busy as you’ve been. Although part of that might be because we’ve had to leave the phone off the hook.’

  ‘Journalists?’

  ‘And then some,’ he agrees. He looks up at me from the confines of his wheelchair. ‘How did you do it?’

  I deliberately misunderstand his question. ‘I answered some of their questions to keep them happy for now. Hopefully they’ll stop calling quite so much. We do have other business to attend to.’ I give them a pointed look. The only reason they’re here rather than at home or out helping clients is because they want to gawk at me.

  Arzo frowns but doesn’t comment. Since Dahlia’s first uninvited appearance, he’s been much more relaxed and content. I wish I could be happy about it. Dahlia is his ex-fiancée who betrayed him in every way possible; personally I think she should be hung, drawn and quartered. Her history with Arzo isn’t the most troubling part; I’d be more likely to trust bloody Lord Medici himself than I would Dahlia. Interestingly, her vampire Lord hasn’t once made inquiries about her whereabouts. He’s the only Family Head who thinks that New Order, set up to build bridges between the human and vampire communities, is an abhorrence. He also believes that newbies like Matt and me who have been allowed ‘out’ to participate in the venture should be kept under lock and key.

  Dahlia is an even younger vampire than me. Medici’s lack of contact can only mean that she is here with his full blessing, which suggests he’s not finished trying to screw us all. I just can’t get anyone else to believe me.

  Kimchi settles at my feet and slobbers over my shoelaces. I’m saved from enduring that indignity for long, however, because the door to my grandfather’s office opens and he beckons me inside.

  I ignore the others’ curious glances and do as I’m told. ‘Good evening, grandfather,’ I say, when I close the door behind me. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Very well, thank you.’ He looks me up and down. ‘Why did that Kakos daemon throw the fight?’

  I stiffen. ‘What? You’re not going to ask me how I am?’ He’s normally fastidious about manners. Considering his question, though, I guess recent events have over-ridden his natural instincts.

  ‘I’ve had reports every hour on the hour from one of my contacts. And I can see how you are for myself. Not that it matters; you were clearly never in any danger.’

  I try not to fidget. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Everyone else might have been fooled, Bo, but I know what I saw. Are you in cahoots with this daemon?’

  ‘Cahoots? We’re not in the nineteenth century, you know.’ His astuteness is putting me on edge.

  His bushy white eyebrows lower and he seems to be studying the blank space on his desk. ‘Are you in trouble?’

  I wonder if he’s avoiding my eyes because he doesn’t want to see a lie there. I walk over to him, forcing him to look up. ‘No. Everything is fine. I didn’t plan this and I didn’t want it to happen. You know how desperate I was to get out of the damn interview in the first place.’ I take a deep breath. ‘I can’t tell you the truth about the Kakos daemon because he’s a bloody Kakos daemon. But it’s not as bad as it looks. I promise.’

  He regards me steadily. ‘He killed a man.’

  ‘The man might have deserved it.’

  My grandfather’s shoulders slump slightly. ‘What happened to your vehement disapproval of capital punishment?’

  ‘I didn’t murder Marcus Lanscombe,’ I remind him gently.

  ‘All the same,’ he grunts.

  I rub my forehead. ‘How many other people noticed?’

  ‘That you won an unwinnable fight? No one. I’ve even been in touch with MI7.’ There’s a hint of disgust in his tone. ‘Clearly their standards have dropped. In my day there would have been a full-scale investigation.’

  I shouldn’t feel relieved but I do. ‘Well,’ I say briskly, ‘I’m sure all this will blow over soon enough.’

  *

  In the end, it takes three days – and considerable effort on my part in answering inane questions – before the paparazzi leaves the street outside New Order. Drechlin spends the time making almost hourly complaints. He’s sent us a bill for loss of income from all the customers who are suddenly avoiding getting their root canal ops done. I offer to pay although I’m hoping it won’t come to that. Keeping a dog who’ll eat almost anything is costing me more money than I thought possible.

  It’s with some relief that I finally make it outside with a real assignment to complete. I’m paired with Matt and it feels almost like old times. It’s unfortunate that he took my instructions to ‘dress for a night on the town’ so seriously. He’s wearing a mauve velvet suit complete with skinny tie and paisley shirt. He looks more like a walking nineteenth-century drawing room than a sexy twenty-first-century vampire. Before he was affected by O’Shea’s warped spell, he had a vast, trendy wardrobe. Where this outfit has come from, I have no idea.

  Choosing not to get involved in a long discussion about the merits of velvet, I don’t comment on his attire. Instead, I take his arm when we park round the corner from the exclusive night club we’re targeting and point him in the direction of the queue. ‘You need to get inside,’ I instruct.

  ‘Why can’t you come with me?’

  ‘I can’t afford to be recognised. I’ll wait here on the off-chance that Bergman comes out. We need to cover all our bases.’

  ‘OK, Bo.’ He nods vigorously. ‘Are you sure they’ll let a vampire in?’

  ‘They let Bergman in.’ I toss Matt a small camera. ‘If you see anything suspicious, take some shots of him with this. We’ll need proof that he’s dealing for Stuart before we can act.’

  I nudge him gently and watch him amble to the back of the line. He immediately engages a pretty blonde girl in conversation. Despite his weird get-up, she seems amenable to his advances. I smile in grim satisfaction then cross the road and make my way up to the top of the building opposite.

  It was one of the bar
tenders who clued us into Bergman Stuart’s activities. It was a brave thing to do considering the vampire frequents this club on an almost daily basis – and is treated by the management as a favoured guest. But spiking humans’ drinks and selling illegal drugs is not a matter to be taken lightly, not in these troubled times. All Matt and I have to do is get proof.

  From my vantage point, I have a clear view of the club’s entrance and the alleyway to the left where the deals apparently take place. I set up a camera with a long-range lens to get the best possible angles and take a few test shots. Once I’m happy, I sit back and wait.

  It’s not long before Matt and his new companion are ushered inside the club. It’ll take him some time to locate Bergman and get back to me so I hunker down and scan the line of waiting people. Some look impatient while others seem bored. It’s still early to be hitting a club but this place is apparently popular with both tribers and humans. To pass the time, I gaze at each person in turn, trying to decide whether their main motives for coming here are to dance, drink or pull. It’s not until my eyes land on a stiffly upright young woman that I see anything out of the ordinary.

  She seems to be alone. That in itself isn’t unusual: I’ve picked out several other single women that I’ve dropped into my ‘pulling’ category. She’s dressed in typical night-club camouflage of short skirt, high heels and pretty top but she’s carrying no purse or bag and I’d be amazed if there are any pockets in her skin-tight clothes. Also, despite her straight back, her right hand is braced against the wall as if she’s already got so much alcohol in her system that she’s afraid she’ll topple over.

  When the line moves forward, she takes tiny shuffling steps. Her head sways and, while I can’t tell for sure from this distance, I’m betting that her pupils are dilated. I make a quick decision and swing the camera from its fixed position so that I can focus on her. Before I can snap her face, however, one of the bouncers wanders down the queue and nods at her.

  My eyes narrow. Someone in her state should be put in a taxi and sent home, not given preferential access. The burly doorman seems well aware of her condition. Without saying a word, he takes her arm to help her walk to the front. When I crane my neck back to get a better view, I can see that he’s virtually dragging her. Interesting.

  I press my comms button. ‘Matt, where are you?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  I roll my eyes in exasperation and try again. ‘Where. Are. You?’ I enunciate as loudly as I dare.

  ‘Oh, sorry, it’s kind of loud in here. I’m watching Bergman. He’s sitting at a table with a few others.’

  ‘Vampires?’

  ‘No, humans. Should I start taking some photos?’

  It would be good to know who Bergman’s companions are but I can’t get rid of my gut instinct that there’s something up with the girl. ‘Actually, can you head out towards the front? There’s a young woman coming in wearing a black mini skirt and a pink top. Brunette. Find out where she goes.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  I grit my teeth. ‘I said, there’s a…’

  ‘Wait,’ Matt interrupts. ‘There’s a woman walking up to Bergman. Brown hair, pink top. She seems a bit unsteady on her feet.’

  I hiss softly. ‘Watch her.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  I curl my fingernails into my palms. It’s not Matt’s fault that it’s so loud in the club. Neither is it his fault that, thanks to my minor celebrity status, this will be easier if I stay outside. It’s sodding frustrating though.

  ‘Watch the woman,’ I repeat.

  My earpiece crackles. I hope that Matt got the message. I readjust the camera and anxiously scan both the entrance and the alleyway. Unfortunately – or fortunately, I suppose – there’s nothing untoward happening in either. I stretch out my muscles and try to keep focused.

  There’s another crackle. ‘Hey!’ I hear Matt yell. ‘Let go of me! I didn’t do anything!’

  Shit. Whatever he’s done or whoever’s noticed him, at least he’s had the foresight to tune me into the communications. Barely five seconds later there’s a kerfuffle in the doorway and Matt’s thrown out unceremoniously on his arse. The line of people stare at him wide-eyed. He blinks up in my direction.

  ‘Don’t look this way!’ I mutter warningly.

  Matt abruptly glances downwards, gets to his feet and brushes himself off. His tie is askew and there’s a rip in the shoulder of his jacket.

  ‘What happened?’

  He walks a few feet away to disguise the fact that he’s talking. ‘I don’t know. I wasn’t near to Bergman, I promise. I only did what you asked.’

  ‘Watched the woman?’

  ‘That’s what I did.’

  I bite my lip. Matt takes every instruction literally. He probably stared at the brunette and didn’t take his eyes off of her. The fact that he got thrown out for such an action confirms my suspicions: she’s got something to do with Bergman but I don’t know what.

  ‘Best thing you can do now is get out of there,’ I tell him. ‘They’ll already be on high alert. If you leave now, they might just think you had the hots for her.’

  ‘She was pretty cute,’ he replies. ‘Even if she did have VPL.’

  ‘You really were staring at her, weren’t you?’

  ‘I only did what you told me to. I think her knickers are edged in lace.’

  I roll my eyes. Talk about too much information. ‘You’re disgusting. Go on. I’ll meet you by the bike when I’m done.’

  He nods slightly and shoves his hands in his pockets, walking away and whistling. He’s so obvious that I’m amazed the bouncer frowning at his back doesn’t follow him. Matt can look after himself in a fight though; he is ex-army, after all.

  I turn my attention back to the club. I really hate sitting around and waiting for things to happen. It doesn’t suit me. If Arzo and my grandfather wanted someone to do nothing more than stake out Bergman and the club, they should have picked someone else.

  I’m not stupid enough to enter the club myself but I can get a little closer. I switch the camera to video mode and make sure it’s recording. I’m forced to make a choice between the front door and the alley but if Bergman comes out of the main entrance, I’ll be able to follow him with ease. If any action is going to happen, it will be down the side street.

  I abandon my post and climb down, skirting to the left of the queue to avoid anyone spotting me. Taking a circuitous route, I make it to the far end of the alley. It’s open at both ends to the street by the club entrance and the quieter one behind it. I’ve yet to see anyone use it as a shortcut though, so as long as I keep to the shadows I’ll be safe.

  I sidle up as far as I dare and then duck behind a wheelie bin. It’s surprisingly clean; when I flip up the lid to look inside, it smells of nothing more than plastic. I swear it’s never even seen a rubbish bag. I’m musing about this when the side door to the club opens and I’m forced to hide behind it.

  ‘I don’t see why we always have to come out here. It’s far more comfortable inside.’

  ‘Bergman, Bergman. You have to remember that vampires aren’t what they used to be. People are scared. If you start chomping down on them in the middle of the dance floor, we’ll lose a lot of our human customers.’

  ‘I spend a great deal more money than they do.’

  ‘True. But you come to us because we provide the best merchandise. It would hardly suit any of us if that merchandise went to Stringfellow’s instead.’

  ‘I suppose it’ll mean I drink less. Honestly, I don’t know what happened to me last time.’ Bergman snorts.

  I shuffle forward slightly so I can see what’s going on. There are two men, plus Bergman. As far as I can tell from my awkward position, they men are both human. I narrow my eyes. Is he selling to them?

  The door opens again. This time the woman I spotted out front stumbles down the steps. Bergman frowns at her and catches her arm before she fa
lls. ‘Is she drunk? You know I like my meat clean.’

  My lip curls. This bloodguzzler is an affront to his Family.

  ‘She’s had a few too many martinis, that’s all.’

  I scratch my head. From what I’ve seen so far, she’s had more than a few martinis. This isn’t a simple drug deal.

  ‘Oh my God!’

  I freeze, realising that the excited shout came from behind me. I slowly turn my head and my stomach sinks when I see two women pointing at me.

  ‘You’re the Red Angel! Guys! Come look! It’s that vampire that killed the Kakos daemon! The one who has super powers!’

  Two men appear. All four of them gaze at me as if I’m a damned exhibit in a zoo. I wave my hand frantically in a bid to shut them up but it’s already too late – the damage is done.

  ‘What’s going on over there?’ One of the shady club guys breaks away and strides towards me. Between the civilians at one end and Bergman and his buddies at the other, I’m out of options.

  I curse and step out from behind the bin. ‘Hey!’ I say cheerily. ‘How’s it going?’

  The man looks almost as surprised as the women did. ‘You’re… you’re…’

  I nod. ‘I’m the Red Angel.’ The words sound stupid but I roll with them. ‘I was in the neighbourhood and saw your club and thought I could really do with a drink. I wanted to use the side entrance to avoid the crowds.’ I smile pleasantly.

  ‘She killed a freaking Kakos daemon,’ Bergman breathes. He starts towards me. ‘Miss Blackman! I’m a huge fan.’

  The second guy’s face twists and he turns away. ‘Kill them now,’ I hear him mutter.

  Bergman goes blank with confusion, momentarily freezing. ‘What…?’

  I rush towards the group. There’s a flash of silver and I gasp as I see a long stiletto blade sink into the woman’s throat. Suddenly comprehending, I shout. ‘Run, Bergman!’

  I’ve barely finished the sentence when the second man twirls and throws something at him. As soon as it’s left his hand, he starts to sprint away. I fly past Bergman, who’s clutching a wooden stake that is jutting out of his chest, and leap over the woman’s body. I’ll run those bastards down in about three seconds flat.