wl_fanfiction | Private I Vampyre: Ch 16/ 24

Chapter 16

Going back home was interesting, with Delilah walking briskly alongside me wearing naught but her heels, and her knee-length coat with her little purse tucked under her arm. She was an interesting riddle. She spoke like royalty, but had no illusions of modesty or that she was less than attractive.

And once we got home… well, that was a different story.

“Where the fuck have you been oh hi there…” Greg’s indignant screech smoothed out to his most suave as he eyed Delilah’s barely hidden form thoroughly. “Wait… I know who you are…” he frowned. “Who are you?”

“Delilah. Bast’s daughter.”

“Ohhh…” Greg wilted a little. “Sooo… what brings you to the States?” he asked brightly, edging behind me. I grinned quietly.

So did she, though her grin was no more than an amused tightening around the eyes. “Not you, so there is no need to hide.”

“Who’s hiding?” he snarked before turning to me, looking me up and down, cataloguing my scuffed knees and the fact that my coat was a bit worse for wear. “So… what happened to you guys?”

I told him, and he wilted even more before firm anger replaced what little fear there had been. “Those bastards. Whoever sent those guys is one sick son of a bitch. What did the vampire say he’d been told?”

“‘To Mochrie from an old pal.’”

“Who do we know would talk like that?” Greg frowned for a moment, then looked at me. “Brad-” he said.

“Sherwood.” I finished for him.

We all just kind of stared at one another for a moment before I asked the obvious question. “So… how to we get a hold of Sherwood?”

Greg frowned. “Well, I can’t anymore.”

“Oh please,” Delilah sighed. “We need Mr. Carey.”

I scowled. I hated going to that part of town.

We took my car. A Dodge Brothers Business Coup, beat up, battered around, shot at and patched over more times than was probably good for it.

My scruffy pride and joy.

Greg sat in the back amid the flotsam and jetsam, see garbage, of my life, keeping uncharacteristically quiet as he nibbled at his nails while I drove and Delilah rode shotgun. She was also quiet, but had laughed softly when I’d asked her to buckle up. Yes, she’d survive a trip through my windshield, but I liked having my windshield where it was.

The American public might thought them a silly idea, but I thought they were wonderful, since they’d kept me in the car a time or two in my youth when it rolled.

She’d also declined my offer of more… discreet clothing, opting to stick with her long coat, shoes, gloves and hat. She was covered, but still. I had a gorgeous, half-naked were-woman riding next to me, her long, elegant legs hardly covered at all. The car swerved and Greg snickered, making me blush furiously. Change the subject. “What makes you think Boss Carey will want to talk to us? Sherwood was a rather undesirable chapter in his history, after all, and call me silly but I don’t think he’ll want to reopen it.”

“He will. He likes you, and hates Bradley, or Sherwood as you call him. He’ll most likely wish to help all he can.”

“How are we getting in? It’s kinda hard to do.”

“I’ve arranged a meeting in a few hours.”

I glanced sideways at her. “Oh?”

She turned and gave me that quiet smile. “You’ve been told already, Mochrie, that one intends to live here. One cannot set up house without speaking to all of the landlords.”

“I notice you haven’t asked me if you can stay here or not,” Greg grumped.

She didn’t even look back at him. “If by some odd twist of fate you again become a power to be reckoned with, then perhaps one shall ask your permission, but for now, one doesn’t make deals with people one can eat.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes. Even Greg didn’t have a reply to that one. On we drove.

Boss Carey was one of Al Capone’s most trusted advisers. One of the top bananas, not someone to cross by any means, not that mobsters were people you’d want to cross in the first place.

Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on which side of that particular fence you sat on, Carey was now the head mobster of Capone’s ring while Scarface served time in Alcatraz for tax evasion.

Taxes… such a little thing to take such a big time man down.

As a man, he was good and generous, with a fair judgment and always willing to help someone out of a tough spot. But just as he was good he was ruthless. He did his own killing when he had to, and he rarely if ever gave a second chance, and even when he did, he gave them grudgingly.

He hadn’t been half so influential once upon a time. Once he’d just been one of many business owners, sending the mobs half of all their earnings. He’d owned a small strip club, turning it into a respectable gentleman’s establishment with the best girls and the best booze. Capone had taken a liking to him, and a dark deal with a demon named Sherwood had helped him move up the ranks. A little suggestion here, a little nudge there, and Carey had become one of the most powerful men in the country.

After Sherwood had been sent back to Hell, Carey’d been kept on by Capone as the new liaison between the mob and the preternatural community. So he was pretty much the second most powerful human in the country if you took the government out of the mix. And he liked me best of all.

I’d saved his life at the risk of my own, all because a friend had asked me to. I never found out why Carey was so important to Jeff, and I never asked again after he told me politely to drop it. That didn’t really matter anymore, because Carey thought I was his hero and I could do no wrong.

The thought was a little terrifying, a little, but still… it had its uses when I needed help.

It still creeped me out though.

Carey’s favorite haunt, where he kept his office, was also his best strip club, and he’d done some remodeling since I’d last been in here. Surrounding the main dancefloor where thirteen tables with thirteen pillars. Everything was in black, white, and rose red, much more tasteful than the garish red velvet and gold trim it had been. The incredibly skilled girls danced on metal poles Carey had installed on a whim, making me avert my eyes automatically. I’d never been one for these joints. Honest.

I followed the swaying form ahead of me instead, trying to ignore the taste of prickling energy the place had. Sexual energy, going strong from the alcohol dipped men watching the girls tease them with glimpses of white flesh and promises they never intended to keep. I shook myself, clearing my throat and grabbing Greg’s collar as he stopped to watch one of the more flexible ladies.

“Come on Greg, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“Yeah, but Carey isn’t half as good a fuck as she would be, bet me,” he sighed, waving goodbye to the slightly disappointed girl who winked at him and turned back to her other customers.

“And you would know how good Carey is… how?”

“Sonny Jim, I wouldn’t touch that with a fuckin’ pole,” he said frankly.

I rolled my eyes, following Delilah into the back room past the enormous man with the bulge in his suit jacket and his friend on the other side of it not even bothering to wear a suit jacket to hide his massive gun. They nodded to me, and I recognized two of them as the ones who’d stayed behind to save their boss when he’d been dying.

The other fellows protecting their bosses inner sanctum were watching Delilah as someone rang us in. One of them stepped forward. “We need to pat you down,” he grinned.

“There is no need,” she dismissed him, but he wasn’t about to be deterred from his free show.

“Sorry Miss, but what kind of body guard would I be if I let you in to shoot my boss?” He sounded down home, good ole boy nice. Like he should be watchin’ the chickens and skipping rocks with Sally Mae. Obviously new here since he didn’t know what kind of people might be visiting.

“Boy, if you try to pat her down you’ll be dead faster than you could draw any breath to scream,” Drew said from behind his crony. The man jumped guiltily, apologizing and sending Delilah a reproachful look. “Besides, Delilah here is a real lady. You don’t treat a lady like that,” Drew kissed her hand, and you could tell he was trying to figure out if she was wearing anything underneath her coat when his eyes flicked behind her to see me. “Mochrie!” he cried, hurrying us all in and embracing me tightly.

I ‘oofed’ and patted his back before he pulled back, still gripping my arms tightly. “Hello, Mr. Carey,”

“Please, Mochrie, call me Drew!” he grinned. “The man who saved my life at the risk of his own shouldn’t have to use my last name.”

“As long as you call me Colin, sir,” I smiled faintly. He always had that effect on people. Look how jolly I am… Right up until I shoot you.

“And who’s your…” he scowled, his hand straying to his suit jacket as he took in Greg, who was trying to melt into the background. Which was weird, because it was Greg.

“Hey there Mr. C, looks like business is doing great.”

“Yeah, no thanks to you, you shit,” he snarled. Hmmm, prejudiced against demons… I can believe it.

“Mr. Carey,” Delilah’s voice cut across anything Greg, Carey or I might’ve said. “One believes that we,” she nodded her head to include Greg, who settled down from looking ready to dive for cover. “Have some information that could be of interest to you, and find ourselves in need of some as well.”

Carey glared at Greg from around my shoulder before nodding, shooing the guards out with a healthy stare and moving over to sit behind his massive dark wood desk, propping his feet up, his face set and his eyes lightly hooded. We sat, looking at one another cautiously. “You made an appointment in advance to ask for information that I assume you just got now?”

“How’d you figure that?” Greg asked before shrinking back behind me when Carey sent him a look that sizzled my skin.

“You guys look like you’ve just been in a fight.”

I blinked, then snorted softly. That jolly charm always made you forget the sharp, incredibly shrewd mind behind the glasses. “Well, you are half correct,” Delilah sighed. “One came to ask your permission to homestead this country for my people, but that is unimportant at the moment.” She filled him in on the hit on myself and Greg, the box, and its message.

We hadn’t even gotten to tell him our theories when he spoke. “Sherwood.” His voice was guttural and ugly, filled with fear and hatred. Small wonder. Sherwood had been the Mephistopheles to Carey’s Faust, causing Carey to murder his wife and nearly killed him in the process. Carey stood shakily, going over to the bar and poured himself one, not offering, but downing the whole glass before fixing another and buzzing his intercom box.

The door opened and who was apparently his secretary entered, clipboard and pen in hand. “Yes Mr. Carey?” She glanced up at us from her pen and paper and let out a screech. It was Denny “Omigosh Mr. Mochrie! Are you a ghost? Well, no, you can’t be but Omigosh I thought you was dead! But you are dead but, but… but you could’ve told me you wasn’t really dead ya mook!” She turned from shocked to angry Jewish mother in five seconds flat, while I went red in the cheeks as everyone watched. Even Carey momentarily suspended his brooding to watch, his lips twitching with barely suppressed amusement. That’s me, comic relief.

“Sorry, Denny, I kinda got sidetracked!” I pleaded, hands out, approaching. She smacked me with her clipboard indignantly. “Ow!”

“I thought you was dead, and then I had to go out and get a new job and a new place, then I thought all our stuff had got stolen!” She broke down, sobbing as she fell into my arms. “I thought you was dead! I thought… I thought… I thought I was never gonna see you again!” She hiccupped.

I patted her back, once again wishing I was somewhere else. “It’s okay Denny, its okay.”

“Do you have a secretary Mr. M?” she asked suddenly, tears forgotten on her cheeks.

“No, but business is real slow. Besides, you already have a boss, remember?” I nodded to Mr. Carey, who was watching with a blank face.

She flushed, stepping away and smoothing out her dress, wiping at her face. “I’m sorry sir, what was it you needed?” she sniffled.

He blinked, sucking on his teeth before he rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. “Could you bring me Laura and Linda’s number and their card, please.”

“Yes sir, right away sir,” she nodded, turning to leave, but not without petting my arm happily and running off.

I shook my head, rubbing my temples when I turned to the rest of them. “What?” They just smirked, grinning. “Ex employee.” I offered. “We worked together for almost twelve years.”

“Ahh,” Delilah nodded knowingly. “Fondness aside, you’re still a… mook, apparently.” She beamed at me quietly, and both Greg and Drew let out bright laughs before they sobered when Drew gave Greg the stink eye again.

“When I first joined this business, I was impatient and more than a little worried for my skin, since the climb to the top, or at least to middle management, is a treacherous one. I’ve always known about the other half of this world since I was a kid, so…” Drew swirled his glass of brandy. He was a sensitive? How had I not picked up on that when I’d been tromping around in his head? Ah well. “I found a pair of genuine witches and hired them to help me with a get rich quick scheme. They wouldn’t participate in the actual… summoning… because of the Threefold Law.”

“Threefold Law?” I asked, searching for my notepad to write all this down. Who knows, it could come in handy.

“The main law of all witches is whatever you do, good or bad, it comes back to you threefold.” Drew said offhandedly. All three of us blinked. He was maybe a little too knowledgeable about our world than perhaps we might be comfortable with. I know I was getting the creeps, but if he was the liaison between our world and his, he’d have to be knowledgeable… wouldn’t he? “And summoning a demon is not something you want to stain yourself with,” he sat heavily, shaking suddenly.

“Mr. Carey…” Delilah began before Denny came in with the card and handed it to me.

“‘Laura & Linda; Witches,’” I read.

Greg snorted. “I’ll bet that gets a lot of business.”

“I’m sorry but that’s all I’m going to say about this subject,” Drew rose suddenly. “I happen to believe in the Threefold Law, even though that didn’t stop me before. I’m trying to get a good thing going, but,” he stopped us as we made to leave. “If you confront Bradley, get rid of him. For good.” His face was set with old pain, but his eyes blazed, fresh and raw.

“Mr. Carey, a demon cannot be destroyed.” Delilah said softly, laying her hand over his.

He jumped at the contact, and Delilah withdrew, leaving Denny to put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it gently. Drew held her hand, eyes flickering for a moment. I frowned between them, but hey, it wasn’t my business. But something else was… “Mr. Carey?” I bit my lip as he looked up at me. “Have you heard about Ryan’s bar?”

He blinked at the sudden change of topic but seized it almost gratefully. “Uhm, yes, I had heard that it was shut down because of the chokehold the government has on the supply industry, yes… Why?”

“He’s a good man, sir, and he’s got a small family of his own to support,” I kneaded my hat in my hands. “But he’s too proud to ask himself…”

“Times change people, Colin,” Carey’s eyes glittered and a weird half smile quirked his lips. Like he knew something I didn’t. “Desperate times change people faster.”

I cocked my head at him, and his eyes skittered away from mine. I shrugged. “Have a good day sir, thank you for your help.”

“Ask and you’ll have it, Colin,” he reached out and we all shook hands and nodded our goodbyes.

All was well.

In the club, I was still pondering what he’d said. He wasn’t normally the kind of guy who enjoyed being cryptic, but then, it was hard to be in this business with werewolves, demons and vampires without getting a little hokey sometimes. Then that smell… I recognized that smell. Very much. “Colin?” Delilah frowned. “What is it?”

“Ryan?” I frowned, looking around, but he was nowhere to be found. I smelled him so strongly it taunted me, made the hair on the back of my neck rise, but I couldn’t… and then it was gone. I looked towards the bar… nope, nothing. “Never mind, my nose is just acting up.” Perhaps he was still on my skin…

“Why would you care if what’s his face was here anyway?” Greg asked bitterly, leading the way as we trouped out the door into the cold, barren streets.

Delilah looked at me, and I had to look away from her stare as we got into the car.

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