First Drop of Crimson (15 page)

“Care to place a wager on that?” Spade asked mildly.

Interest flashed across Black Jack’s face before he masked it. “What do you wanna bet?”

“All the money I lost to you that I’ve got higher-quality Red Dragon than the best you have to offer.”

Now Denise really gave him a questioning glance, but Spade just squeezed her waist, silently telling her not to say anything.

“We’ll talk more when we’re in Drai’s,” Black Jack said. “Too many ears out here.”

Spade shrugged. “Lead the way, mate.”

Denise pursed her lips as they went down the stairs of the Bombay Coast hotel. Drai’s was underground, of course. What better environment than a black-and-red lacquered basement-turned-nightclub to discuss selling her blood? She didn’t know what Spade’s plan was, but she didn’t like it.

And when Denise got a good look at the people in Drai’s, she
really
didn’t like it. Almost a third of them were vampires. Their pale skin and too-graceful movements gave them away compared to the other patrons, even in the very low lighting.

She shuddered. Underground in a place filled with the undead. Possibly the drug-addicted undead, and here she was, with a narcotic fountain running through her veins. Oh yeah, a PTSD attack couldn’t be too far off.

“Let’s get a drink,” Black Jack said.

Denise wasn’t drinking anything here. It would probably come spiked with supernatural roofies, but when they got to the bar, she ordered a scotch to look polite. She hoped Black Jack wouldn’t notice the level of liquid in her glass never went down.

Spade sipped his own scotch and exchanged absolutely pointless pleasantries with Black Jack for about ten minutes. It was enough to make Denise grind her teeth in frustration, which didn’t help the panicked, claustrophobic feelings already rising in her.
So many pale faces. Cool flesh all around her. Blood would follow. Death would follow. It always did.

Black Jack gave her a suspicious look. “You all right, missy? You smell awful nervous.”

Denise tried harder to push back the memories, but they came faster than even her improved willpower could deal with.
We’re trapped. That terrible howling. All those screams. Something wet and thick on the kitchen floor…

“I don’t think I can do this,” she mumbled.

Spade began rubbing her shoulders with firm, soothing strokes. “There, darling, just relax. You’ll get your fix soon.”

Denise concentrated on the feel of his hands—strong, cool, and steady. They were her anchor while she kept trying to pull her mind out of the deadly quicksand of memories.
It’s all right. You’re not there. You’re not trapped. You’re here, and Spade won’t let anything happen to you.

“What’s she hurtin’ for?” Black Jack asked.

“OxyContin,” Spade replied shortly. “Forgot it back at the hotel. Don’t bother about it, she’ll be fine.”

“I might have some,” Black Jack replied, and smiled. Even in Denise’s state with reality battling memory, she noted his smile was like a shark’s—all teeth, no humor.

“Yes, why don’t we see what you’ve got?” Spade drew out meaningfully.

“Come to my office.”

They followed Black Jack to a door in the back. It led to another flight of stairs, possibly a service entrance or a fire escape, from the looks of it. At the bottom was a short hallway with three doors. Black Jack took the first one on the left, holding it open so they could go inside, still grinning in that predatory way.

The last thing Denise wanted to do was go farther underground to a smaller space with even fewer exits, but she had no choice. She was breathing harder by the time she sat on the animal print sofa, and her heart was racing. Spade pulled her into his lap as if it was normal to them to sit that way, his strong fingers continuing to knead her neck and shoulders.

Denise clung to the feel of his hands as she pushed at her panic.
It’s okay. You’re safe…and this has got to be the
ugliest
couch
ever.

“So you think you have some Red Dragon to sell, huh?” Black Jack drawled. “Ante it up, then.”

Spade leaned forward. “Not so fast. I said what I had was better than anything you had, but you haven’t given me a sample yet to prove that, have you?”

Black Jack grunted. “If I hadn’t already pocketed a lot of your money, I’d swear you were just lookin’ for a free handout. You have yours with you?”

Denise tensed, but Spade didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Alrighty, then.” Black Jack opened a lower drawer on his desk, ruffled through it for a few seconds, and then pulled out a tiny dark vial. He handed it to Spade. “This is top-shelf Dragon, ten CCs. Goes for a grand at friend prices. If you have anything half as good, I’ll cover your losses from the past two nights. If not, you pay me twice. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

Spade took it with one hand, still using the other to trace firm patterns across her shoulders. Denise almost held her breath as he popped the top on the vial and then tilted it to his mouth. What was he doing? Wouldn’t that make him insane with hunger, as it had before?

Spade closed his eyes, swallowing. Her heart began to thump when he set the vial down and opened them. They were bright green…and fixated on her neck.

Then he turned to Black Jack. “You sell that shite for a grand? That’s bloody robbery, in the most literal sense.”

Black Jack’s eyes went green as well. “Now you’re insulting my business, pardner, and I don’t take kindly to that.”

“You’d take kindly to the idea of quadrupling your profits, wouldn’t you?” Spade shot back. His hand slid down from Denise’s shoulders to her arm. “Hand me a knife and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Her eyes widened. He couldn’t intend to give him her blood, could he?

Black Jack looked both intrigued and annoyed as he pulled out what looked like a silver switchblade from his jacket. Spade flicked it open one-handed and then pricked her upper arm, tightening his grip when she would have pulled away.

“Don’t,” he said in an uncompromising tone.

Denise froze, but not because she was afraid of Spade doing anything to her if she refused. If he was so insistent on this course of action, he had to have a reason.
I trust you
, Denise thought, meeting his gaze and then relaxing her arm.

Spade held the knife, slanted, against the cut he’d just made. A drop of crimson pearled onto the blade. Spade took the knife away and then offered it to Black Jack.

“Taste.”

The vampire laughed. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Spade didn’t blink. “Do I look like I’m laughing?”

Black Jack gave another amused snort and then took the knife, licking the tip where her blood stained it.

As soon as he swallowed, his eyes widened, and then he bolted out of his chair.

“Ho-lee shit!” he shouted. He was around the desk in a blink, but Spade was standing, too, blocking his path to Denise.

“No more. Too much will make you lose control, and I can’t risk her safety for obvious reasons.”

Part of Denise was still battling against the horrible memories from New Year’s Eve. The other part was telling her to run like hell. But still she waited, trusting that Spade had a plan that didn’t involve selling her
blood
to this asshole.

“She’s a source,” Black said almost reverently, staring at Denise in a way that made her want to hide. “And she’s a woman! A
beautiful
woman. Good Christ, boy, do you know how much fuckin’
money
we’re going to make off her?”

Spade smiled coldly. “I haven’t decided if I want to partner with you yet. So far, you’ve only shown me that you’re a peddler of inferior goods. How do I know you’ll be able to provide the sort of protection that would be necessary to keep her away from the Law Guardians, or any other meddling vampire trying to stop the trade?”

Anger made its way through Denise’s other emotions, covering her panic. She knew Spade was faking, but Black Jack meant it when he was talking about her like she wasn’t even a person.

Black Jack threw up his hands. “Do you know how rare sources are? There’s only one, to my knowledge, so we have to dilute his blood seven ways from Sunday to stretch it and still keep him alive. That’s why the Red Dragon you tasted is like puke compared to her blood. But another source…and a woman…” The vampire shuddered in what looked like ecstasy.

“What’s the bonus of my being a woman?” Denise couldn’t help but ask. “I mean, blood is blood.”

Black Jack opened his mouth and then shut it. “We’ll talk more about details later, but you have nothin’ to worry about.”

“We won’t talk at all if you don’t start impressing me with your connections,” Spade replied inexorably. “So far I haven’t heard any. Perhaps I should go to the other peddler Ian told me about.”

It clicked then what Spade was doing. Denise saw the logic of his strategy even as she wanted to run away from the looks Black Jack kept giving her.

“There might be other sellers, but none like me.” Black Jack leaned against his desk, smiling cockily. “My Master is Web. You’ll have heard of him, and he has direct access to the people who started the Red Dragon trade. Connections don’t get higher than that.”

Spade snorted. “Nice story, but where’s the proof? Anyone could say they’re one of Web’s. I could claim it myself to someone who wouldn’t know better.”

Now Black Jack looked frustrated. “What proof do you want? You’ll meet him once I tell him about this. Believe me, he’ll want to collect her personally.”

“Ring him. Right now. Let me hear his voice. Otherwise, I walk out with her and find someone else to partner with.”

Black Jack didn’t like being threatened; it was clear from the fury that crossed over his expression. But just as quickly, his face smoothed into another smile.

“No problem.”

He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed, whistling. “Give me Web,” Black Jack said to whoever answered. After a few minutes of waiting, his smile widened.

“Master. I have the
best
news for you—”

Spade’s hand shot out, grabbing the phone. Black Jack went to snatch it back, but stopped at the glare Spade gave him.

“What is it?” Denise heard an annoyed voice bark from the phone. Then, “Black Jack? Can you hear me?”

“I hear you just fine,” Black Jack said, almost whooping. “And so does my new pardner, Henry—”

Spade clicked the phone off and then, to Denise’s surprise, ripped the base from the wall. Black Jack’s whoop turned into a curse.

“What the fuck you’d do that for?”

Spade handed Denise his own cell from his jacket. “Go up to the main hotel entrance and call for our ride. I’ll meet you there.”

Glad to get out of this drug-infested vampire underground, Denise snatched Spade’s phone and headed for the door.

Black Jack immediately tried to block her, but Spade was faster, grabbing him by the collar. “No, mate, we have some further business to discuss whilst she gets the car.”

The other vampire relaxed, letting out a snicker that made Denise’s skin crawl. “Right. See you soon, sweetie.”

“Yeah, sure,” Denise muttered.

She made her way up the metal staircase to Drai’s main room, then up the nicer staircase that led to the ground floor of the Barbary Coast hotel. The hotel driver answered on the first ring—a perk of staying in a penthouse, she assumed. She’d just given their pick-up instructions and clicked the phone shut when a cold premonition slid up her spine.

Spade had never before sent her off by herself to get the car. He was militant in his chivalry, not to mention his protectiveness. Yet he’d just sent her unaccompanied through two floors of vampires with a shallow cut on her arm. Something wasn’t right.

Denise swung around and practically ran back into the hotel. She darted past the people and raced down the stairs. A few heads turned in Drai’s when she continued with her frantic pace, but she ignored them, focusing on getting down that last staircase to Spade. Right as she reached the narrow hallway, Black Jack’s door burst open and Spade appeared. His jacket was ripped, he had blood on his shirt, and there was a redsmeared silver knife in his hand.

Denise didn’t need to see the inside of the room to figure it out. “You killed him,” she whispered.

Spade put the knife in his jacket, giving her a frustrated look. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”

Denise stared at Spade, taking in the lethal aura coiling around him. Her growing emotions had blinded her, but nothing had changed. Spade was a vampire, so he lived in a world dominated by violence.
Blood will follow. Death will follow. It always does.

She opened her mouth to voice her repugnance at what he’d done, but Spade grabbed her, moving so fast everything blurred. Shouts sounded behind them, doors banged, there were popping noises, and Spade shoved her head against his chest, cutting off her vision. Then, a few frenzied moments later, that nauseating lift of her stomach followed by a whooshing everywhere told her they were flying.

Spade set them down in the desert several miles from the shining lights of the Strip. Denise pushed him away as soon as her feet touched the ground. He let her stomp off without trying to stop her.

“Do you understand I had no choice?” he said, following behind her.

She tossed a snort over her shoulder. “Right. Because with your world, death is the only choice. No other option exists.”

He flexed his jaw when she stumbled over a dip in the sand she couldn’t see, but he didn’t try to steady her. She’d only smack his hands away.

“Black Jack had no intention of letting me leave that room alive. Did you notice the gunfire behind us, or the other vampires rushing the room? He’d summoned them, and not to welcome me as his new partner.”

She paused at that, but then kept walking. Spade didn’t point out that she had no idea where she was going. He reckoned she realized that herself.

“You sent me away so I wouldn’t know you were going to kill him.”

“Yes.”

She finally quit walking. Spade stayed back several paces, giving Denise her space.

“What was he so excited to talk to you alone about?”

Rage coursed through him at the memory, sharpening his tone. “He was mostly stalling until his mates showed up with weapons, but he talked about all the quid we’d make with package deals on you.”

Denise might not be able to make out his features in the blackness around them, but he could see hers, and her expression hardened.

“What sort of package deals?”

“Selling shagging and biting at the same time,” Spade replied bluntly. “That’s why he was so pleased that you were a beautiful woman. The opportunity of an unfiltered taste of Red Dragon combined with sex would go for top dollar—and be very addictive, he wagered.”

Giselda’s ravaged, blood-drained body flashed in his mind. The idea of Denise going through something similar, and for decades or more, almost made Spade’s control snap. Even if he hadn’t needed to kill Black Jack out of defense, he would have slaughtered him anyway just for intending such a fate for Denise.

She rubbed her arms, reminding Spade how chilly it was during the early morning hours in the desert. He took off his jacket and slid it around her shoulders, but she jerked away.

“It’s got blood all over it.”

“Better his than yours,” he countered, but took his jacket back.
Stubborn woman.
Ah, well. They shouldn’t need to be out here much longer. Just long enough to make sure they hadn’t been followed. None of the vampires Black Jack summoned felt like Masters, so they shouldn’t be able to fly, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

“I get now why you had to kill Black Jack,” Denise said after a few silent minutes. “But I can’t lie and say I’m okay with how murder seems to be the most common solution whenever there’s a problem with vampires and ghouls.”

“And humans,” Spade replied at once. “You only need to watch the telly to see murder on the news every night. Violence isn’t something the undead have a monopoly on. You could avoid vampires and ghouls for the rest of your life, but you’d still live in a world filled with violence.”

“There’s less violence in my world compared to yours,” she insisted.

Spade sighed. “No, darling. There are only different reasons for it.”

“Randy
died
because I brought him into your world. He’d be alive today if I hadn’t exposed him to it!”

Her scent was splintered with pain, her voice choked with grief, guilt, and rage. Emotions Spade knew all too well.

“As I recall, Randy and Crispin were friends for six months before you even met him. Randy was already in this world before you knew him.”

She turned away, but not before Spade saw the shine of tears in her eyes.

“It’s my fault he died. I let him go upstairs alone, okay? I let him go by himself because I was a coward. If I’d gone with him, I could have watched his back. I could have
warned
him, given him a chance to run away—”

Spade grabbed her shoulders, holding them in a firm grip. “Seventeen vampires and ghouls died during that attack, some of them Masters. Those creatures were too strong, too fast. If you’d have gone up with Randy, you wouldn’t have saved him. You would have only died with him.”

Denise didn’t try to push him away. She just stood there, head down, breathing coming in ragged sniffs.

“Then that’s what I should have done. Randy died trying to save me. I should have done the same for him.”

“You stayed below because you were smart. He died because he was foolish,” Spade replied, ignoring her gasp at his pitiless analysis. Now he turned her around to face him. “He shouldn’t have left your side. That’s where he belonged. Not in the middle of a bloody zombie attack no human would have walked away from. Randy made the wrong decision and he died for it. That’s how it goes. It’s not fair, but life in either world isn’t fair, is it?”

“How could you understand? You’ve never lost the person you loved because you just
stood
there,” she said in a broken tone.

He laughed, long and bittersweet. No, he’d lost Giselda because he hadn’t been fast enough. If he’d left a few hours sooner that morning, he would have been able to save her. And if she’d listened to him, she would never have been on that dangerous road in the first place. So close to the fighting, the area had been rife with deserters from Napoleon’s army. He’d sent word to Giselda to wait so he could escort her to the chalet. She’d wanted to surprise him. Just one bad, well-intentioned decision, but it resulted in her rape and murder.

No, life wasn’t fair in any world, human or otherwise.

“You have no idea how much I
do
understand.”

She looked at him sharply, as if she were about to demand he elaborate. Spade waited. He never talked about Giselda, but he would to Denise, if she asked.

But she didn’t question him further. She lowered her head, silently braced against the chill. Withdrawing into her shame just as he’d done all the years of the past long, lonely century and a half.

Comfort wouldn’t help her. Neither would his pity. Only one thing had helped him pull back from the guilt and the grief.

“If you had that night to relive, would you still stay in the basement?”

Denise’s head snapped up. “No. Not in a million years.”

“Then you’re no longer the same person,” Spade said, his voice empty of emotion. “You’ve already proved that by taking more of the demon’s essence instead of sacrificing one of your relatives. The woman before me is not the same one from that New Year’s Eve. She might have failed, but
you
won’t fail, will you?”

Denise stared at him, something hard and resolute growing in her eyes. “You bet I won’t.”

His admiration for her increased. It had taken him over a decade to have that same strength of will after his loss. Denise managed it in just over a year. Fresh determination coursed through him. He had to make her his. The battle to win her might be long, but was too important to surrender just because it wouldn’t be easy.

“Are we going back to the hotel now?” Denise asked, her tears gone.

“We’re not going back to the hotel. In fact, we’ll be leaving Nevada shortly.”

She frowned. “But the fake ID you got me and all the rest of our stuff is back in the hotel.”

“I arranged to have our things packed up after we left, and I have both our identifications in my pocket.”

Denise gave him a cynical look. “You had this whole thing orchestrated down to the last detail, didn’t you?”

Not every detail, else you wouldn’t have discovered me killing Black Jack.
“I try to anticipate,” was all Spade said.

She drew in a deep breath. “And now we go after Web?”

“Now we go after Web.”

My new aliases are really racking up the frequent flyer miles
, Denise thought as they exited the gangway of yet another plane. She’d flown more in the past two weeks than she had in the previous five years. Web, Spade said, was rumored to live in Monaco, so they were back overseas again. She didn’t know what Spade intended to do once he found Web—ring the vampire’s doorbell and ask if he could take the source of his supernatural drug trade? Or just kill everyone he came across until the last person standing was her elusive relative Nathanial?

She hadn’t wanted to ask, to be truthful, because she already felt like a hypocrite. Here she’d judged Spade for killing Black Jack, but he’d only done it on her behalf. Anyone else he killed during this hunt for Nathanial would be on her behalf, too. By the time this was over, her hands would be just as bloody as his, no matter how she kept avowing her hatred of violence. That knowledge made Denise’s emotions range from guilt, to frustration, to fear. She was just as much of a killer as Spade was, and it would only get worse if they were
lucky
. What if they couldn’t find Web at all?

Or what if the next time Spade was in a fight to the death, he wasn’t the one who walked away from it?

That thought had been festering in Denise through the past two days of flights and hotel stays. The full breadth of how dangerous retrieving Nathanial would be, even if they could find him, had been underscored by Black Jack’s reaction to her blood. Spade initially hadn’t wanted to take on the responsibility of looking for Nathanial because he might be another vampire’s property. Now they knew it was so much worse than that. Nathanial wasn’t just property; he was the sole source of a highly lucrative drug trade, so whoever had him wouldn’t hesitate to kill to keep him. How could she ask Spade to keep trying to find Nathanial? Once he did, Spade’s chances were about as grim as Randy’s had been when he went up the stairs of that house on New Year’s Eve.

In many ways, she was right back where she had been that night: huddled away from the danger, while someone else faced the monsters. She was through with that. Spade was right; she wasn’t the same person she’d been before. If it was only her life on the line, she’d quit looking for Nathanial and just keep running from Raum, living—and dying—with the demon brands. But Raum wouldn’t stop looking for Nathanial, and he’d murder every last member of her family trying to find him. If she stayed on this course, she might get Spade killed. If she didn’t, she was condemning her entire family to death—all because an ancestor wanted supernatural power and sought it from a demon.

Whoever you are, Nathanial
, Denise thought for the hundredth time,
I hate your guts.

Spade collected their bags and they headed toward the airport exit. Once outside, Denise was surprised to see Alten and another person, presumably a vampire, leaning against a parked car.

“Spade,” Alten said, smiling as he came forward.

Spade gave him a brief hug, handing their bags to the other man. Definitely a vampire, Denise decided, seeing him take all of them with one hand as if they weren’t as heavy as she knew they were.

“Nice to see you again, Denise,” Alten said, turning to her next.

“You, too,” she replied, and meant it, having forgiven him for the whole bound-and-gagged thing the prior week when Raum came calling.

Spade opened the car door and Denise piled gratefully into the backseat. As long as wherever they were headed had a bed—hell, a floor—she’d be in heaven. It was never possible to get any real sleep on a plane. Their brief stints at hotels the past two days between flights had been more to shower and have Spade make his calls in private than to get any sleep. She was so tired; she’d be happy to fall asleep in the trunk, if she could fit around the luggage.

Spade introduced the blond vampire as Bootleg, making Denise wonder if he’d been changed over during Prohibition. Most vampires seemed to pick the oddest nicknames. She had yet to meet a John or a Sue.

“Everything is set for tonight,” Alten said when they pulled away.

“Excellent,” Spade replied, but Denise almost groaned out loud, sensing her plans for getting more than a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep had just been demolished.

She shoved back her disappointment. Spade probably wanted to sleep, too. And not spend all his time, money, and safety running around because of
her
.

“What’s going on tonight?” she asked, glad her voice was calm instead of whiny.

Either her acting skills sucked or he could sense how exhausted she was, because Spade gave her a sympathetic glance. “Sorry, but tonight was the only evening we were sure he could attend. You can catch a nap beforehand, though.”

“Who?
Him?
” she asked meaningfully, not wanting to say Web’s name in case their search for him was something Bootleg and Alten weren’t aware of.

“Indeed, Web will be there,” Spade replied, squeezing her hand out of sight of Alten or Bootleg, who were in the front seat. “We’ll want his formal approval if we intend to move to Monaco permanently, darling. It’s such a small island. I wouldn’t want to be at odds with any important locals.”

That was the angle he was playing? A courteous, meet-the-neighbors approach? Oh sure, it might be all fangs and fruitcake welcome baskets at first, but then the danger to Spade and the killings would follow if Web
did
have Nathanial with him.

And Denise couldn’t live with that.

Now wasn’t the time to discuss it, though. Not with another two sets of undead ears in the car. She settled herself back into the seat, closing her eyes against the bright sunlight streaming in through the tinted windows. Her weariness was making her like a vampire; she would have turned the sun off like an annoying lamp, if she could.

Spade slid across the seat, folding her against his chest. Denise tensed for an instant, but then reminded herself of how she’d act if she really were in a relationship with him, as Alten and Bootleg believed. So she relaxed, settling herself against him with one arm around his lean stomach and the other behind his back, her head resting on his chest. His arms encircled her, hands lightly stroking her back, and she felt his chin rest on top of her head.