Here Be Monsters [2] (11 page)

"You wiped their memories, right?" he said.
 

"Not all of them. I can't wipe the whole city." She rubbed at her forehead. "Guys—there's a freak'n monster lose in this city. And it's gunning for your brother. And it nearly killed you, Song. Aren't you two just a little interested in finding it and destroying?"
 

Oberon presented her with a dazzling smile. "You know you really are cute when you fret, Siobhan."
 

Before she could lay into him though, he held up a hand and gestured to Song. "Keith?"
 

Siobhan looked from Oberon to Keith. "Am I missing something?"
 

But the reporter was already pushing his hand into his pants pocket as he approached her. He pulled out a flash drive in the shape of a Duracel Battery and held it up. "Remember that contact I told you about? Well, she mailed me this. Got it when me and the King here arrived."
 

Before she could ask any questions Oberon opened a laptop that'd been on the coffee table—she hadn't noticed it before—and Keith slipped the flash into the slot and—

Siobhan crouched down between the two of them as they watched the grainy images moving about. Someone was talking and she thought she could make out the side of some young man's head. He looked—

Dead.
 

"So you think she'll take the bait?"
This was a man's voice.
 

"I can only hope
." Female. She sounded young. "
I put the word out that I knew where there were more Winterbourne. I'm sure she's desperate enough to find more of her kind. She'll show."
 

"And the monster?"
The man again.
 

There was a long pause. "
If she appears, we run and scatter. We don't stand a chance against it. Got that? No heroics. You run."
 

The small video stopped. Siobhan looked over at Keith. "Your contact got you this?"
 

"Yes," he said as he settled back on the couch. "She said it was taken during a meeting at the
Chimera
club down on Halsted. Underground meeting between the club owner and one of her henchmen."

"Who was the dead guy?" She rolled her finger on the pad and reset the video to the beginning.
 

"I don't know. I don't know if he was part of it, or just some poor schmuck that got in the way." Keith's tone became more serious. "But they do mention Winterbourne, and the monster. It's well known the owners of the Chimera are vampires."
 

"Yes, they are. One in particular. She's probably the oldest vampire I know."
 

Oberon nodded to the computer. "Is that her voice?"

"I don't know. I've never met her. But I'm willing to bet it is. Only because she told her people to run, not fight. Only someone that old would understand the significance of what this thing is."
 

"Do you, Siobhan?"
 

She turned and looked at Oberon. He looked amazing. And he still made her heart skip (yes vampires have a heartbeat). But she also knew what an arrogant ass he was. And he was a slob. She'd had enough of picking his things off the floor, stairs, and potted plants every night when she woke up. "I met her, Oberon. She's like nothing I've ever seen before. She's not an elf—"
 

"—and she's not entirely a vampire either." He finished for her. Oberon looked serious. "She is more elf than vampire."
 

"So you've been looking for her all this time?" she asked him as Keith resettled on the couch to the elf's side. "All these little war parties out there. Special ops kind of things?"
 

"I've been looking for the Fallen," he refocused on her. "And whomever has been killing my people and draining them." He sat forward with his elbows on his knees. Soft, longish locks of spun wheat fell forward over his eyes. "I wasn't really sure she existed until I ran into a few people who'd seen her. And a few bodies we kept out of the press—"
 

"Hey—" Keith protested. He leaned forward as well. "So I was right those times."
 

"Yes," Oberon nodded. "But now having faced the Fallen, and understanding what it is she is capable of, do you understand why I had to prove you were a liar? Why I had to make sure you were discredited?"
 

Keith narrowed his eyes but he wasn't focusing on anyone. He was simply…angry. "Yeah…I just wished you'd have been up front with me."
 

Siobhan knew then she'd stumbled into something between the two of them. She stood and went to her bag to double check on her things.
 

"Up front? Would you have listened? If I'd have said there's an ancient evil let lose in the city. It wants a specific kind of elf? One that will break a centuries old spell and free it from darkness?"
 

"No." He was quick to answer. Which told Siobhan he really did agree. "But I think if I'd have known of such a thing, I might not have…" and his gaze traveled up to the beam overhead where Maeve had hung him to die.
 

"Song," Siobhan said and inwardly winced when he immediately looked at her and stood. This was what it would be like to have a ghoul. And what it would be like for him. That…and the monthly feedings. "Get over the pity-party. What we have to do now is get to this club and see for ourselves if Maeve shows up there. Call your friend and make sure she's no where near that club tonight, for her own safety."
 

He nodded and stepped around the coffee table as he pulled his phone from his pocket. "Got it. Either of you got any ideas on how to kill it?"
 

Siobhan looked to Oberon. "This is your show. You've known about it longer."
 

She didn't like the look on her old lover's face. "Siobhan…I don't know. I just…don't know."
 

She
moved quietly to where he slept.
 

A prince.
 

He was beautiful…more so than Oberon. And he was like her. UnSeleighe.
 

Magical.
 

Winterbourne.

Silira had been nearby earlier in the day, before the twilight came. This was the closest Underhill came to nightfall, since Merlin's curse. The sun's dappling rays were stilled and quiet, and the moon was high overhead, but the dark never managed to swallow up the shadows.
 

She'd overhead him ask Illeië to preform the
vesta en' coia.
Silira knew of it. She'd conjured it many times for her comrades when they'd fought the Seleighe. Illeië had been correct—the spell meant doom. But it was never as dire as the Healer had made it out to sound to the prince.
 

He wanted to help. So much he wanted to aid his people. And she felt his caring for this woman, this vampire, in his voice. It wasn't his fault that the Rhymer had betrayed him, stabbed him with an iron arrow and then kept it in so that the poison would weaken him.
 

Abyssinian Geld was and should be the ruler of this land. Not Thomas Rhymer. Betrayer.
 

Human, most foul.
 

As an UnSeleighe, she wished to see one of her brethren on that throne, and see the Rhymer returned to the Mortal Realm. There he would decay with the years—and she did not care.
 

With her eyes closed she listened to the sounds in the Sick House. Listened to the sounds beyond that to the palace, past the waterfalls, past the Great Hall. She could hear the deep sleep of the court, the Elders, and most importantly, that of Thomas Rhymer.
 

Sighing, Silira opened her eyes and held out her hands above the sleeping prince. She felt the strands of his life—strong but weakened. They were diseased with the poison of cold iron. Flitting her fingers up and down as she rewrote the magic of the prince's soul, she began a variation of the chant of
vesta en' coia.
Her voice was low and she was very happy this curse wasn't something that needed the strength of voice or volume.
 

There was the familiar pull…and the soft, sparkling incandescence of her life energy as it moved from her to Abyssinian. He moved in his sleep, and moaned before his eyes snapped open. He sat up just as fast and looked at her.
 

"Silira—" he said in a whisper.
 

She finished the spell. There was no guarantee how long it would last. But he had to go. Now. "Prince. You have the power. Go now. The
Chimera
in Chicago. The Fallen is there."
 

Aby stood up with no indication of his wound. He was dressed in white pants and nothing else. She turned and gathered up the change of clothing she'd brought—it was more suited to the High Court—but it would have to do.
 

"How do you know?"
 

"Oberon and Siobhan are going there. Now. You have to be there."
 

He nodded. "My katana—"
 

Silira smiled. "You will find it at the north Cairn. That gateway has not been destroyed. Go! Now!"
 

The prince took the bundle of clothing and turned to leave. He stopped and looked back at her. "You will stay here…so that you're not in danger?"
 

Silira nodded. "I will."
 

And then he was gone.
 

She smiled and took several steps along the same path.
 

"That was foolish."
 

She knew Illeië was there. Knew the Healer had been watching. "Really? Or more foolish that you didn't stop me?"
 

"If the Fallen drinks his blood—"
 

"Then she will die." Silira turned and faced the Healer.
 

Illeië moved from the shadows, looking more like the monochromatic twilight. "What do you mean? You preformed the
vesta en' coia.
I saw the transference."
 

"No," Silira smiled. "And yes. I did use that curse. But I also added something a little extra."
 

The Healer came menacingly close. "What did you
do
, Silira."
 

The UnSeleighe smiled. "I made sure that whether or not the monster takes the prince, she, and everyone around him, will die."
 

- 13 -

Meant as a front for the ever growing blood clubs in Chicago,
Chimera
was nothing more than a dark, metal door with a single red bulb overhead. The building looked as if it'd been condemned some time ago, and the metal walls were covered in graffiti.
 

It was down a side street, away from the other more flashy clubs along the strip. And not a place where respectable young people went unless they were looking to score.
 

Paper and debris littered the street from overturned, dinged garbage cans along the left side. The door faced one of the many abandoned brownstone communities that dotted the inner city. The once grand building's former glory could be seen along the roof with its sculpted end-caps.
 

As she looked up at it, Siobhan wouldn't have been surprised to see a gargoyle looking down at her.
 

Gargoyles. That was a whole different can of worms she hoped not to get into in her long life.
 

She and Oberon, dressed in leather and attitude, moved as a couple along the street. Oberon had a dozen knives placed into his jacket and pants, and Siobhan had her own gun tucked snuggly into the back of her pants. If there was a pat-down, they were both in trouble.
 

But Oberon seemed pretty sure nothing like that would happen.
 

They stopped at the door and Oberon knocked. Several minutes passed before a canned, electronic voice said, "Name."
 

Siobhan and he looked at one another. She shrugged and said, "Siobhan O'Donnell." Why lie?
 

A few more seconds passed before the door clicked and popped inward. Oberon gave her a "I'm going first" look and pushed the door further in while his other hand shot out in a protective path in front of Siobhan.
 

A small, dark hallway descended downward at a rather steep decline, and someone had turned the sound on. What couldn't be heard from the outside was staggeringly audible just past the door. Loud, throbbing music that Siobhan felt against the soles of her feet and moved up to her ribcage.
 

She followed behind him, her senses on high alert. She smelled sweat.
 

And blood.
 

Lots of blood.
 

They rounded two more corners in opposite directions before the small hallway opened up into an underground warehouse setting. Lights twisted and blinked and pulsed above them in multi-colors. Smoke hung in an ominous cloud overhead, as people bounced in time to the thudding music.
 

She could sense about twenty vampires, and a lot of humans.
 

Oberon took her hand—and she gasped. Siobhan hadn't realized how quickly she'd been caught up in the frenzy of free blood and booze. Feeling his warm skin, and his pulse through his grip—she tried to pull away.
 

"You have to keep your head in here, Siobhan," Oberon leaned in close to her. "I need you in this. Please?"
 

She heard him over the music and the voices and nodded. Several deep breaths and she allowed him to lead her through the throng of dancers, past the DJ on the platform in the center of the floor, to a roped off area near the back.
 

A man in a long tail tuxedo nodded to them and automatically opened the velvet rope. "The Mistress is expecting you."
 

Siobhan wasn't too happy to hear that but this time she proceeded Oberon past the guard and through a door. She knew he was safe from being a snack. After all—his blood was lethal.