The Girl
Most of what I knew about Berenice Maidstone and her wayward kid sister had been covered in the backseat of Mean Mr. Bs silver Buick. Id be going into this affair just shy of blind. He hadnt slipped me a hush-hush dossier filled with the deepest, darkest secrets of the two or a Mission: Impossiblestyle this tape will self destruct in ten seconds” cassette. Yeah, I could undoubtedly have fished out a few more details if Id had the presence of mind to speak up. But I didnt, and I wasnt about to call him back. Oh, hey. Im a dipshit and totally forgot to ask, but . . .”
No. Id had enough of his gloating for that particular day. So, coulda, shoulda, woulda. Now move on.
Shes a student at Brown. Her and about ten thousand other people. Thanks, dude. Thats a lot to go on. Still, over the months since my death, I had cultivated a couple of contacts who, in turn, had a couple of snitches. It was a hit-and- miss, ragtag string of confidential informants who had to be compensated for tips that rarely panned out, but it was slightly better than nothing at all. Back home I made a couple of calls, the second to a back-alley dealer in pilfered karma and memories who went by Cutter. He occasionally fed me the lowdown on someone, and, in return, I mostly left him and his operation the fuck alone. Anyway, he promised to call me back as soon as he had time to see what he could dig up, as regards the specifics of Berenices comings and goings at BU.
Its important, Cutter.”
Gotta be delicate on this one,” he sort of whined. If ferrets could talk, theyd sound like Cutter. Prying into the Maidstones, thats some dangerous undertaking.”
No shit, but thats the score.”
You dont ask much, do you?”
I kicked an empty Narragansett beer bottle at the door. It didnt break. Dude, you want me to go tellin B youre being anything less than cooperative?”
Quinn, you know it aint like that. You know”
Shoulder to the wheel,” I said. Thats all Im asking. Come up with something good, itll buy you a couple of months hassle free.”
Well, I know this hacker”
I dont care how you do it, just do it.”
Jesus, I love talking shit to douche bags.
I tossed the ridiculous Hello Kitty iPhone onto my puke-colored sofa, undressed, and spent the next half hour or so standing under the showerhead, letting the hot, hot water hammer my back and shoulders, my face and chest. The mornings encounter with Rizzo kept playing over and over in my head, and despite Bs insistence that all was cool and no damage had been done by leaving the son of a bitch alive, I was fairly certain it was only a matter of time before that act of mercy” came back to take a chunk out of my ass. By the way, when the loup Jack Grumet bit me that July night out at the Scituate Reservoir, hed bitten me in the ass, so there was a precedent. B had bigger fish to fry at present, and thats the only reason he hadnt reamed me for not putting Bert Rizzo down.
By the time I finally got out of the shower and dressed in the cleanest clothes I could scrounge from the dirty assortment of T-shirts and jeans scattered about my bedroom, it was early afternoon. There was a Radiohead shirt that didnt smell too bad. I sat down on the edge of my sagging mattress and stared longingly at the pillows. What possible difference did it make if I tracked down Ms. Maidstone today or tomorrow? As for Shaker, either he was dead or he wasnt, and a few hours shut-eye wasnt gonna change that, either.
I lay down, blinking at the sunlight through the windowpane. The clouds had begun to break up. Id just shut my eyes when the phone started ringing.
No peace to the wicked, right?
I rolled out of bed and made it back to the sofa by the fourth ring. It was Cutter, and the extra-ferrety tremble in his voice was enough to tell me he was none too happy to be making this call.
Senior year. Linguistics. I got her schedule and emailed it to you. Black hair, amber eyes”
Amber.”
Thats what I said, aint it? Tall, too. Almost six feet, so you shouldnt have too much trouble spotting her. Her address and phone number, theyre in the email. But you might want to try watching the Front Green, along Prospect Street. Seems she and some pals have a habit of congregating near Carrie Tower, round about sunset.”
Sunset. In February?”
Quinn, thats what I heard. And thats all I got for you. That and whats in the email. And you didnt hear none of this from me. I could go my whole life without so much as seeing one of the Maidstones, much less”
Cutter, how about you take a Valium and try to calm the fuck down? ”
Two months,” he said. Two months, free and clear.”
Thats the deal, if this shit pans out.”
He hung up first. So much for sleep and letting it all slide until the next day. If B found out I had a lead and didnt act on it right off, hed go on the warpath, which I definitely didnt need. I went back to the bedroom and slid a heavy wool sweater on over the T-shirt. No, its not as if vamps get coldas I have saidbut I knew I should make an effort at blending in. Lurking about at night, thats one thing; broad daylight at a crowded campus, thats another. So, mortal dragthe hazel-green contacts, the dental prosthetics, the heavy makeup to hide my waxy pale skinmy camouflage against detection from all those people who have no idea the nasties walk among them. And who are best off never learning otherwise. I used the phone to check my Gmail account, and Cutters email was there, just like hed said it would be. Pretty thorough, too. Probably a lot more than I needed.
On my way out the front door, I jammed a knit cap with a Slytherin House patch on my head. Maybe that was overplaying my hand, yeah, but fuck it. B wants me to pass for a fucking muggle, might as well hit it full tilt boogie.
You want history? Well, Providence is just stinko with it. Carrie Tower, for instance, at the corner of Prospect and Waterman, a looming marble and redbrick monolith, complete with a bronze clock face and topped off with a bronze dome, both stained verdigris by more than a hundred years of New England winters. The thing was erected back in 1904, a gift from some Italian dude in memory of his dead wife, granddaughter of this other dude who the university had been named after. All the names escape me. Well, except for Brown, which is obvious. Look the other two up. The internet is the goddamn friend of the curious and lazy. But on the foundation, chiseled into the stone, an inscription reads love is stronger than death.
Well, maybe so. Im gonna say I wouldnt know.
Way up tippy top of the tower, theres a bell, though it doesnt chime anymore, just like the clock no longer tells the time. Shit gets old. Shit breaks. No one bothers to fix it. Indifference. Budget concerns. Government cutbacks. Whatever. Regardless, must have been a big deal when that tower went up, but, reallywho can be bothered to give a rats ass these days? The last person whod have gotten all sentimental over that dead granddaughter of the schools founder has probably been a corpse for half a century, stuck in some local boneyard, partying with the ghouls.
Still, theres an amusing anecdote about Carrie Tower, a bit of secret history only us nasties and our fellow travelers are privy to, that sort of anecdote. In 1950, see, the clock began to lose time, then speed up, then lose time again. At one point, it actually ran backwards. Whoever investigates such thingslets say a few maintenance guysthey investigated, and the official story was that some doodad or another inside the clocks innards had been tampered with by frat boys, but the truth of the matter, that secret truth, involved a Masonic Lodge over on Federal Hill and a demoness went by the name of Sulfurous Sal . . .
You know what? Its not nearly as amusing an anecdote as I remember, so forget it. Fuck it.
That afternoon, when I got to the tower, there was no sign of Berenice Maidstone. Just college students coming and going between those stately Ivy League buildings, along with the usual retinue of pigeons and sparrows hanging out in the snow. Of course, it was still a few hours until sunset, and Cutter had told me Maidstone tended to show up there around dusk. I sat down on a bench, chain-smoked (not like dead girls have to worry about the Big C), and stared out at the traffic beyond the tall black wrought-iron fence facing Prospect Street. I just sort of spaced out for a while, which I actually do quite a bit.
Dont think being me is all playing demon slayer when some uppity mope gets out of line, or doing Mean Mr. Bs bidding, or finding myself in the crosshairs of nut jobs like ex-Father Rizzo. Mostly, its boredom. Monotony. The same tedium set on endless repeat. Beer and TV Land, masturbation and video games. Waiting on my rumbling belly to remind me its time for the next murder, the next fixblood aint nothing but heroin misspelled, after alland waiting, too, for my time of the month” to roll around, when Id black out and wake up wondering what sort of trouble the Beast had landed me in. Why do you think so few vamps stick around for more than a couple of centuries? Why immortals arent? Because immortality is damn dull, thats why, and you can damn well ignore all the pop-culture mumbo jumbo that would have you think anything to the contrary. Hell, the way our naughty parts atrophy after only a few decades and eventually wither away (Im pretty sure I mentioned that in the last book), even masturbation ceases to be an option before too long, which will probably be the final nail in my coffin.
What joy remains in all this godsforsaken world when a lady cant even get off to Miss August or the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue or that glorious, all-you-can-eat buffet of freakish Japanese porn on the internet?
So, that afternoon in February, I was sitting there, these pointless, depressing-ass thoughts going round and round in my head, when someone came up behind me and said, Id have taken you for a Hufflepuff myself.”
I was up off the bench in an instant, startled from my reverie, a hand reaching inside my parka for the Glock because better safe than sorry. Shoot first, interrogate later, yada yada yada. I didnt actually draw the gun, but I had a firm grip on the pistol in its shoulder holster before I realized there was no one behind the bench but some goth chick, all done up in leather, pointy boots, big hair, obligatory facial piercings, and the excessive cosmetics of a counterfeit stiff.
Jesus,” I said. Jesus, fuck me sideways.”
Whats your problem?” the goth girl wanted to know. She glowered at me, and, in return, I wanted to smack her.
Dont fucking sneak up on people, thats what my problem is.”
She just stood there, staring at me.
What?” I asked her (my turn), taking my hand off the butt of the gun and out of my coat.
Youre really her, arent you?”
Her who?”
Her . . . Quinn. Siobhan Quinn. The vampire who put down Mercy Brown and”
I wasnt exactly stunned shed recognized me. Word gets out. There are those among our ranks who dont know when to shut up, whose tongues do waggle. Theyre often the sort it falls to me to deal with. Still, Id been clocked by the mortal girl. Not good.
Who the fuck told you that?” Then I added, And no one calls me Siobhan. Do that again, and Ill”
But you are her. Youre missing a pinkie.”
I glanced around to be sure nobody was in earshot. Kid, you tell me who the Sam Hell you are, or”
Thought youd be taller,” she interrupted, continuing to glower with those red, red lips. Taller and paler.”
Has all that eyeliner affected your hearing?”
And way less uptight. The way Berenice goes on, I was expecting something a little more, I dont know . . . Anita Blake. Or Sonya Blue. Or, hey, Kate Beckinsale in Underworld.”
Who?” Right about here, I was considering shooting her after all.
She rolled those black-lidded eyes. Dont you read? Or see movies?”
Are you physically incapable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?”
You keep asking me questions. I cant very well shut up if you keeping asking me questions. Not if you want answers.”
I sat back down on the bench, turning my back to her, wondering when the hell Id grown a fan club. Siobhan Quinn has a motherfucking posse.
Chill, okay?” she said. Berenice sent me, all right? After her baby sister went missing, shes sort of keeping a low profile.”
I rubbed my eyes; the contacts always bug me. And youre the best she can do in the way of lackeys.”
Im a messenger,” the girl said, sounding supremely offended. Which, of course, had been my intent. Part of her coterie. Berenice doesnt have lackeys.”
Right,” I sighed. And the pope doesnt wear a dress and a funny hat.”
She sat down next to me, uninvited.
You want to talk to her, youre gonna have to talk to me first.” She took out a BlackBerry and started texting.
You gotta name?” I asked.
Lenore,” she replied, without looking away from the BlackBerry.
Bullshit. I meant an actual name-type name. Whatevers on your drivers license, your birth certificate.”
So, I tell you that, I can call you Siobhan,” she said, still pecking at her BlackBerrys tiny keys.
I changed the subject. Who are you texting?”
Im letting Berenice know you showed up.”
How did she know I was coming? I didnt even know I was coming until a few hours ago.”
Lenore looked at me then like I was the biggest idiot on earth.
Right,” I said. Shes a Maidstone. Never mind.”
Yeah, shes a Maidstone. Shes special. She can do magic, and I mean real magic. Not that phony goddess worshipping, white-light Wicca crap.”
Well, lad-di-fucking-da. And while youre talking to her, how about you ask where Shaker Lashly has gone?”
Never heard of anyone called Shaker Lashly. Youll have to ask her that yourself. If she decides to see you.”
If? Hey, shes the one came to my employer for help finding this misplaced sister of hers. If she doesnt want to talk to me, Ill go back and tell B the client has had a change of heart. But she should know, whatever he asked for up front, he doesnt do refunds.”
Lenore stared at the BlackBerrys screen a moment, typed in something else, then dropped that mobile handheld device back into the huge, shapeless chartreuse velvet bag she was carrying for a purse.
You have to understand,” she told me, Berenice has good reason to be cautious. Besides, I expected a vampire to be more, I dont know. Like, patient? You are so not living up to your reputation.”
I leaned close to her, wishing I wasnt wearing the hazel-green contacts. I did, however, reach into my mouth and pop out the molded porcelain grill hiding my real teeth. She drew back an inch or so and her eyes went wide.
At least she looked scared. Hence, I assumed she was.
Girly,” I said, if I wipe that funeral paint off your face, swat some of that attitude out of you, Im pretty sure Id find nothing much hiding under there but another pampered white girl recovering from her high-school Justin Bieber fixation.”
She pointed at my mouth. Those are real,” she said. It wasnt a question. Theyre so sharp”
All the better to persuade you to stop jerking me around.”
and theyre wicked cool.”
Which is when I socked her in the face. Not hard enough to do any real and lasting damage, mind youjust a firm pokebut plenty hard enough that her lower lip split open and her nose gushed. I wont lie. It felt good.
Lenores head whipped back, and she sort of yelped.
I said, Wanna play nice and try this one more time, Elvira? You wont get a third chance.”
Fuck you,” she mumbled through the blood and the fingers hiding the bottom half of her face.
Just for effect, I licked her blood off my knuckles. You know, that kind of over the top, tough guy, unnerve your opponent shit. Most nasties would have laughed at me, but this malarkey does tend to make an impression on mundanes. I realized that my fake choppers were still lying on the bench between us, and with my free hand I slipped them back into my mouth.
I told her, Seeing how weve moved past the We can do this the easy way, or . . . part of our conversation, I want to make it absolutely fucking crystal clear that I do not need you to find Berenice Maidstone.”
Shes gonna kill you,” Lenore replied, that warm red gravy dripping between her fingers onto her black jeans.
Fine. Lets cross that bridge when we come to it. Fact is, shell probably be doing me a favor. Now, listen”
You think Im joking?”
Every time she said something, her breath caused a fresh gout of that crimson junk surrogate to spurt towards me. The notion very briefly crossed my mind that I could probably do her, then and there, and most anybody passing by would just think we were a couple of lesbos making out. Wishful goddamn thinking.
were going to stand up and walk to my car, which is parked about a block away. Youll lead, and if you go rabbit on me, I dont think your boss lady will approve.”
Youre good as dead!” she said with enough force that blood actually spattered my T-shirt. Whee.
No, honey, Im way worse than dead.” (Gotta admit, that cornball line was pure Hollywood gold. Or at least TV fools gold. True Blood, eat your dippy, white-trash heart out.)
Lenore glared at me, but it was plainwhatever assurances Berenice Maidstone had offeredId sewn some serious doubt as to Lenores safety.
Now, pretty please, get your poseur ass up and head for the gates. And, like I already said, do not run, little girl. I dont feel like chasing you.” I motioned towards the tall iron gates, and she got up and did exactly as Id instructed.