Night Huntress 02 - One Foot in the Grave

This time, when I drove up to the guard gates on a motorcycle and took off my helmet, I was rushed through without hesitation. After all, I couldn’t exactly hide a vampire on the handlebars, could I? I rode straight through to the entrance, literally leaving the bike by the door, and was met by Tate and Juan. They both looked awful.

 

“Christos, querida, we thought the worst,” Juan exclaimed. Tate was less expressive, but he stared at the scratch on my forehead as if transfixed.

 

“Jesus. Is that from the bullet?”

 

“Sure is.” Flippantly. “Were you one of my spies last night? Or did you get the report secondhand?”

 

We headed for Don’s office. To my relief, I saw the building’s doors seal promptly behind me. Good, Don was keeping everyone inside.

 

Tate still looked rattled. “Actually, I saw it on video. You were being recorded. Don has the tapes.”

 

“At least I’ll get to see how my dress looked, even though it’s toast now.”

 

“You looked beautiful, querida.” Trust Juan never to miss an opportunity, no matter the circumstances. “Throw away that pulseless pale man and I’ll take care of you.”

 

“That ‘pulseless pale man’ saved my life, Juan,” I bleakly reminded him. “I wouldn’t be pretty with three holes plugged in my head, would I?”

 

Don stood when we entered, a rarity. He stared at me for a moment, and something flashed across his face I couldn’t name.

 

“Let me see it,” I began without pleasantries.

 

He knew what I was referring to, and clicked a button that flicked on the plasma screen as Tate shut the door.

 

Whoever had been filming me had a better vantage point than my would-be assassin. This looked to be from a neighboring building, since the slant was less steep. Dispassionately I watched the silent footage of Bones and me at our seats, the waiter bringing us the wine, him leaning forward, and me stroking his hand. The next scene was a blur of volatile movement that defied tracking with the naked eye. Then there was the unbelievable sight of the window exploding outward and a black-draped form free-falling with me before zooming off to wreck the van below.

 

The cameraman had apparently stopped filming and started moving, because the next footage was far more mundane. It showed the dead body of Ellis Pierson, and a close-up on the puncture wounds in the throat. Bones hadn’t bothered to heal them. He knew my team would scoop up the evidence.

 

Don clicked off the film and regarded me with guarded expectancy.

 

“I take it that was the hired gun?”

 

“Yeah. My date wasn’t happy at his dinner being interrupted.”

 

“Oh, your date got his dinner, all right,” Tate muttered sarcastically.

 

“You know, Tate, I can’t say I minded much at the time. After all, I’d just listened to a detailed description of how he was paid to blow my head off.”

 

“Cat.” Don rested his hands on his desk as he sat down. “You need to tell us about this vampire you’re with. You start dating the undead, and suddenly you’re targeted for assassination? From someone who knew exactly where you’d be? It’s too coincidental.”

 

“Did you just miss what you saw?” Exasperation filled my tone. “That vampire took a fucking bullet in the head for me! Explain to me how that’s hostile!”

 

“I’ve studied this recording frame by frame, Cat,” Tate answered flatly. “He moved faster than a speeding bullet, literally, and then he jumped from a building and flew! So not only does he have to be a Master vampire, but he also has to be the most powerful fucking Master we’ve ever encountered.”

 

Good thing Tate still hadn’t recognized Bones from Ohio, even though he’d studied the film footage from last night. Maybe it was like the old prejudiced saying went, except for Tate, it was all vampires who looked the same. Still, that was an issue for another time. Let them keep thinking Bones was just some new vamp I’d met. Later they’d learn the truth, but for now, it fit the plan to keep them ignorant of who he was.

 

“I’m not an idiot, Tate. I realized the same thing after he was finished with the hit man, but as I said, he obviously doesn’t want me dead. He thinks someone close to me does, though, just from a different angle. He thinks it’s someone here, and that Don is the key.”

 

“What? Huh? Que?”

 

They spoke at once, and I waved a hand.

 

“He wouldn’t tell me much, but said he had to confirm it. I have his cell—he’ll call when he’s finished. But he did mention a name, and said this person was connected. Maybe you’ll recognize it, Don, because it doesn’t ring a bell with me.”

 

This part Bones had been very specific about. I didn’t blink as my eyes met the older man’s. “Maximillian. Ever heard of him?”

 

Something happened to Don’s face I’d never seen. He blanched and almost looked like he’d faint. Motherfucker. For Don to look that sick, he recognized the name, all right.

 

“Why, boss, you look like someone just walked over your grave,” I said softly.

 

Tate and Juan cast interested glances in his direction as well, but their faces were blank. Maybe Don was the only one in on the secret.

 

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