The Vampire Files - Song in the Dark Part 30

The glut made it easy to vanish and soar above the crossword-puzzle pattern of fencing. I had to go high, partially materialize, and look around since I couldn't remember where I'd left the car.

Dimly I recalled trying to pull myself away from gorging, but at the time there didn't seem much point. I was well and truly started, why not keep going so long as I was there?

Winced at the memory.

G.o.d, yes, when I lost control like that I had every right to be scared. I had to keep myself away from Bobbi.

The Nash was parked close by under a streetlamp, something I'd never normally do. The keys were in the ignition.

It was just my good luck no one else had been by to find such a choice offering. I got in and checked the wheel. The damage wasn't too bad, more of a bend like a warped phonograph record than anything else. It would need to be replaced, but was otherwise fine for driving.

Where to drive to... ?

Escott's office, to clean up. I'd not been careful during my binge.

It was only a few minutes away. This time I took the keys when I got out.

On the other side of his office door the place was much too quiet and dark. Though there was plenty of light filtering through the closed blinds-pitch-dark to anyone else-I wanted more and flipped switches on my way to the back.

Eerie feeling in the washroom as I bent over the sink and scrubbed my face with cold water. I'd come here after staggering away from the gory wreckage of Bristow's party. He'd been drunk, and his blood had turned me drunk and brainlessly foolish. That was the why behind my insanity then; what the h.e.l.l was I doing to myself? That horror was over. If I kept up with this inner sickness, I'd only be finis.h.i.+ng the job he'd started.

Sickness. I made myself use that word. It was the right one. There wasn't a lot of difference between me and Alan Caine. For him it had been gambling. For me it was blood.

And before that booze. Roland Lambert was the same. He'd traded his drinking for womanizing, which had hurt the one women he loved. If he went back to the bottle... a different kind of self-destruction.

But you could live without drinking, and if you absolutely had to, without women. There was no way I could live without blood.

Perhaps I could limit things and prevent myself from overdoing. I had lately begun siphoning it into bottles, keeping them in the icebox for emergencies. One a night was plenty. More than enough. I'd been able to dole things out like that before my change. A beer a day, then cut loose with a good rip on Sat.u.r.day night, only I'd just not have any Sat.u.r.day nights. I could do that.

Which still left the problem of Bobbi not being safe with me. In the throes of pa.s.sion I could kill her.

And then Escort would have to kill me.

I'd make him promise to do it.

If not him, then Gordy. What are best friends for if not to trust them with the hardest favors for you?

Shaking cold water from my face, I dried off and told myself to shut the h.e.l.l up before the dark possibilities chorusing through my head turned themselves into a grand opera.

I went back to the car, started it, and let it idle, not sure where to go. Escott liked driving his Nash around at night.

For relaxation. Used to, anyway. His insomnia was pretty much gone now.

There were still some long, lonesome hours ahead, though. Before things had gone so far off course I'd either spend them with Bobbi or put in extra work at Crymsyn or pound on my typewriter or just read. Life had been so much simpler a week back. I'd had my share of horrors and grief, but could live with them. The good old days. Not nearly enough of those.

Kroun's advice to find a place in the middle of nowhere and do nothing but fish was very appealing. The wild temptation to take off this very moment was almost overwhelming. What tore it away were my countless obligations to everyone I knew. Between them and the drive to have my own business I'd cemented myself into the pavement in front of Lady Crymsyn and couldn't leave. It was better than swinging from a meat hook, but I was still stuck just as firmly in place.

I pulled into the alley behind the club rather than my special parking spot. If Escott wanted to get Evie away later without being seen, that was the place to do it. Ghosting out, I pa.s.sed through the locked door and walked through the dark and silent club.

Very dark and silent. Myrna wasn't playing with the lights at all.

"Myrna? You there, baby?"

She must have tired herself out last night making that rose scent for me. It really had helped. For a time. I wanted to thank her, but how do you thank a ghost?

At least the lobby light was still on. She was very dependable about that one. Before going up to the office I got into the phone booth, dropped in a nickel, and dialed the Nightcrawler. Derner didn't answer, but someone got him for me.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Have you heard about the trouble here tonight?"

"Yeah, the guys told me. They're mad as h.e.l.l at Ruzzo-"

"That's great, but this snipe hunt for Ruzzo and Hoyle's been going on too d.a.m.ned long. Is anyone actually looking?"

He avoided sounding defensive. "They're doing what they can do. The boys are covering all the hotels, from flops to the fancy places, boardinghouses, bordellos, and rooms to let. There ain't a bed in this town they ain't looked into or under. If Ruzzo's in Chicago, we'll find 'em sooner or later. But if they've blown town or run off to the sticks... maybe not."

"I want them even if they are in the sticks. Where does Hoyle hang around?"

"Here, usually." "Where else?"

"We looked in those places. He's letting himself be missing."

I gave out a disgusted sigh.

"We got the word out you only want to talk with him, but since he's trying to shoot you, I guess he misunderstood."

In some mobs "talk" meant beat a guy up, just not to the point of crippling him permanently. "Keep at it. Get me a location. We are not dealing with the Harvard debate team here."

"Who?"

"Never mind."

"Boss? That special guest we got was back here, looking hot under the collar. Anything I should know?" Derner was yet on guard against listening wires. Good man.

"He's lost his traveling friend."

"That's what he said in so many words. He's plenty bothered about something."

"Let him work it out. Help him however he wants, and tell me if anything screwy happens. I'll be at my club until morning."

"Got it. Any word on the other boss?" That would be Gordy.

"He's resting is all I know. They're taking care of him. Soft berth."

"That's good to know. Should I pa.s.s that on?"

"Yeah." It would be rea.s.suring to a few that Gordy was still around. Certainly rea.s.sured me.

I rang off and was about to trudge up to the office when someone banged loud on Crymsyn's front door. What and who the h.e.l.l now? Hoyle? But if it was a determined bad guy, he'd have shot the lock off, not knocked and given warning.

Standing to the side just in case, I yelled through the door, "We're closed!"

"Jack, it's me!"

Roland Lambert. He said he'd wanted to talk to me. Must be pretty d.a.m.ned important to get him back here at this hour in the cold. I unlocked and went outside rather than inviting him in. He didn't need to know Escott and I had company, and if we were both out in the wind, the business wouldn't take as long.

"What's the matter?" I asked. His green Hudson was parked right in front of the canopy. No pa.s.sengers. "Is Faustine all right?"

"She's fine, probably asleep by now. I told her I'd forgotten something and had to come back. You often stay until very late, don't you?"

"Uhm..."

"Faustine's why I'm here, sport. It's about the shooting tonight."

"Roland, I'm sorry. That's never going to happen again, I promise. I'm getting special locks for the doors, and people are looking for that b.u.m. He's not coming back."

"I'm delighted to hear it. Don't think I'm ungrateful the way you tackled him. It turned out well, and Faustine had a great time, but it was also terribly, terribly dangerous. She thinks it was a lark, something out of the movies."

"I got that from her."

"And we know better. Look, I've played my share of derring-do roles in films, and it is fun, but in real life, it's just not the done thing."

"You going to leave?" I didn't see how they could afford it. Faustine was not cheap to keep, and they were making steady money working for me.

"I'd really rather not. You're a grand fellow to work for, one of the best. It's just this is extremely disturbing to me."

"I don't blame you. If anything happened to Bobbi..." I didn't want to finish that thought.

"Then we understand one another." "What do you want me to do?"

"Well, there's not much you can do beyond what you've already said. I'm rea.s.sured, bu-"

They were getting smarter, more crafty at it. Instead of a car roaring up the street to give warning to anyone paying attention, they'd all but coasted in.

Hoyle hung halfway out an open window; one Ruzzo drove, the other was busy keeping Hoyle from falling out.

They drove up, sedate as any honest citizen, but when they crested the front of the club Hoyle cut loose with his semi- auto.

I pushed Roland aside, but not quite in time. Bullets bit and banged around us. Roland caught one, yelped, and dropped like a stone.

Chapter 13

A few seconds of mind-numbing panic, the taste of metal on my tongue, then I shoved the fear as far away as I could.

As Ruzzo hit the gas to take them away I kicked open Crymsyn's door, grabbed Roland, and hauled him inside. His legs weren't working, and once on the black-and-white marble tiles he gasped out a sudden halt. Blood seemed to pour from him, the scent sharp and arresting.

Before I lost all sense I bellowed for Escott to get the h.e.l.l down there and rushed to the bar for towels. I was in cold syrup; nothing I did seemed fast enough or smart enough or good enough. Escott was halfway down the stairs and stopped to gape for all of a second, then also rushed forward.

The lobby lights blazed on. I whirled; this was the perfect time for an ambush, but no one was there. Myrna, then.

The lights went out, then on again. She'd done it for me once. Trying to help.

"Leave 'em on, G.o.ddammit!"

They stayed on.

"My G.o.d, how-?" Escott began.

"Hoyle. Trying for me again."

"b.l.o.o.d.y b.a.s.t.a.r.d." He got Roland to lie flat while I ripped the man's trouser leg open to the knee and pressed a towel to the wound. The white cloth soon loaded up with blood despite the pressure I put on. G.o.d, if that was an artery...

"Hospital," I said. "Now."

"Is it safe outside?"

"Probably not." I turned pressure duty over to him and shot through the pa.s.sage, the main room, the backstage, moving silent and fast. I'd traded solidity for speed and regained it in the alley after bulling right through the club's walls. The Nash was still warmed up and easily roared to life. I hurtled it around two corners and braked just short of ramming the parked Hudson. I'd have used Roland's car, but the Nash was bulletproofed.

The street was empty of Hoyle and his crew, and just as well for Roland, or I might have gone after them. I bailed out, leaving the motor running.

Evie was in the lobby by then, visibly upset, asking questions in her little voice and not being too d.a.m.ned helpful.

She was still in the vicuna coat. I told her to go out and open the back door of the brown car outside. If I'd said Nash, she might not have been able to pick it out.

"The brown car?"

"Go!"

She made a single yipping noise like a small pooch and fled outside.

"Roland?"

"Right here, sport. Remember my talk about doing this in films? Well, a make-believe bullet is much better." He forced out a ghastly grin.

Escott had cut Roland's suspenders off with a folding knife and improvised a tourniquet, which seemed to help, but the stack of blood-soaked towels had grown. "Come on, let's get him to the car."

"Yes, please hurry. This hurts like a bad review!"

I hoped joking meant he was going to be all right. When I'd been in the War-and this suddenly and unpleasantly reminded me of it-I'd seen guys cracking wise to the very end.