I stared at the kneeling Carl Jackson as if he were a snake that was slithering up to my feet. The fact he was prostrating himself before me was completely unexpected and really made me want to punch him even more. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have gotten myself a steel stake from a sporting goods shop and stabbed him on the ground while he was prone. As such, I was only armed with my gun and claws that wouldn’t disable him.
Great.
I really hadn’t planned this through.
“Get up,” I said, looking down on him. “We are not friends.”
“I owe you,” Jackson said, rising from the ground. There was an adoring and subservient expression on his face that made me sick.
“What?” I said, again, genuinely confused. “I hate you.”
Jackson looked hurt even as he said, “That’s unfortunate because I really want to do everything in my power to help you.”
I looked at him sideways before looking at Sam. She was checking the pulse of the guy on the couch, who looked completely out of it. “Yo, Samantha from Bewitched, could you give me some insight here?”
“I think he’s mesmerized,” Sam said, removing her fingers from the part of his neck that wasn’t leaking blood. Jackson hadn’t entirely sealed the wound with his saliva, which acted as an anticoagulant, and was endangering the poor bastard’s life. I wasn’t about to go over and lick the injury shut, though.
“I’ll do anything for you,” Jackson said, sounding like he really wished he didn’t mean it.
I looked back at him. “What, he’s mesmerized into thinking I’m Dennis Rodman?”
“Really? Dennis Rodman?” David asked.
“I worship him,” I said. “He brought peace to East Asia.”
Sam rolled her eyes.
Jackson clasped his hands together. “After you rescued the Council of Ancients from Renaud and became bellidix, I went to my sire to complain. I thought you were a war-junkie piece of shit who never should have been a vampire in the first place.”
That sounded more like the old Jackson. “And?”
“Enil was so happy with you saving so many that he changed my mind,” Jackson said, cheerfully. “Permanently.”
I could have throttled Jackson and wanted to. “He screwed with your brain?”
“Yes,” Jackson said, cheerfully. “He just opened the door of my mind and did some furniture rearrangement.”
Damn, I couldn’t be angry at him if he’d been violated that way. Oh wait, yes, I could. Still, there was a lot of shit I hated about being a vampire. The Need, the casual violence, the manipulations by older-than-dirt assholes, and the fact everyone seemed to be rich but me. I used to be upset about the fact everyone was getting laid instead of me, but I’d had sex last night, so I wasn’t going to complain about that.
The thing I hated most, though? The fact your creator could fuck with your brain. Some vampires could mesmerize people with their gaze or voice and others couldn’t, but all vampires could do it with their blood. If you fed a human being your blood, it established a psychic connection that favored the vampire in every way. It was even stronger for those who created a vampire. Your creation was your bitch if you wanted them to be for the rest of eternity. At least until you became an Old One and gained immunity to that sort of thing.
If your creator wanted to, he could make you kill your family, your friends, or change your views on a subject. I’d seen men and women think they were in love with their creators for decades or even centuries, only to have them realize they’d loathed them once someone took their masters out. Thoth had been able to kill his creator because he’d been a latent magic user in life while others broke through the control using sheer hatred. Seeing Jackson reduced to an obedient dog almost made me feel sorry for the guy.
Almost.
“So, you’re my biggest fan now, huh?” I asked, not too unhappy with the situation.
“Absolutely,” Jackson said, cheerfully. “I’m happy to do anything you want, bellidix.”
It was like a smile had been painted on his soul. Damn.
“I was happy to help your creator with his little matter a few weeks ago, which I’m sure you are aware of,” Jackson said.
“Wait, what?” I asked.
Jackson twitched. “I guess not.”
Dammit, Thoth. Were you keeping more secrets from me? Wait, of course he was. He was an Old One. Dude probably had a secret passage to the bathroom and vampires didn’t even use toilets. “I’m sure we can discuss it at length. Would you like to accompany me downtown? To have a nice chat with some people from Texas?”
I could see Jackson struggling against the command. He had to know I didn’t mean him any good. Going with me was probably a death sentence.
“Sure,” Jackson said.
“Sweet,” I said, happy this was going to be easier than I thought.
“I just need to go talk to my sire downstairs,” Carl said, gesturing to the door.
“Goddammit.”
“I knew this was going too well,” Sam muttered.
“You jinxed it,” David added, looking back out the door at a guard’s leg.
I wasn’t in the mood to speak to the Second Eldest. Enil was the most powerful vampire in New Detroit and while he’d gotten sotted over the past few millennia, part of the reason he lived here rather than in Romania, I doubted he was just going to let me carry off his creation to be destroyed. No matter what Thoth said. Then again, Enil had created literally thousands of vampires over the years and he owed me, so it was probably best to run this by him before I did anything rash.
Putting my hand over my face, I muttered. “Sure, you can go speak to Enil first.”
“Excellent,” Jackson said, his gaze brightening. “He’s downstairs. He came here during the morning, nursing some wounds.”
I blinked, wondering what the hell could injure a thing like Enil. Had he an encounter with our mysterious Ancient? Enil was one of the most laid back, hell, outright lazy vampires I’d ever met so it didn’t seem likely he’d get in a fight with one, but it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.
“Yeah, you do that,” I said, staring at him. “Why don’t you also ask him to come upstairs and talk with me.”
That removed Jackson’s cheerful expression. Whatever he thought I was pulling, he hadn’t thought it was something I’d be comfortable talking with his creator over. “Alright. I’ll go do that now.”
It was weird having that sort of power over a man and made me think I probably would make a terrible Old One. Really, it sucked the whole joy out of the vengeance thing. On the other hand, not only would it make this whole confession/framing thing easier, it would mean no one had to die. Mind you, I’d still have to convince Emil to let me take him but apparently, he thought he owed me. Besides, it probably would be a good idea to ask his help on finding out who this renegade Ancient might be. Emil was a good guy, as antediluvian monstrosities go, so if anyone knew who else might be in the city his age—well, he was my go-to guy.
“You should help this man first,” Sam said, her hand on the wounded man on the ground’s neck. He wasn’t bleeding out, but that was half because he didn’t much blood left. “I’ve helped him, so he’ll survive, but he’s still very weak. You’ve drained him nearly to death.”
“If he died, I would have made him a vampire,” Jackson said, showing none of the respect to her he’d shown me. “Tony is useful but he’s ambitious and too eager to please. I can sense when one of my boys is into it or not. It’d be nice to have complete control over his thoughts as a proper creator should.”
“Yeah, you’re just a wonderful creator,” David said, growling. “So when did you decide it was okay to be with guys rather than just beat them up or kill them?”
Jackson shrugged, clearly not recognizing David. “Blood is blood, man. Once you taste it, you don’t care where it comes from as long as its human and fresh.”
I frowned and shook my head. “Vampires aren’t allowed to create in New Detroit without the permission of the Voivode or City Council. Have you been making vampires in spite of the law?”
It was ridiculous bringing up that sort of charge now, especially when I was about to nail him for the much more severe one of killing another vampire, but every little bit helped. Also, I wanted to know if there were any other vampires of his lineage hanging around. People who might object to my carting off their boss and weren’t well-disposed to me.
Jackson summoned enough willpower to flare his nostrils. “Man, fuck the City Council and fuck the Council of Ancients too. Vampires shouldn’t be worrying about ways to keep our numbers down, we should be figuring out ways to expand. The populous envies us every bit as much as they fear us. We should make everyone and their mother who wants to be a vampire and then march on Washington to tear those fucking vampire-hating bigots a new one.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Then who would we eat, jackass?”
“Whoever we wanted.”
I rolled my eyes. “Humans have nukes, Jackson. We can’t turn the army into a bunch of Bloodslaves.”
“Maybe you can’t, bellidix, but I can. My music reaches out to the masses. I am the messiah of the ninety-nine-percent, and everyone listens to my boys and girls. I am turning a new generation of vampire-hating white, brown, and in-between kids into people who want to be us.”
“Uh huh,” I said, unsure if Jackson was crazy or just stupid. “Is that why you were with Rebecca Plum?”
Jackson looked like he was going to tear my throat apart, but his hypnosis prevented him from doing so. Instead, he walked over to his glass desk and smashed his fist through it. He then threw his chair over my head, and it smashed against the glass door behind me. That caused a couple of his guards to rush in, but he just growled at them, sending them scurrying away.
“Fuck that bitch!” Jackson snapped. “Fuck her and her damned books too.”
“Money clearly hasn’t changed Carl’s vocabulary,” David said.
“Man, you clearly didn’t spend long enough in the neighborhood,” I said, shaking my head. “Jackson used to use fuck in dozens of fascinating and unique ways. Quentin Tarantino had nothing on him. He’s positively restrained now.”
“I take it your relationship didn’t end well?” Sam said, still healing Tyrone with white magic.
Jackson brushed off bits and pieces of glass from his sleeve. “Fuck no, it didn’t end well. I’m okay with going after the shapely house-wife type. I fucked more mothers than I ever did my classmates. However, the bitch said she’d make me a vampire superstar. That she’d turn my story into a legend.”
I tried not to laugh, remembering the offer she’d made me. “It was a line she was feeding you? You didn’t get your big star-making role?”
This was classic.
“Fuck yes it was a line she was feeding me. Worse, I am in the books! There’s a Karl Paxton who shows up in one of the books and is getting his own spin-off series. Grew up in Detroit, became a banger, and went on to become a rich rapper.”
“Sounds like you got your money’s worth,” I said, realizing Rebecca had been hitting on me the entire time.
“Dude was white!” Jackson snapped. “Plum wanted to make me Vanilla Ice.”
Okay, that was funny. No, wait, it was hilarious. I stifled my laughter. “Okay, well, take care of your friend on the couch and go get Enil. I’ll explain more when you get back.”
I wasn’t afraid of him running. If he wanted to take us out, then he’d just summon his security and things would get nasty. He wouldn’t pretend to have been mind-fucked and unable to do anything about me. Vampires gave lip service to the law and, like it or not, I represented the law in New Detroit.
“Why are you asking me about Plum anyway? Isn’t she hanging around with her new Texas friends?”
“Plum came to visit yesterday,” I said, deciding it was best for him to know. Maybe he knew that Ancients might have a grudge against her. There were only a few Ancients in New Detroit, and most of them were friends of Enil. “She’s dead.”
Jackson seemed to register he was a suspect. “I didn’t do it.”
“I know you didn’t,” I said, not at all happy to be reassuring him. “But it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re going to pin this on me, aren’t you?” Jackson snapped.
“Yeah,” I said.
Jackson’s smile became pained. “Super.”
Sam looked at me, holding the hand of Tony on the ground. “Peter, please.”
“Heal him,” I said, looking right into Jackson’s eyes. “He doesn’t deserve to die.”
“You did it to him.”
“Obey,” I commanded.
“Fu…yes,” Jackson said. The mob boss went over to Tony and slid open his wrist to let a dribble of molasses-like blood flow from his vein down the thug’s throat. Vampire blood had healing properties, but it was also addictive like crack, heroin, and your first love all in one. Sympathetic masters suppressed those qualities like Thoth did to me during my time as a Bloodsworn, but I sincerely doubted Jackson bothered with it. What, me, prejudiced? No!
Tony drank from the wrist until he looked less like death warmed over and more like a guy who could serve as serious muscle even in a place full of mercenaries. Jackson licked the wound on his wrist closed before sending Tony away.
“I appreciate that,” Jackson said, speaking to me. “Listen, I know we’ve had our differences but maybe we should—”
“No,” I interrupted. “Go get Enil.”
Jackson wasn’t used to being dismissed, and his anger looked like it was ready to fight against Enil’s control. Unfortunately, for Jackson, it didn’t last long, and he lowered his head submissively. Jackson walked past me, banging into my shoulder and out the door.
“Any chance that was all an act?” Sam asked.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Jackson might lull me into a false sense of security before attacking me, but he wouldn’t compromise his pride that much. There will be no Red Wedding stuff here.”
“That’s a relief,” Sam said. “Not that this is a wedding, we’re invited guests, or it’s Westeros.”
I looked up at the platinum records on the walls. “This is exactly the life my brother wanted.”
“Damien wanted to be a vampire gangster rapper and criminal mastermind?” David asked, looking uncomfortable with his surroundings. He’d known Damien too but hadn’t been around him when his life had turned to shit thanks to drugs, guns, and what our grandmother would have called “bad influences.”
“Yeah,” I said, admitting to myself this was exactly where my brother would have been if he’d lived. “Damien was basically Jackson-lite toward the end. He would have done anything to have the fine cars, the gold, and the paper. I didn’t exactly stop to ask around, but word was he was already talking about what it would be like in the Knives when he was in charge rather than Jackson.”
That particular revelation had come out years after I’d shot up Jackson’s place and he’d gone from being a minor crime lord in the city to a world-famous rap producer. Despite this, I occasionally thought Jackson was jealous of me, perhaps because my creator gave a shit about me while his was just using him to get rebellious teenagers to download songs at $2.99 a pop.
For all of Jackson’s talk about being the messiah of the 99%, the records on the wall were for a bunch of songs that stood for no one and were about nothing. They were nothing but glam rap rip-offs of better stars. Jackson was the king of vampire music, all produced, packaged, and sold by the corporate machine. He was the perfect example of a vampire sell-out. Damien, when he’d rhymed, had real power to his voice and spirit.
Or maybe I just wanted to remember him better than he was.
“So it was self-defense?” David said, pointing out something I didn’t really want to dwell on.
“Doesn’t matter if it was self-defense, by a very loose definition, or not. Damien was my brother.”
They, thankfully, didn’t say anything to that. There wasn’t a good guy or a bad guy on the streets of Old Detroit, and it was one of the reasons I was glad it was getting demolished block by block. At least in New Detroit, you knew who the bad guys were. They were people like me, guys with fangs; the good guys were those who opposed us.
Simple, eh?
I was about to comment further when I saw a little snow-white fox dash through the glass door’s shattered remains. I blinked as the fox transformed into Yukie, and I found myself face-to-face with the woman I thought had been killed by the Ancient she was chasing.
“Well, this is awkward,” I said, looking at her.
“You!” Sam said. “You have made a really big pile of shit for us.”
“Cool, a werefox!” David said, completing the trio of our reactions.
Yukie looked at me, and I tried to see some of Thoth inside her. I couldn’t see it in her features but caught a glimpse of my creator in the intensity of her gaze. It was gone in a second, though, and I was left with the partial-demon quarter-vampire shapechanger. Which, really, was way, way too many weird things for one single supernatural.
No matter how hot.
Yukie stared at me. “Mister Stone, you shouldn’t be here.”
“Please, call me Peter,” I said, uncomfortable at her presence. “Listen, we need to talk about what you saw.”
Against my better instincts, I actually wanted to find out who was guilty of this crime even if I thought they deserved a fucking medal for killing Rebecca Plum. I just hoped it was, A:] Someone we could actually arrest and B:] For a reason other than she was a psychopathic killer.
Yukie ruined both theories. “I traced the Ancient who killed Rebecca Plum there. He is Enil the Second Eldest. We need to get out of here before he kills you all.”
Okay, now Lucy was kicking me in the nuts after stealing the football.