The next morning, Paige woke to the smell of burning Nymar and the piercing shriek of her cell phone. Although the ring tone became more tolerable once she got her wits about her, the smell only got worse. She rolled out from under the covers of her twin-sized bed and reacquainted herself with her unfamiliar surroundings. It was a guest room only because of the bed, but was mostly filled with books that were either waiting to be shelved or sold to a secondhand dealer. Volumes in all conditions were piled throughout the room, giving it an overall smell of pulp and cardboard.
She’d fallen asleep after taking off no more than her boots and socks, so she poked her head outside to find traces of light and movement coming from Daniels’s makeshift lab. Smoke drifted through that door, but she didn’t exactly want to know what parts of Peter Walsh might be burning. And despite all of these halfhearted distractions, her phone stubbornly refused to stop ringing.
Paige didn’t recognize the caller information on her phone’s screen, so she jabbed the annoying device and squawked, “What?”
“Miss Strobel?”
“Yes.”
“This is Stanley Velasco of Liberty Bail Bonds. Walter Nash said you have some friends that require our services.”
Forcing her fingers through her thick black hair, she winced as she discovered a series of knots created during her tossing and turning in a twin bed that doubled as a book pedestal. By the time she stormed across her room to pull open the heavy curtains covering the window, her brain had woken up enough to remind her that Walter Nash was Prophet’s real name and that he’d told her to expect a call from Liberty Bail Bonds. “You were supposed to call last night,” she said.
The man on the other end of the line spoke in a voice that was deep in tone, but had an underlying wheeze that made it sound as if he was forcing each word through a chest clogged with bacon grease. “What’s the matter?” Stanley asked. “Your friends not locked up anymore?”
“Can you get them out or not?”
While shuffling through some papers on his end, Stanley said, “Fortunately for you, I’ve done some work in St. Louis and the surrounding area. Also, Prophet spoke highly of you, so I’ll handle your case personally. Looks like your buddies had a fun night. We got charges of reckless driving, failure to yield, destruction of city property…”
“What’s the bottom line?”
Continuing as if he was talking to himself, Stanley droned, “Criminal mischief in regards to use of a firearm, a few more traffic violations, and illegal dumping of noxious substances.”
“What was that last one?”
As the paper shuffling stopped, Stanley said, “It seems your friends didn’t stop partying once they got locked up either. There was some trouble at the lockup and the cops don’t want to give them up just yet.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“A fight, but the two you want me to bail out weren’t the instigators. I should be able to get them out sometime today. Tonight at the latest.”
“Call me as soon as you can post their bail.” Now for the part she was dreading. “How much is this going to set me back?”
“We’ve got plenty of payment options, but it depends on how much the actual bail amount is set for. Seeing as how your friends are still in the middle of their own little—”
“How much?”
Shifting into a more candid tone, he told her, “I’ll get it down as low as I can. For right now, don’t worry about it.”
Paige squinted as if she could study the other man through the cellular connection. “What’s the catch?”
“The catch is that some vampires have been sniffing around looking for Prophet and a few of my other bondsmen.” He let that sink in while slurping from a drink. “And since you didn’t tell me I’m a lunatic just now, I think you’re just the help I need. Walter’s told me about you people, Miss Strobel. I heard what happened in Wisconsin and I also heard about the shit that went down in KC. I’m guessing the noxious substance was the remains of a vampire or…what do you call them? Nyman?”
“Did you say vampires?”
“Uh-huh. Maybe you’ve seen them. Kinda pale, lots of pointy teeth, all marked up with black tattoos, spitting nasty crap that makes you dizzy. Any of this ringing a bell?”
Paige gripped the phone a little tighter, imagining all the unpleasant ways she could convince Prophet to keep his mouth shut the next time she got her hands on him. “They’re Nymar,” she sighed. “Not Nyman.”
“Right. Does this new crop of legal trouble have something to do with the rabid dogs and riots in KC?” Stanley asked.
“What makes you think I was even in Kansas City?”
“Because weirdness tends to stick to the same people.”
Stanley definitely had a point there.
His voice reflected a sloppy grin as he told her, “Look, I’m no blackmailer. I don’t want to hang anything over yer head, but you folks can’t make ends meet by just relying on Prophet’s lottery picks.”
“He told you about the lottery picks too?” she asked.
“Actually he gave some to me here and there to pay off advances on his salary.”
One of the more practical uses for a man who claimed to dream visions of the future was to ask him for lottery numbers. When they panned out, the winnings were divided among Skinners across the country. For the other seventy to eighty percent of the time, the tickets might be worth enough to pay for a few meals or a tank of gas. It wasn’t a perfect system, but it had its advantages. One of those was supposed to be a quiet way to pull in some untraceable funds.
Quiet.
That was the key word.
“Do you know where Walter is?” she asked.
Stanley didn’t have to be psychic to pick up on the tension in her voice. “Before you start planning any funerals, let me assure you he didn’t spell out anything vital for me. What little I pieced together about you or those tattooed freaks I did on my own, and I want the credit for it. If you want to blame anyone for spilling the beans about any overly weird shit going on, blame the little pricks who tried to scare away some of my bondsmen by draining one of them close to death.”
“Where did this happen?”
“In Helena about six months ago.”
She didn’t say as much, but Paige recognized that sort of reckless behavior from Rocky Mountain Nymar. There was a theory floating around that the high altitude or thinner air made them skittish and hungrier than normal. Skittish, hungry Nymar were not pleasant to be around and they didn’t care about making messes.
“I’ve got some major interests throughout Montana all the way down to Colorado,” Stanley continued, “and I can’t let them go just because some punks with long teeth spit on my men. Word of that gets around and I might as well invite all my clients to become fugitives.”
“So what do you want from me?”
“The only time I ever saw these tattooed jackasses get nervous was when they crossed paths with Walter. I kept an eye on him and it turned out he was meeting up with you and some old guy.”
That would have been Gerald Keeley. Almost everything Paige knew about cracking skulls and killing monsters had been taught to her by Rico. Anything on the subtler end of the spectrum, such as tracking or using her head as something other than a battering ram, she’d picked up from Gerald. Thanks to a surprise attack from a Full Blood, Gerald and a promising kid named Brad were both dead. On a brighter note, Gerald’s last act had been to send Cole her way.
The way Stanley’s voice strained, Paige had an easy time picturing him leaning back and swinging his feet up onto a desk as he said, “I figure the next time you’re in the area, maybe you can talk some sense into these pricks.”
“We’re not enforcers,” Paige fibbed.
“Would it make a difference if I told you some of my guys found these assholes feeding in public?”
Even though Skinners didn’t hunt down and destroy every vampire out there, they drew the line at public feedings. Every Nymar should have known that, but not every guy who worked at a bail bonds office would be privy to that information. The sigh Paige let out slowly shifted into something close to a growl.
“All right,” Stanley admitted. “Maybe Walter told me a little more about you Skinners than what I originally said. But that was only after I found out a good chunk on my own.”
“We’re still not hired muscle.”
“I wouldn’t imagine putting you in that category! All I’m saying is that you folks must be in need of some legitimate income. Now that I know what to look for, I’ve realized several of my clients may be strange for reasons other than the normal ones. In fact, a whole crew that’s wanted for vice-related shit is marked up with those same tats. They’re harder than hell for my guys to track, and if I could get some specialized assistance in that regard, I’d be more than happy to pay my normal bounty hunter fee.”
Paige let her finger drift along the edge of her phone, lingering close to the button that would put an end to the whole conversation. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that Nymar did tend to be attracted to the seedier side of life. Some were upstanding citizens who dealt with their problem. Others were kinky, but law-aiding. Then there were the ones who wore their infection with pride. They not only wallowed in certain perversions that hooked up biters with bitees, but created new ones with a considerably less happy ending.
Being in a business where he got hung up on a lot, Stanley no doubt could feel it coming and quickly interjected, “I’ll raise my fee for this case. After all, specialists shouldn’t get paid the same as the rank and file, right?”
“Get Cole and Rico out of that jail cell and we’ll talk.”
“How about I go one better? I’m only a two hour drive away. I could go down there and spring them personally in exchange for a guaranteed business meeting within the next week.”
“Done.”
Paige swore she could hear Stanley smiling through the phone.
“You won’t regret this,” he said.
“I’d better not,” she told him. “Otherwise, the Nymar may get a few phone calls telling them just how much you want to see them gone. And when they come a’knocking, you’ll be on your own to answer the door.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting you, Paige. Seems like we think along the same lines. You have a nice voice too. Why don’t we take our meeting over a nice din—”
She cut him short by finally allowing her finger to hit the magic button. Too bad every interaction wasn’t as easy to end.