Black Market Blood (The Lazarus Hunter Series Book 2) Read online

  The room remained silent. Monica decided it was the closest she was likely to get to agreement tonight. Everyone was reluctant to speak. They were scared and they didn’t want the responsibility. In the good times they did nothing but talk about how important the council was. When the going got tough, Monica turned into a one man band.

  ‘Okay, before we move on, I propose a break,’ she said. ‘I need to freshen up.’ She stood, relieved for once that she was the only woman in the room. That meant she got the bathroom all to herself. She walked in and shut the door behind her.

  Her reflection in the mirror showed the dark circles under her eyes. She looked terrible. The harsh fluorescent lights were never flattering, but this was worse than normal. Small beads of sweat had started to form on her brow. She didn’t like this one little bit.

  She ran the cold tap and splashed some water on the back of her neck. It helped for a moment. She told herself not to panic. It was nothing more than exhaustion. She repeated it to herself over and over as she stared down her own reflection. When she felt ready to face the room again, she turned off the tap and grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser.

  It was stuck again. One of the downsides of being the only woman who had access to this bathroom was that she was the one who had to make all the complaints about the facilities. It didn’t feel right somehow when the most powerful person in the building had to go to the caretaker to let him know she was out of soap again.

  She yanked on the handle to force the paper towels out of the bottom. Despite her best attempts, it refused to budge. She tried it one more time, putting all her weight behind it. The handle snapped off and she propelled forwards. Her palm sliced along the jagged edge of metal where it had sheared off. ‘Shit, shit, shit,’ she muttered. She tried to keep her voice down rather than offend the council further with her choice language. She looked at her palm and waited for the blood to stop flowing.

  It didn’t.

  She ran her hand under the tap to take the top layer of blood away. As soon as she removed her hand from the flow of water, the blood replaced itself.

  This was not right.

  She shouldn’t bleed this way. It was a superficial cut. So why wasn’t she healing? Something was wrong. She looked in the mirror again. Her ice blue eyes had turned pallid grey.

  Yes, something was so very, very wrong.

  36

  A combination of jet lag and late night conversation with Monica had left Elizabeth in a state of half-alertness. Her body requested sleep — plenty of it if possible — but her mind demanded she get up and face what remained of the day. The clouds hung heavy against the skyline and made the day darker than usual. That gave her less time before the protection of daylight disappeared and she would be at the mercy of whoever came out to play.

  She needed coffee and carbs to get going. That was all.

  The city smelled wet from the earlier downpours, but people poured out onto the streets. The end of the workday was one of her favourite times, when tourists and native New Yorkers moved around each other, both seeing things in very different ways. Elizabeth was an observer by nature. When she needed to act, she could. Yet it was clear from her months away from the legacy her father had left her that her natural state was one of slightly more academic laziness.

  The coffee and carbs were a symptom of that. Her body, once lean and hard from constant training, was now soft around the edges. She’d not put on weight, as such, and the clothes that continued to fit allowed her to perpetuate the lie that nothing had changed. But the muscles under her skin no longer moved like a well oiled machine. One tourist day pounding the pavements had already shown her that. The stamina that had allowed her to outrun a vampire would take months to regain. The speed that allowed her to slice and dice them might take longer.

  Elizabeth pondered this muscle memory as she sipped her coffee and ate a doughnut. Her natural inclination was to demand too much of herself, much more than she would ever expect from anyone else. The ache in the back of her thighs told her she had to be a realist. It would take dedication to get back to where she was.

  That dedication would start now.

  She finished the remains of the doughnut and promised herself it would be the last one. She didn’t have time to cut corners. There was still time before she needed to see anyone. A good training session was where she needed to begin. The hotel had a gym that was good enough to start. Monica had promised her access to a personal trainer and her own gym, but Elizabeth shunned the idea. She wanted anyone who knew she was here to believe she was as strong as ever. If a personal trainer saw her as weak as ever, walking on Bambi legs after one simple session, then word might get out. It was too risky.

  Four blocks from her hotel, she grabbed another coffee. The first had begun to work its magic, but she was still a long way from bright and perky. As she stood in line, she felt a chill run up her arms. She looked up, her eyes scanning the ceiling for air conditioning vents above. There were none. The chill remained, a distant sensation. She rubbed her arms and tried to make the uncomfortable prickle of her skin go away. She ordered her latte without a hint of tremor in her voice and moved to the edge of the counter. From there, she leaned casually against the wall and looked around the room.

  Was it coincidence that one of them was in here? She felt no malice, but that could be deliberate on their part. The clock on the wall told her that sunset was still an hour away, but the dark clouds outside would provide sufficient cover to brave the outdoors for a few minutes. She knew what it was like to be desperate enough for coffee that you would try anything.

  Her eyes scanned the room, but it was too crowded. The layout meant that there were tables out of view and that filled her with a sense of unease. When she returned to the hotel, a bodyguard would appear at her door, but that was of no use to her now. She accepted her coffee with a smile and walked to the door. Elizabeth scanned her body for tell-tale reactions, but the sensation never changed. It didn’t grow stronger, nor did it go away as she began to walk down the street.

  She kept to the outside of the pavement, away from store fronts and gaps. It was unlikely that a full attack would take place right here on this street. It was too busy. Too full of people who were alert. This wasn’t the suburbs she knew Garth liked to hunt. Her only task was to make it to the hotel. Once inside, she could reassess.

  As she walked, brisk but not fearful, she took sips of the too-hot coffee. Was this really what she wanted? She had wanted to help Monica, had even felt the thrill of solving the latest puzzle that was their vampiric world, but this? To never relax in daylight unless she was at the top of her game? The question of if she could walk away from her destiny resurfaced.

  If the answer was no, then she better do something more than this to make sure she survived until the end of the year. The sensation she was being followed intensified and she pushed it away. It didn’t matter, right now, if that happened. There was nothing she could do to stop them. It made sense not to tip her hand. Not until she was inside the doors of the building. There, she could wait. If the vampire, whoever he or she was, followed her in, then that brazen act would change everything. If they didn’t then they still knew where she was staying in the city. Her body thrummed with the desire to run, but she held it in check.

  It took all the willpower Elizabeth had to walk steady and not turn around.

  Before that moment, she had felt safe. Now she knew that security was a false cage that came from Monica’s protection. Without it, someone would come to tear her apart.

  Monica had led her straight into the lion’s den and she had followed. Now she could do nothing but pray that the lions continued to sleep until she was ready to face them alone.

  37

  As William began to call the meeting to a close, there was a frantic banging on the chamber door. Monica had allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief. Now she knew it was premature.

  She had returned from the bathroom with one hand wedged in her poc
ket. The worst of the bleeding had stopped but she still hadn’t managed to get a paper towel out of the dispenser to wrap it up. Instead she had to settle for keeping it out of sight.

  She could smell it. So would they.

  The headache had morphed from an annoyance into a permanent buzzing sensation. No one confronted her, but she had caught Dennis looking at her oddly a few times. All she wanted was to get home and go to sleep. She would worry about the consequences tomorrow.

  The banging on the door, she was sure, was about to put an end to that plan.

  Monica checked her watch. It was quarter to three. The meeting had gone on for much longer than normal. Other than reassurance, nothing proactive had come from those extra hours.

  ‘What is it?’ snapped William as the door burst open. She saw the disdain in his eyes. These were times of crisis, but that didn’t mean they had to behave like animals.

  ‘We’re under attack,’ the man at the door panted. ‘Everyone has moved to the front to defend the building.’

  ‘What?’ William paled. He looked to Monica for guidance.

  ‘It’s the Sekhmets. They’ve launched an attack on us.’

  ‘Are we sure it is them?’ Monica needed to be positive. Once confirmed, she wouldn’t need to keep her promise to Elizabeth. The time for diplomacy was gone. They were going down.

  ‘Yes. One of them was recognised. They’ve blocked the entrance to the street. Some made it inside before we could stop them.’

  ‘Are the ones who made it inside now contained?’ Monica stood up, prepared to join in the fight. She wouldn’t lead from the back. The blood rushed from her head and the room span. She wobbled and Dennis stood up, concerned.

  ‘As far as we know, there is no intruder who has made it past the few first lines of defence.’

  ‘Surely they don’t have the numbers for an attack?’ Monica rubbed her temples. The words were thick on her tongue but she kept going.

  ‘I’m not sure they realised there was an emergency meeting going on. If it had been a regular Tuesday night then we wouldn’t have stood a chance.’

  ‘What about those who are sick?’

  ‘We’ve told them to go into a separate room and stay there.’

  ‘Okay, we can also play dirty. Tell anyone who is showing early symptoms but is still fit enough to fight to get out and join you. Tell them they don’t have to land punches. I want them to use their teeth. Use their nails. I want them to draw blood. If the Sekhmets are behind this then let’s give them a taste of their own medicine.’

  ‘Yes Miss Carletto,’ the man at the door bowed before setting his face into a grim mask. ‘I’ll let them know.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She watched as the man left. ‘William, what else can we fight with?’

  ‘Nothing other than ourselves.’

  ‘In that case, let’s get the hell out there.’ Monica leaned against the table. Any minute now. Just breathe.

  ‘You’re not going anywhere,’ Dennis stepped forward into the centre of the room.

  ‘Dennis, I can’t expect people to go out there and fight for the family when I’m not prepared to do so myself.’

  ‘Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you. But you’re sick.’

  ‘I’m not. I’m just tired.’

  ‘Monica, you’re not. I don’t know if you’ve caught it, but you’re in no position to fight anything. It might just be the flu. You’re sweating and shaking. I’m going to take you home.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Yes you can. Don’t be stupid, Monica.’ A gasp went through the room. Not only was Dennis not qualified for the council chambers, he spoke to their leader like no one else would dare. ‘It’s not going to boost morale if they see their leader get slaughtered without even putting up a fight. If you get yourself killed now then the whole situation is going to get much worse.’

  ‘Everyone knows this isn’t the flu.’ Monica looked around the room. ‘I’m going to die anyway.’

  ‘No you’re not. You’ve been under so much stress lately, it’s no surprise you’re ill. Even if it is this mystery disease then there’s still time to find a cure. But you need to be alive for it to work.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, I do. I’m going to take you home and then I’m going to come back here and do my duty.’

  ‘Dennis, they need you here. I’ll just sit and close my eyes for a minute.’

  ‘We need to get her out of the building.’ Dennis’s voice faded in and out through the buzz in her ears.

  ‘I’ll take her,’ Elverez spoke up. ‘I have a fast car. I can’t fight anyway. I’ll need your help to get us both into it, but I can look after her from there.’

  ‘Good thinking. I’ll phone ahead to the guard at Monica’s place and they’ll get her out the other side. I’ll warn them there could be a separate attack.’

  ‘Is that likely?’ Monica felt like it didn’t matter where she went, she would never be safe. She looked down at the cut on her hand. It wasn’t fresh any more, but nor was it healed. It was like a human hand attached to her body.

  The first stages of the decline.

  How many times had she wished she could finally get away from the responsibility of the family? Countless occasions at every slight frustration. Even when she knew there was only one way that could happen. It seemed she was finally about to get her chance. Now it was here, Monica didn’t want to die.

  Dennis was right. She was in no position to fight. The rest of the council remained silent. That spoke volumes about their capability and care for her. If she had an ounce of strength she would go out there and bite and scratch and maul to infect as many of them as she could. She wanted her final act to be to take as many of them with her as she could.

  The door burst open and the man returned. Through heavy lids she saw William roll his eyes heavenward at the total loss of formality in the room. ‘Miss Carletto, they have issued a challenge for leadership. They want you to come and fight for control of the family.’ The man stopped. Monica saw him look at her properly for the first time. He saw the death in her face.

  ‘A duel?’ William sat back in his chair. ‘The last time one of those took place, Ivan was killed. It’s archaic and, quite frankly, unnecessary. Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. They will stop fighting now if you come out to accept.’

  ‘Monica, you can’t do this.’ Dennis grabbed her shoulder.

  ‘He’s right,’ sighed William. He tapped his forefinger against his chin and turned to the man. ‘Listen to me. I need you to return and tell them Monica is not in the building. Tell them she left an hour ago.’

  ‘But, she’s…’

  ‘I know she’s here. I’m not blind. Neither are you. I’m trusting you with this grave secret. If you keep it and do exactly as I say, when we get through this, then you will receive a junior position on the council as a reward for your loyalty and servitude. Is that a good way to spend the rest of your life as part of this family?’

  ‘Yes sir.’ The man was wide eyed at his sudden change in fortune. Monica almost laughed. She wanted to tell him it was no great privilege.

  ‘Very good. If Monica goes out now, she will lose this challenge. She is not in a position to fight. If she accepts and loses then we are at the mercy of another family. Do I make myself clear? Can you imagine they’ll show us any kindness once our leader is gone?’

  ‘No sir.’

  ‘Exactly. So go out there and tell them that Monica is no longer in the building.’

  ‘Tell them I’ve gone to Philadelphia,’ Monica said. Her brain lurched to a fragment of remembered conversation.

  ‘What?’ William turned to look at her as if she had gone mad.

  ‘Elizabeth said she thinks they’re making the virus in Philly. If she’s right, then that should make them withdraw. They’ll think I’m going to attack the heart of their scheme. With so many of them here fighting against us, they will feel vulnerable.’

  �
�I like it,’ William nodded in approval then turned back to the man at the door. ‘That’s the plan. Now go. Create as much time as you can. We still need to get Monica and Elverez out alive.’

  The door shut and Monica reeled. It was too much to take in. They must have known. She sat back down as Dennis stood next to Elverez. ‘How fast can you go in that thing?’ he pointed to the wheelchair.

  ‘Not fast enough son. Don’t worry about preserving my dignity. There isn’t time. Carry me to the car and then come back for her.’

  ‘Okay. Monica, wait there for me. Don’t do anything. I’ll be back for you in two minutes.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  Monica watched the room dissolve into a flurry of activity around her. She thought about the last time she had fed from a human. The woman had sought her out, drunk and with a sob story. Had she been a trap? Should she have known something was wrong?

  Of course, she had no hard evidence it was her. The bags could be infected too. Everyone had at least one in case of an emergency. You would poison yourself.

  ‘Have you got everything?’ Dennis was back. How long had he been away?

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Good, come on then, let’s get you out of here. Can you walk?’

  ‘I’m not dead yet.’

  ‘Monica.’

  ‘I know. I think I can do it.’

  ‘Good, then let’s get moving. We haven’t got much time.’

  At the back entrance of the club, Elverez sat in his car waiting, engine running. She saw him check the mirrors for any sign of an ambush. She hoped they would get away with this.

  As she reached the car he popped the locks and she climbed inside. Even that took effort.

  ‘Thank you Dennis,’ she said, unable to think of anything more than those simple words. She didn’t mean for helping her to the car. She meant for everything, and she hoped he knew it.

  ‘I’ll come round after I’m done here. Don’t worry.’