The bad feeling in her gut intensifying, she did a careful round of the area while Venom stood by the doorway, his mere presence ensuring that no one dared move. "They're not here," she said to him. "We have to go up."
She was about two footsteps away from the stairs when a hand closed over the top of her shoe. Heart jolting, she glanced down to see a dirty and round face bordered by curly brown hair. Brynn. Holly knew her, knew, too, that Arabella often used her meager store of money to buy food for this mortal who wasn't quite right. Even Zeph, junkie though he was, would Dumpster dive behind restaurants to make sure Brynn didn't starve.
Sensing Venom stir behind her, she shot him a quelling look, then crouched down. Brynn was nearly lying on the floor, only her head raised. "Where's Zeph, Brynn?" Holly asked gently.
"He got hurt," the distressed woman whispered. "Real bad. Arabella, too." She waved Holly to the darkness under the stairs and to two unmoving lumps it took Holly at least a minute to make out, the murk was so deep there. "I can't wake them up."
Sitting up, Brynn twisted her stubby fingers together, her eyes wet. "I tried to give them my blood even though Zeph says I never have to, but they won't drink, Holly."
Swallowing hard, Holly focused on the bloody drag marks on the floor below her feet. "Did you move them?"
Brynn's lower lip quivered. "To keep them safe until they woke up, but they aren't waking up."
Holly went to the deathly quiet bodies of her friends and peeled back the old brown blanket with which Brynn had covered them. "Oh, God." Fury was a tempest in her blood.
Coming down beside her, Venom took in the damage. "The woman is alive despite the meat pulp someone made of her face. Him . . ." Pulling down the blanket, he shoved up Zeph's dirty T-shirt. "Heart wasn't gouged out, so there's a chance."
Holly knew most vampires would regenerate from a beating this brutal, but most vampires weren't as weak as Zeph. "Can you give them your blood?" He wasn't cruel, had fed Daisy when necessary.
"I could, but they'd be better off getting an infusion direct to the bloodstream." He slid his arms under Zeph's body, uncaring of the dirt and blood that had to be soaking into his suit jacket. "Can you and the mortal carry the woman?"
"Yes." Arabella didn't weigh much.
Brynn followed her instructions without deviation, and soon the two of them were carrying Arabella's badly beaten body to the car--which had no backseat. But Venom had already managed to fit skinny Zeph in the spacious passenger side footwell, now placed Arabella atop him, part of her body on the seat itself. "It's a short ride," he said when Holly went to protest the manner of transport. "Once you're in, you can cradle her against your body."
Turning to Brynn, he gripped the woman's chin in his hand, but Holly could tell the grip wasn't hard. "What happened to your friends?"
Brynn's huge eyes held no fear of Venom; in her artless mind, that he was with Holly and had helped Zeph and Arabella meant he was safe. "Was a big fight," she said. "People screaming so loud." She pressed her hands over her ears. "I just hid until after, but Zeph and Arabella got stuck in the middle."
"Shit," Holly muttered. "We'll never find out who started it unless Zeph or Arabella know. Things just erupt sometimes."
The skinny vampire gang yet lingering in the same spot as earlier had no answers for them, either. "Heard there was a big fight here, came to see," the one with the squeaky voice said through a haze of cigarette smoke, his skin a pasty white and his nails sharpened to points. "But it was all over by then." A shrug. "Just the bottom feeders losing their shit."
Holly felt her hand curl into a fist, but she didn't plant it in the ass's smug face. "Brynn, will you be okay?" She didn't know how long Zeph and Arabella had been watching out for the other woman, or how well Brynn could survive on her own.
"I lost my things in the fight," the mortal woman whispered. "I only got my blanket." Brynn still had possession of the latter because they'd carried Arabella out in a sling formed of the blanket.
To Holly's surprise, Venom peeled off several large bills and held them out to the skinny gangbangers. Dressed in white wife-beater tanks and low-hanging cargo pants in camo green or black, those stupid kerchiefs on their heads, they looked like children playing at being grown-ups. Holly wouldn't trust them with her imaginary dog, much less a flesh-and-blood mortal like Brynn. But Venom wasn't done.
"Use this money to get Brynn the food and supplies she needs, and keep her safe until her friends return." His voice was mild as he added, "You really don't want to cheat her, attempt to feed from her, or otherwise harm her. She is now under my protection."
Irrespective of the wildly differing hues of their skin, the vampires paled as a group.
Their unintentionally choreographed response might have been funny in other circumstances, but tonight, all Holly cared about was knowing they were too fucking scared of Venom to defy him.
"No, sir," Mr. Squeaky said. "She can hang with us. We got cattle at home, don't need to feed from some other vamp's donor."
Brynn, her wrists and neck badly scarred from old bites, seemed happy enough with that solution. Wrapping herself up in her blanket, she joined the gang in their spot. Before Holly left with Venom, however, she made sure of the other woman's safety by tapping into her own insanity until it colored her voice. "I have lots of eyes on the street. You'll be watched."
The cold words had the gang giving her a distinctly wary look.
Satisfied, she got into the car.
Venom drove straight to a twenty-four-hour clinic that catered to both mortals and vampires. The harried vampire physician on duty took one look at Zeph and Arabella and immediately hooked them up to blood IVs. "Best blood we have," he said, his ebony skin dull with fatigue. "I sure hope you two are covering the bill or my ass will be on the line."
"Send the bill to the Tower and it'll be taken care of," Venom said before Holly could respond. "We need to speak to them. Is there any chance either will wake soon?"
The doctor, dark circles under his eyes, took in both patients again. "Him, no chance. Her . . . give it a quarter hour and then, if you're willing to donate half a glass of your own blood, you might be able to jolt her to consciousness." A faint smile. "No clinic has access to blood as strong as yours."
The wait was excruciating.
"Why did you help Brynn?" Holly asked as the two of them stood with their backs to the scratched and nicked wall outside Zeph and Arabella's room.
In truth, she wasn't expecting an answer, but Venom spoke. "The mortal reminded me of a girl in my village. Maina was as . . . innocent. Childlike while being a woman. Even though I was only ten to her sixteen, I already knew to treat her like I did my younger siblings, rather than like other girls her age. Her family married her off to an old man who beat her, until one day, she just didn't wake up."
So many memories in his head, so much dark history. "I'm sorry."
"So was her family, but they were the ones who chose to think of her as a burden they had to shed." Pausing after that harsh summation, he said, "The two within use Brynn as a donor?" The question was dangerously impassive.
"No," Holly said at once, wanting him to know the hearts of the people he'd helped save. "Zeph and Arabella just pretend she's their personal donor so that other vampires will leave her alone. It's considered bad form on the streets to poach a donor who's been claimed." The two had been near starvation more than once and still never touched Brynn. "All those scars she has, they're from before, when she was alone."
"Maina's family was high ranking in the village," Venom murmured, "but your friends have more honor than they ever did. I'll personally ensure they have no debts as a result of their medical treatment."
Holly didn't know why she did it; maybe it was the hopelessness she'd smelled in the squathouse, the hollow pain of a history that could not be changed, or because Venom had just ruined another suit jacket and pledged his own funds to help people he could've disregarded as not worth his time . . . but she cl
osed her hand over his.
Neither one of them moved until the doctor returned to ask for Venom's blood. He injected it straight into the IV, so it'd directly hit Arabella's bloodstream. "That's all I can do," the doctor said afterward. "If she's not awake in five minutes, she probably won't come to consciousness tonight."
A loud beep had the medium-height male rushing off to handle an emergency.
It was only thirty seconds later that Arabella's swollen eyelids fluttered. "Zeph." It was a croak.
"In the bed next to yours," Holly told her, sliding two ice chips between the other woman's bruised lips at the same time. "He'll live, but you're both going to be in the clinic for a few days."
A struggling flicker of panic in the hazy blue of Arabella's eyes. "I'll pay," she managed to whisper as the melting ice wet her throat. "Zeph . . . he can't."
It took Holly a second to understand. "The Tower's taking care of the bill in thanks for your information about the bounty on my head." Everyone had pride and this small lie would protect Arabella and Zeph's. "You won't have to sign up to serve an angel to pay it off."
Her relief unhidden, Arabella turned to take in the sight of Zeph's motionless form and of the IV running red down his arm. "Brynn?"
Yes, Holly thought, her outwardly powerless and broken friends had far more honor than many. "Safe." She touched her fingers to an unbruised part of Arabella's hand. "Do you know who did this?"
"Just a stupid fight. People acting crazy. Zeph said they smelled off, like bad stuff was coming out of their sweat."
"It might be a new drug," Venom said. "I'll alert Janvier and Ashwini, have them follow up."
Arabella had shivered at Venom's voice, but found the courage to continue speaking. "Yeah, Zeph heard rumors of a new high." A cough that shook her rib cage. "I made him promise a long time ago never to take any of the new stuff. Just honey feeds or I'd leave him."
That was probably the only reason Zeph was still alive. "Is that why you and Zeph were calling? To tell me about the bad drugs?"
"No." Arabella's eyes fluttered. "We were hanging out in Times Square--I like the lights." She smiled softly. "It got real crowded. I don't mind so much but Zeph's not good with it, so we found a place inside the closed doorway of a dress shop."
Holly nodded, conscious that Venom had shifted so he was no longer in Arabella's line of sight. "Did you see something?" People often didn't notice those like Zeph and Arabella, who were used to fading into the shadows.
"No. Heard it." Her eyelids fluttered again. "Two older vampires stopped near where we were hiding and we went real quiet because we know they're mean. They were talking and one said, 'Word came down straight from Walter Battersby. Score is solid.'"
As Holly frowned, Arabella took another shaky breath and added, "We couldn't hear all of the rest . . . but we're sure the second vampire said . . . Chang." Arabella's eyelashes shaded her cheeks, her badly hurt body pulling her into a deep, healing sleep.
"Who," Venom murmured in the ensuing silence, "is Walter Battersby?"
22
According to Janvier, Battersby was a broker who acquired coveted items for wealthy immortals. Janvier's distinctive Cajun accent dark honey down the telephone line, he said, "Neither my Ashblade nor I have ever met him, but we've heard his name in connection with stolen antiquities and gemstones."
Of course this mysterious broker didn't live in the tormented, dangerous darkness that Zeph and Arabella and Brynn called home. He lived high up in an exclusive skyscraper that was all glitter and gloss. When Venom stopped his beautiful and very expensive car out front, the valet looked like he was going to have a heart attack.
Venom threw him the keys. "Don't dent it."
The poor young male looked caught between ecstasy and terror. He still hadn't managed to utter a single word by the time they were out of earshot. "You enjoy doing that," Holly said, trying for a scowl when she wanted to grin. "Making people lose their shit."
Eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, Venom said, "It's an amusing little hobby." He nodded politely to the composed mortal doorman, then waited for Holly to enter the grand marble lobby before entering behind her.
Holly shivered.
His hand brushed her back over the top of the hoodie he'd called "a monstrosity that may burn my irises to blindness." To be fair, she'd told him he looked like an Indian Ken doll in his gray shirt and black suit; he was still wearing the suit jacket, having managed to find a rag at the clinic to wipe off the worst of the dirt and blood that had gotten onto it.
Dark as the fabric was, the damage was no longer visible to the naked eye.
"You're cold?" A low murmur of sound that sank into her bones.
"No, not really." Holly told her hormones to cut it out . . . and heard that stealthy second pulse she'd thought had gone mercifully silent.
Her blood turned to ice. "It's all this marble," she somehow managed to say, "it's cold."
Walking over to the reception desk, Venom asked the receptionist to buzz Walter Battersby. The cool-eyed and black-haired vampire on duty, her cheekbones like razors, nodded and did as asked . . . before offering Venom a deep smile with lush lips painted a rich pink. As if to make sure he didn't miss the silent invitation, the slinky woman leaned forward, her impressive cleavage plumping up in the deep vee of her dark blue top.
"You could lose a chicken leg in there," Holly muttered under her breath.
She thought she'd said it quietly enough that Venom wouldn't hear, but he shot her an amused look before thanking the receptionist. "My pleasure," the woman said in a lightly accented voice--Welsh, maybe?--before sliding her hand forward to shake his.
Holly turned away and rolled her eyes.
Waiting until Venom joined her out of hearing distance, Holly said, "Did she slip you her number?"
He showed her the card in his hand. "Unfortunately, she didn't pair it with a chicken leg or you could've had a snack."
Holly snorted out a laugh, blocking it with the back of her hand before it could echo off the marble. Slipping the card into a pocket of his jacket, Venom nodded ahead. "That elevator--it's coming up from the basement garage and is programmed to stop for us. Mr. Battersby has invited us up."
"How nice." Holly folded her arms and stared at the doors without saying a word. She wasn't bothered he'd kept Chicken Leg Breasts' card. "I thought you had better taste than that."
"Really? She has big eyes, soft lips, and enough curves for a racecourse." A shrug. "Fits the bill for pleasurable sexual release."
Holly turned very slowly to stare at his insanely perfect profile. "You're laughing at me." She could feel it.
Leaning close, his lips curved, he slipped the receptionist's card into a pocket of her hoodie. "You make it so easy, kitty."
Holly hissed at him just as the elevator doors opened. The well-dressed matron on the other side, her skin near Venom's brown but her eyes like Holly's, looked taken aback. "I say, young lady. Didn't your mother teach you manners?" was the stern question, followed by an intense second look. "You're Daphne's second oldest."
Holly prayed desperately for a sinkhole to open up under her feet and swallow her whole. No such luck.
Groaning inwardly, she stepped into the elevator with a silent Venom.
How in the bejeezus did her mother know everybody? It wasn't as if she was rich and swanky like this matron with her necklace of gleaming black pearls and a handbag that probably cost five grand. She looked like she was getting back late from an upmarket party. Daphne Chang, in contrast, ran a little deli beside the dress shop run by Holly's dad. Yet that damn deli was like a pot of honey that drew every single nosy matron in the city.
The elevator doors closed, cutting off all avenues of escape.
"Yes," she said, putting on her sweetest manners. "I'm very pleased to meet you."
The matron gave her a considering look up and down and just shook her head, before turning her attention to Venom. That he was a vampire--a very dangerous vampire--seemed
to escape her. Or maybe she didn't care. At a certain age, Daphne Chang's friends seemed to stop giving a flying fuck about anything. In a very ladylike way, of course.
"Lovely suit, young man," she said, her tone warm with approval. "So nice to see young people who care about their appearance. My Everett used to wear a suit very well."
Her eyes landed once more on Holly's jeans, painted canvas trainers, and hoodie. Not saying a word--loudly--the matron stepped out of the elevator two floors below their destination. "Hissing, my dear. Really."
The doors shut.
And Venom's shoulders began to shake. She punched him in the side but it had zero impact. "Shut up. I'm going to be getting a call from my mother at the crack of dawn."
"The hoodie is an insult to clothing, but I like your shoes."
"I swear I'll stab you if you keep going."
Laughter still lingering around his lips, Venom put his hand on her lower back as the elevator arrived on their floor. He glanced right. "There. That looks to be Mr. Battersby's apartment."
The door opened at that instant, the vampire who stood within the doorway a compact and dapper man of maybe fifty with short silver hair and a skin tone that fell between Holly's and Venom's. He was wearing an old-fashioned smoking jacket. Deep blue velvet, it boasted lapels of black satin. Below the jacket, Walter Battersby wore silk trousers in the same black, along with fancy slippers of dark gold that curled up at the tips.
Unlike Kenasha, he pulled off the flamboyant outfit with aplomb.
"I'm afraid you caught me just as I was retiring for the night," he said genially when they reached him, holding out a hand to Venom.
The men shook before Battersby turned his cordial face to Holly. "And who might you be, my dear?"
Holly smiled her "matron smile," dead certain he hadn't needed to ask that question. "Just Holly." She wasn't quite sure what to make of Walter Battersby. He didn't set off her creep radar, but he was dangerous, of that she had not a single doubt.