Vampires She Wrote Page 5

  “Wow. Fascinating.”

  “It’s a love-hate relationship, but I’m learning to deal with it because he whispers the stories to me and I type them. Sometimes he lets me make changes, but I’ve learned to just let him write the story he wants because it’s better. He hardly lets me sleep sometimes, so fast and furious are the words that spew from him.”

  “Who is he?”

  “I’m sworn to secrecy about his real name, but he says for me to call him Buddy.”

  “Is Buddy how you turned out fifteen books in a year?”

  “Yeah, I spent a year in a vampire’s dungeon. Fifteen books came out of that incarceration. Again, I can’t tell you much. It’s kind of private what he and I have, but we’re very compatible. Just think of Buddy as my Muse.”

  “A Muse who knows too much. And wants too much in return.”

  She laughed. “He does want too much, but I comply because he spills great stories like drops of blood. And every night when we’re actively writing a book, he leaves off with a cliffhanger.”

  “So, he’s like a Scheherazade in your head?”

  “Exactly. I’m grateful to him, but also I resent him a bit because my ego says that I should be able to write without him. I can, but not as well as I can write with him. I have to keep the bloody stories coming—he loves gore—and when he wants me to take a lover to add real experiences to the stories, I obey.”

  “Art imitating life and vice-versa?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, all of those stories are true? All of those lovers, too?”

  “Yes. And I have to keep the lovers coming, too, or he won’t put out. The words, I mean.”

  I had to ask. “Does he choose the lovers, or do you?”

  “He does and I must obey or he will shut down the story factory. He means it, too. He punishes me with writer’s block if I don’t seduce the quarry he picks.”

  “What a tyrant,” I said wryly. “My entity is pretty quiet these days, though given to occasional philosophizing.”

  “Now you see my dilemma. If it makes you feel any better, Buddy tells me you’ll be the last vampire lover I’ll ever have.”

  I didn’t quite know what to say. “He chose me to be your lover?” I managed.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m flattered, but I should have something to say about this.”

  “I agree, but he’s in charge of the choosing on my end. He says you’re a pretty boy—”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “I agree that you’re very handsome and we stalked you to Echo Park. He made me do it. We followed you, but not in that Basic Instinct sort of way. I’m mostly harmless, unless you irk me. Or Buddy.”

  “Thanks for that reassurance, but now, I have to wonder if your interest in me is more than purely professional.”

  “Oh, Fang. You’re more than a potential story to us. Much more.”

  I felt a wounding of my ego and maybe other parts of me, too, but by now, it was too late. I wanted her. Even after her confession.

  “Tell me his story.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I want to understand your entity, and then, hopefully, I’ll understand you, too. I think the secret of your entity writing your books with you is just the tip of an iceberg of secrets. And I have this sense that the part of the iceberg that is underwater is massive.”

  She smiled but didn’t look away. “It is massive, Fang. I’ll tell you more when it’s time to tell you. But for right now, I just want to know who made me a vampire and where he is. And I need you to help me do that. So I can kill him.”

  “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

  “Are you going to help me take him out or not?”

  “Give me one reason where I could not possibly refuse.”

  “He steals the pre-existing children of vampires because he knows they won’t go to the police. And he trafficks the kids to other vampires for nefarious purposes.”

  I snapped, “He’s going down.”

  Chapter 14

  I turned on my laptop. “Let’s take a look.”

  I went through my blood club member records with Justine. “Tell me if you see anyone familiar from the night you were kidnapped behind my club.”

  Her eyes were intent on the screen as she paged through the members’ photos. “How did you get these pictures of everyone?”

  “Driver’s licenses, from before they were vampires. You need a form of picture ID to join the blood club.”

  “So, how did I get in the door without a picture when I became a member?”

  “My doorman, Bruno, is a little looser on the membership requirements for vampiresses. You must have looked okay to him. But men always have to show ID to join. And they always have to pay membership fees. Most women join free on ladies’ night. Just walk right in and decorate the place and bring your vampiress girlfriends, too.”

  “That’s so sexist!”

  “It is, but nobody’s gonna sue me.”

  “True.”

  “Would you recognize this Sharky guy?”

  “Yes.”

  I separated out the few women members and just had her look at the men’s photos.

  At the end, she said, “Sharky’s not a member, but this guy, Ace Cameron, looks like he could be my kidnapper’s brother or a cousin.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I’m pretty good at spotting familial features.” She clicked back on Ace’s photo. “Does his face ring a bell?”

  “Yes, but he’s only been to my blood club once. I remember he said he liked the place, but he said it was too rich for his blood.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “I don’t have a current address.” I Googled his name. “He has an all-night tattoo shop in Culver City. He specializes in glow-in-the-dark tattoos.”

  “Bingo,” Justine said, pointing to her neck tattoo. “Mine glows in the dark.”

  “Let’s pay Ace a visit at his shop and see if we can get him to cough up the name and address of his relative, your kidnapper.”

  “And my torturer.”

  “You were tortured?”

  “Yeah.”

  I briefly hugged her. “You could stay here while I go talk to Ace. Maybe I could get Kingsley or Sam to stay with you until I get back.”

  “No, Sam needs to be with her kids and Kingsley’s done enough for us, too. Let’s do this together. Just you and me.”

  “All right.”

  “How are you going to get him to rat out his brother, or whoever the perp relative is?” she asked.

  “I’m pretty clever and if I fail at that, money talks.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “Then things will get pretty rough. If they do, stay behind me.”

  “If it comes to that, I’ll fight by your side, not hide behind you.”

  “Aren’t you scared?”

  “Of course. But I’m more pissed off that Ace was an accomplice and an accessory after the fact. He knew I was being kept in the dungeon. He must have seen my wounds and observed that I’d been mistreated. Instead, he gave me a slave tattoo on my neck at Sharky’s request and then left. He could have saved me. Even if he was a complete spineless coward, he could have sent someone else to spring me or at least, buy me and set me free. But he didn’t.”

  “It’s like this Sharky has a hold over Ace.”

  Justine said, “If that’s true and we find out what that hold is, maybe we can make Ace into our ally instead of our enemy.”

  “Wasn’t that a subplot in your vampire pirate book?”

  She licked her index finger and made a hash mark in the air with it.

  “What was that for?”

  “Brownie points. Keep ‘em coming, Fang.”

  Chapter 15

  Justine and I got to Culver City just as the Kirk Douglas Theatre let loose a flood of teens after a show called Java Gala. We were sitting at the red light at Washington Boulevard and Hughes, looking at the marquee
lights and waiting for the throng to clear the crosswalks.

  When the light changed, I circled around the block a bunch of times, hoping for street parking. Finally, I found a parking garage a short walk away from the tattoo shop. The neighborhood was somewhere between sketchy and undergoing gentrification. The air was tinged with the smells of restaurant food, spilled beer and marijuana. I hoped the Lexus would be okay.

  Justine grabbed my hand. It felt good to hold hands with a vivacious woman and walk down the street with her. Even as pale and lanky as we were, we were definitely turning some heads.

  She glanced at me as we walked. “Just for a minute, I wished we were going to the theater instead of to interrogate someone.”

  “I’ll make a note of that,” I said. “Date night requests?”

  She looked pleased. “I like to watch paranormal mysteries and suspense flicks and plays, especially whodunnits.”

  “I like vampire movies with lots of making out and gore,” I countered.

  “Yummy. Gore,” she teased.

  “Yummy. Making out,” I teased back.

  We turned the corner and walked past a delicious-smelling place called Honey’s Kettle. The fried chicken and pecan pie smelled so good that I could taste it in the air. Too bad I couldn’t eat regular food anymore. Blood and water were about all I could stomach. Still, my mouth was watering.

  Justine and I headed on foot down Washington Boulevard. She kept pace with my long legs. Hers were long, too. We finally found the tattoo shop, a little hole-in-the-wall place on a side street. The buzzing neon light read, “Ace’s Tattoos.”

  The door was locked so we rang the doorbell. A heavily tattooed vampiress let us in and then locked the door behind us. She was as pale as moonlight and her sleeve tattoos of doves, skulls and skeletons stuck out in stark relief under the neon light. She, too, had a vampire bite tattoo on her neck, one similar to Justine’s, but the teeth marks were different.

  “Welcome to Ace’s Tattoos,” she said and led us down a dark hallway and into a well-lit shop area that looked clean and tidy. “I’m Paloma.”

  “I’m Fang and this is Justine. We came to see Ace about a tattoo that he gave Justine last year.”

  “Having trouble with it?” Paloma asked.

  “It itches sometimes,” Justine replied. “There’s a prickly feeling almost like electricity—I end up scratching my neck in my sleep.”

  “I might know what that is. Let me have a look before I get Ace. He’s in the alley blazing a blunt with his cousin, so he might be fifteen minutes or so.”

  “His cousin Sharky?” I guessed.

  “Yep, that’s the asshole. Sharky, not Ace.”

  Justine and I exchanged looks.

  Paloma said, “Ace is my husband. If you’re not happy with your tattoo, he’ll fix it.”

  Justine flashed a fake smile. “Sounds good.”

  “Sit down on my table and I’ll check it out for you.” As Justine obeyed, Paloma got out her magnifying glass and had a look, poking at it with a now-gloved finger. “Looks like the lead wire of your micro-tracking device is poking through your skin a tiny bit.”

  “Tracking device?” Justine and I both said at the same time.

  “Yeah, you have a property tattoo and it has a micro-device in it. Sort of a LoJack for vampires.”

  Justine frowned. “No wonder they always find me.”

  “That’s what it’s supposed to do.”

  “Can you remove Justine’s tracking device?” I asked Paloma.

  “Not without pre-authorization.”

  “How do I get pre-authorization?” Justine asked.

  “The word ‘pre-authorization’ was a joke. If you want to get rid of it, you have to kill your creator.” Paloma paused. “Do you want to find out who your creator is?”

  Justine played dumb. “Please.”

  “Let me get my bite notebook.” Paloma squinted a bit, turning each of the pages and then comparing the tattoo on Justine’s neck. “Uh-oh, your creator is Sharky. Even if you kill him, I can’t remove the device embedded in your tattoo.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Because he’s a real son of a bitch. It can’t just be pulled out because the wire has a tube in it with silver nitrate inside. Pull out the wire and you pull out the plug that keeps the silver nitrate from invading your bloodstream. It’s meant to kill you if you try to remove it yourself by pulling on it with tweezers.”

  Justine swallowed. “That’s evil!”

  I sighed. “How do we get it out of her without pulling the plug and letting the silver nitrate loose in her bloodstream?”

  “I don’t know. I have one, too.” Paloma fixed her undead eyes on Justine. “Are you one of the dungeon girls?”

  “Yes,” Justine replied. “I was.”

  “You poor thing. I’m from the dungeon, too. Five years ago. Bishop was my creator. He was Sharky’s predecessor.”

  “What happened to him?” I asked.

  “I killed Bishop with a silver corkscrew when I got sick of his abuse. I thought he was evil, but Sharky took over his turf and he is worse than Bishop. Much worse, and he inherited me when he took over Bishop’s turf. I feel for the girls down there. Some are feeders and some, he will eventually make into vampires when he tires of them. Then, he’ll kick them out the door and find them when he wants to play his sick vampire games.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean by vampire games?”

  “Sharky gets bored of doing drugs and drinking blood, so he makes his women vampires into gladiators. He makes them fight and kill each other in a ring for his own amusement. With betting and pay-per-view.”

  “That’s sick,” I said.

  “It is. They’re like horrible dogfights, but with vampires under his compulsions. He makes them fight hard, tear each other’s arms off even—and stab each other with silver. The winners get to feed. On the losers.”

  “Enough said.” I shuddered. “Why is Ace helping Sharky by providing tattoo services to mark up the vampires he created? I mean, I know it’s his cousin, but Ace seemed like a decent guy when I met him that one time.”

  “He is. Where did you meet him?”

  “I have a blood club in Echo Park. He came in once, when I first opened.”

  “Oh, you’re that Fang.”

  “Is there more than one?”

  “A lot of vampire dudes call themselves Fang.”

  I nodded. “Sounds plausible. So, why would Ace help Sharky torment his prisoners? I mean, aside from being cousins.”

  “Distant cousins. Sharky took our daughter, who was born before we became vampires. She’s human and she’s been in the dungeon for a month. If we don’t help Sharky and do everything he says, Carrie’s going to suffer the same fate as the rest of the dungeon girls. She’s six years old.”

  “Sharky really needs killing,” I said. “Now.”

  “That’s what I said,” Justine added.

  Paloma shook her head. “Hang on. You can’t just come in here and kill Sharky.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Because we don’t know where the dungeon is where he has our daughter. He moves it every month to a new place. If you kill him, we’ll never find our daughter to free her. Ace gets Sharky high and tries to get him to tell us where he has Carrie stashed. That’s how we’re playing it.”

  Justine and I exchanged glances.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  Justine said, “There’s only one way to do this. First, we track Sharky back to the dungeon and then, when we know where the dungeon is, we kill Sharky and free Carrie and everyone else.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Paloma said, looking hopeful. “But, Houston, we have a problem. Sharky knows where I am, where Justine is, at every moment. The data goes right to his phone and to his henchmen’s phones.”

  I folded my arms. “Henchmen? This is where I’ve messed up. I don’t have any henchmen.”

  Justine said, “Someone without a tracking
device needs to follow Sharky back to his lair.”

  I looked her right in the eye. “That would be me.”

  Chapter 16

  “I need a place to stash you two while I tail him,” I said. “Somewhere a cell signal can’t reach, so the GPS data of your location won’t go to their phones.”

  Justine said, “Tell me where there’s such a place in Los Angeles.”

  “Subway?” I suggested.

  Paloma shook her head. “They just got Wi-Fi at some of the stations and on some of the Metro trains. It even works in the tunnels. I don’t know which ones, though.”

  I used my cell phone to check the TripAdvisor web site.

  “What are you looking for online?” Justine asked.

  “For hotel consumer reviews about crappy cell phone reception in its rooms and also, if they charge extra for Wi-Fi. I’m going to find you two a hiding place with the least connectivity possible in the city of L.A.”

  “Brilliant,” Justine said.

  There were lots of complaints about that very thing on that web site. I managed to get both women stashed in a nearby Culver City hotel on Centinela Avenue. It was a typical rundown hookers’ hotel, even though it had once been an upscale establishment. Now, it was a neighborhood eyesore with crappy cell phone reception—and non-existent Wi-Fi unless you paid for it. It was the perfect place to hide the two vampiresses for a couple of hours.

  “Don’t kill my Ace if you see him, please,” was Paloma’s plea. “None of this is his fault and if he hangs out with Sharky, it’s just to try to get our daughter back.”

  I promised I wouldn’t, even though there was certainly a risk of that.

  After I got the ladies checked in, I walked them up to their room, which I’d rented for three hours. It was more than shabby. It was filthy.

  I saw a black speck moving on a pillowcase. “Bedbugs have been giving vampires a bad name since beds were invented.”

  “We’ll sit at the table on those plastic chairs,” Justine said. “Hurry, Fang.”

  I zoomed back to the tattoo shop in my SUV, just in time to see Ace leaving with a big-ass vampire who looked like he was way more than pissed off. He was livid.