Bishop's Flight, page 18
Carwyn and Bernard exchanged a look.
“So you saw it?” Bernard asked.
“Oh yeah. Gary had a barbecue a while back, was showing it off to everyone.” The man wrinkled his forehead. “Can’t remember what the name was. Dutch something. It was weird. Dutch Folly. Going Dutch.” He shrugged. “Can’t remember that bit.”
Carwyn stood. “Mr. Pickman, I don’t suppose you remember where he was going to dock it, do you?”
“I remember that part,” Gayle said. “Only place around here people dock houseboats. Callville Bay on Lake Mead. He had me looking into slips there, but then he dropped it. Not sure why. You want to find that houseboat? I’m sure it’ll be somewhere around Callville Bay.”
Twenty-Four
“Do you like being a vampire?”
It had been hours of searching the room for weaknesses, and Brigid was losing her patience.
She flexed her hands. “What kinda question is that?”
Lucas was lying on the bed, staring at the blank white ceiling overhead. “I’m just curious.”
She’d been experimenting with heating her hands and directing fire to try to melt the door lock, but they’d put some kind of sensor on it. As soon as it reached a certain degree, a cold blast of air filled the room and quenched the door.
She was getting frustrated and snappy. “I’m not happy or sad. It just is.”
“That’s a weird answer.”
“Why is that weird?” She stepped away from the door so she didn’t lose her cool and explode. “I am what I am. I could moan and cry about my human life being lost or about how I miss the sun or how I hate having to drink blood, but that won’t change the fact that all those things are my life now. Useless to complain about them.”
“I thought blood tasted good to vampires.”
Brigid considered the question. “It tastes… satisfying. Taste is different when you’re immortal. All your senses are elevated, so—”
“Is that why your voice is so soft?”
“D’ya ever let people finish answers? Or d’ya just jump in and ask the next question?”
Lucas stared at the opposite wall, evidently bored with the company and the conversation. “I can usually guess what people are going to say by the way they start their sentence, so it’s boring to have to listen to them spell out all the details.”
Brigid turned back to the door. “You really think you’re smart, don’tcha?”
“I am. I took a lot of tests when I was younger and I’m a genius. Diagnosed.”
Despite his attitude, the corner of her mouth turned up. “You say diagnosed like it’s a disease.”
“It kind of is.”
Brigid looked over her shoulder. Lucas had shifted on the narrow bed and drawn his knees up into his chest. He was staring at his sock-clad feet as he spoke.
“It’s hard to make friends when you’re smart. I used to think that being smart would mean that people would like me when I went to regular school. Like when you’re really good in sports and score a goal, that’s a good thing. People cheer for you.”
Brigid knew where this was going. “But not when you’re smart in school.”
“No.” Lucas shook his head. “At first that was really confusing. Then I realized why.”
“Why?”
“People think having athletic ability is rare. Not everyone is tall and good at basketball, you know? Not every person expects to be good at sports.”
“But all people expect to be smart?” Brigid turned back to the door and started to feel around the seams. Maybe the hinges were vulnerable.
“No, but no person wants to feel dumb.”
She turned to look at him again. “That’s true.”
“Yeah.”
She started heating the bottom hinge of the door, sending heat into the joint as she applied pressure with her shoulder. Any movement would mean—
“Fuck me!” She jumped back when the trigger released again. A cloud of frost and the smell of cold air filled the room. “Lucas, you okay?”
“It’s liquid nitrogen,” he said. “It would take a lot more than that to poison me. You wouldn’t die, obviously. Vampires can’t die from asphyxiation. You just stop talking.”
His clinical voice rubbed her the wrong way and she didn’t know why. “Do you like being smart, Lucas?”
“What kind of question is that?”
She looked over her shoulder.
He was smiling at her. “It just is.”
Brigid smiled back. “Yeah.”
“Better question.” He scooted to the edge of the bed. “What’s your favorite thing about being a vampire?”
“Honestly?” She leaned against a wall so as not to frighten the boy. “I love being someplace empty. A field or an island or something like that. Something with lots of fuel where I can feed my fire and the energy grows and grows and consumes everything. It gives me strength. I feel powerful and alive.”
His eyes narrowed. “You can’t feel powerful here because if you let go of your power—your fire—you’ll kill me.”
She nodded.
“But if you didn’t care about killing me, you could escape easily.”
She pointed to the wall she was leaning against. “I could explode. Turn myself into a bomb and blast my way out. If you weren’t human, you might even survive. I’ve done it before.”
“But I am human, so I’d die?” Lucas nodded. “That’s probably what Zasha wanted, right? To make you feel powerless.”
“I’m sure that’s something they’re enjoying, yeah.”
“And since you’re an ethical vampire, you won’t kill someone you were hired to protect.”
“I wouldn’t kill you even if I didn’t know you,” Brigid said. “You’re an innocent.”
His cheeks reddened. “Not really.”
“In my world, you’re an innocent. Trust me.” She smirked. “For a teenager? I don’t have any idea about that.” His face was still red and his blood smelled even more delectable. Brigid swallowed the heat in her throat and turned back to the wall, feeling the panel for something—anything—that could be exploited as a weakness. “What’s your favorite thing about being a genius?”
“Chess.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Chess?”
He nodded. “It’s a battle game. Did you know that? It originated in India as a military strategy game. The pieces we call castles or rooks were chariots. The bishops were elephants.”
“I’ve known a couple of bishops in my life. One might be mistaken for an elephant.”
It was useless. Brigid turned, let herself slide down the wall, let her arms rest on her knees.
Lucas stared at the wall in front of him, his eyes growing animated as he talked about chess. “Both the queen and the bishop were originally much weaker pieces. Now the queen is incredibly powerful and the bishop is equal in strength to a knight.” He looked at Brigid. “Sometimes I think of vampires like chess pieces.”
She smiled. “Really? Where do you think fire vampires fall? Are we the queens of the vampire world? Or the pawns?”
“Not pawns.” He shook his head. “Humans like me are the pawns.”
Brigid didn’t respond. He was right. Too often, humans were the pawns in vampire games.
Lucas’s eyes darted around as if he was watching a chess game on the plain white wall of the narrow bedroom. “The piece you are would depend on if you care about collateral damage.”
“Like Zasha?”
“Zasha is a knight.” Lucas’s voice was definitive. “They don’t care about collateral damage, so they’re flexible. Good in close combat with a lot of different pieces on the board. If someone gets damaged in the game, they don’t care.”
Lucas. Miguel. Alina. All were collateral damage in Zasha’s game.
“Yeah,” Brigid said. “I can see that.”
Lucas looked at her. “You’re more like a bishop.”
She snorted. Brigid a bishop? Not likely.
“I don’t look much like a holy man or an elephant, kid.” She stood again and started to pace the room, trying to find a way to protect Lucas so she could bust out of the ship. She’d tried simply punching through the hull with a heated hand and that did nothing.
“There’s nothing holy about the bishop in chess,” he said. “You have to forget the religious connotations. The bishop is a powerful piece that can move great distances as long as it has room to maneuver. A clear board.” He scooted forward, clearly loving the metaphor. “Right now you’re obstructed by a pawn.” He pointed at his chest. “Me.”
“Exactly.” She was more than obstructed, she was stymied.
“But you’ll figure out a way to move me out of your path. You’re smarter than most vampires.”
She frowned. “Thanks?”
“That’s when bishops can work best, when they have a clear board. You can do a lot as long as you don’t have obstacles in your way.”
Callville Bay Marina was a dot on the north side of Lake Mead, nearly an hour away from downtown Las Vegas. The marina was a sparsely populated outpost with little more than a curving building topped with red tile, a long boat launch, and rows and rows of white-and-blue houseboats bobbing quietly in the calm blue waters of the lake.
Lake Mead itself was a deep blue slash in a sea of desert brown. Unlike the California lakes Carwyn was familiar with, it wasn’t surrounded by forests or meadows. It was a massive flooded canyon in an immense desert landscape. A few struggling palm trees attempted to give it some character, but the emptiness was profound. The lake was rimmed by rock walls, boulders, and narrow sandy beaches.
Carwyn looked at the lake on the map. “It’s huge.”
“Over five hundred miles of shoreline.” Bernard had changed out of his suit and was overseeing the group of searchers.
“And the houseboats” —Carwyn glanced at the square white vessels in the marina and scanned the map— “they can go anywhere?”
“It’s expansive, but we’ll utilize our wind vampires to scan the area and look for possibilities. Chances are they’re not far from the marina.”
“They’re getting papers every day.”
“Exactly.”
“Unless Zasha has wind vampires too.”
Bernard muttered, “Yes, I had thought of that.”
Carwyn suspected that even if Zasha had a flyer or two on the payroll, the boy was being guarded by humans. Zasha might have been the grand-orchestra conductor in this twisted symphony, but holding a human required twenty-four-hour awareness, which vampires didn’t have.
“Do we have pictures of the houseboat?” Bernard asked.
“Lee looked online.” Carwyn spread out three printed photographs. “If Gayle’s husband was correct, it’s a Summerland houseboat that looks something like this. We don’t know the year, and nothing in the records was registered to Gary Preston, but these are the most likely possibilities.”
Bernard studied the photographs. “With Dutch in the name.”
“It’s late, not many people are around, and frankly it’s only the beginning of houseboat season according to what Lee could find,” Carwyn said. “I think we’ll do better to track activity than track the boat.”
“Agreed.” Bernard gave a sharp nod. “Rose and Agnes have already alerted their businesses in this area to be on the lookout for strangers. They have people in Boulder City, which is south of here, the Lake Las Vegas area, and Temple Bar Marina. They’ll report any unusual vampires so we can question anyone who doesn’t owe allegiance to Agnes and Rose.”
Carwyn raised an eyebrow. “Is that wise?” Las Vegas had become popular in the immortal world for its hands-off, don’t-ask-questions policy. It was one of the reasons they had so many vampires who came to the city for holidays.
“From a hospitality perspective? It could backfire.” Bernard crossed his arms. “But I advised them that a few grumbles were preferable to a quiet takeover from the shadows. Until Brigid and Lucas are found, hospitality comes second to security. One of the patrols has already picked up a couple of Russian-speaking vampires hanging around the South Shore in Lake Las Vegas.”
“And?”
“They claimed to be socializing at the country club. We’re holding them for now, and we called Oleg.”
Carwyn stared at the lake, feeling ill at ease. Agnes and Rose had water vampires on the payroll, but not many. He was worthless on a boat, and Brigid was apparently being housed in very small quarters with a human child she had to protect. For a young fire vampire like Brigid, it was a recipe for disaster.
“Boss!” A human came running up. “Possible lead. There’s an old guy at the store, says a foreign couple come in every morning to pick up the newspaper and snacks. They’re staying on a houseboat in the marina. They said they were on holiday.”
“Foreign? He couldn’t be more specific?”
The man shrugged. “I asked. He just said they were tall, white, and foreign.”
Bernard grimaced. “Did he know which slip?”
“He’s trying to call a dockhand he knows at the marina. Says the couple has been here for just over a week, keep to themselves, and don’t chitchat much.”
“Is there any way we can get down on those docks and just walk around?” Carwyn knew if he could get close enough to Brigid, even with her on the water, he would be able to find her. He could feel her frustration growing in his heart, and he was starting to worry she’d try something desperate to escape.
Like a badger in a barn.
Badgers could do damage. A whole hell of a lot of damage if they got desperate enough.
Brigid heard footsteps above them. Scurrying feet and a heavy clatter. Something that sounded an awful lot like a body dropped to the deck overhead.
“What was that?” Lucas looked up.
“I think something fell.” Something or someone. Brigid went to stand in front of Lucas, blocking the boy from anyone who came through the door. “Stay behind me.”
“Is it Zasha?”
“I think so.”
Lucas sounded nonchalant. “I don’t think they’re going to hurt me.”
You don’t know Zasha.
“Zasha gave your mothers a deadline to hand over the city,” Brigid said. “And that deadline passes tonight.”
“What does that mean?” His voice finally sounded a little less detached.
“It means that they may have figured out what you knew days ago.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Checkmate.”
Lucas’s dark eyes were wide. “Brigid—”
A thought sprang into her mind and she spun around. “Can you swim?”
It was a last resort, but it was better than nothing. Carwyn was not going to find them surrounded by water. She had no idea where they were, but they didn’t have time to wait for help.
“Y-yes.” Lucas’s eyes went wide. “I can swim.”
“Go to the bathroom. Get in the shower and turn the water on. Soak yourself. Your clothes, your hair, everything. Is there a fan?”
Lucas scrambled to his feet. “Yeah.”
“Turn it on and leave it on.” Brigid’s eyes never left the door. She could hear something approaching, and the faint scent of ash that pricked her nose told her a familiar vampire was walking toward them.
“Maybe I could kill a vampire.” Lucas stood in front of her, his thin body shaking. “If I had to.” Lucas walked away and slammed the door to the bathroom. “I’m shutting the door, locking it, and turning on the fan and the water.”
“Good lad.” Brigid waited for the door to open with a crash or a bang, but a faint tap and a creaking hinge was the only warning before a familiar pale face peeped through the door.
“Brigid.” Zasha Sokholov smiled. “It’s been too long.”
Twenty-Five
Carwyn, Bernard, and three humans walked down the broad dock, the humans in front of them armed and checking to the right and the left as they made their way to the covered slip where the “foreign” couple was staying.
They passed a large warehouse and smaller boat slips on the left, and then the first row of uncovered houseboat moorings was on their left with more on the right, cozied up to the main dock closest to shore.
“How big was their houseboat?” Carwyn asked quietly.
“The old man didn’t know.”
They passed the second row of moorings, and in the distance, Carwyn could see a few lights dotting houseboat windows.
The third branch of the dock stretched out to the left and into the darkness of the lake at night, the moonless night made more profound by the soaring metal roofs that sheltered the watercraft on the third row of boat slips.
“Here.” Bernard turned left and started down the walkway, moving at human speed as his eyes darted right and left. “Their houseboat is on the right side.”
There were a few ordinary humans sitting out on the decks now that the day had cooled to night, enjoying the desert breeze and the warm, dry air off the shore.
“Three down on the right,” Bernard whispered.
Carwyn heard the proclamation as if it were a bomb. “She’s not here.”
“We have to look.”
He could feel her in his chest, her blood mingled with his. “Fine, but she’s not here. I can’t feel her.”
Bernard stopped at the slip that the store owner had mentioned. In the darkness, the glowing white walls reflected the hint of light from the low lights that marked the walkways.
The houseboat’s name was Desert Breeze, and it looked like a rental. There was generic furniture on the back deck, little clutter or anything personal, and two bikes were tied up to the storage box nailed to the dock.
“Hello, Desert Breeze,” Bernard called. “Authorities from the Callville Bay harbormaster. We’d like to ask you some questions.”
Carwyn heard feet moving on the deck, and a tall, thin couple came walking from the front.
Brigid was not here. He couldn’t feel her, and if his mate were aboard this boat, there would be no way to fool his amnis.
