Bishop's Flight, page 8
Rumors in the vampire world cast him as a lover of many women, but there were none in view that night. His rumored relationships read like a who’s who of powerful women in the vampire world.
He wasn’t wearing a suit like most of the men around him but a Cuban-style embroidered shirt and a pair of linen pants, suitable for the warm spring weather in the desert.
“Oleg Sokolov.” Brigid walked up the steps with Bernard behind her. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you. How are you?”
“I am doing well.” He ushered them into the house. “Can I take your coats and weapons please?”
“Of course.” It made Brigid nervous to remove her coat, then her 9mm, then the two daggers strapped to her chest. The ankle holster was the last to be removed; then she stood in Oleg’s front room, utterly naked except for her clothes and her fangs.
“My friend.” Oleg leaned down and hugged her. “How is Anne? It has been too long since I have seen her.” Oleg smelled like pine and woodsmoke. It was a more-than-pleasant scent.
“I video chatted with Anne last month. She’s doing well. Spending more time at the country house in Galway these days, I think.”
“It’s a beautiful refuge; I cannot blame her.”
“And you’ve met Bernard of course?” Brigid turned to introduce the taller vampire. “Agnes’s first lieutenant. Bernard, did you have the…?”
“Of course.” Bernard turned to the driver, who was following them with a large pink box from the Del Marco bakery. He took the box and handed it to Oleg. “We brought something for tea.”
It had been Brigid’s suggestion, based on her experience working with Katya, and the gesture was obviously taken well.
“So thoughtful.” Oleg snapped his fingers, and a tattooed human rushed forward to take the pink box. “I will have the cook add it to the tea service. Come, join me in the sitting room. It’s most beautiful this time of night.”
The sitting room where he led them was a glass-paneled wonder with a glass roof and walls that overlooked the glittering lakeshore and the hills in the distance. The lights of the Strip lit up the night sky, casting the desert black in a deep blue velvet with only a few scattered stars.
“Is that a dock?” Brigid looked down the hill to a square house that seemed to hover over the water. “You have a boathouse too?”
“And a boat for the boathouse.” Oleg smiled. “I confess I do not use it much, but visitors seem to enjoy this little… body of water.” He waved at the lake. “It’s man-made, but it’s suitable for a holiday home.”
“I imagine you have much bigger lakes in your home region.”
“We do.” He smiled a secret smile. “There is no place as beautiful as my home. I freely admit that I miss the stars there, but Las Vegas is an excellent place to do business, especially due to the current political situation.” Oleg glanced at Bernard. “Your mistresses run the city well. I give them my thanks.”
“I will be glad to share that with them.”
“Please do.” His expression was solemn. “When I got your message, Brigid, it was vague but it mentioned my associate Mika. I do hope there has been no trouble. He’s typically a very disciplined employee.”
“No trouble at all,” Brigid said. “We were actually hoping to speak to him about someone he met at a bar in town about a week ago.”
Oleg raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps it is someone I know as well?”
“Do you know a young woman named Alina Oorzhak? She may be working for a very distant family member of your clan.”
Oleg’s eye twitched. It was barely perceptible, but she caught it. “You’re speaking of Zasha.”
“I am.”
“Has there been some trouble?” Oleg looked at Brigid and narrowed his gaze as if he knew she wouldn’t have been in the city if everything was A-OK. “If Alina is around, so is Zasha. She’s their pet.”
Brigid looked at Bernard. It was up to him how much he wanted to share.
“There is an isolated situation that has come up regarding Zasha Sokholov,” Bernard said. “We understand that you and Zasha have different organizations. We would not want to trouble you with the details, but we were hoping to locate Alina and wondered if Mr. Arakas might know her whereabouts.”
“Of course.” Oleg waved someone over and muttered something low in Russian. “We will fetch him, but I hope you have time to join me for tea.”
“Of course,” Brigid said. “We would love that.”
Within seconds, an elaborately decorated samovar was brought out along with a steaming pot of tea and plate after plate of sweets and pastries, among them the petits fours that the baker at the Del Marco had made.
“Tell me, Brigid, what kind of trouble has Zasha been making?” Oleg snapped his fingers, barked something in Russian, and as fast as the servants and guards had appeared, they disappeared, leaving Oleg, Brigid, and Bernard alone. “I have called for Mika, but please, you must tell me. What has Zasha done?”
Brigid glanced at Bernard.
“I trust your judgment,” he murmured.
How could she make Oleg understand the seriousness of the situation without revealing the threat against Agnes and Rose?
Brigid turned to Oleg. “A couple of years ago, my husband and I were part of a team that Katya Grigorieva sent to the forest in Mendocino County. She’d discovered that Ivan Sokholov had been holding unauthorized hunts in the region and needed to be dealt with.”
Oleg poured dark tea concentrate into a teacup, added water, and handed the delicate cup to Brigid. “I see. You and Carwyn were part of this… team.”
Brigid heard the unspoken question. Did she and Carwyn have political aspirations in California? “One of the humans taken was related to Carwyn’s clan.”
“An understandable intervention then.” He poured another cup of tea for Bernard. “Continue.”
“Ivan was killed, and though Carwyn and I were not directly responsible for the death, we encountered Zasha during the battle.”
“Ivan’s loving sire.” Oleg’s smile was humorless. “Zasha has always taken after our late sire. Both the cunning and the cruelty.”
“They’ve become fixated on me,” Brigid said. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m a fellow fire vampire or if it’s because I was involved in Ivan’s death—”
“Zasha had no real paternal feelings for Ivan, just like most of my extended family has only a loose connection to their kin. It wasn’t a value we were taught.”
“Then I have no idea why they have become obsessed, but they have stalked Carwyn and me across the country, going so far as to try to undermine Marie-Hélène Charmont in New Orleans.”
Oleg poured his own cup of tea and sat with it for a moment, adding some sugar after he’d taken the first sip. “I see and I do not.”
“We don’t want to bring trouble to your door, Oleg. Does Mika know where this girl is? It’s imperative that we ask her some questions.”
Oleg took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. The corner of his mouth turned up in a rueful grimace. “Would that you had come to me with this question last week, my friend.”
Brigid’s heart sank. “What happened?”
“Two days ago, Mika discovered that Alina had been drugging one of the guards here at the compound to obtain information about our organization. We supposed it was for Zasha, of course. It was not the first time the girl had made unwise decisions for money.” He shrugged. “She’d been warned before, and she ignored it. Alina Oorzhak is dead.”
Eleven
Carwyn sat in the car in the parking lot of the Pink Daiquiri Gentleman’s Club in Henderson, Nevada, only minutes from the Las Vegas Strip and light-years from the small parish he’d watched over for centuries.
Miguel was watching his obvious discomfort. “Not a fan of the strip clubs, eh?”
“I was a Catholic priest for about ten centuries.”
The human guard blinked. “Oh yeah, I can see how that wouldn’t be something you… Yeah.”
“I’m not a prude.” Carwyn stared at the flashing neon lights as men strode into the club, laughing and joking with their friends. “The human body is a beautiful thing, and I believe practicing modesty is more to do with living a humble life than covering up skin.”
Miguel opened his door. “Hey. These girls gotta make a living, you know?”
“I don’t judge them.” Carwyn joined Miguel exiting the car, his eyes still watching the men entering the club. “I do judge them.”
Miguel laughed. “I mean, it’s just a little T and A, Father.”
“Exactly. And to most of the men entering this place, that’s all these women are. Tits and ass.” Carwyn followed Miguel through the double doors. “I believe all human beings are far more than their physical selves, but you are entitled to believe as you will.”
They paid the cover in cash and walked into the club, then Carwyn waited for Miguel to speak to the bouncer watching the bar. The man nodded and pointed to a stool where a middle-aged woman with short blond hair was watching the stage and talking on the phone.
“That’s Cheryl. She’s the owner,” Miguel said. “Bouncer said we need to talk to her first.”
“Does she know Agnes and Rose?”
“Everyone knows the Del Marco.” Miguel turned. “I have a private investigator’s license too. That helps.”
There were two women dancing on the stage, both topless and wearing G-strings as they performed. Carwyn glanced at them but watched the crowd more.
Was the high roller the bartender had mentioned to Brigid in the room? Was Savannah a favorite?
Any number of the men could fit the description of the guy Alina had been trying to lure.
Miguel reached the bar and greeted Cheryl. “Miss Scarsdale?”
The woman turned to Miguel and Carwyn. “Just call me Cheryl, honey. You need something?”
“My name is Miguel Cerritos, and this is my associate Carwyn.”
Carwyn nodded. “Madam.”
Her eyebrows went up. “You’re a cute one. Where you from?”
“I’m originally from North Wales, but I currently live in California.”
“Cutie.” She seemed pleased to make their acquaintance. “I love your accent.”
“And I like yours.” Carwyn turned on the charm. “You’re the owner of the bar, yes?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “You like it?”
Carwyn looked at the stage where the two women were now sitting on chairs and performing a seductive routine. He turned back to Cheryl. “I have mixed feelings about the commodification of the female body for the pleasure of the male gaze.”
Cheryl lit a cigarette. “Don’t we all?”
“But your dancers are clearly very talented.”
“Thanks.” She blew out the smoke and looked at Miguel. “Who do you work for?”
“I’m a private investigator working for the Di Marcos. Are you familiar?”
“Sweetie, everyone knows Rose Di Marco. What do you need from me?”
“We were hoping to speak with one of your dancers. Savannah? We’re not sure of the last name.”
“We only got one Savannah. She in trouble?” The woman’s gaze turned sharp. “She’s a good girl and she doesn’t cause any trouble. Far as I know, she ain’t got no vices or exes. You get me?”
Carwyn leaned in. “I appreciate that you’re protective of your employees.”
She narrowed her eyes. “When they deserve it, I am.”
“She’s not in any trouble. A friend of hers mentioned that she knew a certain gentleman we’re trying to locate. He could be involved in a crime against a minor, and all we want is information from Savannah. If she could help us, Rose Di Marco would owe her a favor.”
“Any blowback for Savannah?”
“There’s absolutely no reason we’d even have to mention her name.”
Cheryl considered it for a moment, then nodded. “She’s in back. I can give you one of the private rooms to talk. It’s early. No one’s in ’em yet. If she wants to answer your questions, she can. If she doesn’t, that’s up to her. You’ll still pay her for a private hour.”
Miguel nodded. “Fair enough.”
“We appreciate your cooperation and your protective nature toward Savannah,” Carwyn said.
The woman didn’t seem to know what to make of him. “Right. Follow me. I’ll point you to one of the rooms, then I’ll get Savannah for you.”
“Appreciate it,” Miguel said.
They followed Cheryl down a pink-lit hallway with mirrors on the walls and four doors that were upholstered in pink leather with black buttons. She opened one, waved them inside, then shut the door behind them.
Miguel sat on one of the black leather couches that lined the walls. “So you have problems with the commodification of the female body, huh?”
“Mixed feelings.” Carwyn sat down as well, trying not to think of the many human asses that had sat on the couch before him. “Do you think they clean these?”
“I’m pretty sure they’d have to. So how do these mixed feelings come into play when it comes to blood donors, huh?”
“Fair question.” Carwyn looked around the room, immediately spotting the two cameras that were watching them. “I’ll have to get back to you on that one.” He nodded to the cameras.
“Right.” Miguel stretched his arm across the back of the couch. “I mean, I get it. I wouldn’t want my sister being a stripper, but it’s not because of her, you know? She wants to do… whatever. That’s up to her. I just know the mentality of the guys who go to these places, you know?”
“Exactly. You can’t erase the context of the interaction.”
“No one’s forcing them to do it though. They make good money.”
“As they should. And some of them could be forced or coerced. You don’t know their whole story.”
“But you’d like it better if they were on the stage dancing and presenting a paper on literature or archaeology or something instead of taking their clothes off?”
“You have to admit that would be the absolute best way to listen to a presentation on archaeology.”
Miguel pursed his lips and nodded. “You’re not wrong.”
Savannah was a statuesque young woman nearly as tall as Miguel. She had thrown on a robe and was wearing something glittery underneath. She sat across from Miguel and Carwyn, holding her robe closed at the neck. “I don’t know. I see a lot of people when I bartend.”
“We have a picture.” Miguel showed her the picture of Alina.
“Oh my God, I do remember her.” She tapped a short pink nail on the picture. “She was something else. Just a guy magnet, you know? She had that sexy baby thing going on but with a Russian accent.” Savannah rolled her eyes. “Probably fake, but whatever.”
“She is Russian, and she’s been making the rounds of the casinos. She was seen at the Del Marco a few days before a young man went missing from the casino,” Carwyn said. “Sierra said there was a particular man this girl was flirting with.”
“Hard-core, yeah. He’s usually one of my best tippers, which is why I always schedule work on nights when San Diego State is playing.”
“Do you know his name?”
“I remember his credit card. Gary Preston, Summit Mountain Development. Pretty sure he was a real estate guy, that kind of development, you know?”
“That’s helpful,” Miguel said. “Thank you so much.”
“She was flirting with a couple of guys, but Gary was the only one I remember clearly.” She narrowed her eyes. “But there were so many guys in there that night, and then there was the weirdo.”
Carwyn leaned forward. “Weirdo?”
“I mean, you see a lot working in a casino, so not much fazes me, but this guy had to be six foot, flaming red hair down to his shoulders, and he was wearing something that looked like an oversized bathrobe. He just appears out of the convention area, barks something at the blond girl when she was practically in Gary’s lap one night, and she runs after him like he’s her dad or something.” She wrinkled her nose. “Was he her dad? I have this vivid impression of this guy, but I could not have told you how old he was, you know? He seemed really old somehow, but his face was young. And pretty. Like, ridiculously pretty.”
So Zasha was at the casino? Carwyn hadn’t been expecting that.
“Was anyone with the redhead?”
Savannah’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my God, you have red hair too. Are you like, related? He wasn’t as tall or as built as you, but—”
“Not related,” Carwyn said. “Not Russian. But we are interested if anyone was with them.”
“Uh…” She huffed out a breath. “I don’t think so, but like, he was really striking, so I might not have noticed. It was the March Madness finals and the bar was crazy busy.”
“Thank you so much, Savannah.” Miguel handed over a card. “This card has my personal cell phone number on it, so if you remember anything else, just call me. Or if you see either of these two people again, please call.”
“Yeah sure.” She smiled. “The girl had been hanging out for a few days, but I haven’t seen her recently. She kind of disappeared after the car show, so she was maybe working with one of the vendors or something.”
“That’s possible.”
Carwyn smiled. “Thank you. Can I ask, are you going to school or does working take all your time? You’re quite young.”
“I’m trying to do online classes right now, but it’s hard. The good thing is, I’m a saver, so I figure about three more years here, then I can just do bartending and go to school-full-time.”
“Brilliant. What do you want to study?”
“I’ve been thinking about teaching, but I also really love history. I don’t know. Maybe archaeology or something, but I don’t know how practical that is.”
Carwyn’s eyes lit up. “I think you’d be a brilliant archaeologist.”
A broad smile spread across her face. “Thanks!”
