Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Back at the office, I told Sophia to return Alf’s retainer and let him know we wouldn’t be able to handle his case. I had the strong suspicion that Holden was right and it was an attempted case of insurance fraud.

I asked Sophia to transcribe the recording from Penn. “If you could have them ready by tomorrow, for Friday’s staff meeting.”

“Sure thing,” Sophia said. “I’ve got time this afternoon.”

“Is Orik back from the Supe Community Action Council meeting yet?”

She shook her head. “He texted that traffic’s nuts—there were several accidents thanks to the heavy rain, and he’s not going to be back at the office until after five.”

I glanced at the clock. “Well, text him back, tell him that if he wants to go directly home, that’s fine. He can fill us in tomorrow morning.” I turned to Dante. “So, I guess we catch up on paperwork for now.”

We got to work, crossing Alf off our list of to-do’s, for the rest of the afternoon.

“I’ll meet you back here at 8:30,” I said. “Text Orik to remind him that we’re due at the Green Goblin tonight.”

“Sure thing,” Dante said, waving as he headed out the door.

As I headed home to change, I decided that I didn’t feel like cooking, so I decided to stop off at Champs, a bluesy bar and grill run by a Cedric, a kobold—a northern European form of goblin. They were handy and had good business sense. They were also grumpy and canny as flint, but they took pride in their work. They never diluted the liquor, or served bad food. And I’d need food before hitting the Underground. We needed to be clear headed, and hunger impeded brainpower.

I sat down at the bar, given all the booths were full. A rough looking kobold pulled out an order pad. “What’ll you have?”

I glanced at the menu, then put it back. “Clam chowder, cheesy bread, and coffee with cream.”

“Sure thing. New England or Manhattan chowder?”

“New England.”

Cedric scribbled on the pad and then tore off the slip and slapped it up on the order wheel, in a distinctly old-fashioned sort of way. Then, he poured me a cup of coffee and set it in front of me, along with a little bowl of creamers.

“Thanks, Cedric,” I said. I had been in Champs often enough that he knew me by sight.

“No problem,” he said, giving me a grudging smile. “Wet enough out there for you?”

“Eh, I like the rain, but yes, we’re on our way to winter. So, how’s business going?”

Cedric gave me a half-assed shrug. “So-so. A new restaurant went in down the street, and they’re taking some of my clientele. They’re a chain, so people trust them better.”

I glanced around. The food was good, but the place looked like a dive. “Um, Cedric, can I make a suggestion?”

He threw the bar towel over his shoulder and leaned against the bar. He was standing on a custom step he’d had built behind the bar, given kobolds were shorter than most humans. “Sure, what the hell. Hit me with it.”

“If you want to attract more customers, you might want to spruce up the décor,” I said. “I’ve been coming here for a long time, but let’s face it. The place could use a good paint job, inside and out, and the upholstery on the booths is threadbare, along with the carpet.”

He stared at me for a moment, then sighed. “I know, I know. It pisses me off. We’re clean. We have good food. It shouldn’t matter.”

“Ambience matters, Cedric. I come here because I love your food, and I’ve got a thing for dark dives. But…you want more customers? Jack up the place.” I unfurled my napkin as he set a large bowl of chowder in front of me, along with a plate of cheesy French bread. I waved off the crackers—I hated mushy bread of any kind—and spooned up a mouthful of the soup.

“Good,” I mumbled, biting into the bread. “You make good food.”

“Well, good. Holler if you want more,” Cedric said. “And as to your suggestion, I’ll think about it.” He moved down the bar to take orders from a couple of city workers still wearing their vests who looked like they’d had a long, cold day out in the rain.

I finished my chowder and bread, and asked for a refill on the soup. After I was done, I felt ready to take on the rain-soaked evening and head home. I tossed a twenty on the table—enough for the food and a tip—and waved at Cedric, who was busy making drinks for a couple customers. He waved back.

It was dark and drizzly as I headed out to my car. The diner had been full when I went in, and the lot had been packed. I’d managed to find a parking spot near the end, on the far side from the street. As I walked briskly toward my car, I became aware of someone following me. Goosebumps rose on my arms, and my skin prickled.

I looked around, but there was no one in sight. Still, I kept my senses on alert. I’d learned the hard way to pay attention to them.

As I reached the dumpsters that were near the far end of the parking lot, I shivered. I could feel someone following me—I could almost hear their steps. I didn’t want to alert whoever it was though, and if it was someone headed to their own car, I didn’t want to frighten them. As I passed the last dumpster, I darted to the side and listened.

There —two footsteps. Then, silence. I quickly bent to retrieve the short dagger that was in my boot sheath, and waited.

The next moment, a figure appeared directly in front of me, cloaked in shadow and difficult to make out.

I jumped back, into the dim light of the overheads, my dagger up. “Whoever you are, I don’t recommend messing with me. I fight to win.”

“Do you, now?” The voice was male, and he was beside me again in seconds, so fast I could barely see him move. Shit, it had to be a vampire. As he reached for me, I lowered my voice to be stone-cold.

“I’m wearing silver, so you might want to back away. And my dagger’s silver as well. If you want to get your fingers burned, feel free. But don’t underestimate me.”

All the myths about silver affecting wolf shifters and demons were only that—myths. But the metal did burn vampires. There were several theories as to why, but nobody really knew.

The vamp paused, and in that moment, I lunged at him, high-kicking him as I spun on my heel. I clocked his chin with the end point of the stiletto.

He stumbled back, caught unaware, and grunted. I spun again, like I was doing a cartwheel with my legs, and once more, hit him, this time in the chest.

“Bitch,” he snarled, shaking off the attack. He leaped toward me and I darted to the side. Very few people could out maneuver a vamp, but I’d trained with the best, and I’d also learned to fight in heels, considering how much I loved them.

I knew in the long run, he’d have the advantage, unless I managed to stake him in the heart, and while I stood a chance of doing so, it would be best if I could get the fuck out of there.

I was in arm’s length of his hand as he made another grab for me, so I stabbed the top of his hand with my dagger and, when I realized it would take a minute to jerk it out, I left the dagger and ran to my car, unlocking it with the fob as I did so.

He was snarling, trying to shake the dagger off as I yanked the door open and slid into the front seat, slamming the door and locking it.

As with houses, a vampire couldn’t enter your car without permission, and he knew it. He gave me one long gleaming-eyed look and then turned and vanished in a blur of speed. I held tight to the steering wheel, breathing hard.

Then, glancing at the time, I saw that it was seven. I still had time, so I called the cops to report the attack. Rogue vampires were a danger to everyone, and they needed to know one was on the loose.

After giving my report to the officers, they returned my dagger. The vamp had tossed it on the ground after getting it out of his hand. Still shaken, I headed home. While vampires didn’t bleed—even after they fed—I needed to change my clothes.

At home, I fed the cats and changed into a clean pair of leather pants. I put on a turtleneck. Especially after what had happened, I didn’t want to offer up enticement to any of the vampires we might see in the Underground. I decided on a pair of leather ankle boots, strong enough to offer protection but light enough to run in, and the shrugged into my leather coat. I slid a chunky silver chain around my neck, hiding it beneath the turtleneck. They might feel its presence, but they wouldn’t be able to see it and claim affront.

I was still so on edge that I found my bottle of Calm Drops in the medicine cabinet. Calm Drops were an herbal remedy specifically for all sorts of Supes, and while it wasn’t a relaxant like pot, it was soothing—enough to take the edge off without impairing alertness or judgement. I popped a few drops on my tongue and swallowed, grimacing at the bitter taste.

After that, I doublechecked my wards. Penn made them for me, they guarded against spirits and vampires, as well as general protection. They still looked good. She’d added some ingredient that turned a neon blue when it was losing its potency.

Murdoch and Jangles came racing past, playing chase, and I lowered myself to the floor, calling them over. Petting cats calmed me. Their purrs seemed to run on a frequency that calmed any anxiety I had, and they seemed to reduce the anger that occasionally swept over me.

Jangles crawled onto my lap and curled up. Murdoch walked up and looked at her, as though he was waiting for permission to join her. She purped, and he tentatively placed a foot on my lap. I adjusted so they could both fit and they curled up into a tangled ball.

As I stroked their fur, I thought about the attack. I hadn’t recognized him, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t somebody with a grudge against me. I’d put a lot of people behind bars. But then again, rogue vampires were seldom identified before they went after a victim, and they were hunted down and destroyed.

I had been walking in a dark, isolated part of the parking lot, and he had no way of knowing that I was trained in numerous forms of martial arts, as well as simple dirty street-fighting.

“So, it’s been a long day,” I murmured. Both Jangles and Murdoch gazed up at me, slow blinking as I smoothed their fur. “And it’s going to be longer still. Listen, be good kits while I’m away tonight. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

Reluctantly, I gently shifted them off my lap and then, after washing and drying my dagger, I slid it back into my boot. I also tucked silver-plated brass knuckles into my jacket pocket, tucked my wallet into my inner pocket so I could leave my purse at home, and braided my hair back. I touched up my makeup, then thought about eating a clove of garlic but decided that was overkill and rude.

As I armed the alarm and then locked the door, I once again was grateful to Dante for convincing me to install the security cams. He was always looking out for me, even when I tried to tell him he didn’t need to.

Seattle at night was a beautiful city—and a dangerous one. Oh, there were cities that were, on the surface, more dangerous, but the Underground meant that Seattle literally had two layers. The surface, and then the Underground, which reached down several levels. Most of its inhabitants were suspect, at the least.

The Emerald City, as Seattle was called, spread around Puget Sound. It was a major port city, and an international gateway. Also dubbed “Little San Francisco,” the hills weren’t as drastic, but they were steep. During the winter, even small amounts of snow stopped the city dead in its tracks. Ice and snow shut down a number of streets due to their steep grade. The Queen Anne district, where my office was, was one of them. Luckily, most winters were chilly, rainy, but not blanketed in white.

As I headed for the office—we were meeting up and driving to the Underground together—I cranked up the music. The windshield wipers seemed to keep rhythm with the song. Deap Vally’s Royal Jelly was one of my favorites, with a heavy cadence and a strong beat. I sang along with the song as my wheels ate up the asphalt under the dim street lights.

Once at the office, I waited in the parking lot, given the rain was sheeting down. A few minutes after I got there, Dante pulled in, and right after him, Orik.

Dante was wearing his usual faux fur white jacket, over a pair of distressed jeans, a leather vest and black shirt that hid his neck. Orik followed the same suit as Dante and me, wearing a black turtleneck, a camo jacket, and a pair of dark jeans. They climbed in my car, though Orik had to lean forward a little. I pulled out and we were on our way.

“Remember, if you’re wearing silver, don’t let it show,” I said. “Don’t split up, not unless we have to. Keep alert at all times. While rogue vamps aren’t technically allowed, they’re out there. In fact, tonight I was attacked by one.”

“What the hell?” Dante asked.

I told them about the skirmish at the diner. “I reported him to the cops. They told me there seem to be more incidents like this happening. They also said the incidents of gang violence are up, as are general fights and brawls.”

“Are we near a full moon? That can bring the crazies out of the woodwork,” Dante said.

“No, and we’re far enough from the new moon that it shouldn’t be affecting us either,” I said. “Whatever the case, watch your back. And watch each other.”

The drive down to First Street, where the official entrance to the Underground was, didn’t take long. There wasn’t any parking near the entrance, so we found a parking lot a block away and made a fast walk to the official Underground entrance. There were several known entrances, and a lot of hidden ones, but the one through which most of the public entered was through a large gateway between two buildings.

Underground Seattle had started out as Seattle proper. Long ago, when Seattle was still a young city, it had been a lot lower. In fact, parts of it had been built on tidepools that had been filled in, which meant lots of flooding through the streets. Then, in 1889, a fire broke out that destroyed a number of shops. When they rebuilt, they built several stories higher, built over what had been the original streets. Those shops and streets became what was known as underground Seattle, and finally—just the Underground.

A few questionable figures began to rebuild down in the Underground, especially vampires—because it protected them from sunlight. Goblins and gang leaders established some of their headquarters down there, along with other unsavory types. The Underground went from being a burned-out shell of the past to a thriving commerce center and club scene.

To get there, you had to go through an entrance and then take either the stairs or elevators down to the main floors. While minors were technically banned, nobody paid much attention until a teenager got murdered or disappeared. Then there would be a commotion, but like the era of school shootings, it would fade out of the news until the next incident happened.

As we passed through the station-like terminal leading to the Underground, the mood shifted dramatically. It was as though a shadow lowered to shroud everyone in an uneasy embrace. My internal alarms were awake and kicking.

“Every time I come here, I get the creeps,” I said as we headed for the stairs. I trusted them better than I trusted being trapped in an elevator with people who were on the shady side of the street.

“Yeah, me too,” Orik said.

Dante shrugged. “I’m good, but I’m not going to turn my back on anybody.”

As we descended the stairs to the fourth level below the city streets—there were five, from what I understood—every step felt like another layer separating us from the outside. I wasn’t entirely claustrophobic, but I didn’t like being trapped in small spaces, and I wasn’t fond of caverns or basements. This was like being in a basement, on steroids.

“Ready?” I said, as we came to the door leading into the fourth level down.

“About as ready as I’ll ever be,” Dante said.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door, and we stepped into the heart of the Underground.