Billy the Kid & the Vampyres of Vegas (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #5.5) (2 page)

The cordless telephone and answering machine on the corner of the desk were the only modern devices in the room. The answering machine was blinking, a red 2 flashing on and off.

A flicker of surprise shifted across Scathach’s normally expressionless face. She rarely received any calls on this phone. The number was not only private, even the telephone company didn’t have it in their records. Any calls were routed through a dozen switching points and bounced across two continents and one satellite, making the number untraceable. Scathach could count on the fingers on one hand the people who knew how to reach her here. It had been a year—no, fourteen months—since the last call, and that had been someone selling life insurance.

Scathach shook her head slightly. This could only be trouble. And trouble meant she would have to move. She sighed. She really loved San Francisco; she’d hoped she’d be able to stay here for another decade at least before her unchanging appearance would force her to relocate to avoid suspicion. She could return in a century or so when everyone who had known her would be dead—but she didn’t want to leave quite yet.

She pressed Play. “You have two new messages.”

“I understand you have been seeking a certain pithos.” The voice was an arrogant rasp, speaking in a language that had not been used on the American continent in millennia. “I am in a position to give it to you.”

“Of course you are,” Scathach whispered with a smile. Quetzalcoatl had phoned her deliberately, allowing her to see that he knew where she lived. She had recently discovered—quite by accident—that the snake-tailed Elder had the artifact in his collection of antiquities. During the past few weeks, she had visited a dozen of his agents and let them know she wanted it. She knew the message would get to Quetzalcoatl sooner rather than later, and knew that he would contact her. The Elder known as the Feathered Serpent would gladly give up the pithos to keep her from rampaging through his Shadowrealm in search of it. Scathach was likely to leave his world a smoking ruin.

“Although the pithos is of great personal value to me, I would like to present it to you as a token of my goodwill.”

Goodwill!
Scathach was surprised Quetzalcoatl even knew how to pronounce the word. Her lips curled in a cruel smile. He was giving her the jar because he was afraid of her.

The answering machine tape hissed for a minute and then there was a coughing sound and Scathach realized that Quetzalcoatl was attempting a laugh. “I have no wish to make an enemy of you. I was a good friend to your parents. Indeed, I believe we may even be related by blood on your mother’s side. We are not that different, you and I.”

“You have no idea just how different we are,” Scathach murmured into the pause that followed.

“My representative will call upon you later today. He is an immortal humani and knows of your nature. He can be a little arrogant, but I would be grateful if you did not kill him. He is useful to me.”

There was a click and then the message stopped.

“Well, that was easy.” Scathach grinned. She’d been quite prepared to invade the Elder’s Shadowrealm in search of the famous pithos. She pressed the Play button again to listen to the second call.

“A long time ago, you told me that if I was ever in any trouble I could call upon you.”

Scathach’s breath caught in her throat. It was a voice she had not heard in a long time, a youthful man’s voice with just a trace of an accent. A man she
knew
to be dead.

“But when I called, you did not come, and I paid a terrible price. You failed me once. Scathach, I am in trouble now. Deep trouble. I need you, Shadow. There are vampyres in Las Vegas, and they are hunting me. I’m staying at—”

Before he finished his sentence the call was cut off.

3.

Billy had driven around the block twice looking for a place to park and eventually decided that he was not leaving his precious Thunderbird at a parking meter. He found a garage on Vallejo Street and parked his bright red convertible as far away from any of the other cars as possible. Two weeks earlier someone had bumped into his door with a shopping cart, leaving a long, thin scar in the paint. It had taken him an entire day to buff out the scratch and another to repaint the door.

Wrapping his left hand in the leather cord around the sack’s mouth, Billy hefted the heavy bag holding the pithos over his shoulder and set off down Vallejo Street toward Stockton. Although he had lived in and around San Francisco for the better part of a century, he’d never spent a lot of time exploring the city itself. Narrow streets and crowds made him nervous. He preferred the open countryside.

He walked past two youths leaning against a wall—one unnaturally skinny, the other muscular—and saw how their eyes drifted across him and settled on the bag. They exchanged a look. Billy knew their type: he’d ridden horseback alongside them once and fought against them for the rest of his life. “Don’t even think about it, boys,” he said lightly as he strode past. “You do not want to mess with me today. Or any day.” There was something about the expression on his face and the look in his eyes that made both young men step back and turn to hurry away. Billy grinned. All bullies were cowards.

The immortal turned onto Stockton Street, then left onto Broadway, walked past the Sam Wong Hotel and turned right into a cramped back street. He knew he was close. He consulted the address on the sweat-stained scrap of paper in the palm of his hand. He was in a narrow alleyway barely wide enough for one car. The buildings on either side were so high they blocked out the sun, leaving the alley in gloomy shadow. Metal bins, stinking with rotting food and buzzing with flies, lined one wall. Billy took care to breathe only through his mouth. He had no idea who this Scathach person was, but he didn’t think much of where she lived. Quetzalcoatl had called her the King Maker and the Daemon Slayer and had said she was a Shadow, whatever that meant. A shadow of her former self? Billy was guessing she was a dumpy old bag lady who probably kept cats. Dozens of cats. He shifted the sack from one shoulder to the other and once again wondered what exactly it contained. It looked like a Greek wine jar, but he was almost certain there was no wine in it. He’d shaken it when he’d put it in the back of his car, then pressed his ear against the rough cacao-scented cloth. For the merest instant he could have sworn he’d heard voices coming from inside the jar. Maybe it was full of Nirumbee—Little People. If so, he was in no hurry to open it. Fifty years earlier, in Montana, he’d rescued Virginia Dare from some of the little horned monsters and they’d both barely escaped with their immortal lives.

Billy rounded a pile of trash and found himself facing a building at the end of the alleyway. There were no windows, and the only door was behind a narrow-slatted metal grille. As he got closer he saw a simple plastic sign next to the door.
KARATE CLASSES. SELF-DEFENSE. QUALIFIED INSTRUCTOR
.

He stopped and checked the address again. It was correct. He turned slowly, making sure he wasn’t being followed, and then pressed a small white bell under the sign. His acute hearing picked up the rattle of what sounded like wind chimes. He checked the alleyway, the habits that had kept him alive for so long making him look behind him once more.

Billy was turning back to the door, finger outstretched to press the bell again, when he realized that the door had opened and a young woman with spiky red hair was glaring at him. He stepped away and smiled to hide his discomfort; he hadn’t even heard the door open.

“Hi. I’ve got a parcel for a Mrs. Skatog.”

“Scathach,” the young woman corrected him, reaching for the sack.

Billy took a step back and shook his head. “I can only give it to Mrs. Scathach herself.”

“I’m Scathach,” the woman snapped, green eyes flashing.

“And how do I know that?” Billy asked. “You can’t be too careful these days.”

“You are the servant of Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent,” she snarled. Her nostrils flared. “You stink of his foul odor.” And then her mouth opened to reveal vampire teeth. “I am the Shadow.”

“Yes, ma’am …,” Billy said. He thrust the bag toward the young woman hastily. He didn’t want anything to do with those teeth. As she reached out to take it, a phone started ringing from somewhere deep inside the building.

Scathach turned without a word and disappeared, leaving Billy holding the bag.

4.

Scathach had no idea who the young man was. An immortal, certainly, and judging by his appearance, he’d been granted immortality when he was still quite young; he looked like he was in his late teens or early twenties. Handsome, too, with startling blue eyes. His two front teeth were a little prominent, and he deliberately kept his mouth shut to hide them. His red pepper scent was layered with Quetzalcoatl’s serpent odor.

Scathach flew across the polished wooden floor and snatched up the phone on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Do you remember my voice?”

In her long life, Scathach the Shadow had faced down monsters and challenged terrors. She had ridden across nightmare landscapes and fought creatures that should never have existed. There was little that frightened her. Yet the sound of this voice set her legs shaking. She sat down heavily in the chair.

“It’s been a long time,” she whispered. Scathach was overtaken by a wave of swirling memories, and all the good ones were washed away by bitterness. “I thought you were dead.”

“Almost.”

“I looked for you,” she said, her voice quavering.

“Not hard enough,” the man said, a touch of sadness in his voice. “I came back, Scathach. I came back in search of you. I looked everywhere, but I could never find you.”

“Where are you now?” she said quickly. “I’ll come to you.”

“I’m in trouble. Terrible trouble. I’m in Las Vegas. The town is run by vampyres and cucubuths. And they’re hunting me. Scathach, I need you. You won’t fail me again, will you?”

There was a sudden shout, which turned to a crackle on the line … and then silence.

“Hello? … Hello? … Hello?” Scathach called, slowly standing.

She heard a click, followed by a dial tone.

And for the first time in many years, the Shadow buried her face in her hands and wept bloodred tears.

5.

Billy the Kid stood awkwardly in the doorway, the sack in one hand, his boots in the other, and looked at Scathach. Blood—thick and bright red—seeped between her fingers.

“Are you all right?”

The creature that looked up at him was no longer human. Her pale skin had tightened across her cheekbones and chin, and her eyes—completely red now—had sunk into her skull. The flesh had drawn back from her jaws, revealing the savage vampire teeth Billy had glimpsed earlier, and her hair had stiffened into needlelike quills.

Billy bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep his face expressionless; he’d never shown fear in his life. He held up his boots. “I hope you don’t mind. I invited myself in. I didn’t want to leave the pithos on the steps. And I took my boots off. I know you martial arts types don’t like people walking across your floors in their street shoes.” He looked down at his threadbare and mismatched socks. “If I’d known, I would have worn better socks. My ma always did tell me to wear clean underwear and decent socks when I went out.…” His voice trailed away as the creature behind the desk rose to her feet. She turned and started lifting weapons off the wall and piling them on the table.

“Look, this might not be the best time,” Billy continued. “I’ll just leave this here and head out. I’ve got some—”

“What’s your name?” the Shadow asked.

“William Bonney … well, Billy. Everyone calls me Billy.”

“I’m Scathach. Don’t ever call me Scatty.” She turned to Billy again. Her face had smoothed out, the vampire features hidden. As he watched, the solid redness in her eyes swirled away, revealing grass-green irises. She rubbed at the streaks of dried blood on her cheeks. “Do you have a car, Billy?”

“Sure do. A 1960 Thunderbird, Monte Carlo. That’s the Second Generation model with a 430-cubic-inch 350-horsepower V8—”

“You’re going to do me a favor, Billy,” Scathach interrupted.

“I am?”

“You are. And your Elder Master will be thrilled that I’ll now be indebted to you and thus to him. He knows I’m the sort of person who takes favors very seriously and remembers each one. Someday you will need a favor from me and I will repay you.”

“I’m sort of big on favors myself,” Billy said with a shy smile. “That’s the way I was brought up. What can I do for you, ma’am?”

“For a start, you will never call me ma’am again.”

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma—sorry, Miss Scathach.”

“Just Scathach. Do you have plans for the rest of the day?”

“Not really.”

“Good. I need you to drive me to Vegas.”

“Vegas!” Billy looked nostalgic for a moment. “I haven’t been there in more than a hundred years. I used to stay at the Old Adobe Hotel, and I think I might have been in jail there once or twice.”

Scathach stared at him, saying nothing.

Billy shrugged. “It was a long time ago. And I was innocent. I think.… Or at least that time I was innocent. I take it we’re not going to Vegas for the shows.”

“A … a …” She hesitated, looking for the right word. “A
friend
of mine is in trouble.”

“What sort of trouble?”

“Vampyre trouble,” Scathach said, gathering up the weapons and shoving them into a sports bag. “I’m going to get dressed. Take the pithos and put it back in the car—we’re bringing it with us.”

“Vampyres,” Billy muttered. “I hate vampyres. Nasty, toothy, clawy …”

The Shadow stopped. “I am a vampire,” she said, showing him her teeth.

Billy picked up the pithos. “I’ll get the car.”

6.