Dark Tomorrow (Bo Blackman Book 6) (7 page)

I raise an eyebrow. ‘You’re volunteering to tell him I’m dead?’

‘That’s what friends are for, darling.’

I look at him. Despite his teasing words, steely determination is etched into his brow. ‘Okay.’ I sigh. ‘Okay.’ God save me from my own people.

Kimchi whines, sensing the sombre atmosphere. O’Shea reaches inside the bag, picks out a scrap of brown meat and offers it to him. For once, the dog doesn’t go for it. Instead, he lies down and gives both of us a long-suffering look with his large, soulful eyes.

‘Dogs don’t have special senses, do they?’ O’Shea asks nervously. ‘Like being able to tell when someone’s about to die?’

‘Nah. I think that’s cats.’

My grandfather’s moggy takes that moment to leap down from the desk and wander up to me, rubbing its head against my shins. O’Shea and I stare at each other. Eventually, I shrug. ‘Last one to get their heart eaten is a rotten egg.’

The irksome thing about this part of London is that it’s all wide streets and glossy facades. You won’t a find a dark alley to hide in anywhere near here. However, there are lots of tall buildings. Given that I have no idea how close I have to be to X for him to read my mind, it’s important to stay well away in terms of yardage but close enough to spot him. O’Shea and I find his building while keeping our distance, then venture to the corner opposite.

‘We need the roof,’ I say decisively, looking upwards.

O’Shea cranes his neck. ‘It shouldn’t be hard to get up there. But it won’t be easy to follow Mr X once he’s on the move.’

‘Don’t call him mister,’ I say. That bastard doesn’t deserve the respect. ‘And I don’t want to follow him. Right now, I just want to get a handle on him. What he’s doing, how he’s travelling around and where his vulnerable spots are.’

‘He’s a Kakos daemon, Bo,’ O’Shea says, sounding falsely cheerful. ‘He doesn’t have any vulnerable spots.’

‘No one is invincible, not even him.’

O’Shea gives me a long look. ‘Well,’ he says finally, ‘now I’m wishing I’d bought another kebab. We could be here for some time.’

‘Yeah.’ I feel a wave of faintness and pinch the bridge of my nose. Damn it.

‘You need to eat as well.’ O’Shea bites his lip and offers me his wrist.

I frown. ‘Ick.’

‘You don’t like daemon blood? I’ll have you know I can be pretty damn tasty.’

‘It’s human blood I crave. You know that.’

‘I’m only a quarter daemon.’

I shrug. ‘Doesn’t make a difference.’

‘Racist,’ he mutters.

‘Come on. Let’s get inside and make our way up. I’ll find someone along the way to snack on.’

The doors whoosh open and we’re immediately greeted by a blast of cool air. There are a few people milling around inside; the marbled floor shows their blurred reflections as they stare at their phones like zombies. O’Shea lets out a coo of delight.

‘We need to be discreet,’ I warn. ‘The slightest disturbance and X might find out we’re here.’

‘He can’t see us in here, he doesn’t have X-ray vision.’ O’Shea pauses, his eyes widening. ‘Unless that’s why he’s called X.’

I scoff, although the truth is that I have very little idea of what X is capable of. I damn myself for not doing more when I had the chance to discover his abilities. I seriously doubt X-ray vision is one of them; all the same, I feel a nervous swirl in the pit of my stomach. I really don’t want him to know I’m here.

I scan the list of names on the information board, looking for something that will work. I’m thinking that the lawyer on the sixteenth floor could be a good bet until I see who’s right above him. My heart suddenly sings in delight. Well, well, well. ‘There.’ I jab my finger. ‘And we can kill two birds with one stone. It’s about time something went our way.’

O’Shea leans in. ‘Bruckheimer and Berryhill Insurance.’ He purses his lips. ‘Life insurance? Bo, I hate to say it but I doubt you’ll be able to afford the premiums.’

I clap him on the shoulder. ‘There’s more method to my madness than you realise.’ Bruckheimer and Berryhill are my old employers; it’s the company I was working for when Alice went missing. ‘This is the perfect cover. We don’t even need to hide any longer because we have a reason for being here that doesn’t involve X.’

Leaving a confused O’Shea to trail behind me, I approach the reception desk. ‘Good morning!’

A young man wearing a crisp white shirt, an old school tie and a professional smile glances up. I enjoy watching him go pale. ‘Bo Blackman,’ he bursts out, before he can stop himself.

I grin and check his name tag. ‘One and the same, David. One and the same.’

‘My friends and I were discussing you last night,’ he beams, almost immediately recovering from his shock. ‘What are you planning to do? Are you going to kill all those religious freaks? I said that you wouldn’t do that because you’re the Red Angel and you’re too good, but Barry…’

I don’t need to hear what Barry thinks. I interrupt him. ‘That’s kind of you to say that about me.’ I hold out my hand. ‘And it’s lovely to meet you.’

He’s almost overcome. He reaches across and vigorously pumps my hand. ‘The pleasure’s all mine.’

‘I’m here to see Bruckheimer and Berryhill,’ I tell him, once I’ve extricated myself.

He blinks rapidly. ‘Of course, of course. Do you have an appointment? You can’t see them otherwise. The rules are really strict.’ He sounds regretful, as if to emphasise that he’d change things if he could.

I shake my head sadly. ‘No appointment. I’m trying to keep my movements secret. It’s dangerous out there, you know.’ I point at the street.

‘Oh my goodness! It must be awful for you. I can’t let you in but if there’s anything else I can do to help, all you have to do is say the word. I’m a really big fan. It wasn’t right what happened to your friends. I know some people are saying that the blood guz— I mean vampires, deserved it but
I
don’t think that.’

I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone who talks this much. ‘You know, David, there is something you could do for me.’

His expression transforms into that of an eager puppy. ‘Anything,’ he breathes. ‘Anything for you.’

At least some people are still fans. I lick my lips and eye his jugular. ‘I’m really hungry.’

I don’t think he was expecting that. He swallows and stares at me. ‘You want my…’ his voice drops to a whisper ‘…my blood?’

‘I’ll only take a teeny bit,’ I promise.

He wants to say no, I can see it written all across his face. He’s not a wannabe vampette – which is hardly surprising as even the most voracious vampettes are keeping well out of the way at the moment for fear of reprisals – but he’s afraid of what I’ll do if he says no. He scans round the lobby, looking anxious. Unfortunately for him, my appearance hasn’t been enough to drag the others’ attention away from their phones. None of them have even noticed I’m here.

‘Er, I suppose it’s okay. But…’

I interrupt. ‘Fantastic!’ I give him a wide-mouthed smile and hop round the desk. Before he can say anything else, I let my fangs lengthen and I sink them into his neck. He lets out a tiny yip and there’s the unpleasant tang of aftershave on my lips but it’s quickly superseded by the salty deliciousness of his blood. I keep an eye on the phone zombies but they still don’t look up. Wow. This is how you take over the world, by doing it when no one’s watching because they’re too busy playing Candy Crush.

I drink quickly and deeply and it’s not long before David’s body sags. I release him gently onto the floor, where his limp form is hidden from view by the desk, and beckon to O’Shea.

He looks almost fearful. ‘Was that necessary, Bo?’ he whispers.

I shrug, trying to feel guilty. ‘He said he’d do anything for me. He said it was okay. He shouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.’

‘Yeah, but he’s passed out.’

‘He’ll be fine in an hour or two.’

‘You used to hate drinking from people, even vampettes. And I’ve never seen Michael treat someone like that. You had this look in your eye. Like a predator.’

‘Michael lived in a different world. And I’ve changed from the person I was.’ I sigh and try to explain. ‘I have a heart, O’Shea. It’s not the same as it was but it’s still there. I’m more ruthless because I need to be. And I
am
a predator. I’m a vampire. I’m also on a mission that could mean life or death for more than just me and X.’ O’Shea is patently unconvinced. ‘Look, just then my need was greater. You were right before – I had to get some blood. If it makes you happy, I won’t do it this way again. But at least David doesn’t get into trouble for letting a crazy vampire loose in the building because it’ll look like he was attacked. And he has a story to dine out on with Barry and the rest of his friends.’

O’Shea still doesn’t look pleased. ‘I thought we were trying to keep a low profile.’

‘This way is better. If X comes across us, I’ve got a ready-made excuse.’ I say the words confidently, as if I really believe them.

‘Eating a receptionist?’

‘Nope. Visiting some old friends.’ I grin and wipe away the last of David’s blood from my mouth. I’m just in time because one of the humans finally gives up on her phone and wanders over.

‘Hi,’ she says in a perfunctory manner. ‘I’m here for Charcoal and Sons.’

‘Do you have an appointment, ma’am?’ I ask in my most proper accent.

‘Yes.’ She checks her watch. ‘In about five minutes.’

‘I’ll buzz you right up.’

I search the desk and find the right button. The woman nods and heads for the lift.

‘She didn’t even notice who you were,’ O’Shea marvels.

‘All she saw was a worker bee,’ I say. ‘I wasn’t a real person, just a cipher doing a faceless job.’ I glance down at David. The colour is already leaking back into his cheeks but I suddenly feel sorry for him. Whether I’m an infamous bloodguzzler or not, it’s no wonder he was so happy to talk to me. I noticed him as an individual, a living being. Alright, I amend, an individual, a living being and lunch. I’ll put up my hands and admit that I’m not a good person but I could be worse. It’s not much of an epitaph but I reckon it means there’s hope for me yet.

I tell O’Shea to stay in David’s place and watch over him. He bobs his head dutifully and buzzes me up to the insurance company. When I left the warehouse, the last thing I expected from this expedition was some fun. Now I’m actually feeling rather excited.

***

The offices for Bruckheimer and Berryhill are a testament to how swimmingly the insurance industry is going. Years ago, when I worked for them, head office was a rather dilapidated affair on an industrial estate on the outskirts of the city. Now they’re in the heart of London, with plush carpets, gleaming glass and a whole host of glossy leaflets. I pick one up at random and scan it. Yeah, maybe they are looking better-heeled than they used to but they’re still performing the same tricks. This particular leaflet offers life insurance against acts of witchery – but from the very, very small print, they won’t pay out if that act results from your own actions. Fair enough ‒ until you realise that this policy is aimed at witches. Screw up a spell, end up dead and your family gets nothing. Alternatively, do something to goad a fellow witch into attacking you and you’ll still end up with nothing. I wonder whether they’ve actually had to make any payments for this product.

A young woman appears. ‘May I help you?’ she asks politely.

I bare my fangs. Recognition flares in her eyes and she lets out a yelp. Her eyes snap to a wall behind me. Curious, I turn to see several rows of professionally taken photographs of their board members. Underneath are several other photos, including one of yours truly. A half smirk crosses my lips and I take a closer look. Underneath, on a neatly printed card, are the words: ‘Bo Blackman, a former operative who helped many of our clients get everything they deserve.’ I almost laugh.

‘Do you often display images of old investigators?’ I ask. ‘Or is it just the famous ones?’

‘Ms Blackman, let me find Mr Berryhill for you.’ She legs it.

I focus on the picture. It’s amazing that I could ever have been this young. It’s not only that I look barely out of school, it’s the naïve optimism shining out of my eyes. I don’t need a mirror to know that these days what you see is hard calculation and bitter disappointment. But maybe if you look closely enough, you’ll see a flicker of love too.

‘Bo!’ A warm voice greets me from behind.

I turn and spot Berryhill. His arms are open wide as if he’s expecting me to rush in for a hug. Considering I never qualified to meet the man when I worked here, he’s got high expectations. I highlight the fact that I used to be nothing more than a faceless minion to him by saying, ‘It’s Ms Blackman. Who are you?’

The slight flicker in his eyes tells me that I’ve made a dent in his over-sized ego. ‘Mark Berryhill. We met at the end-of-year celebration when you were one of our employees.’

No, we didn’t. I curve my lips into a smile. ‘Oh.’

He drops his arms, realising that I’m not going to embrace him like we’re old friends. ‘What can I do for you? Are you seeking re-employment now that the Families have been reduced to dust?’

Score one for the sleaze in the suit. ‘The Families might be gone,’ I tell him, flicking at an invisible piece of lint on my sleeve, ‘but we vampires are hardly dead and buried.’ I lick my lips, providing him with a faint glimpse of my teeth. ‘I’m actually here to request some old files.’

He blinks, taken aback. ‘Oh yes?’

‘The Alice Goldman case.’

His expression clears. ‘Ah. Such a tragic situation, that one.’

Mm. All the more tragic because Bruckheimer and Berryhill had to pay out a large wad of cash. ‘I worked on it for a while,’ I say. I’m sure he’s well aware of my role; I cost him a pretty penny as a result. ‘I’d like to see the file.’

‘Why?’

Playing the ‘ignorance is bliss’ card, I don’t drop my gaze. ‘It’s probably better for you if you don’t know.’

He links his fingers. ‘Those files are confidential.’