Duel Nature (37 page)

“You’ll be a hostage...for my good behavior.
They’ll know that I wouldn’t attack or harm you,” I said as the
truth hit me. “I was trying not to hurt him – like you said –
that’s why I stunned him.”

“I know dear one, I know.
You didn’t know – I didn’t know that this would happen. No one
did,” she said, pushing me toward the entrance. Part of me wondered
about what she had said. Did no one really know that I could
a
ge
an old vampire
to death? The look on Senka’s face flashed back into my mind, even
as I turned with my vampire and began to rush through the
corridors. Somewhere during our run to our rooms, Awasos appeared,
suddenly running alongside us in wolf form. The remainder of my
stay in Citadel was a blur, in every sense of the word. Just enough
time to grab some clothes and money and then I was gone.

Chapter 36

The restaurant was called
Matty’s Steakhouse. It was on East 46
^th
and it looked inviting. Big
awning over the sidewalk with the name Matty’s on the side. Plus it
was a steakhouse, which is the best place for a growing were
bear-wolf.

I had wandered the streets of Manhattan for
several hours after rushing up and out of Citadel, Awasos by my
side. Frankly I was a mess, a seething cauldron of conflicting
emotions and dark thoughts. I was devastated that Tanya was staying
behind. Sure, it made logical sense for her to try and defuse the
situation, but logic isn’t always my strong point. So I felt
halved, sundered, and incomplete. But a whole other part of me was
rejoicing in being above ground, with humans and far from vampires,
especially old vampires. Have you ever been to New York City? It’s
a really busy place – lots of life and huge energy. It felt great
after the solemn and cold world of Darkkin.

I was also wrapped up in
trying to figure out what the fuck had happened. How had the
situation gone in the shitter so fast? I have a healthy dollop of
paranoia in my character, the result of being the target of
demonkind my whole life. So the filter I was using to sift through
recent events kept kicking out conspiracy theories. Unlike UFO’s
and government mind control, conspiracies in the vampire world are
often
more
twisted
and fucked up than even the most drugged out mind could come up
with.

How had an obviously under-aged kid made it
through the Coven’s vetting process for donors? Why was she there
at precisely the same time I was? Why had she been slated to be the
lunch morsel for the biggest douchebag in the Conclave? Why had
Chet been attacked by allegedly German vampires? And the big
question that kept popping up in my mind – why had Senka looked
satisfied, even for a split second, by my killing Frimunt?

So, I was in a fine state of mind when the
restaurant appeared. Anger? Outrage? Offended? You bet and a whole
lot more. Thirty minutes on the streets and I was already tired of
being stared at. Luckily that had died right off not long after,
which in hindsight should have caught my attention. How does an
angry looking guy in disheveled clothes with a small backpack,
purple eyes and a huge wolf go unnoticed on the streets of New
York?

For that matter how does the same guy and
wolf walk into a well-run restaurant in Manhattan and claim a table
without getting thrown out?

The waiters and waitresses walked right by
our table for ten minutes before I finally spoke up to one of them.
The waiter damn near jumped right off the floor when I asked for a
menu. Giving me a strange look, he hastily complied. From there it
was easy to get a pint of beer, four appetizers (Lump crab cakes,
seared scallops, jumbo shrimp cocktail and an order of calamari), a
wild boar chop (they had wild game on the menu), buffalo filet and
two rib-eye steaks with all the extras. The looks I got were even
more curious, but no one commented on the 250 pound wolf at my feet
who was eating slightly more than his share of our dinner. That is
until halfway through the rib-eyes when a passing waitress let out
a little shriek and promptly beelined for the manager.

His eyes almost burst out of his head when he
focused on the furry mass by my chair. Slightly over six feet tall
with a beefy frame that was going to fat, dark hair and a full
mustache and goatee, Shane the manager (that’s what his nametag
said) came right over.

“Sir! You cannot have that…animal in here!
This is a restaurant!”

“Why didn’t you tell me that when we came in?
I followed you right to this table,” I said. I actually had
followed him as he walked through the restaurant, but I don’t think
he had noticed me behind him.

“You most certainly did not!” he said.

“Check your damn security videos,” I said,
pointing at the camera on the wall with a meat laden fork.

“What? Don’t be absurd! Leave now or I’m
calling the police,” he said.

I was so not in the mood for ultimatums.
Pushed around by beings nine and ten centuries old was bad enough,
being harassed by an out of shape thirty something wasn’t gonna
fly.

“Call um. We’re finishing our steaks. Then
we’ll leave. Although this is gonna impact my tip,” I said while
chewing.

A foot patrol showed up fifteen minutes later
while I was tossing my potato to Mr. Furryface, who really likes
sour cream and waiting for my waiter to run my credit card. A male
and female team in NYPD blue. The guy was a veteran of the force,
tough looking but his body was going to fat. The girl was young,
just out of the Academy. He looked Italian; she was tiny, Asian and
kind of cute. Must have been hell to get through the Academy
looking like a Japanese schoolgirl.

The manager intercepted them at the door,
filling them in on my various transgressions, then angrily leading
them to our table.

“Sir you can’t have that…Holy shit is that a
horse?” the male cop said, eyes wide as he got a good look at
Awasos. “You got tags for that elephant?” he asked.

I reached down and rotated ‘Sos’s collar so
he could see the tags. If anyone ran the numbers they would come up
legit courtesy of the Coven.

“Listen, Officer – Connell,” I said, reading
his tag. His partner’s nametag said ‘Tran’ on it.

“
That would have been fine
if Shane here had told me that before we sat down to a $400 dinner.
He led us right to this table and never said a word. Then he called
me a liar when I pointed that out. But would he look at the
security tapes? No, ‘cause he knows he’s wrong. Now he just wants
my money and then for me to get the hell out.”

Shane sputtered and turned a really great
shade of splotchy red.

“Why did you seat him and the pony here if
the animal was a problem?” the cop asked.

“I never did!” Shane yelled.

“No? Than why did you wait till I got my
second entrée before complaining?” I shot back.

The cop scratched his head, while his rookie
companion stood in a parade rest stance that she hoped looked tough
while trying not to laugh at the situation. Awasos had been lying
on the ground, now he decided to sit up. His head came well above
the tabletop. Everyone backed up and the cops put their hands on
their guns.

“If he causes a problem, I’ll shoot him,”
Officer Connell promised me. I must have frowned because he frowned
back.

“He doesn’t like being shot and if you’re
gonna shoot him with those,” I said, pointing at his Glock 9mm, “ –
you’re just gonna piss him off.”

“Sir, I need to see some ID,” the tiny lady
cop said suddenly. Connell frowned at her but let it go. My wallet
was sitting on the table, waiting for my Coven issued credit card
to come back. I handed her my license.

This should be…interesting.

This mini cop scanned my license with some
kind of tablet unit and handed it back. Then she frowned at the
almost immediate results.

“It says ‘File Five’?” she said to her
partner. File five is a term that police dispatchers use to let an
on scene officer know that the suspect in front of them needs
further explanation without said suspect hearing. It’s a code word
to get the officer to call dispatch and receive more information.
It could be that the suspect is highly dangerous, or maybe a deep
cover cop or just requires special handling.

“What?” he looked at her display then turned
sideways to me so he could keep an eye on me as he walked twenty
feet away, pulling out an iPhone as he did. The phone rang before
he could turn it on.

“Connell,” he answered. I listened in.

“Connell, this is Dispatch. Did you or your
partner just run a license for a ‘Chris Gordon’?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“All hell broke loose. This guy must be mega
important to the feds ‘cause Homeland Security is on the other
line. They want whoever ran the ID to back the hell off and leave
him alone.”

“I’m not sure I can do that Dispatch. Public
safety may be involved,” Connell said with a glance at Awasos. He
didn’t sound all that set on the safety thing, just curious and
fishing for info.

“Okay, now I got the Commissioner’s
Assistant on the other phone with my boss and Homeland wants to be
patched through to you directly. The heat level is high on this one
so I’m patching them through.”

“Wait..Dispatch..”

“Officer Connell? This is Special Agent
Forbes with Homeland Security. Are you in contact with a Christian
Gordon?”

“Ah yes..I was just responding to a call
about a disturbance at a restaurant,”

“Has Mr. Gordon killed or injured
anyone?”

“Ere, nooo,” Connell trailed off, looking at
me from across the room, his brow completely furrowed.

“What was the nature of the
disturbance?”

“He’s eating dinner and has a horse-sized
dog..wolf..dog with him, and he wouldn’t leave till he finished his
steak.”

A new figure entered the steakhouse, catching
the attention of everyone in the room. It probably happened
wherever she went. Tall, lithe and platinum blonde she was
beautiful by Manhattan standards. She was dressed in dark,
painted-on skinny jeans tucked into black high-heeled knee boots,
with a light blue loose fitted V-neck blouse that still managed to
cling to her rather amazing chest. An oversized white faux python
print purse was slung over one shoulder and she breezed into the
room like she owned it. She flashed a dazzling smile at the cops
and manager Shane as she breezed by them.

“Don’t worry, I got this,” she assured them
as she walked up to my table, patted ‘Sos on the head and sat
down.

‘Hi Stacia. You look great!” I managed to say
as she leaned over, grabbed my mug of beer and sipped it. The view
down her shirt distracted both me and the married guy to my right.
The waiter two tables over poured water all over the table he was
servicing.

“Hi Chris, you look a bit…down,” she said,
focusing her brilliant green eyes on me and forgetting the rest of
the room.

“It’s been a tough day,” I said.

Across the room Officer Connell was looking
on wide-eyed and open mouthed. His partner looked suddenly
uncertain, an effect that Stacia Reynolds has on many women.

“Officer Connell, what’s the
current situation?”
Agent Forbes asked on
the phone.

“Ah, a beautiful woman just came in and sat
down with the suspect,” Connell said without taking his eyes off
Stacia.

“Black hair, blue
eyes?”
Forbes asked urgently.

“No blonde and I didn’t get the eye color,”
Connell said. Officer Tran piped up. “Green.”

“Green Agent Forbes,” Connell said into the
phone.

“Hmm, don’t know who that is. Here’s the
deal Connell and it’s pretty much a career deciding one for you. We
need you to back the hell off Mr. Gordon and leave him right
alone.”

“Just leave?” Connell asked.

“Leave him like he’s poisonous! Got it?”

“Yeah, no problem Agent,” Connell said. He
looked like the kind of guy who just wanted to get through his
twenty years and start collecting a pension. His phone rang again
as soon as he hung up.

“Hello?”

“Connell, this is Lt. Snyder, Assistant to
the Commissioner. You have a Chris Gordon in sight?”

“Yeah, but I’m just leaving. Homeland wants
me away from him. File Five and all that.”

“No! The Commissioner needs you to give him
a message and my number. Ask him to call me whenever it’s
convenient but as soon as possible! Got it?”

Connell looked even more puzzled as the
Lieutenant rattled off a cell number which he wrote on the back of
a card pulled from his shirt pocket.

Stacia smiled at me as all this went down,
the both of us listening in on the calls.

“You’re growing your hair out,” I said,
pretty much at a loss as to why she was there.

She flounced her platinum white hair and
loosed a brilliant smile. “You noticed!”

Not noticing something about Stacia would be
more unlikely. She had been beautiful when I met her on a dark
campground in Vermont, wearing nothing but a thong with blood
streaming down her perfect leg. But the LV virus she had contracted
that night had taken her a level or two higher. The extra health
and vitality that the virus lent its hosts shown in her skin, hair
and eyes.

“So why are you here?” I asked. Connell was
done writing and now making his way over to us.

“Oh, well, you see Brock and Afina have some
work for you if you’re interested. Seeing as how you’re not
dwelling underground anymore,” she said with a smile.

“News travels fast,” I commented.

“One of your chilly, pale friends called
Afina, worried about you,” she said.

“Tanya?” I asked, absurdly eager.

She frowned at me and shook her head. “The
little one I think. Lydia?”