On the Far Side of Darkness (21 page)

She wouldn’t notice but I do. His eyes widen slightly and the color of his face grows a shade paler. He stammers a little when he speaks. “N,no. I haven’t seen her since I came in.” There is more than a trace of a Russian accent in his voice.

Being the predator I am, his reaction brings me on point. The man’s body language practically shrieks of knowledge. He’s involved and I’m going to find out how.

His eyes come up to me and grow wide. “I’ve, I’ve got work to do,” Pavel announces and he hurriedly goes out the door leading into the service area of the hotel.

I look at the clerk and she stares back in fear. I realize then I’ve let my mask slip. She backs away from me, teeth chattering, eyes weeping.

My gaze grabs those teary irises and I seize her consciousness with my power. Immediately her expression blanks.

“Clean your face,” I direct. The young woman does as she’s told, grabbing some tissues from a box and wiping her cheeks dry. While she’s doing that I replace my facade.

“Remember this,” I go on, “I asked about my friend. You and Pavel knew nothing. I became a little angry and that’s all. You saw nothing to frighten you.”

I let her go and her professionally cheery expression returns leavened with a small amount of fear. “I’m sorry I can’t help more,” she says. There’s not a sign of her terror now.

“We probably got our signals mixed,” I answer. “I have a good idea where she is. Pardon my temper.
Bon nuit
.”

I hurry out of the lobby and turn left as I leave. I’ve surveyed this hotel, as I do all places I might spend time at, and there’s only one way Pavel can leave other than the front door. The porter is headed towards me when I reach the mouth of the alley that connects to the employee’s entrance.

The weasel scrambles to reverse course the second he sees me. I follow for several steps then use my strength. The leap, easily twice what a human athlete could perform, is timed to perfection. I grab his shoulder, lift him up and slam his back into the wall. Not as hard as I could, but I want his information rather than his death. For the moment.

“We need to talk,” I say to him. There’s a smell of urine as he pisses himself.

“I don’t know anything,” Pavel gasps back. He’s short of breath from fear and the impact of the wall.

One side of my face quirks in amusement. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever encountered,” I tell him. “You do know something, and you’re going to tell me. If you don’t I’m going to stuff something in your mouth and break bones until you do talk. I think you would rather avoid that if you could.”

Pavel stares at me for a long second. His lower lip trembles with terror. “It’s Grigor. He took her.”

“Grigor?”

“I knew of him in St. Petersburg. He was a pimp there.”

“A pimp?” I remark. On a hunch I describe the man I bounced off a wall two nights ago.

“That’s him. The mad eyes are what everyone knows about him. Almost everyone is frightened by him. Even in my country he stood out. Treated his girls like shit.”

Damn!
I think.
Why does no good deed go unpunished? And why did the Fates have to involve Diane?
For a moment I have to fight with myself. Killing my only source of information won’t help me at all.

“Why is he here in Paris?” I finally ask.

“He got too big for his britches. Tried to take on a
vor
, a crime boss. He was lucky to live. He managed to get here and ran out of money. Started back in business to make some more. He’s been here two years now.”

“How did he get in touch with you?”

“He didn’t. Yesterday morning after work, I was talking with a friend. This guy was from back home and said Grigor was looking for someone. The description matched yours. I know that Grigor keeps an answering machine running, so clients can call for girls and people can leave information. I called it and left that I saw you last night. Mentioned the woman as well.”

So, they must have followed us from the hotel. I curse myself for stupidity. You would think that at my age I would remember to check our tails.

I continue my questioning. “Did you have any more contact with Grigor?”

He gulps, shakes. “Y, yeah. This afternoon, getting ready for work, I get a knock on the door. He’s waiting for me. He gives me a choice. Help him or he kills me very, very slowly. All I have to do is get a key for him. I don’t know what happened after that.”

His face lightens a bit, a thread of hope shows. “I’ve still got the money he gave me. Two hundred and fifty Euros. You can have it.” His hands scrabble at a pants pocket.

Rage fills me and darkness swirls through my mind. What I am almost pushes to the surface. Only the greatest will keeps it at bay. My fist wraps itself in his hair and I lift him up. “You sold my lover for two hundred and fifty Euros?”

The smell of feces joins that of urine. What a weakling this person is.

“I need to know where Grigor is.” My voice is dark. The monster flavors it with blind fury.

“I don’t know!” Pavel squeaks. Another squelching sound emerges from his trousers and the odor of excrement grows stronger. “All I know is the number I reached him at. Please, I didn’t know what he’d do!”

I don’t have time to waste. This worm has no more useful information. So I let go of his hair. Pavel’s legs almost collapse when his feet hit the ground. He shrinks against the wall, wishing it would absorb him and get him away from me.

“
Merci
,” I tell him, “you’ve been helpful. So I’ll be nice. You have twenty four hours.”

Pavel merely blinks at me. I haven’t gotten through his terror.

“Twenty four hours to run. After that, some time in the future, you’ll see me again, and that will be the last thing you see.”

That hits home. He falls to his knees, bends over and throws up.

“Don’t use up your day vomiting,” I tell him and walk away, back towards the mouth of the alley.

As if I’ll waste my time chasing him.
A small snort of contempt passes through my nostrils.
Not necessary anyway. In his mind, I’ll be a step behind him forever.

Back on the street, I pause. A wave of strong emotions shakes me. I’m closer to panic than I’ve been in decades.

I don’t have many underworld contacts. The phone machine will take time to track down and will be a dead end anyway. I don’t want to involve the police. I have no idea what to do and the thought of Diane in the hands of a mad pimp empties my chest with terror.

Domino?!

He’s standing in front of the alley across from mine. His hands gesture with force, beckoning me. I can almost hear him saying “
Vite, vite!
Follow me!”

So I do. He fades into the alley as I approach and I enter it as well. Once I’m in, he starts moving as only beings like us can. Up to the roofs, along them, keeping out of sight of our food. I stay several seconds behind him the whole way.

Shortly, we’re in a poorer section of the city. Not slums but close. There is almost no one about. Domino drops to the street, walks normally towards a corner and waits. When I draw up next to him he indicates a building down the intersecting boulevard. It is a small, two story house, brick with a short flight of concrete steps leading to the front door. A man lounges on the balustrade, apparently passing the time and smoking.

“She’s there?” I ask.

Domino nods an affirmative.

“I owe you, my friend.”

He shows a little frown, waves a hand, dismissing himself of any favors. Then he gives the wistful smile and the hands over heart gesture of the other night.

“I do,” I smile back.

To keep from alerting the sentry, I take an easy pace. I cross to the side of the street my goal is on and turn in its direction. With my head down I appear to be a man lost in thought. If I show no interest in him Grigor’s sentry will not become interested in me. On occasion I glance up, checking for reaction from the man on watch. He sees me but as I hoped doesn’t change his relaxed posture.

When I reach the foot of the stairs I bring my head up to focus much of the anger and fear I feel on him. His response is instantaneous. Recognition fills his features.

But instant is too slow. I leap to him and punch him in the gut, not as hard as I could, but it’s enough. His breath explodes out of him. That’s followed by grabbing his hair to bounce his head off the nearest railing. There’s that familiar hollow sound and he goes limp.

I place an ear against the door and listen. There’s no sound inside, no indication anyone’s noticed the very short fight outside.

The door’s locked when I try to work the knob. So I place my palm on the wood just by the jamb. My muscles tense slowly, raising the pressure until the wood gives way with a soft crack. Then I dart inside and close the door swiftly.

Again, nothing happens. There’s no alarm to show that my break in is noticed. The silence means I can take a second to listen some more. Voices come from the upper floor. The stairs are right next to me and I move with all my stealth up them, prepared to act without hesitation or restraint if it should be necessary. But nothing happens.

There are four doors on the second floor. Only one is closed, the one to the frontmost room. The voices emerge from behind it, louder but still unclear. With great care I make my way down the hall press my ear close and listen.

A guttural voice says something in Russian. “That’s right, sweet thing. It’s heroin.” This voice sounds very similar to the man I dealt with two nights ago.

Another man speaks, repeating the words in English.
I guess Grigor doesn’t speak that language.

The mad pimp continues, his words translated once more by the second voice. “I’m going to keep you high on this for a week. By then you’ll be so hooked you’ll do anything to get your next hit. Then I’ll pimp you out and make sure that stupid Frog of yours knows it. That will teach…”

I don’t learn that well,
I reply with a quiet snarl. Standing straight, I slam both palms into the door. The hinges and jamb break and it hits the floor with a thunderclap. A single step into the room and I survey the tableau there.

Diane is tied to the frame of a small bed, dressed in the clothes she wore last night. The left sleeve of her blouse is pulled up, baring her arm, and a rubber tube is tied just above the elbow.

Grigor and his henchman turn and gape at me. My sudden and loud was the last they expected.

There’s a third man in the room. He’d made no noise…and he has a pistol. Its muzzle gapes at me like a dark tunnel.

A flash of light dazzles me.

Something hammers me in the chest.

Diane screams.

And I’m falling.

Forever.

Discovery

Fortunately for a monster like me, forever doesn’t mean much. Consciousness comes back. I’m lying on the floor with the door under my legs, my body having been thrown back through the doorway.

A finger presses against the side of my throat. “
On myert
,” comes to me. He’s dead.

I open my eyes and let my mask fall away. These idiotic mortals have had the temerity to hurt me. It’s only fair they learn what they have angered. “
Da
,” I tell the man leaning over me, the one who shot me.

His eyes expand until they seem too large for his face. My would-be murderer’s mouth drops and he becomes almost as pale as I am.

I place both hands on his chest and throw him straight up. He hits the lintel of the door with the crunching of shattered ribs and a broken back. A bloom of blood appears on his mouth as air forces it from ruptured lungs. Rolling to my feet, I’m out of the way before he hits the ground. The fool lands like a sack of loose grain and begins coughing his life away.

Grigor and his crony are frozen. Although they are tough, nasty individuals, hardened by the lives they lead, their brains cannot fathom what they face. With no purchase, they have no way to react.

I leap at Grigor’s translator. The motion hurts a bit for something moves in my chest. That pain feeds the monster, acts as a goad. My left hand shoots out, fingers pointing like a spear. The tip of them smashes his larynx. He falls to his knees, clutches his throat and tries desperately to breathe.

Then I face the mad pimp, the sick thing that threatened my Diane with far worse than death. There’s a different insanity in his eyes. Terror is his madness now. He backs away as I step towards him, and back some more as I continue to approach. This soon stops as his shoulders thump against the wall with me a pace away from him.

My smile is that of a vampire as I tell him, “I’ve got something for you.” I draw in a deep breath then expel it again with a viscous noise. The object in my chest is ejected and I spit it into my hand in a glob of blood. I take Grigor’s right hand, pull it up and place a deformed lump of lead in it.

He stares at the bullet, unable to comprehend. His eyes return to my face. I show him my fangs and he finally understands. An infantile whimper passes his lips.