With that momentous decision made, I heaved myself off the couch and dressed to go for my morning run.
Westport was laid out on both sides of the river that flowed from the Coastal Range to the east and emptied into the bay on the west. The harbor area was a mix of warehouses, restaurants, bars, and apartment buildings. The downtown area was east of that on the north side of the river, and my apartment and Rosie’s were in the far eastern part of the city on the southern bank.
Necropolis was located on the north side of the river on the edge of a warehouse district east of downtown, near both a train station and a bus stop. My first impression of the place recalled the expression I’d once heard a man use, “gussied up like a two-dollar whore.” I had expected dark and sinister, instead I found an impressive array of neon. I was willing to bet that Eileen Montgomery owned stock in the local electric company.
The bouncers were a pair of vamps, who leered at me, checked my ID, and made suggestions about where I should spend the night. Once through the door, I found my dark and sinister. I wasn’t a vamp, and it took a while for my eyes to adjust. Even then, the place was dark, lit only by dim fake gas lamps in either orange or red. A really bad death metal band was on stage, making it clear that conversation wasn’t one of the club’s attractions.
I made my way to the bar and ordered a faux Bloody Mary. The bartender smirked at me, letting me know that he was aware I wasn’t the real thing and I wouldn’t have gotten a drink with the good stuff no matter how I ordered. While on a mission for the Illuminati, I had worked for a couple of weeks in a true vampire club that served the real thing. The low-end mixer was sheep’s blood, while the top-shelf came from the local blood bank.
Sipping my drink—skimpy on the vodka—I looked around and took in the crowd. Probably a third of those mingling, dancing, or making out in the booths were vampires. Most of them were dressed far more normally than the human wannabes. Girls in LBDs with sky-high hemlines and plunging necklines were common. Skintight catsuits—similar to how I was dressed but usually with far less modest necklines—were common. The guys sported a lot of leather. There was also a wide selection of cloaks, corsets, and billowy sleeves.
Two sets of stairs led to a mezzanine overlooking the main floor, with tables arrayed along the balcony. As my eyes finished adjusting, I saw there were also doors along the wall past those tables, and there were couples occasionally going in and out of them. Some of the people coming out didn’t look very steady on their feet. I must not have stood out because it took me twenty minutes to get hit on the first time, and he was human. I wandered around, mingled a bit, and generally watched what was going on.
One table on the mezzanine was set apart from the others with a lot more space around it. A flame-haired beauty sat there alone, dressed in a long black dress trimmed in red, with lots of lace and frills, and a blood-red overbust corset. She watched the scene below her with what seemed to be bored detachment.
Either I had found Eileen Montgomery, or the woman was one of her children. The air of authority was unmistakable.
Making my way across the bar to the stairs nearest her table, I climbed up to the mezzanine. Once there, I could see that her table was surrounded with black velvet ropes strung between stands. I walked up to the rope and stood in front of her. I was sure she was aware of my presence, but she ignored me for a couple of minutes before turning her head.
“I’m Erin McLane,” I said. “Eileen Montgomery?”
She didn’t react, except with her eyes, which scanned me up and down a couple of times and then stopped on my face. I met her eyes, and we stared at each other.
With a slight smile, she motioned to the empty chair across the table from her. I unhooked the rope, passed into her space, and re-hooked it.
I sat down and set my drink on the table. We regarded each other silently. She was about my height and build but bustier. I had noticed before that even centuries-old vampires had a fortunate relationship with gravity. That part of them not changing didn’t seem fair. She had probably been around thirty when she was turned, an age when women reached their full, mature beauty. She was striking, every bit as beautiful a woman as Harry Gallagher was a man.
“And to what do I owe this pleasure, Miss McLane?” she purred, her voice sensual enough to get a reaction from a corpse.
“Harry Gallagher came by to see me last night, and it occurred to me that you were the only one of Lord Carleton’s children I hadn’t met. Curiosity.”
She smiled. A genuine, non-cynical, thousand-watt smile. “Well, I’m pleased to meet you, then,” she said. “And what did dear Harry have on his mind?”
“I think he was curious. That’s what he said, anyway. Wondering why Mr. Flynn and Mr. Barclay had taken an interest in me.”
“And why have they?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. Mr. Barclay was the first to approach me, and I have no clue as to his motivation. I think that sparked Mr. Flynn’s curiosity, and now I have more vampires in my life than I ever wanted.”
“I’m not sure any of us have a clue as to what motivates Rodrick,” she said. “You do know he’s not quite right.”
“Mr. Flynn made a similar statement. My impression was that Mr. Barclay is stark, raving mad, but I only had the pleasure of his company once.”
Montgomery threw back her head and laughed, a full, bosom-shaking belly laugh.
When she sobered and turned her eyes back on me, she still had a quirky smile on her face, which I could see echoed in her eyes. She took a drink of her Bloody Mary, then her eyes narrowed.
“Yes, I can see why the boys would find you entertaining. But that’s not what draws them, is it?” She studied me, then said, “You’re really that young, aren’t you?”
“I’m twenty-three.”
“And yet not. You’re a very dangerous young lady, aren’t you? And wise beyond your years.” She leaned forward and put her elbow on the table. “Or maybe not wise. No. Experienced and knowledgeable, but still naïve and hopeful and optimistic. What is it you really want from me?”
I shook my head. “Nothing, really. I might hope the coming war doesn’t happen, but that’s not a possibility, is it? One of you has to win, or the chaos will continue. I guess that’s what I want. Peace and quiet. The end to the chaos. The end of the vampire attacks on humans, shifters, and other vampires. Because I seem to keep getting drawn in, no matter how much I try to avoid it. I want the end of what is bringing vampire hunters to Westport.”
“Are you talking about Hunters or hunters?” The inflection in her voice signaled a distinction that was impossible to miss.
I shook my head. “Not members of the Hunters’ Guild, although if the chaos continues long enough, it might draw their attention again. But there are a number of people who have come here looking for bounties, and once that idea has been planted, some idiot is bound to decide it’s a good idea.” In my mind, I pushed down the image of my black-cloaked stalker, but I couldn’t discount the possibility that a Hunter was already in the city.
She nodded. “Any guesses as to who might be in favor of that and have the means to make it happen?”
“Have you ever heard of the Columbia Club?”
Montgomery bit her lip for a moment, then nodded.
“Or someone similar to their members,” I said.
I stood up. “It was nice meeting you. If you’re ever in the neighborhood, stop by Rosie’s. I’m sure you know my schedule.”
She gave me that quirky smile-grin again. “I might do that. Good evening, Miss McLane. Do drop in again sometime. I’ve enjoyed it.”
On my way home, I decided that handicapping the race to succeed Lord Carleton as Westport’s Master of the City wasn’t an easy task. Carleton had been young for a Master, a little less than three hundred years old. But Westport wasn’t that important of a place, and he’d set up there in the 1880s, when the west was still wild and he hadn’t had any competition. The four children I was aware of were all about the same age, born in the 1800s as far as I could tell—about two hundred years old, give or take a couple of decades.
They had to know that as soon as word of Carleton’s death got out, any ancient vampire without a seat of power would be making plans to land in Westport. The difference in power between a two-hundred-year-old vamp and a five-hundred or thousand-year-old vamp was vast. None of the Westport contenders I had met would have a chance against such an interloper.
What I did know was that scenes such as the one I’d walked into with the vamps attacking those shifters couldn’t continue. I had been told there were five packs operating in the greater Westport area, including one based in a mountain town twenty miles north of the city, and another one southeast of the national park to the east of the city. One on one, a young vampire and a werewolf were about even, but if the wolves came out in force, it would be a bloody mess on both sides.
Then there was the upcoming war between four vampire factions. I didn’t know what kind of jockeying for advantage was going on between them, but at some point, open hostilities would break out, with the possibility that the human population might notice. Since dead vamps looked a lot like any human who was missing a head or had a stake in the heart, that might cause some panic among the city’s citizens.
When I got to my apartment complex, I stopped. The limousine parked in front of my building wasn’t something I expected, and I couldn’t think of anything good that it might be carrying.
I slowly backed into the shadows and then made my way around the outside of the complex, approaching my building from the rear. Mindful of my stalker in the black cloak, I scouted the area quite thoroughly before sneaking toward the door.
“Ah, Miss McLane. Good evening,” a voice said from behind me.
My heart stopped, and I whirled about to find a vampire in a business suit standing there, a smile on his face, and an envelope in his hand. My heart hammered in my chest, and I wanted to kill him. I knew he’d sneaked up on me like that on purpose just to scare me.