Page 2 of The Vampire Kingpin

“Drop the weapons.” I threw all my dominance behind the command.

The blades clattered to the ground. “Sorry, Grim,” the dude on the right muttered, hands raised in surrender. “I ain’t messin’ with Spider. Might as well off my own self and be done with it.”

Grimclaw’s response was garbled. I turned back to see Velma had pinned him to the wall. She drew back her free arm, dagger poised to strike.

His gaze pleaded with me. “Have a heart, man,” he wheezed. “I can pay you, I swear.”

“With what?” I returned. “You’re tapped out, remember?”

“Not…money. I have something…better. Can we…talk in private?” He was turning purple now, but he managed to cut his eyes at Velma and his men.

“No.”

“Please. Trust me. You want…this.”

I studied him. The dark gods knew, I was sick of Grimclaw’s games, but his lair served a purpose, keeping a far-off section of the Underworld tunnels clear of other supernaturals.

“Let him go,” I said.

Velma shook her head but obeyed.

“My lieutenant stays,” I told Grimclaw. I didn’t trust him not to have more people hidden in the shadows.

He slumped against the tiled wall, sucking in air, but managed a nod.

“Back the fuck off.” I jabbed a finger at his men. “But stay where I can see you. You got phones?”

When they nodded, I said, “I want the flashlights on. Shine them on your faces so I know you haven’t gone into the shadows.”

“Yes, my lord.” They withdrew twenty-five yards or so and turned on their flashlights, sending a fat gray rat scurrying deeper into the darkness.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Start talking,” I told Grimclaw. “And make it good, because I’ve already wasted too much time on your shit.”

“It’s good.” A nervous pull of his lips. “She’s good. You’re gonna be very…satisfied. I seen you looking at her.”

Could he mean?—?

My slow-beating heart gave a hard thump. Because this sorry excuse of a man did have something I wanted. Very much.

Or make that someone.

“Go on.”

2

Lark

ONE WEEK LATER

I skidded to a stop, the stolen dagger a cold weight against my inner thigh.

At nine P.M., the Village Halloween Parade was just hitting its stride. The streets were packed with dancing, singing Jack Skellingtons, Maleficents, Beetlejuices and other monsters, not all of them human.

Halloween in New York is off the hinge.

But then, so was my cousin Grimclaw’s latest scheme. Off the hinge, as in: irrational, demented, no-way-we’d-get-away-with-it.

The real question was, why had I gone along with it?