Every Which Way But Dead. Ким Харрисон

to the living and the dead?” I asked, hoping I was wrong.

      He grinned. “You do know him.” He glanced at Jenks, quivering and unable to open his mouth. “I thought he was pissing in my daisies.”

      My eyes closed as I gathered my strength. Kisten. Why didn’t that surprise me? “Yeah, I know him,” I muttered as I opened my eyes, not sure if I should be angry or flattered that the living vampire had recommended me to Takata. “I didn’t know his last name was Felps.”

      Disgusted, I gave up on my attempt at being professional. Throwing my datebook back into my bag, I slouched in the corner, my movement less graceful than I hoped, as it was pushed along by the car’s motion as we shifted lanes. “So what can I do for you?” I asked.

      The older warlock straightened, tugging the soft orange of his slacks straight. I’d never known anyone who could look good in orange, but Takata managed it. “It’s about the upcoming concert,” he said. “I wanted to see if your firm was available for security.”

      “Oh.” I licked my lips, puzzled. “Sure. That’s no problem, but don’t you have people for that already?” I asked, remembering the tight security at the concert I’d met him at. Vamps had to cap their teeth, and no one got in with more than a makeup spell. ‘Course, once past security, the caps came off and the amulets hidden in shoes were invoked… .

      He nodded. “Yes, and therein lies the problem.”

      I waited as he leaned forward, sending the scent of redwood to me. Long musician hands laced, he eyed the floor. “I arranged security with Mr. Felps as usual before I got into town,” he said when his attention came back to me. “But a Mr. Saladan came to see me, claiming he’s handling security in Cincinnati and that all monies owed to Piscary should be directed to him instead.”

      My breath came out in understanding. Protection. Oh. I got it. Kisten was acting as Piscary’s scion since very few people knew that Ivy had displaced him and now held the coveted title. Kisten continued to handle the undead vampire’s affairs while Ivy refused to. Thank God.

      “You’re paying for protection?” I said. “You want me to talk to Kisten and Mr. Saladan to get them to stop blackmailing you?”

      Takata tilted his head back, his beautiful, tragic voice ringing out in laugher that was soaked up by the thick carpet and leather seats. “No,” he said. “Piscary does a damned-fine job of keeping the Inderlanders in line. My concern is with Mr. Saladan.”

      Appalled, but not surprised, I tucked my red curls behind my ear, wishing I had done something with them that afternoon. Yeah, I used blackmail, but it was to keep myself alive, not make money. There was a difference. “It’s blackmail,” I said, disgusted.

      He went solemn. “It’s a service, and I don’t begrudge a dime of it.” Seeing my frown, Takata leaned forward to send his gold chains swinging, his blue eyes fixing on mine. “My show has an MPL, just like a traveling circus or fair. I wouldn’t keep it one night if it wasn’t for arranging protection at every city we play in. It’s the cost of doing business.”

      MPL was short for Mixed Population License. It guaranteed that there was security in place to prevent bloodletting on the premises, a necessity when Inderlanders and humans mixed. If too many vampires gathered and one succumbed to his or her blood lust, the rest were hard-pressed to not follow suit. I was never sure how a slip of paper was enough to keep hunger-driven vampires’ mouths to themselves, but establishments worked hard to keep an A rating on their MPLs since humans and living Inderlanders would boycott any place that didn’t have one. It was too easy to end up dead or mentally bound to a vampire you didn’t even know. And personally, I’d rather be dead than be a vampire’s toy, my living with a vampire aside.

      “It’s blackmail,” I said. We had just passed the bridge to cross the Ohio River. I wondered where we were going if it wasn’t the Hollows.

      Takata’s thin shoulders moved. “When I’m touring, I’m at any one place for one night, maybe two. If someone starts trouble, we won’t be around long enough to track them down, and every goth out there knows it. Where’s the incentive for an excited vamp or Were to behave him-or herself? Piscary puts the word out that anyone causing trouble will answer to him.”

      I looked up, not liking that it made beautiful, simplistic sense.

      “I have an incident-free show,” Takata said, smiling, “and Piscary gets seven percent of the ticket sales. Everyone wins. Up to now, I’ve been very satisfied with Piscary’s services. I didn’t even mind he upped his cost to pay for his lawyer.”

      Snorting, I dropped my eyes. “My fault,” I said.

      “So I hear,” the lanky man said dryly. “Mr. Felps was very impressed. But Saladan?” Takata grew concerned, his expressive fingers drumming out a complicated rhythm as his gaze went to the passing buildings. “I can’t afford to pay both of them. There would be nothing left to rebuild the city’s shelters, and that’s the entire point to the concert.”

      “You want me to make sure nothing happens,” I said, and he nodded. My eyes tracked the Jim Beam bottler just off the expressway while I took that in. Saladan was trying to muscle in on Piscary’s turf now that the undead master vampire was put away for murder. Murders that I staked to him.

      I tilted my head in a vain attempt to see Jenks on my shoulder. “I have to talk to my other partner, but I don’t see a problem,” I said. “There will be three of us. Me, a living vamp, and a human.” I wanted Nick to go, even if he wasn’t officially part of our firm.

      “Me,” Jenks squeaked. “Me too. Me too.” “I didn’t want to speak for you, Jenks,” I said. “It might be cold.”

      Takata chuckled. “With all that body heat and under those lights? No way.”

      “Then it’s settled,” I said, terribly pleased. “I’m assuming we get special passes?”

      “Yes.” Takata twisted to reach under the folder that held his band’s pictures. “These will get you past Clifford. From there it shouldn’t be a problem.”

      “Super,” I said, delighted as I dug in my bag for one of my cards. “Here’s my card in case you have to get in touch with me between then and now.”

      Things were starting to happen fast, and I took the wad of thick cardboard he gave me in return for my black business card. He smiled as he looked at it, and tucked it away in a front shirt pocket. Turning with that same soft look, he tapped a thick knuckle on the glass between the driver and us. I clutched my bag to me when we swerved to the shoulder.

      “Thank you, Rachel,” he said as the car stopped right there on the freeway. “I’ll see you on the twenty-second about noon at the Coliseum so you can go over our security with my staff.”

      “Sounds good,” I stammered as Jenks swore and dove for my bag when the door opened. Cold air blew in, and I squinted in the afternoon glare. Behind us was my car. He was going to leave me right here?

      “Rachel? I mean it. Thank you.” Takata extended his hand. I took, giving it a firm shake. His grip was tight, feeling thin and bony in mine. Professional. “I really appreciate it,” he said as he released my hand. “You did good by quitting the I.S. You look great.”

      I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you,” I said, letting the driver help me out of the limo. The vamp driving my car slipped past me and vanished into the darkest corner of the limo as I tightened the tie of my coat and draped my scarf about my neck again. Takata waved his good-bye as the driver shut the door. The small, tidy man nodded to me before turning around. I stood with my feet in the snow as the limo eased into the fast traffic and disappeared.

      Bag in hand, I timed the traffic and slipped into my car. The heater was on full, and I breathed the scent of the vamp who had been driving it, pulling it deep into me.

      My head hummed with the music Takata had shared with me. I was going to be working security at his solstice