Page 3 of The Vampire Kingpin
You didn’t have a choice, Lark.
Grimclaw had made it clear that if I didn’t steal the dagger, I could find another lair. And who would take in Grimclaw’s cousin/stepsister? They’d think I was spying for him. The man wasn’t exactly popular in the Underworld.
Dodging a sweaty human in a werewolf pelt, I threaded my way through the crowd until I reached Sixth Avenue. Steam rose from a subway grate, adding to the Halloween-y vibe. A New Orleans jazz band high-stepped their way past, a gargantuan witch operated by four puppeteers in slo-mo pursuit.
I chanced a look behind me. No sign of Spider, but the skin between my shoulder blades crawled. He was out there somewhere.
He’d seen me running away from his lair.
On the other hand, he hadn’t seen me with his dagger. That had been safely stowed in a special pocket tied to my inner thigh. Maybe he’d think I hadn’t gotten anything and let me go?
Nah. This was Spider.
I hadn’t just broken into his lair, I’d been in his freaking bedroom. He couldn’t let me get away with that.
I swallowed, still tasting the chocolate caramels I’d shoved into my mouth before heading into his bedroom. Big mistake. The time I’d taken to poke around in his lair’s pantry had cost me precious seconds, but I hadn’t been able to resist dipping into that turquoise MariBelle’s box. Living with Grimclaw, I was so cash-poor I rarely had the means to treat myself to really good…anything, really.
And those chocolates had been really, really good.
Twisty the Clown sidled up to me. “Well, hello, Wednesday.”
He dropped an arm around my shoulders and toasted me with a can of vodka soda. I stiffened, itching to carve a new smile into his face with my blade. But Twisty was camouflage.
“Hey,” I replied in my best deadpan Wednesday Addams.
My costume—black dress with a white collar, hair parted in the middle and braided into two long pigtails—had been chosen to blend in. I’d even powdered my face white to dampen my telltale glow.
Unfortunately, there weren’t that many Wednesdays running around, especially bleeding ones. The gash Spider’s little trap had left in my palm still hadn’t closed—silver wounds take time to heal.
I’d been rinsing my hand in his bathroom sink when I’d heard him outside his lair, talking to a guard. I’d grabbed a handful of tissues, pressed them to my bleeding palm, and faded into the shadows.
I’d escaped, but the shadow world drains you dry, and I’d lingered too long. When I’d dropped back into the physical world, my hand was still bleeding, and trust me, you didn’t want to be leaving the scent of blood with a vampire tracking you.
And this wasn’t any vampire—this was Spider, New York’s Underworld kingpin. The guy was stupid powerful. Even out West, we’d heard of him. I’d wager my (pathetically small) stash of precious stones that he could track me even in a throng like this.
Damn Grimclaw, anyway. Spider wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near his lair. Grim had sworn, hand to his black, shriveled heart, that Spider would be out tonight, with only minimal security on duty.
“It’s Halloween,” Grim had reminded me. “Everyone will be out hunting.”
I ground my back teeth. Thank you very much, Grim.
It wasn’t the first time my cousin had promised something he couldn’t deliver. I was the ass for believing him. But in my defense, it was Hallow’s Eve. We’re all—vampires and dhampirs—out roaming on the wildest night of the year. Humans are amped up on adrenaline and alcohol; they practically offer themselves to you on a platter.
Getting into Spider’s lair had been easy. I’d only had to evade two booby traps. Then I’d waited in the shadows until one of the men guarding the door had entered the lair and slipped through the door after him. Inside, the lair had been nearly empty.
Piece of cake, right?
But as I opened the wall safe in Spider’s bedroom, I’d tripped a third trap, a silver razor that nearly sliced my hand in two. Now I was battling silver poisoning on top of the aftereffects of too much time in the shadows. Both were messing with my ability to heal my palm.
“Great parade, huh?” Twisty yelled in my ear.
I moved a shoulder. “It’s…adequate.”
“Adequate?” He laughed. “Good one, Wednesday.”
My nape tingled, raising hairs all over my body. Spider was near. I felt it.
“Later, Clown Boy.” Shaking off his arm, I darted under the barricades, ignoring the shout of an irate cop, and shot across Sixth Avenue ahead of a group of glowing skeletons. I ducked under another barricade and pushed my way into the crowd on the far side of the street.
