Aine: Another Complication (Tales of the Executioners) Read online

happened.  It was just something else to make the night complete.

  What have I done to deserve this?

  He tried to remember the map, and came up with a vague, shadowy impression of it. The street names were a blur. He reminded himself that Executioners had survived without GPS for thousands of years. Surely he was as good as they were?

  As he walked, he sniffed the air, seeking Tom’s scent. He picked up a variety of smells; sweat, paint, cinnamon, and something very much like old varnish. There was the scent of another vampire, one he didn’t know, and then, finally, there was Tom.

  He wound down a dark street and an alley, until he came to a rusty door. Tom’s scent was strong; he’d been there recently, though whether it was his den or not was hard to say. There was only one way to find out.

  The door wasn’t locked, so Aine opened it and peered inside. He sniffed again and came up with stale cigarettes, blood, and something else. It smelled vampirish and yet it didn’t. Another complication.

  He couldn’t smell anyone else, so he pushed past the door and up a set of dark stairs. His vampire eyes could see in the gloom, but there was nothing to look at. The walls were bare and the hallway at the top of the stairs was empty except for another door at the end. The scent was stronger as he crept towards it, and he paused at the door and listened. He could hear something like soft scratching; perhaps someone moving around?

  He gripped his dagger in his hand and threw the door open with a shout, “Executioners! Come out!”

  No one replied to his call, and he stood tense and expectant as his eyes scanned the room.  It was dark and sparsely furnished; a folding a table, a chair, a broken couch and on the floor a well-worn book with no cover. A door on the far wall led to what he assumed would be a bedroom. Whoever had been moving had fallen silent now, but he could guess where they were.

  He raised his voice and tried to sound scary and authoritative, like Senya did. The former Executioner was a bitch, but she knew how to instill fear in others. “I said, Executioners. Come out, now!”

  Nothing happened and Aine groaned silently. “This is your last chance!” He counted off the seconds and then charged the door. He kicked it open in a flurry of splinters and landed inside with a cry.

  A low growl came from under the sagging bed and, slowly, a pair of glowing eyes emerged. Aine blinked in disbelief and lowered his weapon as a large angry cat slinked into view; back arched and tail like a bottle brush.

  Aine stepped towards it and the animal hissed and darted for the door. The Executioner was faster, and he caught the seething mass of fur behind the neck and hefted it in the air. It snarled and struck out as Aine sniffed it. This was the odor he’d detected. Had Tom…?

  He could smell the immortality and knew it had to be true. Tom had created a vampire cat. Now what in the hell was he supposed to do with that?

  He heard the downstairs door open and close, and footsteps tromp up the stairs. He dropped the creature and hid just inside the bedroom, tensed and ready. Tom’s scent wafted to him as the vampire shuffled to a stop outside his door. Aine cursed silently; he’d left it open and now Tom knew.

  “Executioner!” the vampire roared. “I can smell you. Come out!”

  So much for surprise.

  Aine debated for a moment and then decided he had had enough. It was time to pull out the big guns. He slid the dagger back into his coat and stepped into the doorway. He leveled his gaze with Tom’s. The vampire snarled and made to charge, but his body didn’t move.

  “What in the hell?”

  “We’ve already done the introductions,” Aine said coldly. “I’m here to escort you to the citadel where you will stand trial for a long list of crimes, including turning an animal without due permission.”

  Tom strained and snarled, but his limbs stayed stationary, held immobile by Aine’s vampire abilities. “You’re a puppet master, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, actually. Do you have a phone?”

  Tom looked puzzled. “No, why? Is that a crime, too?”

  “No.” Aine pulled his cellphone out and pressed the buttons. It stayed dark. Though it would have been easier to call the guards and let them restrain the prisoner and haul him off, it looked like he’d have to do it himself. “It doesn’t matter. Do you have an animal carrier for the cat?”

  Tom adopted an attitude of fake innocence. “What cat?”

  At that moment the animal strode out of the bedroom gave a loud “meow” and rubbed against his legs. Tom looked away and then muttered, “Oh, that cat.” His voice rose as he snapped, "It’s a bunch of bureaucratic nonsense, demanding that we ask their permission to turn something. They don’t care about making more vampires, but don’t turn your bloody cat immortal or the police come for you.”

  Aine was inclined to agree, but he knew better than to say so. “I’m not here because of the cat. I’m here because you tore up a diner, killed two people, and left a score of witnesses to the fact.” Tom’s mouth opened and Aine quickly added, “Save it for the council.”

  Tom fell into an unhappy silence, save the occasional straining sound as he tried to move his limbs, and Aine searched the apartment for a box to cram the cat in. He wasn’t sure what would hold the creature; with immortality came increased strength, and he didn’t want it ripping its way out during transit and running loose in the city.

  He found a metal safety deposit box under the bed that he thought would work. Like themselves, the cat wouldn’t need air. Tom gave another loud grunt and fought against his seeming paralysis. Aine’s head ached with the force required to keep the vampire immobile. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make him walk down the stairs and through the streets to the appointed meeting place. He’d have to deal with it when the time came.

  He rubbed his forehead, then turned to the feline who was systematically shredding the book on the floor. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

  The cat gave him a long, cold stare, and then in a single leap disappeared into the bedroom.

  With a muttered, “God dammit, I’m ready for this night to be over!” Aine bounded after it. The thing tore around the small room, over the bed, halfway up the wall, down again, and around the floor. He finally managed to tackle the beast and force it into the box, howling, hissing, and slashing all the way.

  “There,” he proclaimed to no one in particular and stormed back to the living room. His head pounded and he was covered in long, angry scratches. To make his mood worse, he found that Tom had managed to raise his arms and spread his feet, proof he was slowly getting free. The prisoner stopped his struggles when he saw the metal box, and Aine had a sudden burst of inspiration. “You can cooperate or else I’ll incinerate this monster myself.”

  Tom’s face went pale and his eyes burned with a mixture of fury and fear. “You wouldn’t. It’s not Salem’s fault.”

  “You should have thought of that before you turned Salem.” He lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes into angry slits. “If you think I’m in the mood to mess around, you’re mistaken. You will accompany me to the Guild, where you will stand before the council for your crimes and receive just punishment.”

  “Sure I will. More likely you’ll cut off my head when I’m not looking and eat my heart for kicks. I know how you and your boss Malick operate.”

  Aine began to slowly release his influence, watching for any signs of Tom’s fight or flight. “Malick isn’t in charge anymore. It’s Eileifr now, and the rules are a little different.”

  Tom’s face twisted back and forth between surprise and bitter disbelief, and stopped on the latter. “If you say so. Just don’t hurt my damned cat or I’ll tear you apart myself.”

  “You’re not in a position to call the shots,” Aine pointed out. “But if you cooperate I won’t hurt it.”

  Tom growled low in his throat but, as Aine pulled away the last of his control, he continued to stand motionless. “So where the hell are we going?”

  It was a long walk to the abandoned warehouse. Tom strode next
to Aine like a thunder cloud, his glittering eyes mere slits that said he was going to grab that metal box and run for it at his first chance. Aine held the unlikely prize in one hand, and his dagger in the other. He wished he had a more substantial weapon, but there hadn’t been any way to get something larger on the bus, and from the intel that had seemed the best place to catch him.

  A pair of gray clad guards was suddenly visible in a slice of streetlight. They stood like dark statues against the rusty, corrugated walls of the warehouse, barely disguised masks of irritation on their faces.

  “I got him,” Aine announced, just for something to say. “I would have called but my phone got coffee spilled on it.”

  “Coffee?” one of the guards demanded. “Or did you just want all the credit?”

  “Roger!” cried the other with alarm. “You can’t talk to Executioners like that.”

  Roger rolled his eyes. “It’s not like it’s one of the real ones. It’s only Aine. For crying out loud, I’ve been a guard longer than he was. Just because he’s got a title now doesn’t mean anything. Two months ago he’d have been in your place!”

  “That was then,” said the other quickly. “Now he could kill you for talking back!”

  Aine didn’t have time for this. He couldn’t believe Tom had cooperated as long as he had, and any moment he knew the vampire would decide to abandon the cat and take off. If he did, they might not catch him.