Time Will Tell Read online

  She frowned, then nodded.

  “Think so.”

  “Here,” he said. “Flip your head over. Let me see if I can get at the rest of them.”

  The elevator didn’t stop on its way up, and Tina stepped around Tell going to stand where she could see it open. Tell kept working on her hair, bless him.

  The elevator doors opened, and nothing happened.

  Tina took another step forward, listening harder.

  No heartbeat.

  Either it was empty, or someone undead was standing there. The doors didn’t habitually open for no cause - it took a lot of work to make them open on purpose - and the idea of someone lying in wait in there made Tina nervous.

  And then Hunter stumbled in.

  “Found it,” he announced, falling foot-over-foot until he reached the couch, where he landed face-first into the back of it.

  “Is he drunk?” Tina asked.

  “Looks that way,” Tell answered passively.

  “I’ve never seen a drunk vampire before,” Tina said and Tell snorted.

  “I assure you, you have. You simply didn’t know he was a vampire at the time.”

  He cut a new part through her hair and whistled.

  “You have got a mess in here,” he said, then he dropped his arms. “Go on and check on him. I’ll finish that in a minute.”

  “You’d think a comb would do it,” she said over her head, and Tell laughed.

  “If they were easy to get rid of, Cova children would run amok. Think about what they did to steal that box, and then try to control that in a rebellious teenager.”

  Tina nodded an acknowledgment and went over to Hunter as the elevator doors dinged closed and the car left again.

  “Hey, buddy,” she said. “Did you hit last call and forget which house was yours?”

  He rolled over, looking up at her with a sloppy smile.

  “You’re pretty,” he said.

  “You’re deeply drunk,” Tina answered. “And the second guy tonight to call me pretty, which is just weird.”

  “Who was he? I’ll hit him in the face.”

  “I already stabbed him in the throat, so we’re good,” Tina said. “You know it’s like the first thing in the evening, right? How did you get this slammed in twenty minutes?”

  For an instant she was concerned that they’d mis-read him, that he was seriously ill or under the effects of something nefarious, but Tell still showed no interest, and Hunter grinned.

  “She did all my drinking for me,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. He slipped off the couch and onto the floor, and Tina tipped her head to the side, watching him.

  “Do I get him coffee?” she asked.

  “He’ll burn it off in about twenty minutes,” Tell answered. “She must have been all but passed-out drunk when he fed on her.”

  Tina looked up.

  “Drunk means non-consenting,” she said, and Tell shrugged, watching the green bits bubble in the vinegar.

  “Usually you pay them before they start drinking,” he said. “I doubt he picked up someone who was that drunk and just fed on them.”

  Tina narrowed her eyes.

  “This is a thing, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” Tell said. “We can’t really drink alcohol fast enough to get… Well, like that. So you pay someone to do it for you, and it hits you all at once. Mixed in with the blood like that? You can get any high you like.”

  “Lot of work to get drunk,” she said, putting one knee on the ground next to Hunter’s shoulder. “You nerving up for something?”

  He grinned up at her.

  “Are you angry at me?” he asked.

  “Should I be?” she asked. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  “You’re a vampire,” he said, the smile dimming. “Means if I mess up, you’ll be angry at me forever.”

  “Is that what it means?” Tina asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you and Ginger forgave each other over and over again, every time you tried to kill each other.”

  He laughed.

  “No, we just like to screw.”

  “Uh huh,” Tina said.

  “Why is your hair buzzing?” Hunter asked too loudly. His ears were apparently better than hers.

  “Job last night got complicated,” Tina told him. “Why are you here, drunk, first thing at night?”

  “Need help,” he said. “But you’re going to say no and he’s going to say no, and you’ve got your reasons and he’s got his reasons and everybody’s got their reasons, and they’re such good reasons, and you’re so stuck with your reasons. Don’t ever do anything just because…”

  She leaned down, putting her lips to his just for a moment, then sat up again, watching him.

  He looked dumbfounded.

  She liked it.

  “How about that?” she asked, and he grinned again.

  “You’re pretty,” he said.

  “You say it again, I’m going to stab you in the throat,” she answered, pulling the knife out of her boot and showing it to him.

  “Ooh,” Hunter said, perking up and sitting up to lean against the couch. He took the knife from her and ran his fingers along the blade the way any thirteen-year-old boy would have, and she shook her head, standing.

  “Twenty minutes, you say?” she asked, and Tell laughed.

  “Fifteen, now, I bet,” he said. “You want to get the rest of that stuff out of your hair while we wait?”

  “Do vampires get hangovers?” Tina asked as she went to sit on one of the counter-height stools and flipped her hair all the way over to the side, helping Tell pick through it for a moment, then dropping her arm because he was much better at getting the bell pods than she was.

  “Not unless he did something really stupid,” Tell answered. “We can get addictions, though, so don’t go chasing the dragon too hard.”

  “Got it,” she said.

  “You’ve probably got some of these on your pillow,” Tell said. “I’m not sure how the magic works, but it might recognize your pillow the way it does your clothing.”

  She wrinkled her nose.

  “I’ll check after you’re done.”

  “And your clothes from yesterday, too.”

  “On the floor in my bathroom,” she said.

  “The one upside is that they don’t proliferate,” Tell said. “Once we get them all, they’ll be all gone.”

  “At least there’s that,” Tina said. “I’m glad he told us about the vinegar.”

  “You and me both,” Tell said. “I don’t relish the idea of just living with the madness that would come out of having those stuck to you until the magic wore off.”

  “How long would that take?” Tina asked. Tell snorted.

  “It’s not like there’s a wiki out there somewhere that I can go look it up,” he said. “I don’t know. I’ve never raised Cova.”

  “What kind of parent would attach a noisemaker that brings in predators to their children?” Tina asked after a minute.

  “One who knows it’s worse to lose them,” Tell said playfully. “No, fiends aren’t very prolific, and a lot of them don’t hunt Cova anymore. Kind of a dark ages thing. I expect they arranged for him to be there, rather than leave it to chance.”

  Tina found another one back behind her ear and looked at it for a moment, then held it up for Tell to put it in the vinegar.

  “I mean, seriously, it’s like you put your head into a tub of them and just swished it around,” Tell said. “How did you not wake up insane?”

  “I don’t think I hear as well as you,” Tina admitted. “It’s like… I died, right?”

  “I was there,” Tell answered.

  “I died, and I gave up being alive, the fact that I was already dying notwithstanding, for an unknown box of talents and skills, and I’m trying to figure out what they all are in hopes of finding out that I made a good trade.”

  “And having poorer hearing than the average vampire means that you traded your beating heart for a sub-par
box of goodies,” Tell said. Even though the words sounded dismissive, it was the simplicity of them that suggested he knew exactly what she was talking about.

  “It’s disappointing,” she said.

  “You were an original,” he said. “It’s all going to be disappointing, after that.”

  “You know, I’m tempted to go down and beat that Djinn, for spoiling it for me,” she said. “Give me the good stuff and then when I actually end up becoming a vampire, it’s nothing like that.”

  “If he hadn’t given you a look at what it would be like, you might not have let me turn you,” Tell said quietly. “He might have saved your life.”

  She grunted.

  “Still. I’m not as fast, I’m not as strong, my hearing isn’t as good… There’s nothing about this that is better. The more I figure out about what I can do…”

  “I smell vinegar,” Hunter said, getting up.

  “Very good,” Tell said, not looking over. “Now. Come man up and say what you came here to say.”

  Hunter came to sit next to Tina, frowning at her hair.

  “What are those?” he asked, reaching over to pick one out. It stuck to him through a violent attempt to fling it off, and Tina indicated the cup of vinegar.

  “You’ve figured it out,” she said. He sniffed it and grimaced, then dipped it off.

  “What did I say?” he asked. “I remember talking, and then you threatened to stab me in the throat, and… that was really sexy, actually. I like vampire you.”

  “You said you need help,” Tina said, not falling for the flattery if for nothing else than that she was very disillusioned with being a vampire, just now.

  Not that she’d ever been illusioned with it.

  “Mmm,” he said. “Is that why I ended up here?”

  “This wasn’t the goal?” Tina asked. “Gee. And here I thought you’d finally decided it was time to come settle things with me.”

  “Oh, hell no,” he said, blinking hard once, then shaking his head. “Nope. I’m as shocked as you are that I’m here.”

  “What do you need?” Tell asked.

  Hunter sighed.

  “You have booze?”

  “You insult me,” Tell answered.

  Hunter got up and went back behind the counter, finding a square-shaped bottle of amber - Tina didn’t ever read the labels - and came back around with just it.

  “Glass,” Tell growled, and Hunter gave him a put-upon look and went to get one.

  Once he was seated, Hunter made a show of pouring a quite-large glass and settling in with it, then he nodded.

  “I was here, when you guys needed me here,” he said. “I even joined the wonder twins for the cleanup effort, as much fun as that was. Right? I’m not the bad guy. I turn up when you actually need me.”

  “This sounds like an excuse,” Tell said. “Not a problem.”

  “I’m just saying, neither of you have any right to be mad at me.”

  Tell snorted.

  “What she does or doesn’t have a right to feel, concerning you, is between the two of you, but you know we’re good,” he said. Tina still had her head laying on her arms on the counter, and she lifted her eyebrows, waiting for Hunter to go on.

  “Just wanted to start there,” he said. “This isn’t my fault.”

  Tell laughed out loud, now.

  “Oh, the big ones never are,” he said. “Did you turn someone?”

  “No,” Hunter said, sullen. He settled over his drink again and took a long, slow swallow of it, then set it back down. “I’ve got a bounty on me.”

  Tina clicked her tongue.

  “Shame, Hunter. What did you do?”

  “Why do you assume I did something?” he asked. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “All right, what did you not do?” Tell asked.

  Hunter glanced over.

  “I failed to show up at a dance,” he said.

  Tina sat up.

  “You what now?”

  “Oh, dear,” Tell said.

  “I just didn’t feel like it,” Hunter said. “It’s not like I signed in blood or anything that I’d be there.”

  “You didn’t feel like it, or you were conflicted?” Tell asked.

  “Shut up,” Hunter muttered.

  “No, what?” Tina asked, looking over at Tell.

  He drew a slow breath and nodded, rolling his jaw to the side, then returning to Tina’s hair.

  “These things are driving me crazy,” he said. “It’s a once-a-decade thing. Standing invites for the vampires, only a very select set of invitations to humans. Tickets for the humans run into the hundreds of thousands of dollars, and then they have an auction.”

  Tina looked over at Hunter again.

  “I’m not liking the sound of this,” she said.

  “It doesn’t get better,” Tell said. “The auction is of the vampires as dates. The agreement is that they’ll wine, dine, and entertain the human for the evening in an era’s etiquette of their choice, and then the highest-bidding human gets turned at the end of the night.”

  “Turned,” Tina said, and Hunter nodded.

  “I’ve done it a few times,” he said. “Sophie is very clear that there’s no implied relationship between the vampire and the human at the end of the night, that she’s going to take care of the newly-turned vampire, so it’s just… It’s a night of people who know how to have a good time.”

  “And at the end of it one of them is a vampire,” Tina said. He shrugged.

  “You don’t get an invite to this thing unless you know what you’re getting into,” he said.

  “She put a bounty on your head because you stood up her blood party?” Tina asked. Hunter sucked on a tooth and considered his drink for a moment longer.

  “That’s not all of it,” Tell said. “Him not coming would lose her maybe a million dollars, but he could just reimburse her, if that was all there was to it.”

  “A million dollars,” Tina said. “You’re not kidding.”

  “I usually end up going for somewhere closer to one-point-five, in today’s market,” Hunter said. “Not bragging or anything.”

  “You ghosted me to go to a blood party where you were supposed to be a gigolo for some rich chick who wants to live forever, and then you bailed on that,” Tina said. “And now you’re here again, asking for us to bail you out?”

  “Oh, this story isn’t done yet,” Tell said.

  “Reasons,” Hunter muttered. “Yes, I was going to go to Sophie’s party, and then I’d changed my mind and I was hanging out at Melanin…”

  “Partridge in New York,” Tell supplied.

  “And there were a couple of the other guys there, and Amanda… you remember Amanda.”

  “I do,” Tell said.

  “And I just asked if maybe it was time for us to grow up and stop being a spectacle. I mean… Back in the day, I could live for a decade on what she was paying me to be there, and I’d show up in costume and be very charming and collect my money and just go blow it with Ginger. But most of us, man? We’re successful, now. Rich, most of us. I don’t care about the money she gives us. We’re there for the tradition of it, and I asked if maybe the tradition wasn’t stupid.”

  “You led a boycott of Sophie’s party?” Tell asked.

  “That wasn’t how it was, at the time,” Hunter answered. “We were just talking, and I wanted to be back here, instead, but there I was in New York about to go…” He paused, then laughed darkly into his drink. “Sophie’s kind of people do know how to have a good time. All of it. I was about to go do all of it, and I realized that if I got picked as the top date for the night, I didn’t want to turn her. And then the rest of it just happened. We were just talking.”

  “And now Sophie wants you dead because you made the biggest party of the decade, on the planet into an embarrassment,” Tell said.

  Hunter nodded.

  “That’s about the size of it,” he said.

  “You deserve it,” Tell said.
<
br />   “Knew you’d say that,” Hunter answered.

  “And what do you expect us to do about it?” Tell asked.

  “She won’t talk to me,” Hunter said.

  “I didn’t say that,” Tina said, and he shook his head.

  “Not you, Sophie. She won’t talk to me, so I can’t smooth it over. And it isn’t like the money is hard for her. She’s richer than most of us put together. She doesn’t even have to still be angry, she just leaves the bounty up and someday they manage to snag me and send her my head in a box, and she pays out like it’s nothing.”

  Head in a box.

  Tina’s stomach queased at the thought.

  Not specifically Hunter’s head in a box, though that was morbid.

  But that she’d been running around all the night before with a box, and she didn’t know what was in it…

  “Still not what you want us to do,” Tell said.

  “You have to keep me alive,” Hunter said.

  “Is that all?” Tell asked pleasantly. “You can just camp out here and order delivery every night, and we all know you’d be perfectly safe. You could even take up in the other bedroom, if you wanted to be noble about it.”

  “That’s the same as being dead,” Hunter said, and Tina smiled.

  “You already are,” she said, matching Tell’s tone.

  “You know what I mean,” he said darkly.

  “You want me to go convince Sophie to just forget about it?” Tell asked. “She’d put a bounty on me just for the gall of it.”

  “Help me,” Hunter said. “I don’t care how. Can you just help me?”

  “Is this why you showed up here drunk?” Tell asked. “You’ve backed yourself into a corner, my friend. I won’t even say that you were wrong, doing it, but you may not see the light of day, figuratively speaking, for a while, now, until the active hunters get bored and move on to other targets.”

  “How much is the bounty?” Tina asked.

  “Five million dollars,” Hunter said.

  Tell whistled.

  “You’ve got that much, don’t you?” Tina asked.

  “If it was just a matter of paying off an elite squad who was gunning for him, sure, that would work,” Tell said. “But you’re talking about dozens of families of werewolves who could live well on that for a good long time. It doesn’t take that much to pull them all out of the woodwork. She put it up even higher for the sake of making a point.”