1
The water vampire wanted to meet at a self-storage yard near the airport, which didn’t instill a sense of confidence in Ben Vecchio. The damp night air over San Francisco wrapped frigid fingers around his throat and slid down his collar as he hovered over the appointed meeting place. In the distance, the seemingly endless queue of jumbo jets circled, waiting for their turn to land at the airport by the bay.
The storage yard off Old Bayshore Highway was like any other anonymous industrial complex in the United States. Painted a dull, salt-speckled taupe, it sat under the evening fog in a half dozen neat rows. Nothing about the yard would have seemed off to a human, but Ben could scent multiple threads of amnis, the immortal power that animated their kind, drifting in the air.
Vampires guarded the place. Not wind vampires like Ben—not that he could detect anyway—but multiple immortals were present, which meant the Trader wasn’t alone.
Not necessarily a threat. The vampire was known for doing business with legitimate and slightly less legitimate businesspeople, which meant that security was prudent.
What Ben wasn’t sure of was if he fell under the “legitimate” or “slightly less” label these days.
Probably slightly less.
He descended from the darkness and landed under the cool glow of a streetlamp, deliberately making himself visible. He saw a guard behind the chain-link fence emerge from the darkness, nodding toward a narrow gate next to the car entrance. The guard took a device from his pocket and pressed a button, speaking into it.
Ben stood at the gate, waiting. He knew he was on camera; he could feel the electronic waves emanating from the building. It was an erratic ability that had emerged in the past few months that was both useful and annoying.
Being a fairly new vampire, Ben was still developing his amnis. Having been sired by an ancient wind vampire, that also meant that when new abilities emerged, they often came on full blast. It was a little like dropping into a vehicle going one hundred miles an hour. Sure, you could get used to it, but it would be a lot nicer if you were there for the buildup.
The guard got the approval he needed and opened the gate for Ben. Neither one of them spoke the obvious: Ben was a wind vampire. He could have flown over the gate as easily as breathing, but he was showing the Trader respect.
See? I will respect your rules even if I don’t have to.
The silent guard walked into the anonymous maze of storage units, and Ben followed. They turned right, then left, following no obvious landmarks other than painted numbers on units. When they reached C-201, the guard opened a smaller door next to the large garage door and pushed it open, motioning Ben to enter.
The interior of the unit was pitch-black, and Ben could scent two vampires inside.
Okay, here goes nothing. If he had to beat up his hands tearing open the roof of the unit to get out of a sticky situation, he was going to be pissed. But Tenzin had vouched for this trader, and she was his partner, so he trusted her.
Mostly.
Ben stepped through the doorway and heard the door shut behind him. A light flipped on, nothing harsh enough to blind an immortal, but it still surprised him, as did the view.
In front of Ben, there was a very comfortable and well-appointed office. A thin, pale vampire in a business suit was sitting at the desk, his hand on a switch.
“Mr. Benjamin Vecchio?” The vampire spoke with a slight French accent, and if Ben hadn’t known any different, he would have thought he’d walked into the offices of a fashion magazine.
The art on the wood-paneled walls was modern with a distinct Asian flair. The concrete floors of the unit had been covered in thick, polished wood and wool rugs so luxurious he could feel his feet sinking into them.
“I’m Ben Vecchio.” Ben stepped toward the desk, close enough to be polite but not close enough to be a threat. “I’m here for a meeting with the Trader. My partner called a few days ago.”
“Of course. She is expecting you.” The man nodded a head of wavy brown hair. He motioned to a set of leather chairs on one wall. “If you’ll give her a moment, she’ll be right out.”
Ben sat and examined the space. How many exits? It was an old game he’d played with Tenzin for years. One, the door behind him. Two, the window in the back that probably led to another storage unit, which would have another door. Three, the vent over the head of the fashionable secretary, easily ripped out to access the sky. Four, the door leading to the neighboring storage unit on the left. Five, the door leading to the storage unit on the right.
Five exits was acceptable. It was quite ingenious when he thought about it. No one from the outside would ever suspect the offices of an international antiquities trader were veiled by an industrial storage unit. The units were light safe and only accessible from single points unless expanded.
A few minutes later, a thin woman with Southeast Asian features emerged from the office on the left. She was wearing a black top that wrapped around her slim figure and a flowing skirt in black with striped floral panels in what looked like traditional silk fabric. Her jewelry was simple: gold hoops in her ears, a gold chain around her neck, and a thick jade bracelet on her left arm.
“Mr. Vecchio?”
Ben rose, trying not to show his surprise. He’d been expecting something different. He wasn’t sure what, but it wasn’t a seemingly young vampire who looked like she’d be running a high-end gallery, not a sometimes-illicit antiquities trade.
He stopped a few feet from the Trader and bowed his head slightly. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you. Tenzin speaks highly of you.”
The woman smiled. “That is very flattering.” If she wasn’t a native English speaker, you’d never know it—her accent was impeccable. “I’ve enjoyed working with your partner in the past. We share an appreciation of directness.”
Ben smiled. “Yes, she does appreciate that.”
“Tenzin told me you were looking for something quite specific for a client.” She motioned to what he assumed was her office door. “Please join me and we’ll talk. Gregory can get us something to drink if you’d like. Blood-wine? Coffee? Tea?”
Ben turned to Gregory. “Blood-wine would be great. Thank you.”
“Of course.” He murmured a brand label in French, and the Trader nodded.
Ben kept on alert as he walked into the Trader’s office, but he wasn’t feeling uneasy. So far the meeting had gone as expected.
You can’t distrust everyone, his aunt would say. Then again, his aunt was a librarian. A vampire librarian and protector of rare books, but a librarian nonetheless. She didn’t deal with quite as many unsavory characters as Ben did in the course of his business.
He looked for a desk but found only a sitting area in front of a wall of books and objets d’art. Thick coffee table books were stacked along the wall, interspersed with brilliant orbs of glass, shiny porcelain, and carved wooden pieces.
“Your collection is diverse.” He turned when he sensed her behind him.
“The world is full of beautiful things.” She spread her hands. “In my business, I aim to facilitate the right buyer finding the right seller.” She motioned to the sofas in front of the bookcases. “Please have a seat and tell me what you’re looking for.”
Her power was a low thrum calibrated to set clients at ease, which was exactly what was happening to Ben. He was still working on his own ability to muffle the startling ancient power that blasted through him, and he was feeling good so far that neither the Trader nor her secretary seemed intimidated.