I'm in a crowded place
But I can't recognize a single face
They say the thrill is in the chase
Well I ain't got the legs, ain't got the legs
To run that race
----------------------------------------------
Standing outside the nightclub, Merchant had to concede that 'dank' was no longer appropriate to the description. Vibrant would be the kindest word applicable to the flashing neon signs and multi-coloured strobe lights that beat a staccato on the wet pavement at the doors.
"It's like some cruel god dropped acid and threw up Dali's Skittles factory." Anderson was clearly not feeling kind towards the club's new look and she couldn't really say she blamed him.
"Maybe it looks better inside."
"Inside what, a nuclear blast radius? Anyway, we've got to get past them first." He nodded to the bouncers who were carefully vetting the crowd pushing to get in. Large men in smart casual wear that practically passed for a uniform in their profession, turning away the too young, too old and too unfashionable. "Think the winning smile will work?"
"Look who's come out to play. Naughty, it's past their bed time."
Four months and the voice still went directly to her survival instincts, she locked her knees to let them know running wasn't an option and turned. Anderson had been faster to face them but he didn't have to deal with the six-inch spikes of neck breaking. She laid a restraining hand on his arm, feeling the rigid tension as he held himself in place.
Luci was a marvel of black silk and silver glitter, white-blonde hair shimmering unbound down her back. The presentation was too perfect and the flash of feeling gawky and plain in comparison passed quickly. Besides, making physical comparisons to the dead wasn't really the healthiest mental place to be. The leech was half draped over Isaac who had, as far as she could tell, dressed to accessorize in a black jeans and t-shirt, silver belt. It was the undead's answer to Posh and Becks.
Isaac. He was looking at her with a flat but cautious expression - more aware of the possibility of more agents being in the vicinity than the woman beside him. Although the insight was fleeting, she kept it in mind as he spoke with the cockiness she remembered.
"Well, this is surreal. Die here often?"
"There's not going to be a precedent tonight, don't even try it. We just want to ask you some questions."
"How'd you know we'd be here, anyway? Developed a bit of competency, did we?"
"You're not worth research, you're just really fucking predictable. Answer the questions and we'll let you walk away."
Luci smiled as Anderson bluffed, but she didn't speak. She knew, and she wasn't speaking. Merchant tried to ignore the prickling sensation at the nape of her neck and concentrated on Isaac for the moment. He looked around as if thinking, probably searching for the non-existent backup, then back.
"Ask, then. For old time's sake."
"Where's Woodman?" Isaac tilted his head at her blunt question, as far as she could tell having no idea at all. It produced an ache in her chest she hadn't been expecting but she tried to keep it out of her tone. "Agent Woodman, where is he?"
"I know who he is and, believe me, if I had him I'd have let you know by now. Nothing says 'thinking of you' like a head in the post. We haven't seen him."
"I have." Luci's voice was a lazy whisper, drawing a frown from Isaac.
"All right, tell them where he is and we can go … save small kittens somewhere."
"I'll tell them, but only because he'll hate that I did." Her tone became spitefully childish as she finally unwrapped herself from the man she clung to and stepped forward. "I saw him chasing swords for the tower. Stabbing and licking the blood from a blade that isn't his."
"That's … incredibly unhelpful. Try again, this time with new and improved sanity." Anderson's mocking tone provoked Isaac to move forward, hissing despite the perceived danger. Before Merchant or Anderson could move, Luci had turned to hold him back with apparent ease.
"No, sweet boy. It'll ruin the game. Wind the up and watch them go."
Something seemed to pass between them before Isaac finally subsided back under her insistent touch. "You're still going to pay for that, blood bag."
"Yeah, yeah. Big scary vampire. Observe my terror while you're translating loony tunes speak."
"She saw him near where some … kindred have meetings. Tower Inn on the river. Maybe one of them has him or something. I really don't care. Fuck them, fuck him and fuck you."
"Necrophilia, not a big turn on." Anderson was still buying time for Merchant to make her assessment and for that she could have had his grungy little babies for real. Isaac had said 'kindred' with contempt but she'd heard the word before. It obediently came to mind after a moment and she smiled faintly, thinking through what they had said and what they hadn't until the shape of the situation was solid in her mind.
"So he's with whoever your fighting and they probably don't even know you're around, right? Hell, your own people, and I use the term loosely, can't be that happy with you either." She nodded and glanced to Anderson "Sound like leverage to you?"
"Works for me." Anderson gave his brightest smile to the two vampires before them. "You can sod off."
Isaac appeared to be having some trouble speaking through gritted teeth to Luci. "Are you sure we can't kill them now?" Her eyes were bright with fascination; Merchant let a smile onto her lips. The leech hadn't seen that one coming, even if she didn't seem as perturbed as she should have been.
"We could just leave, bishop's off the board."
"But you won't because you like to play, Luci. I remember that really well."
The peeled laughter rang out with the same fractured edge. "Wasn't that fun? Didn't you have fun?"
It was an effort not to step back as the other woman advanced again and it seemed a fairly pointless one. Luci read her, maybe even knew what she was thinking. At the very least she could probably smell fear like any animal. But Merchant stood her ground and replied as steadily as she could. "I had a concussion and stitches. Which you caused."
"And you shot me. Twice. See? Fun. But you're right. We won't leave. If you're very good, we'll even help you." Her voice lowered to conspiratorial tones that the men could still easily hear. "Isaac is becoming very boring, he'll barely let me have my games at all. But now he has to."
Finally she drew back with a smile that would have been playful on anyone but her, slipping her arm through Isaac's and turning them to walk away. Only when they were completely lost from sight did Merchant finally let her knees have their way and leant against Anderson, voice tightened by sudden reaction constricting her throat. Delayed terror was better than immediate terror, at least.
"That went …"
"Went what?"
"I don't know. It pretty much just went. What did we just do?"
"I think we just broke every single rule in the book." He began to steer her towards the car and she let him, trying not to resent the fact he seemed to be handling this a lot better than her.
"Even number fourteen?"
"Especially number fourteen."
"What is number fourteen?"
"Don't engage."
"I thought that was fifteen."
"No, that's 'Seriously, we mean it.'"
"Wait, we have a book?"
"We should probably write one. It would be nice to be remembered for something other than stupidity above and beyond the call of duty."
"Yeah, let's do that."
Anderson pulled the car back into the steady stream of traffic, hands tapping on the steering wheel in a strange beat. Every time she thought she had worked out what song he was running in his head, it changed. Eventually she gave up trying and let herself relax, processing what had happened.
"He's in London."
"If we can trust her to be telling the truth."
"We can't trust her as far as I could comfortably spit her, but it's worth investigating."
"You really meant it? About trading them for him, I mean?" He stopped tapping long enough to look at her then his eyes returned to the road. "We could just set a retrieval team on the Inn."
They were both skirting around the fundamental question of whether Woodman was even Woodman any more. She shook her head, not wanting to deal with multiple-choice answers that were presenting themselves until the morning.
"Maybe we can put the place under surveillance, see if he turns up before we make it official."
"Christ, come up with a better excuse than that when they've got us on the dock for concealing the evidence."
She grinned suddenly, the exultation at having a real lead finally winning over the uncertainty of how they'd got it.
"Just tell them we didn't want to bother accounting, I hear the budget's tight this year."
"Do the words thirty to life mean anything to you?"
"Sure, you finally discovered the concept of optimism."
But I can't recognize a single face
They say the thrill is in the chase
Well I ain't got the legs, ain't got the legs
To run that race
----------------------------------------------
Standing outside the nightclub, Merchant had to concede that 'dank' was no longer appropriate to the description. Vibrant would be the kindest word applicable to the flashing neon signs and multi-coloured strobe lights that beat a staccato on the wet pavement at the doors.
"It's like some cruel god dropped acid and threw up Dali's Skittles factory." Anderson was clearly not feeling kind towards the club's new look and she couldn't really say she blamed him.
"Maybe it looks better inside."
"Inside what, a nuclear blast radius? Anyway, we've got to get past them first." He nodded to the bouncers who were carefully vetting the crowd pushing to get in. Large men in smart casual wear that practically passed for a uniform in their profession, turning away the too young, too old and too unfashionable. "Think the winning smile will work?"
"Look who's come out to play. Naughty, it's past their bed time."
Four months and the voice still went directly to her survival instincts, she locked her knees to let them know running wasn't an option and turned. Anderson had been faster to face them but he didn't have to deal with the six-inch spikes of neck breaking. She laid a restraining hand on his arm, feeling the rigid tension as he held himself in place.
Luci was a marvel of black silk and silver glitter, white-blonde hair shimmering unbound down her back. The presentation was too perfect and the flash of feeling gawky and plain in comparison passed quickly. Besides, making physical comparisons to the dead wasn't really the healthiest mental place to be. The leech was half draped over Isaac who had, as far as she could tell, dressed to accessorize in a black jeans and t-shirt, silver belt. It was the undead's answer to Posh and Becks.
Isaac. He was looking at her with a flat but cautious expression - more aware of the possibility of more agents being in the vicinity than the woman beside him. Although the insight was fleeting, she kept it in mind as he spoke with the cockiness she remembered.
"Well, this is surreal. Die here often?"
"There's not going to be a precedent tonight, don't even try it. We just want to ask you some questions."
"How'd you know we'd be here, anyway? Developed a bit of competency, did we?"
"You're not worth research, you're just really fucking predictable. Answer the questions and we'll let you walk away."
Luci smiled as Anderson bluffed, but she didn't speak. She knew, and she wasn't speaking. Merchant tried to ignore the prickling sensation at the nape of her neck and concentrated on Isaac for the moment. He looked around as if thinking, probably searching for the non-existent backup, then back.
"Ask, then. For old time's sake."
"Where's Woodman?" Isaac tilted his head at her blunt question, as far as she could tell having no idea at all. It produced an ache in her chest she hadn't been expecting but she tried to keep it out of her tone. "Agent Woodman, where is he?"
"I know who he is and, believe me, if I had him I'd have let you know by now. Nothing says 'thinking of you' like a head in the post. We haven't seen him."
"I have." Luci's voice was a lazy whisper, drawing a frown from Isaac.
"All right, tell them where he is and we can go … save small kittens somewhere."
"I'll tell them, but only because he'll hate that I did." Her tone became spitefully childish as she finally unwrapped herself from the man she clung to and stepped forward. "I saw him chasing swords for the tower. Stabbing and licking the blood from a blade that isn't his."
"That's … incredibly unhelpful. Try again, this time with new and improved sanity." Anderson's mocking tone provoked Isaac to move forward, hissing despite the perceived danger. Before Merchant or Anderson could move, Luci had turned to hold him back with apparent ease.
"No, sweet boy. It'll ruin the game. Wind the up and watch them go."
Something seemed to pass between them before Isaac finally subsided back under her insistent touch. "You're still going to pay for that, blood bag."
"Yeah, yeah. Big scary vampire. Observe my terror while you're translating loony tunes speak."
"She saw him near where some … kindred have meetings. Tower Inn on the river. Maybe one of them has him or something. I really don't care. Fuck them, fuck him and fuck you."
"Necrophilia, not a big turn on." Anderson was still buying time for Merchant to make her assessment and for that she could have had his grungy little babies for real. Isaac had said 'kindred' with contempt but she'd heard the word before. It obediently came to mind after a moment and she smiled faintly, thinking through what they had said and what they hadn't until the shape of the situation was solid in her mind.
"So he's with whoever your fighting and they probably don't even know you're around, right? Hell, your own people, and I use the term loosely, can't be that happy with you either." She nodded and glanced to Anderson "Sound like leverage to you?"
"Works for me." Anderson gave his brightest smile to the two vampires before them. "You can sod off."
Isaac appeared to be having some trouble speaking through gritted teeth to Luci. "Are you sure we can't kill them now?" Her eyes were bright with fascination; Merchant let a smile onto her lips. The leech hadn't seen that one coming, even if she didn't seem as perturbed as she should have been.
"We could just leave, bishop's off the board."
"But you won't because you like to play, Luci. I remember that really well."
The peeled laughter rang out with the same fractured edge. "Wasn't that fun? Didn't you have fun?"
It was an effort not to step back as the other woman advanced again and it seemed a fairly pointless one. Luci read her, maybe even knew what she was thinking. At the very least she could probably smell fear like any animal. But Merchant stood her ground and replied as steadily as she could. "I had a concussion and stitches. Which you caused."
"And you shot me. Twice. See? Fun. But you're right. We won't leave. If you're very good, we'll even help you." Her voice lowered to conspiratorial tones that the men could still easily hear. "Isaac is becoming very boring, he'll barely let me have my games at all. But now he has to."
Finally she drew back with a smile that would have been playful on anyone but her, slipping her arm through Isaac's and turning them to walk away. Only when they were completely lost from sight did Merchant finally let her knees have their way and leant against Anderson, voice tightened by sudden reaction constricting her throat. Delayed terror was better than immediate terror, at least.
"That went …"
"Went what?"
"I don't know. It pretty much just went. What did we just do?"
"I think we just broke every single rule in the book." He began to steer her towards the car and she let him, trying not to resent the fact he seemed to be handling this a lot better than her.
"Even number fourteen?"
"Especially number fourteen."
"What is number fourteen?"
"Don't engage."
"I thought that was fifteen."
"No, that's 'Seriously, we mean it.'"
"Wait, we have a book?"
"We should probably write one. It would be nice to be remembered for something other than stupidity above and beyond the call of duty."
"Yeah, let's do that."
Anderson pulled the car back into the steady stream of traffic, hands tapping on the steering wheel in a strange beat. Every time she thought she had worked out what song he was running in his head, it changed. Eventually she gave up trying and let herself relax, processing what had happened.
"He's in London."
"If we can trust her to be telling the truth."
"We can't trust her as far as I could comfortably spit her, but it's worth investigating."
"You really meant it? About trading them for him, I mean?" He stopped tapping long enough to look at her then his eyes returned to the road. "We could just set a retrieval team on the Inn."
They were both skirting around the fundamental question of whether Woodman was even Woodman any more. She shook her head, not wanting to deal with multiple-choice answers that were presenting themselves until the morning.
"Maybe we can put the place under surveillance, see if he turns up before we make it official."
"Christ, come up with a better excuse than that when they've got us on the dock for concealing the evidence."
She grinned suddenly, the exultation at having a real lead finally winning over the uncertainty of how they'd got it.
"Just tell them we didn't want to bother accounting, I hear the budget's tight this year."
"Do the words thirty to life mean anything to you?"
"Sure, you finally discovered the concept of optimism."