I’m el broko, I don’t really know what to do.”
“How much is it?”
“Two thousand bucks.”
“That sounds reasonable.” She reached into her Prada bag. “Will hundred-dollar bills be acceptable?”
My eyes widened and I was about to say something to protest, but my hand jutted out as if it had a mind of its own. She counted out twenty one-hundred-dollar bills into it from the
Banque de Veronique.
“I… I can’t take your money,” I stuttered.
She closed my hand over the wad of cash. “Of course you can. And you will. And you will rid yourself of this horrible burden once and for all.”
I felt tears welling inside me. Scratch every bad thing I’d ever said or thought about
Veronique, she was incredibly warm, selfless, caring, generous—
“And you will thank me by setting up a meeting between myself and the Red Devil,” she said, “so we can become lovers.”
—and rather horny, apparently.
I looked from her to the cash, and back again. Then I shoved the bills into my purse. “I’m sure you’ll make a lovely couple.”
“You must also find a new lover. A vampire’s life can be very long and very lonely.” She pressed her full red lips together for a wistful moment. “It is best to share it with someone special if you can.”
“I totally agree.” I looked back at Barry’s house, picturing Thierry inside. So near and yet so far. “Unfortunately, love can sometimes be a bit complicated.”
I noticed that Barry stood at the front window. He gave me the finger.
A half hour later I rang the doorbell at the address Claire had given me.
“This is great,” George said when I glanced nervously at him. “I can finally get rid of the stun gun I carry around at all times to protect myself from your dark side.”
“Very funny.”
“Actually… I’m not joking.”
I touched my gold chain. I wasn’t close to relaxing about this. Not until it was done. But at least I had the money. I’d play matchmaker between Veronique and the Red Devil even though I wasn’t totally sure I trusted him. It was so worth it if this worked out.
A moment later, the door opened and a young kid, probably around fourteen years old, looked out at us. He had long, stringy dark hair, and a morose expression. He wore a black T-shirt with a picture of a morose-looking, stringy-haired rock band on it.
“What?” he asked, succeeding in making the single word sound as unfriendly as possible.
I frowned and looked down at the address I’d scrawled on a yellow sticky note. “I’m looking for a Steven Kendall.”
“For what?”
My jaw clenched, but I forced a smile. “A business matter. Is that your father? Can you get him for me? It’s kind of urgent.”
He studied me through narrowed eyes. “Are you the vampire?”
I glanced at George, then back at the kid. “Vampire?”
He rolled his eyes. “Well, are you or aren’t you?”
I swallowed. “I am. But I’m a nice one, I promise.”
“Depends on the day, really,” George said from next to me. I elbowed him in the ribs.
The kid opened the door wider. “Come in, but we’re going to have to make this quick. My mom’s at the grocery store and she’ll be back soon.”
“And your father?”
“Last time I checked, he was dead,” the kid said without any emotion. “And if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay that way.”
“Okay.” I blinked slowly. “So, that leads me to believe that you’re Steven.”
“I don’t go by that name. You need to call me The Darkness.”
“The Darkness,” I repeated.
“That’s right.”
“Maybe I’ll just wait in the car,” George said, but I hooked my arm in his and dragged him into the bungalow. I wasn’t facing “The Darkness” without him.
The wizard Claire had found was a teenager. An obviously hate-filled, Goth-boy Harry
Potter.
I could deal. It would be fine. After all, it’s not as though I had much of a choice in the matter. This had to work. If it didn’t, my only option to break my curse was to hand the
Red Devil over to Gideon and get the grimoire. But since I’d already agreed to hand him over to Veronique, his schedule was already very full.
“You have the money?” the kid asked.
I nodded.
“Then follow me.” He led us down a flight of creaky stairs to a basement with wood paneling and a deer head mounted on the wall. An orange vinyl couch lined the opposite wall and a chipped imitation wood coffee table sat blandly on top of a white, retro shag throw rug. There were piles of packing boxes everywhere, a sign of The Darkness’s upcoming move. Other than that, a hundred candles flickered—a fire hazard that I chose not to comment on—strategically placed leading toward a desk holding a computer tower and monitor.
“Money first,” The Darkness said, holding out his hand.
I clung onto George’s arm. “I’m going to be really up front with you. I was expecting somebody older. I don’t want to get scammed here.”
“You have a curse.” He sat down in front of the computer and tapped away on the keyboard for a moment. “I can eradicate it for you. Wipe it away completely.”