Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
“What do you want?” I demand, cutting through the pleasantries. “How did you find this place?”
“To answer your second question first—I’ve known about Van Helsing’s colony for decades. I simply never had reason to visit until now.” His lips curve in what might be a smile on a human face. “As for what I want…I believe we may have mutual interests.”
Abe considers him for a long moment, then steps aside. “Come in. But understand that any hostile move will be your last.”
Konstantin enters with measured steps, hands remaining visible as he follows Abe to the living room. Lena and I exchange glances before trailing after them, maintaining a careful distance.
“Drink?” Abe offers, more from protocol than hospitality.
“No, thank you,” Konstantin declines, remaining standing even as Abe gestures toward the seating area. “I won’t take much of your time.”
“How considerate,” Lena says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Last time we saw you, you were working for the people who tortured me.”
Konstantin turns those uncanny eyes on her. “I worked with the Ivanovs, yes. And for Cohen. I work for myself, ultimately. Always have.”
“A mercenary,” I observe.
“A survivor,” he corrects. “Like all of us.”
Abe leans against the mantlepiece, arms crossed. “You still haven’t explained why you’re here, Konstantin.”
“A proposition.” He smooths an invisible wrinkle from his suit jacket. “With the Ivanovs gone, there’s a vacuum in Los Angeles. Cohen’s organization is vulnerable, directionless. He doesn’t realize it yet, but his position has never been more precarious.”
“And this concerns us how?” I ask, though I already suspect where this is heading.
“Mickey Cohen is a disease in this city,” Konstantin says bluntly. “His operations bring attention, violence, instability—all things our kind should avoid. Moreover, he was instrumental in the Ivanovs’ rituals, whether he fully understood their purpose or not. Elizabeth Short’s blood is on his hands as surely as it was on Dmitri’s.”
The mention of Elizabeth sends a pang through me—guilt, grief, responsibility all mingled together. “We’re aware of Cohen’s complicity,” I say tightly.
“Then you understand why he needs to be removed.” Konstantin paces a few steps, graceful as a panther. “I’ve spent years embedded in his organization. I know his operations, his weaknesses, his secrets. But I can’t move against him alone.”
Lena steps forward, arms crossed defensively. “You want us to help you take down Cohen? Why would we trust you?”
“You shouldn’t,” Konstantin replies immediately. “Trust is earned. I’m merely suggesting an alignment of interests.”
“Why now?” Abe asks, the question cutting to the heart of the matter. “The Ivanovs are gone. Your employers eliminated. You could simply disappear, start fresh elsewhere.”
Konstantin’s expression hardens slightly. “Los Angeles is my home. Has been for decades. I watched the Ivanovs corrupt it, twist it to serve their madness. Cohen is a continuation of that corruption.” He pauses, something almost human flickering across his features. “And perhaps I owe a debt for my part in their schemes.”
“Redemption?” I ask skeptically.
“Justice,” he counters. “For Elizabeth Short. For Sylvia Winters. For Jeanne French. For all the others whose names we’ll never know.”
His words strike a chord—justice. It’s what I sought when Virginia West first hired me, what I still seek despite knowing the full, terrible truth about Elizabeth’s murder. About my unwilling role in it.
“Cohen is protected,” Lena points out. “He has police, politicians, judges in his pocket.”
“Which is why conventional methods won’t work,” Konstantin agrees. “But unconventional ones?” His smile reveals the barest hint of fang. “That’s where our unique abilities come into play. He doesn’t know I’m a vampire. He doesn’t know we even exist.”
Abe pushes away from the mantelpiece, expression thoughtful. “Ezra might be interested in such a venture. Adonis and Valtu too, if they ever return from their gallivanting.”
I glance at Lena, finding her already watching me, something speculative in her gaze. Taking down Cohen would provide closure, especially for her. It would also, I realize, align perfectly with Abe’s suggestion of our new professional direction.
“We’d need details,” I say finally, neither accepting nor rejecting the proposition. “Specifics. Proof that this isn’t another trap.”
“Of course,” Konstantin agrees readily. “I have extensive documentation on Cohen’s operations. Financial records, blackmail material, evidence of judicial tampering. Enough to destroy him a dozen times over, if placed in the right hands. Next stop, Alcatraz.”
“And what do you get out of this?” Lena asks.
Konstantin considers her question with apparent seriousness. “A clean slate. A city free of Cohen’s influence. And perhaps…allies, where once I had only employers.”
The offer hangs in the air between us, unexpected yet strangely fitting. The detective in me recognizes the strategic value of what he proposes. The vampire in me senses both opportunity and danger, a challenge worthy of my newly integrated nature.
Lena steps closer to me, her shoulder brushing mine in silent communion. “We’ll need time to discuss this,” she tells Konstantin. “Privately.”
“Of course.” He withdraws a card from his jacket pocket, placing it on the coffee table. “My direct line. Available day or night.” He turns to leave, then pauses, looking back at us. “Cohen fears what happened to the Ivanovs, though he doesn’t understand it. Fears it might happen to him next. He’s right to be afraid.” His strange eyes meet mine directly. “We could make that fear a reality.”