At eleven thirty-five the intercom switched on. “The streets are closed to Thirty-eighth Street. This is as close as I can get, sir.” The limo pulled to a stop.
When I jumped out cold air smacked me in the face. But that wasn’t the only shock. Light slashed my eyes, radiant as the day.
Some cities are a river valley of skyscrapers cut by streets. Manhattan was more like the floor of an ocean, rising tides of multihued neon and LED fish spiraling up for miles. The pervasive intense light, the overwhelming abundance of swirling blinking color was more deafening to me than the blast of sound from the several stages and million people.
Nikos slid out behind me. His reaction was even more pronounced. His nostrils flared, and his eyes burned bright. Tyger Tyger, all that warm blood. He pulled back, his hands and jaw clenching rhythmically. “I hate crowds.”
“Nikos, we only have twenty-five minutes. We need to hurry.” I grabbed his hand and tried to pull him forward. It was like dragging a cliff.
“Wait. I have a call.” He tapped his pocket. I couldn’t hear anything above the crowd noise.
“Sounds like an excuse to me.” I tugged again.
“It may be important.” He reached into his coat.
Twenty-four minutes. I tried to grab his wrist but he played arm double-dutch and I ended up with my hands twisted and him with his phone out.
But he just stared at it. “Damn. Missed call.”
“And excuse gone. Come on.”
“No. Not yet.” His eyes were a little wild, gazing at the thousands upon thousands of people, thick even here on the back side of things. North of One Times Square was where all the action was. I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be for him if we had to go there.
“This is not getting us anywhere.” Klaus emerged from the limo. He pushed past Nikos, grabbed my hand and marched off.
Nikos stared after us, outrage on his face. “Wait. We don’t know where we’re going.”
Klaus shot him a triumphant look over his shoulder. “The center of things, of course.”
As Klaus dragged me along my phone rang. I couldn’t hear it but I felt its vibrations in my pocket. I whipped it out one-handed. “Hello?”
“Twyla? It’s Nixie. Hey, Julian tried to raise Nikos but couldn’t connect. We’ve got some serious shit on that Steale Programové. They programmed the light and sound for this year’s Ball.”
“The Ball? I thought a U.S. company did that. They did an awesome job last year.”
“The Magie guys stole the contract. It’s all shady and nefarious. But this means your bad guy is at New Year’s Ground Zero. One Times Square.”
“Nikos!” I twisted, walking backwards on tippy-toe trying to see the limo. It was already swallowed up by the crowd but Nikos’s huge keyed-up body was impossible to miss. I shouted, hoped his super-duper vampire hearing would let him pick out my voice. “Nixie says Steale worked on the Ball. We have to get to One Times Square.”
I couldn’t see Nikos’s face very well. But by what I could see, his expression was tight, his eyes closed. “Nikos! Twenty-three minutes.”
That finally got through to him. He started after us with all the enthusiasm of a man wading naked into Lake Michigan in the middle of winter. Without a word, but jaw clenching like he was chewing bullets, he followed us.
“It’s just a little crowd,” Klaus called.
I caught the twinkle of his blue eyes. “How come the blood doesn’t affect you?”
“Oh, it’s not blood that has poor Nikos upset.” He laughed and refused to say more, despite my prodding.
When Nikos caught up he grabbed my hand-and glared at Klaus, his sable eyes sparking murder. I wondered, if not blood, what it was about the crowd that bothered him so. As a Spartan general and warrior throughout the ages, it couldn’t be crowd phobia. How would he have fought?
We passed a uniformed officer herding people into a pen. He ran to stop us. “You! You can’t go there.”
I gritted my teeth against a sharp reply. Twenty-two minutes. How long would Officer Krupke here delay us?
Nikos didn’t even slow. “You will let us pass.” His voice, hollow and ringing, stopped the officer flat.
“But-” The officer turned, watched us with a puzzled expression.
“How’d you do that?” I said. “You didn’t even wave your hand.”
“Yes, that was impressive,” Klaus said. “Are you an ancient?”
“I’ve got a couple millennia. You.” He snapped his fingers at another police officer. “We need to get to One Times Square. Take us. On a route with no people.”
The officer cut his way past the pens of dancing, shouting, laughing people. Nikos clutched my hand harder.
Partially to distract him from the crowd, partially because I was curious, I asked, “Can all v-guys influence people that easily?”
“More or less.”
“So if Aylmer ’s accomplice was a v-guy, he wouldn’t have needed my help-he could have hypnotized his way into the Magie company. Does that prove he’s human?”
“Perhaps. Unless Magie is run by my kind.”
“Oh.” I really hoped not.
Even with the police escort it was eleven forty-two by the time we jogged up to a long narrow building. One Times Square, with its façade of full-color ads and news zippers, was as well-known as any Hollywood star’s face. The Grande Dame of New Year’s, where even the police outpost sported a pink and blue neon sign. The officer got us inside through Walgreens’ retail space.
Only three stories were occupied. The next twenty-two floors were untenanted. The officer told us this at Nikos’s prompting. Ever the general, Nikos wanted to know the lay of the land, but I found the info interesting for its own sake.
Or I would have if it weren’t eleven forty-three p.m. and counting. We took the elevator to the twenty-third floor then hiked up the remaining two flights. Paradoxically Nikos relaxed as we mounted the final stairs.
I shook my head. “A whole building just for billboards?”
“It avoids the hassle of being a landlord, does it not?” Klaus shrugged. “Besides, most of the windows are covered by the spectaculars, scrims and signs. Unusable as office space.”
The door to the roof was locked. The officer used his key, but the door didn’t budge. He frowned. “This isn’t good. I’d better call for backup.” His hand went to his radio. Before he could connect Klaus sank white fangs into his neck.
The officer’s face scrunched in extreme agony-or pleasure. His eyes rolled up into his head and he dropped limp to the floor.
“What the hell did you do that for?” I checked the officer’s pulse, good, and his neck, perfectly intact.
Klaus shrugged. “The door is blocked. Something is on the roof, something unexpected. It’s better if we don’t have an audience.” He pointed at the door, grinned at Nikos. “I don’t mist. Would you do the honors?”
“Fledgling.” Nikos dropped into smoke and shot through the door. Moments later it was open. Klaus sauntered through. I peered out more cautiously after him.
The roof was typical Manhattan -cooling tower, pipes and metal grates. It was empty except for two men. One wore a funky Giants hat and was bundled in a coat. His eyes were panicky and his arms were behind his back. Above him, the huge New Year’s Ball blazed, its reds and golds and greens cascading merrily across the white template of his face.
The other man was gray-haired and thin as a rail. He held a gun trained on the panicked man.
Passing the gray-haired man on the streets, I wouldn’t have looked twice, might not have seen him at all. He was that ordinary. No, even Walmart has some style. This man was flat, washed out.