High Noon at Hot Topic, Christine Pope [best book club books for discussion txt] 📗

One man, two women. Joanna and I used to makeup elaborate stories about them — that they ran a high-end fetishclub, or that they were some sort of musicians or performanceartists. Hard to know for sure, since of course they said almostnothing when they came into the store, except for the few timesthey’d wanted to special-order something or asked whether we had aparticular size back in the stockroom.

Now, I’ll admit that all three of them wereworth staring at, and I don’t even swing both ways. They all hadglossy, perfectly straight long hair that fell almost to theirwaists. One of the women had black hair, the other dark red. Theman’s hair was also black, although with a pure white streak ateach temple. They had the kind of skin that could only be achievedthrough a series of brutal dermabrasion sessions, and their bodies— well, let’s just say that every time they came in the store, Ivowed to put in an extra hour at the gym.

That said, I was just a little irritated bythe attention the stranger was paying to them. A minute ago, he’dlooked halfway interested in me. Now it seemed as if I didn’texist.

I cleared my throat, even as the Trio headedto the back of the store where the pricier merchandise was located.“So what size is your nephew?”

Again that hint of smile, as if he knew I wasonly playing along. “Kara, you know I don’t have a nephew. By theway, I’d advise you to duck.”

“Wha — ” I began, but I didn’t have time tofinish the word. He was already pushing past me, headed toward theback of the store in the Trio’s wake.

As he moved, I watched him reach inside thatincongruous brown coat. When he produced the hidden object, Irealized why he’d chosen a floor-length outer garment — not theusual sort of attire for L.A., even in the middle of January.Because he held in his hand a long stake of some pale kind ofwood.

Despite his warning to duck, I began tofollow him. The last thing I needed at that point was some loon tocommit mass murder in my store. If nothing else, the paperworkinvolved would be deadly.

It happened so fast, I wasn’t quite sure whatI was seeing. The stranger looked like an ordinary enough man, butno man I’d ever known moved quite like him. If I’d blinked, I wouldhave missed his progress from the T-shirt racks at the front of thestore to the section in the back devoted to our more glam apparel.The music blaring from the speakers overhead drowned out any soundhe made.

Any sound I could hear, that is. At the verylast second one of the women — the redhead — turned toward him. Hermistake.

The sharpened piece of wood pierced her rightthrough the breast, a scant inch above the edge of her leatherbustier. Blood should have gone everywhere, but it didn’t. Instead,her mouth opened in a wide scarlet-painted O, her head snappedback, and then she exploded outward in a shower of dust. Herclothes — black skirt, leather bustier, platform boots — fell tothe ground.

The shriek I’d been about to let out caughtin my throat. What the ever-loving hell —

I heard a scream, but it wasn’t mine. Theblack-haired woman screeched with the sound of about a hundredfingernails being dragged down a blackboard at once, and hercompanion spun around. The walking stick he held (an affectationJoanna and I had laughed about on several occasions) expandedoutward in a lightning-flash of movement, becoming a scary-lookingstaff tipped in sharp steel.

The stranger’s admonition to duck suddenlysounded like a great idea. Since the two remaining members of theTrio were focused on him, I took the opportunity to drop to theground and begin scuttling across the floor to the relative safetyof the checkout counter.

An unfamiliar voice. “Gregoire. Youdisappoint me.”

I crawled behind the counter and saw Martinecrouched there, false eyelashes fluttering with such speed I wassurprised they didn’t come flying off. Since she was closer to thephone, I whispered fiercely, “911!”

“Wha?”

“Dial 911. Nine one frigging one!”

A shaking hand reached up and dragged thephone off the counter. I grabbed it before it could clatter to theground. My own fault; I should have known Martine couldn’t managesomething as simple as dialing three numbers.

But when I put the receiver up to my ear, allI heard was a weird, fast dial tone, the kind you sometimes getafter a disaster like an earthquake or something when everyone’stying up the lines. Crap.

I put the phone down on the floor and peeredaround the corner of the counter. Martine stayed where she was,back pressed up against the wall. Not that I expected her to doanything more than that. At least she hadn’t fainted yet.

The stranger said, “Not the first time, I’msure.”

The leader of the Trio stood unmoving, staffstill clenched in his left hand. His female compatriot appearedunarmed, but if I’d had someone wearing her expression facing me ina club, I would have taken off my earrings and then tried to findthe nearest exit. “You’re slipping, Gregoire. In public?Really?”

“Opportunity is everything,” returnedGregoire. His brown coat flapped open to reveal a whollyunremarkable white shirt and flat-front khakis. He feinted with thestake, a snake-like movement toward the black-haired man he faced,but at the last second he snapped to the right and drove the stakethrough the woman’s chest instead.

Another explosion of dust, this one made morespectacular by the sudden of flash of the Trio leader’ssteel-tipped staff. I heard a tearing sound; the tip of the bladecaught Gregoire’s lapel, but he stepped back in enough time thatthe only damage he appeared to sustain was the rip in hisovercoat.

“Kill them, if it amuses you,” theblack-haired man said.

Man? I decided it was time to stopkidding myself. Human beings didn’t explode into dust when youdrove stakes into their hearts. No, kids, only vampires weresupposed to do that.

“It doesn’t amuse me. It’s just what needs tobe done.”

“Always so righteous. So tedious.”

These words, delivered in a deceptivelylanguid tone, were followed by another vicious swipe of thevampire’s blade. I couldn’t quite figure out how Gregoire managedto keep evading those blows. I knew if I’d been