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The Guilty Corpse part two
"Anita's been kidnapped. I could use some help."
"What kind of help?" The voice on the other end of the line was nearly as dead as his own; he thought for a minute, suddenly unwilling to reveal a weakness before this human. Human! He snorted, disgusted with his own reaction. This . . . Edward . . . remained quiet, waiting patiently.
"Do you know if she has any enemies, anyone who would want to kill her?"
The other man was silent for a short time.
"Most of her enemies are dead. Of course, she keeps making new ones. You might consider the Vampire Council, she had a run-in with them. Or Obsidian Butterfly."
"Who's that?" Heero asked after Edward stopped talking, wondering at the curious name.
"A vampire who showed some interest in the triumverate. She's old. Very old."
"So none of her ememies are likely to be human, or weak."
"She attracts powerful adversaries. I'd like to hunt her myself."
"I thought you two were friends."
The man audibly shrugged.
"We do each other favors every now and again."
"Hn." The conversation seemed exhausted, but he hadn't really learned much more than he already knew. Anyone with the balls to take on the Master of the City and the werewolf community wasn't likely to be weak or foolish. They had to have a plan; now all he had to do was find out what that plan was.
"Hmm. I may need backup." He said after a time, not really offering, but dangling the idea in the water to see what would bite. Edward chuckled.
"With the vamps and werewolves at your back?"
"Professional backup." He clarified, wondering at this man's sense of humor. Edward was silent for a long time.
"I don't know what you were told about me, but I can't leave right now. I wouldn't be much help anyway."
Heero made a questioning noise, beginning to regret ever calling.
"I broke my arm and a collarbone. If it's muscle you need, I'm not it."
"Muscle I can handle on my own." Heero interrupted. "I just thought my chances would be better with someone to watch my back."
"Most men I know wouldn't call for help. You that worried about Anita?"
"This is a mission. Failure is not an option."
Edward thought some more; the silence buzzing through the lines was vexing, but Heero ignored it, waiting as patiently as Edward had earlier. Finally the man spoke.
"I know someone you could call. But you might regret it."
"Hn."
"His name's Duo Maxwell. Officially. He goes by Shinigami."
"The God of Death?"
"That's right. And rumor has it, he didn't come up with the name. His enemies did."
"Is he better than you?"
"Better than I was ten years ago? No. Better than I am now? Yes."
"Give me the number."
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It was nearly midnight before he got home; Richard insisted on a full briefing, not taking 'hn' for an answer. And then Jean-Claude had called, wanting an extra bouncer for his strip-joint, as well as Heero's report. Heero took care of both. He'd felt lucky that Jean-Claude hadn't wanted another stripper; the vampire could be . . . persuasive.
He slammed the door peevishly, feeling the beginnings of hunger tickling the back of his mind; a raw steak wasn't going to take care of it this time. He needed to hunt. His cobalt-blue eyes were dialated, taking in every ebon shadow; his head came up, and he drew his gun, sensing an intruder.
There was a chuckle from the depths of his apartment, but no discernable movement; someone was there, but he couldn't get a clear fix.
"How do you know Anita?"
"Nani?" He asked, a little startled. The voice wasn't what he'd expected; it was young, a bit hoarse, and heavy with cynacism.
"You left a mesage on my machine. 'Anita's been kidnapped.' I assumed not by you, or you'd be dead by now. So, how do you know her? And why do you need my help?"
"Hn. I work for Jean-Claude. You Shinigami?"
"Got it in one." The voice audibly preened; Heero thought he could make out the faint silhouette of a slim figure exiting his bedroom door. He tracked the figure with his gun, not caring that this gave away his ability to see in the dark. The figure chuckled again. "The name's Duo Maxwell. I may run and hide, but I never lie."
"Hn. You talk to much."
"And you don't talk enough. For instance, who kidnapped Anita, and why in hell did she let them?"
"I don't know."
"So. And that's why you need me."
"Aa."
The figure came fully into the room, and Heero lowered his gun; it was a boy, with a rediculously long chestnut braid and huge, innocent violet eyes. He was dressed all in black, the sleeves rolled back to white cuffs, and carrying enough armament to destroy a small city, concealed, of course, in the loose folds of cloth. Heero narrowed his eyes; this boy wasn't much older than himself, but was undeniably human. His danger came from other sources.
The chestnut-haired boy seemed to be making his own assessment; his eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head to one side.
"You say you work for the Master of the City?"
"Aa."
"But you're a werewolf."
"Aa." Heero was startled, but didn't show it; he'd been able to hide his lycanthropy since he'd been infected.
"Soooooo...... you gonna tell me why a werewolf is palling around with the city vamps?"
"No."
His face fell, and he began to pout adorably; Heero nearly drew his gun again. Danger he understood, but emotions were not something he was trained to handle. Duo smirked, seeming to read his mind.
"Nevermind, I'll find out on my own. It's more fun that way."
"Hn." Heero turned away, going to the laptop set up on his kitchen table; the mission icon was still, but he clicked it anyway, making sure that nothing had come up in his absence. Nothing had.
Duo grinned at the still back of his new partner, and set down the grenade cradled in his left hand; he was glad he hadn't had to use it.
tbc