Chapter 46: Rival’s Ring
The details arrived the next morning via encrypted message to a burner phone that appeared on my doorstep. No note, no explanation – just the phone and a single message waiting.
Unknown: Antoine Mercier. 287 years old. Operates out of the French Quarter. Controls the blood trade in the Southern District. The ring is in his private vault, top floor of his residence. You have six days. -SB
Attached were building schematics, guard rotations, and a photo of the ring itself – a simple silver band with a black stone that seemed to absorb light.
I forwarded everything to Marco and headed downstairs.
The team was already assembled in the planning room when I arrived. Tommy had the schematics up on multiple screens, Elena was examining the magical signatures in the photos, and Sarah was inventorying weapons.
"Antoine Mercier," Marco said without preamble. "Anyone know him?"
"I’ve heard the name," Viktor rumbled. "Blood trade operator. Sells to vampires who don’t want to hunt themselves. Runs a tight operation, very secure."
"He’s also a sadist," Elena added, not looking up from her analysis. "There are stories about what he does to people who cross him. Not pleasant stories."
"Great," Sarah muttered. "So we’re stealing from a sadistic vampire who runs a criminal empire. This keeps getting better."
Tommy pulled up more intel. "His residence is a converted townhouse in the French Quarter. Four stories, heavily warded, private security force of at least six vampires plus human thralls. The vault is on the top floor, behind – " he zoomed in on the schematics " – about fifteen layers of magical and physical security."
"Fifteen," I repeated.
"Give or take. Elena, you want to explain the magical component?"
Elena pointed to various marks on the schematic. "Detection wards here, here, and here. Alarm triggers on every entrance. The vault itself has a blood lock – requires Mercier’s blood to open. Plus contingency spells that will incinerate anything inside if tampered with incorrectly."
"So breaking in is impossible," Sarah said.
"Not impossible. Just extremely difficult." Elena looked at me. "You’ll need to either get Mercier to open the vault himself, or we’ll need a sample of his blood to bypass the lock."
"Getting his blood means getting close to him," I said.
"Or stealing it from somewhere he’s been recently," Tommy suggested. "Medical records, crime scenes, places he’s fed. Vampires are careful about their blood, but they’re not perfect."
Marco leaned forward. "Here’s what I’m thinking. We’ve got six days. We spend the first three gathering intelligence – Mercier’s habits, his routine, weak points in his security. Then we plan the actual theft. Then we execute."
"What’s my role?" I asked.
"You’re the one who made the deal with Selene, so you’re point on this. But you’re not going in alone. Sarah goes with you for combat support, Elena provides magical assistance remotely, and Tommy handles electronic security."
"I can work with that."
"Good. Because if this goes wrong, it’s not just the job that fails. Selene will blacklist us from the Velvet Room, our reputation tanks, and we lose access to the high-profile jobs that actually pay well." Marco’s expression was grave. "Don’t fuck this up."
---
The first day was reconnaissance.
Sarah and I spent hours watching Mercier’s townhouse from various vantage points.
The building was impressive – old French Quarter architecture, well-maintained, with modern security additions that didn’t quite blend with the historic aesthetic.
"He’s got cameras everywhere," Sarah observed through binoculars. "And those aren’t regular guards. Those are trained security."
"Mercier’s paranoid. Can’t blame him – anyone running the blood trade would be."
We watched guards change shifts, noted patrol patterns, identified blind spots. Tommy was monitoring from the van, tracking electronic signatures and mapping the security network.
"I’m counting at least eight vampires on rotation," he said through our earpieces. "Plus twelve human thralls acting as daytime security. This place is a fortress."
"What about Mercier himself?" I asked. "When does he leave?"
"Rarely. He conducts most of his business from the townhouse. But – " Tommy pulled up something on his screen " – he has a standing appointment every Wednesday night at a private club called The Scarlet Room. High-end establishment, very exclusive."
"Tomorrow’s Wednesday," Sarah noted.
"Exactly. If we’re going to get close to him, that’s our window."
That evening, back at the safehouse, Elena briefed us on the magical defenses.
"The wards are sophisticated," she said, displaying diagrams on her tablet. "But they’re old. Mercier set them up decades ago and hasn’t updated them. That gives us an advantage – I can craft counter-wards that exploit the weaknesses in outdated magic."
"How long will that take?" Marco asked.
"Two days to prepare the counter-wards. You’ll need to apply them on-site, which means getting close to the building without triggering the detection spells."
"I can do that," I said.
"You sure? One mistake and every vampire in a three-block radius will know you’re there."
"I’m sure."
After the briefing, I retreated to my room to review the intel. The plan was forming – get close to Mercier at The Scarlet Room, obtain a blood sample, use it to bypass the vault’s lock, steal the ring.
Simple in theory. Suicidal in practice.
A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts.
"Come in."
Sarah entered, closing the door behind her. "You got a minute?"
"Sure. What’s up?"
She leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "I wanted to talk about tomorrow night. The Scarlet Room."
"What about it?"
"It’s not just a club. It’s a sex club. Very high-end, very exclusive, catering to supernatural clientele with specific tastes." She met my eyes. "If we’re going in there, we need to blend in. That means acting the part."
"Acting what part?"
"A couple looking for a good time." She shifted her weight. "Look, I know this is awkward. But if we walk in there looking uncomfortable or out of place, we’ll get spotted immediately. We need to sell it."
"You’ve been to places like this before?"
"A few times. Part of the private security work I mentioned." She shrugged. "I can handle it. Question is, can you?"
I studied her. Sarah was attractive – soft build, sharp features, the kind of dangerous beauty that came from someone who could kill you as easily as kiss you. We’d worked together for weeks now, developed a professional rapport, but this would be crossing a line.
I loved crossing lines.