Graves of Wrath

by Lina Gardiner

  “Look again. Maybe we’re at the wrong angle,” she suggested. “Try shining it nearer the wall.”

  He did so. There! He saw it again.

  “Did you see it this time?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  Shit. If he found something that she couldn’t see, it would just make him look even guiltier. Maybe he should pretend it wasn’t there.

  No. He couldn’t do that.

  He moved a couple of feet and shone the light directly on the spot where he’d seen the reflection. At first, he thought he saw a candy wrapper, so he moved closer.

  Veronique said, “Don’t touch it, in case it’s evidence.”

  As if he’d do that. “It looks like the foil part of a gum wrapper,” he said.

  Veronique pulled out an evidence bag and gloves. She deposited the foil into the bag and tucked it into her pocket.

  He grimaced. “I was hoping we’d find something worthwhile.”

  She patted her pocket. “You never know. This might have fingerprints on it.”

  He doubted it.

  Glancing at the cave floor, it was clear why they’d considered this a vampire attack. There wasn’t enough blood, given the victim’s extensive wounds, unless she’d been dead before she was sliced open. Or, perhaps, she’d been killed elsewhere. But if that was the case, how had she been transported without leaving a blood trail? Besides, she’d been in the bar with him earlier, at least until Jess had shown up. So she couldn’t have been missing more than half an hour before he’d found her body. . . .

  Veronique had to be considering the same things. If she thought like him, she’d be looking for another tunnel leading to the actual crime scene.

  “Let’s go up again,” she said, rubbing her arms against the cool dampness. “Even in summer, it’s like a cold room down here.”

  He followed her up, even though he really wanted to remain and search other tunnels.

  “Join me for a coffee,” she said. It wasn’t a request.

  He nodded. They took a small alley and she led him to a café on a secluded street obviously not frequented by tourists. It was packed with locals.

  Veronique ordered two coffees along with croissants and cheese. Britt’s stomach actually growled at the thought of food.

  Veronique must’ve heard his gut protesting. “Hungry?”

  “I haven’t eaten in a while,” he admitted.

  “Why. Is your conscience bothering you?” she asked.

  He gritted his teeth. “No. I just haven’t eaten breakfast yet this morning.”

  “Why not?”

  “I wanted to do some checking while Jess sleeps. Besides, it’s not unusual for me to forget to eat when I’m on a case.”

  “I feel it’s my responsibility to remind you you’re not on a case. This is France, not New York City.”

  He didn’t respond.

  The waiter brought steaming cups of coffee, along with the lightest, flakiest croissants he had ever seen. He bit into one. “These are amazing!”

  “This is where the real French food is served,” she said, crunching into her own croissant that she’d buttered and piled high with a soft cheese that smelled pungent and nutty.

  They both stopped talking long enough to eat. Britt had the feeling Veronique hadn’t eaten in a while, either. “I’m surprised to see you still on the job, Veronique. Weren’t you up all night?”

  “I caught a couple of hours’ sleep after you left,” she said.

  He doubted that.

  “There is something I must ask. Why are you and Jess really here?” she asked.

  Britt crammed the last bit of croissant into his mouth and savored the buttery taste, then washed it down with his coffee. Before speaking, he raised his hand to order another round. Then he turned his attention back to Veronique. “Jess told you. We’re here on sabbatical. Jess didn’t want to leave her brother over here all alone. That’s the truth, whether you believe it or not.”

  “He seems like he can handle himself,” she said. “He’s an adult, after all.”

  “Oh, he can. But they’ve always been a team.” He paused. He wasn’t about to tell her that Jess didn’t quite trust the Vatican’s reasons for sending Regent here. “Besides, she’d never been to France, so we decided that taking some time off would be good for both of us.”

  “You and Jess are a couple?” Veronique’s eyes narrowed on Britt. She was probably trying to figure out why he was interested in a vampire.

  “I am deeply in love with Jess,” he said.

  She tipped her head. “Good. Let us hope you haven’t done anything to make her regret that.”

  “You really think I’m a murderer, don’t you?”

  “Right now, I see no other alternative. And, considering your job, you could get away with something like this quite easily. Nobody would suspect a crack vampire hunter.”

  The server returned with the second order of coffee and croissants. Britt needed the interlude to get his temper under control. He didn’t want to say more than he should.

  He took a deep breath. “I can see I’m going to have to prove my innocence to you.”

  She nodded, picking up another croissant and taking a bite. “If you can,” she said, her mouth full.

  He sighed. How was he going to do that? He sure as hell couldn’t offer a DNA sample, since he had angelic DNA in his blood. Sampson had told him that wouldn’t be a good idea . . . unless he wanted some uncomfortable questions after. “I wish I had some idea about how to do that,” he grunted.

  Veronique downed the last of her coffee. “You can come into the Prefecture tonight and look through some mug shots, for starters. If you recognize anyone who might’ve been talking to our victim, it’ll go a long way in proving your innocence.”

  “I’ll do that,” he said. “What time do you want me there?”

  “I go on duty at ten p.m.,” she said, brushing a few crumbs off her pants.

  Britt rose from the table and threw down enough euros to cover the bill. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Veronique stayed in her seat while he stalked off. There’d be no more searching today. He’d go home and try to sleep. It was going to be a busy night.

  AT SUNSET, JESS woke slowly as she always did. Only, in New York, her windows changed from black to opaque as the sun set. Here, there were no windows, making her feel as if she was in a crypt. She hated that feeling. If she and Britt were going to stay here for three months, she’d have to find another place and retrofit it to her specifications.

  Lying flat on the uncomfortable bed waiting to be reanimated, she heard Britt moving about in the apartment. The offending odors of coffee, bacon, and eggs assaulted her nostrils as she came to life. He always cooked himself a big breakfast on Sunday. She closed her eyes and waited for her fingers to be able to move. Lately, it seemed her body regenerated at a snail’s pace. Finally, she was able to sit up.

  Britt had already eaten by the time she had her shower and got dressed. She wore a sundress today, which was rather ironic, considering the sun was bad for her health . . . and it was night. But she couldn’t resist—she’d had fun shopping at the establishments of the few French couturiers who stayed open late. The silky fabric glided over her skin, so light, it was barely there.

  Normally, she dressed much more like a vampire than a human.

  “Jesus, Jess. You should warn a man before you wear a sexy get-up like that. I could’ve had a heart attack.” Britt jumped to his feet and approached her.

  “I think you’re going a little bit overboard.”

  “Oh, hell, no, I’m not.” He pressed himself against her to prove his point. She grinned against his neck, making sure he could feel her eyeteeth. Just to prove hers.

  “Not a good time, my
love. I must quench my thirst. Making love right now might make me lose control.” She went to the fridge and poured herself some sustenance.

  He sighed and looked at his watch. “I guess I don’t have time, anyway. I have to go down to the police station and look at mug shots tonight. I ran into Veronique LaFontaine today and she asked me to come in.”

  “Dammit, I told you to avoid the cops.”

  “I don’t think it was a coincidence, Jess. My guess is that she was following me.”

  “Why does she want you to look at mug shots if she thinks you’re guilty?”

  “Maybe she’s giving me enough rope to hang myself,” he said, shrugging. “But at least, this will give me a chance to see if I can recognize someone who might have actually killed her.”

  “I’ll come too. I wasn’t at LaCave as long as you were, but still, I was there.” Jess finished up and put her glass in the dishwasher.

  “Sounds good, my love. Shall we go?” He held the door for her and patted her rump on the way by.

  She drilled a daring look at him, knowing the effect it would have on him. He was the one who’d started this game, after all.

  Ten minutes later, they reached the station. “I’m starting to regret agreeing to this,” Britt said under this breath, his shoulders instantly slumping at the sight of the long table full of binders.

  She felt the same. They’d be here forever.

  She sat beside him and searched through page after page of unfamiliar faces. In New York, she’d at least know a few of them. Being here, so far out of her element, made her a little homesick.

  At midnight, Britt closed one of the many binders he’d gone through and leaned back in his hard wooden chair. He cursed under his breath. “This is hopeless. There’s no way in hell this can possibly help me prove my innocence.”

  Veronique entered the room, and apparently heard his comment. “You just got very lucky. You’re no longer a suspect, Monsieur Brittain, another victim has just been murdered while you were sitting right here in the precinct.”

  Jess jumped out of her seat at the same time Britt did.

  “Damn it,” he said. “Did you catch the killer?”

  “No, but my man caught sight of him. He’d already killed the woman, but hadn’t yet finished slicing and dicing.”

  “It’s a serial, then?” Jess breathed.

  Veronique nodded. “I’m afraid so. And, since you’re innocent, John Brittain, and a self-proclaimed profiler, I would appreciate it you’d consult with me on this case.”

  Jess’s anger ratcheted up. Veronique had some nerve.

  Britt reached out and squeezed Jess’s hand, most likely in response to her building annoyance.

  “Actually, I’d be very happy to help you catch the vicious bastard who killed that poor woman and nearly got me incarcerated.”

  “Jess, will you help as well?” Veronique asked.

  “No.”

  Veronique looked taken aback by Jess’s abrupt comment. It obviously wasn’t what she’d expected her to say.

  “Okay,” she said, then turned to Britt. “I do appreciate your willingness to help, especially after accusing you of the murder.”

  Britt nodded, but his face remained unreadable.

  Jess, on the other hand, was still too angry with Veronique to forgive her.

  “I’d probably have thought the same thing about you, if I’d found you in that compromising situation, Captain,” Britt said.

  “You’re damned lucky he’s agreeing to help you,” Jess said between her teeth. “I don’t like the way you run your team, Vee. If you were in New York, I’d have given an officer of the law the benefit of the doubt before I accused him of murder.”

  “If you recall, I didn’t actually charge him. But, you’re probably right, Jess. I could have handled this a little better. My problem is that I see things in black and white. I don’t work in the gray areas. I’m considered too strict by my own staff, and I do regret causing a rift between us. I truly respect what you do.”

  Jess stared through her on her way out. She hated being angry at her friend. And Veronique was a friend. Sometimes the evil vampire in Jess made her into a bitch. Hopefully, Veronique understood that.

  Britt followed. “I don’t blame Veronique for thinking I was guilty. Isn’t that why you went to her in the first place? Because she’s above reproach?”

  “I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t hold her responsible for hauling you off to jail and throwing you in a cell.”

  Britt coughed to hide a grin. “Glad you’re forgiving her.”

  “Oh crap, you know I will eventually. I still respect the hell out of her because she’s one of the best.”

  “Right. So why didn’t you want to help in the tunnels?” He knew it was more than just a grudge against Veronique.

  Jess stopped walking but didn’t make eye contact.

  “Holy hell, it’s the blood, isn’t it? I should have thought of that.” He grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You’re feeling less than a cop because you don’t trust yourself to go in there with all that blood.”

  Jess bit her lip and her fingernails dug into her palms.

  After rubbing her arms for a second and getting no response, Britt backed off. “Okay. I understand. Still, there’s no need to punish yourself for it. You can do other surveillance while we’re working in the tunnels. Finding the killer is more important than analyzing the remains, anyway.”

  Jess made an irritated noise. “Don’t humor me, Brittain. We both know that finding clues at the murder site is often the only way to find the killer.”

  JESS FELT USELESS while Britt worked in the tunnels the next few days . . . and nights. She was out of her element here. Wandering around the streets gave her a chance to familiarize herself with certain sections of the city, but there was so much more to see and find. She had an omnipresent sense of the many souls who’d been lost here over the centuries. She wondered how the older vampires managed to get past it.

  On the third evening after Britt left to meet with Veronique, Jess decided to catch up with Regent to hear about his recent trip to Avignon.

  She felt a little calmer when she reached Regent’s apartment and saw that his lights were on. Climbing the stairs quickly, she knocked then entered, noting the door had been unlocked. She gritted her teeth. Her brother had to be more careful. On the other hand, locks wouldn’t keep out a shadow.

  “I came to hear about your trip,” she said, joining him on the sofa. He turned off the television, fairly bursting with excitement to tell her his news.

  “I actually went to the Palais des Papes,” he said. “I didn’t expect to be given approval, but it came within hours. Would you believe a limousine was sent to drive me to Avignon? And when I got there, I was left to look around on my own. That was highly unusual, but I was happy I could wander where I liked.”

  “How’d you manage that?” Jess asked. Up until now, it seemed the church had kept a pretty tight rein on her brother. He was rarely allowed outside Notre Dame or the library during working hours, which bothered Jess to no end.

  “Somehow, I got a special pass. My membership in the secret group seems to have helped.”

  Jess got up and wandered away from Regent, looking out the window. Was it an act of desperation on the part of the church? Had they been unable to locate the script, so they decided to let Regent go off on his own? Maybe they were smarter than she gave them credit for. Regent had very good instincts. If he wanted to go to Avignon, there must have been a reason for it. She leaned forward. “Did you find anything helpful?”

  His mouth twitched into a sort of a smile.

  She sat opposite him and waited. He loved telling her long, convoluted stories. She always forced herself to listen, for her brother’s sake—he did so muc
h for her.

  “At the palais, I walked down the long halls and looked into rooms. I had no idea what I would find, but I’d hoped to come across something that might tell us what happened during the revolution.”

  Jess nodded. “You weren’t looking for the script?”

  His gaze shifted and he broke from his reverie just long enough to shake his head, as if it would be unlikely to find anything like that there. “There were paintings on the ceilings. As well as familiar angel-slash-demon gargoyles that were so cleverly hidden, one might almost miss them, I spotted a lot of iconography that seemed out of the norm for a papal palace. Of course, I had the benefit of being able to search in places the public isn’t allowed.

  “What do you think the gargoyles symbolize?” Jess asked.

  “Knowing what had happened to Britt, I believe they represent the children of the fallen angels.”

  “Interesting. I bet Britt would love a private tour there, too then.”

  “I would have asked about the gargoyles, but I didn’t want to let anyone know how interested I was in them. I had to keep my knowledge of such things out of their purview. I’m sure my superiors think I know more than I’m telling, which is technically true. But we don’t want the church to start asking questions about Britt. For some reason, up to now, they haven’t asked about him, even after he’d exposed himself as one of the Fallen to Cardinal Vasilli in New York City.”

  “Maybe this is a different group?”

  “Maybe,” Regent said, but he looked doubtful. “But if Vasilli didn’t report his findings to the church, it begs the question—why not?”

  “And it proves we need to be careful here, Regent. At the very least, until we know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  “Don’t worry, dear. I intend to be very careful. Now to finish my story . . . I was allowed into areas the public couldn’t go, even into the richly decorated back rooms. I found a small alcove that looked much more rudimentary than the rest of the building. It was in an area well offset from the tourist route. It was the rough-hewn stone in the alcove that caught my attention. It seemed so out of place, I had to look closer.”