by Zahra Stone
“Whatever it is you’re mad about.”
Sighing, I looked out the window, not seeing anything beyond the darkness of the night. True to her word, the waitress was back in record time with a serve of cherry pie for each of us. She topped up my coffee, and I absently smiled my thanks.
“Eat,” he ordered, “then we’ll talk.” I picked up my fork, doing as instructed, almost groaning as the cherry pie exploded against my taste buds. Closing my eyes, I chewed, then swallowed, before digging in for another bite. I demolished the pie in seconds.
“See? Hungry,” he commented.
“Talk,” I replied, signaling the waitress for another slice. I was tempted to tell her to bring the whole damn thing but didn’t want to look like a pig.
“What do you want to know first?”
“The ash thing.”
He nodded, took a bite of his pie, and looked at me thoughtfully. “The thing that we, I, have discovered about fire demons is that some of you—not all—have unique talents besides the whole fire thing. Take Rae, for example. Her blood will kill a vampire. No other fire demon that we’ve come across has that ability. It’s unique to her. But those vampires don’t disintegrate into nothing. We have to dispose of the bodies. Yet you? You kill a vampire, and poof, they’re gone, nothing but ash on the wind.” His fingers mimed the action, and my mouth curled into a grin.
“But your blood doesn’t kill them,” he continued. “You have to do it the same as everyone else. Decapitation or a blade through the heart. I’m wondering if it’s something to do with the Shelton line.”
“So you want to study us? Find out what it is?” I prodded.
“Nope.” He shrugged. “Just curious. We will document our discoveries as they appear, but no, we have no intentions of treating you—or Rae, or any of your family for that matter—as lab rats.”
Okay. That seemed reasonable. And he did raise a good point, one I hadn’t thought of before. Rae could kill with her blood, and we’d thought it was because her fire demon had been triggered in childhood instead of adulthood, and that had somehow changed the chemistry of her blood. But what if that wasn’t the case? What if that was as nature had intended all along? Her unique ability was always going to be hers despite what had happened to her as a child.
“Any more questions? About the fire demon stuff?”
“Not yet. Tell me about the girls.” Leaning forward, I rested my elbows on the table. Nate checked that the waitress wasn’t in earshot and mimicked my pose, leaning toward me.
“Humans have been disappearing—unreported disappearances—mostly women. The homeless, runaways, prostitutes.”
“From Maxxan?” I was surprised. I had no idea anyone had been going missing, but then I thought about what he’d just said. Unreported. People who wouldn’t be missed.
He nodded. “Maxxan and Redmeadows. There was a similar case a couple of years back. Only those that had disappeared did turn up again. Dead. And they weren’t homeless.”
“You’re worried it’s started again?”
“It could be anything. The ghouls could be stockpiling. The vampires could be dabbling in human slaves. Either way, it’s not good. The SIA can’t turn a blind eye.”
“How do ghouls normally get their… food?” I shuddered at the thought of them eating people.
“The sick. Elderly. Recently deceased. They also don’t need to eat human meat all the time. Every few months, a top-up meal is enough to keep them going.”
“What do they eat in the meantime?”
“Raw beef usually.”
“And the ghouls, you think they’re responsible for the disappearances? Not vampires?”
“A camera caught a ghoul snatching a homeless kid in Redmeadows. That kid hasn’t shown up since.”
“You think they… ate him?”
“Possibly. The homeless, the unwanted, are a vulnerable target—no one would report it if they did go missing. The previous case we had in Redmeadows was a little different. For one, it wasn’t the homeless. They were random attacks in public places. And those who were taken were reported missing. The only thing we had that could tie them together was that all victims had visited my nightclub, Crimson Mist. What we discovered, then, was that they were being experimented on. Someone was injecting them with a cocktail of venom from vampires and werewolves combined and trying to create a super paranormal species. Only they failed.”
“Jesus.” I sat back against the booth and looked at him incredulously. I couldn’t imagine such a thing, yet here he was, discussing it as casually as if asking if I took sugar in my coffee.
“You think it’s started up again? And this Leroy Byers is involved?”
“We don’t know anything. No bodies have turned up. It could be totally unrelated. As for Byers, he could be calling the shots or knows the ghoul who is. I’m after any ghoul who can give me information. We got a tip-off about Ian Blackwell being in Maxxan. I’ve met Ian before, hence why he’d be able to sense me if I tried to apprehend him myself.”
“What next?” I sat back when the waitress reappeared with more pie. Nate waited until she left before continuing.
“I planted a tracker on the car Ian had been driving. Did you notice when we left the warehouse that it was gone?”
Shit. I hadn’t. “But how? I killed the ghouls inside, and you had Ian restrained.”
“Another ghoul had hung back. I assume to keep a lookout. He’d have heard what went down in the warehouse and bolted, taking Ian’s car.”
“Do you think he’s gone to warn Leroy Byers?”
“A phone call would do it. I suspect he’s gone into hiding.” Nate finished his pie and sat back regarding me. I didn’t like the way he was looking at me with a strange expression on his face. “What?”
“I need to eat.”
I looked from his empty plate and back to his face, confused. “You just ate,” I pointed out. “Order something else if you’re still hungry.”
“What I’m hungry for isn’t on the menu.”
“Oh!” Blood. He needed blood. I quickly crossed my arms over my chest and sat back as far out of reach as I could get within the confines of the booth. “Don’t look at me. You’re not getting any of this.”
He chuckled, tossed his napkin on the table, and slid out. “The waitress it is.” And he was gone, moving at lightning speed.
I waited a minute, then two, before curiosity got the better of me, and I stood, making my way to the counter. No sign of the waitress. Or Nate. I could hear the late-night cook banging around in the kitchen. Silently I made my way to the end of the counter and peeked into the storeroom at the end. Nate stood with the waitress pressed against his body, her back to his chest. One arm was around her waist, pinning her against him; the other was pressing her forehead back into his shoulder, arching her throat.
As if knowing I was looking, he raised his head. His fangs glinted with drops of her blood. From here, his eyes looked black, and something was swirling within their depths, something that told me he may have been drinking from her, but he was thinking about me. A wave of something hit me… desire? Lust? Whatever it was, it was powerful, and my body answered the call, swaying forward even as he lowered his head again, keeping his eyes locked on mine as he slowly, sensually, sunk his fangs back into her neck. The waitress groaned and arched against him as if in bliss, which puzzled me. He’d bitten me before. It hadn’t been a fun experience; it had hurt like a bitch—which begged the question, why was this woman enjoying his bite?
Turning away, I headed back to our booth, suddenly uncomfortable. Why did it bother me watching him feed from another woman? Was it the sensuality of it? Or the way his eyes held mine, telling me that he may have been biting her, but he was thinking about me. I wriggled uncomfortably.
“It bothers you?” Nate was by my shoulder, startling me with his speed and silence.
“No,” I lied, not looking at him.
“I take what I need, heal the wound, and send them on the way none the wis
er that I’ve had a sip from their vein.”
“She won’t remember?”
“Nope. A little mind compulsion, and she’ll be tired, but other than that, no ill effects. And the little blood I used to heal the puncture wounds will go a long way in relieving the arthritis in her knees.”
“Oh.” None of this was what I’d imagined, what Dad and my uncles had drummed into us growing up. Their motto was, “all vampires are evil; they will bite you and drink your blood until you’re dead.” But this sexy as sin vampire by my side was blowing all of those preconceived notions into smithereens, and I wasn’t sure what to believe anymore.
“Come on, I’ll drop you back to collect your car.” Leading the way, he called out goodnight to the waitress, then held the door open for me.
“What will you be doing?”
“Monitoring Ian’s car, see where it ends up. See if any other ghouls turn up. I’ll let you know when I need you again.”
I was off the hook for now, so why did I feel a pang of disappointment? I should have been doing cartwheels to be free of him, but instead? Instead, I felt…disappointed. Shaking off my strange mood, I settled into the passenger seat once more and pondered the disaster my life had become.
Chapter Ten
A shrill whistle followed by “Hey! Paige!” had me swiveling on my heel and peering down the sidewalk for whoever had summoned me. I pinpointed a curly blonde head through the crowd of people, cut off denim shorts and a white tank. Lani, my best friend. I started to walk toward her with a smile, laughing when she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed tight.
Lani and I had been friends ever since our first day at grade school, and while we weren’t quite as inseparable as we once were, we’d discovered our friendship outlasted the absences, that no matter how long it had been since we’d caught up, it was as if no time had passed at all.
“God, it’s good to see you!” I returned her hug with genuine pleasure. The last few days had been silent from Nate, and I felt like I was on tenterhooks, waiting for something to happen. I’d thrown myself into work but was lacking the focus I usually had. Lani was just the distraction I needed.
“You too, hun.” Releasing me, she stepped back and looked me up and down. “Still into the fancy duds, I see,” she teased.
“Still flaunting the eighties cowboy look, I see,” I shot back. Lani always had been and always would be a tomboy. Her boots, shorts, and tank were her usual attire. We were polar opposites, and maybe that was why, together, we just worked.
Linking arms, we continued down the sidewalk.
“What’s new? Heard about your uncle getting himself on the wrong side of the law. That’s too bad. The rumor mill said something about drugs?” The SIA had told the local police a modified version of the story, one suitable for public consumption.
“Yeah, growing marijuana. Can you believe it?”
“Honestly? No.”
“Neither can we. None of us had any idea.”
“I’m really sorry, Paige, that totally sucks.” She gave my arm a squeeze, and I appreciated her support. Lots of old acquaintances had come out of the woodwork when news of Uncle Frank’s arrest had been made public—but they only wanted the gossip, and I’d quickly shut that down. Lani had sent a simple text saying she was there for me. I loved her for it.
“Got time for a coffee?” I asked. We’d reached the bakery, and I stopped to look through the window. There were a couple of customers seated inside and plenty of spare tables.
“Sure. And a doughnut.” She grinned and bounced in ahead of me. Lani was a bouncy, bubbly, loveable tomboy.
We ordered, then grabbed a table over by the window. “What’s new with you?” I asked, wanting a distraction and wanting to avoid any more talk of my family.
“Oh! I’ve been dating the Hastings boy.” She bounced up and down in her seat, and I shook my head at her youth and enthusiasm. You would have thought she was eighteen by her demeanor, not twenty-five like me.
“Which one? Danny? Or Bryce?”
“Mmmmm, Bryce. The delicious one.” Bryce was a couple of years older than us. Danny was one year younger.
“Go on then, tell me all about it. How did it come about? When’s the wedding?”
Time flew by as we gossiped, drank coffee, and ate doughnuts. When Lani invited me to dinner, I gladly accepted—this was precisely what I needed, quality time with a good friend.
“Will Bryce be there?” I asked slyly.
“Nah, just me and Mom, I’m afraid. He’s working tonight. But we should double date another time.”
“Oh yeah, I’d need a date for that.”
“I’m sure we can find you some hottie. You’ve been single too long.”
“Yeah, well, life has been a little crazy, and I’m not sure anyone wants to get involved with a Shelton girl these days.”
“That’s bullshit. Anyone would be glad to have you. Look, hun, I gotta run. I was doing some errands for Ma. She’s a little…” Lani broke off, and for a moment, I glimpsed something in her face.
“Hey, what’s up? Is your mom okay?” Leaning forward, I placed my hand over hers on the table, and she turned her worried eyes to me.
“I think she may be getting Alzheimer’s,” Lani whispered. “Granddaddy had it. Ended up locked up in a home because he couldn’t remember a damn thing and kept wandering off. We lost him for two whole days once. I can’t bear to think of that happening to Mom.”
“Oh, Lani, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“None of it’s confirmed. She won’t go to the doctor's. But she forgets weird shit. You’ll see tonight. Come around six and don’t let on that I said anything, okay?”
What do you do when you think your best friend’s mom is a ghoul? I’ve got no friggin clue, but I sensed that Lani’s mom was not her mom the minute I stepped inside her house. The smell was different. The energy. She’d greeted me warmly enough with a smile and a “Hi, hun.” But something was way off here, and it wasn’t Alzheimer’s.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I offered, standing awkwardly in the kitchen and watching whoever this was parading as Mrs. B bustle about.
Anyone who knew me knew I was useless in the kitchen, and any offers of help were best declined. Lani opened her mouth, but I shushed her with a wave of my hand.
“Oh, bless you, I know you love to cook”—she paused, and her eyes looked up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at me—“Paige.” She grinned as if getting my name right was a moment of great triumph. “But I’ve got this all under control. Chicken casserole. Lani’s favorite. You two run along, and I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
Lani grabbed my wrist and dragged me from the kitchen and out onto the back porch, two beers in hand.
“See?” she hissed, tilting the bottle to her lips and taking a gulp. “She’s not right in the head. Since when do you love to cook? Hell, it’s always been an ongoing joke that you should be banned from every kitchen ever. And chicken casserole? My favorite? I detest it! Always have.”
What could I say that would put my friend's mind at ease? That I thought maybe her mom was now a ghoul and not her mom at all—that she’d been… eaten? I couldn’t do it. Clutching at straws, I tried my best to put a positive slant on the whole thing.
“Well, she does remember those things, just the wrong way around. She associates me with cooking and you with chicken.” I shrugged, it was pretty flimsy, but it was all I had.
“I need to convince her to see a doctor,” Lani declared.
“I guess.” I felt awful. I didn’t know how to help her, and seeing the pain in my friend’s face made my heart ache. I needed to talk to Nate. He’d know what to do. We lapsed into silence, each lost in our own thoughts. Mine was turned toward her mom, as I’m sure Lani’s were too, but I was wondering why she was targeted by a ghoul. And how? When did this happen, and why hadn’t anyone noticed? Obviously, Lani was picking up on clues, minor things the ghoul had gotten wrong, but
overall, whoever it was must have studied Mrs. B in advance or done some research at some point before—gak—consuming her. They’d slipped right into her life.
Another more worrying thought popped into my head. What if Lani insisted on dragging the meat bag she thought was her mom to the doctors? The ghoul wouldn’t let that happen. They wouldn’t let themselves be exposed, which meant Lani was in danger.
“How long has your mom had memory issues?” I asked.
“Started a couple of months ago,” Lani replied. “Why?”
“No reason, just wondering.” I shrugged. Two months ago. When the Gunslinger and Red Witch were in town. Was it linked?
“She’d gone to Redmeadows for a work conference,” Lani continued, twirling the beer bottle between her hands, “and came back different.”
“She still work as a receptionist at…?” I was wracking my brain for the name of the firm when Lani supplied it.
“Stillwater Pharmaceuticals. Yeah. They’re implementing a new software system or something, and Mom had to do the training. Since they had the big yearly conference in Redmeadows, they said she could go to that too. Learn more about the new product they’re launching.”
“She’s been working there a long time, hasn’t she?”
“About five years. Why? Oh my God!” Lani suddenly leaned toward me, grabbing my arm. “Do you think she’s been exposed to something? At work? Some drug that has messed with her head?”
“Whoa, that’s not what I’m saying at all,” I protested. The last thing I wanted was Lani racing into the Stillwater offices accusing them of anything. But I wanted to talk to Nate about this—the vampires had been in Maxxan to grow deadnettle for the drug Rampage. That operation had been shut down, but now a ghoul had taken up residence in the body of a pharmaceutical company’s receptionist. Maybe it was a coincidence, or perhaps not, but worth looking into undoubtedly?
Dinner actually turned out to be an okay affair. Lani ate a lot of salad and bread, the chicken casserole was delicious, and we got caught up on old times, so I didn’t notice Mrs. B’s lack of interaction. Much.