Chapter Twenty-One
Kinesics – Analysis that examines what is communicated through body movement.
Our chorus of footfalls scuffed against the concrete floor of the aircraft hangar. The walls were painted pristine white, industrial lighting hanging overhead. Which of the tainted political elite owned the space and parked their lavish private jet there, I couldn’t say. All of them seemed comfortable with that level of extravagance. These were pampered men of means ... yet here we were, alone. No bodyguards loomed at their elbows. No assistants scurried around to ensure their every whim was met. Not so much as a janitor with a broom occupied the cavernous space. Whatever they had planned, they didn’t want an audience for it. That was far more off-putting than the gun Bob Berry kept trained on my back, jabbing it between my shoulder blades whenever my speed didn’t meet his expectation.
Why me and not Rau or Carter?
Because the other two made the mistake of allowing their feelings for me to show. Every time Berry stabbed the barrel of his weapon into my back, both men tensed. All the lies and deceit that passed between us, yet I held no doubt either of them would swallow a bullet for me. The moronic beauty of chivalry.
“A little farther, darlin’,” Berry drawled, giving my shoulder blade another rough poke.
“Actually, here is good,” Markus corrected. Halting in the dead center of the hangar, his comfort in the space hinted he was either the elusive owner or a regular here. Overhead a jet engine roared past, screeching its departure into the night sky. Markus waited for the ruckus to die down before continuing. “Mr. Berry, Mr. Rutherford, if you would kindly keep our friends here company. I’ll see to our guest of honor.”
“Whoa now,” Berry grunted his disapproval. “Where’s that magic potion of yours? Load us up before you go strolling off.”
Drawing attention his way simply by clearing his throat, Rutherford opened his coat to reveal two sterling silver darts in his inside pocket. Whatever the mysterious cocktail was, earned a fat-cat grin from Berry’s puffy face.
Markus’ determined stride hadn’t wavered, the heels of his loafers clicking against the floor like hammer strikes. “I would go through the whole rigmarole that there’s no use screaming, but …” he called over his shoulder and pointed skyward. As if cued, another jet rumbled from above. Shoulders shaking with laughter, he disappeared into an office at the far end of the hangar.
A momentary hush fell in his wake.
Turning in a slow circle, Rau evaluated the layout of the space. “What exactly are we doing here, gentlemen?”
Rutherford shifted on his feet, his back hunched with palpable loathing. “Close your mouth, bloodsucker,” he spat as if the title soured on his tongue. “I won’t explain myself to a corpse.”
Rau’s head tilted with a mixture of interest and contempt. “I could explain all the fundamental flaws in that sweeping assessment, but I would have to dumb it down with small words for your painfully simplistic human intellect.”
While Rutherford glowered, Berry clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and waved his gun in Rau’s direction. “I bet if I was a few centuries old, I’d be a pompous ass, too. Doesn’t change the fact that we own this town. We are the kings of this domain! You want that bill of yours to pass? Only way that’s happening is under our fucking terms.”
“Come now, Berry, there’s no need to be crass,” Markus chastised from the office doorway.
No longer was he alone.
Carter edged in close, offering the only comfort he could by linking his fingers with mine. Whatever tension lay between us, in that moment I treasured the contact.
“Lawrence Rawling,” Rau muttered, spine-straightening in steeping unease.
Elodie’s twitchy-ex kept his gaze firmly fixed on the ground, hand clamped on the upper arm of a vision from the past. The young woman he clung to could have been Joselyn’s twin. Same ruby-kissed lips. Same cascading curtain of golden hair. Same enchanting green eyes. It was hours spent studying Micah’s file on Joselyn’s death that allowed me to notice the subtle differences. The trembling girl’s chin was narrower, and she lacked Joselyn’s endearing dimples.
Seizing her by the other arm, Markus led their trio forward, only to be halted by his reluctant guest planting her feet and thrashing against them with all her might.
“Daddy, no!” she begged, adding a far more tragic spin to this unraveling nightmare. “Please don’t do this!”
There was no need to guess which man held that title. Unable to look her in the eye, Rawling visibly blanched.
“Remember our deal, Lawrence,” Markus clucked.
“She’s his daughter? What the hell is happening?” Carter rasped.
Shushing him out of the corner of my mouth, I squeezed his hand to amplify the urgency of the suggestion. Whatever was about to happen didn’t bode well for anyone with a pulse and no gun.
“I’m sorry.” Tugging his own child forward, Rawling’s voice dropped to a pained whisper, drowning in shame. “I truly am.”
Watching her struggle against the two men, I lurched forward to help. The click of Berry’s gun rooted me to the spot, my obedience ensured when he pressed the barrel to the back of Carter’s head.
“That’s a family matter, darlin’. Best we stay out of it.”
Ignoring her captors, Rau beseeched the girl directly. “My dear, are you all right? Have they harmed you?”
Fingernails digging into her skin, Rawling yanked his daughter behind him. “You don’t get to talk to her. She’s not for you.”
“For him?” The girl’s voice hitched a nervous octave. “What does that mean? Daddy, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”
“So many questions, such demanding interrogation.” Markus gifted us his most charming smile, but something dark and sinister roiled and writhed behind his eyes. “Let’s handle the business at hand, then all will be answered.”
A nod to Rutherford and his right-hand man lunged. Markus’ public show of shaming him—the over the top acceptance of vampire culture—had all been an act. Having tucked his gun in his waistband, Rutherford drew a silver knife from the holster at his hip. He swung wide, throwing his weight into the strike. The fabric of Rau’s clothing split to reveal a gash of gurgling black sludge that seeped from the sizzling edges of the wound.
Face contorting with vampiric rage, Rau’s monster burst forth in a show of fang and fury. He dove for Rutherford, but Berry spun with his weapon raised to cover his spiteful cohort.
“The plan was to keep you alive.” Head listing to the side, Berry closed one eye to peer down the sight at Rau’s forehead. “But plans can be altered.”
Palms raised, Rau backed down, his murderous glare frozen in place.
“Goodness, that was exciting, wasn’t it?” Markus barked with laughter. Dragging the palm of his freehand over his chin dimple, he gestured to Rutherford. “Let’s see the knife.”
Rutherford retrieved his gun, training it on Carter and me as he skirted around the perimeter to deliver his bounty into Markus’ waiting hand.
Pinching it by the hilt with his thumb and forefinger, Markus held it up for inspection. Rau’s blood bubbled on the blade, hissing and spitting like a frying egg. “Mr. Lawrence, I believe this is payment in full: the blood of a descendent of Vlad the Impaler. Only son of the legend. I have no doubt the rush will be extraordinary.” He adjusted his hold, then offered it to Rawling handle first.
He released his daughter, who was all but forgotten as Rawling smacked his lips and reached for his prize. A second before his fingertips brushed the hilt, Markus pulled it from reach. “And the terms of this arrangement are clear to you?”
“Crystal.” Rawling nodded exuberantly.
Taking a step back, Markus’ features sharpened with taunting cruelty. “On second thought, I really think you should be the one to explain
it to her. After all, you are her father.”
Dutifully, Rawling began reciting words that must have been drilled into his thick gourd of a head. “The knife and the blood is mine, in exchan—”
“Ah-ah-ah,” Markus interrupted, pulling the dagger farther away. “Not to me. I already know what a loathsome failure you are. Look at her, your only child, and tell her what you’ve done.”
Shuffling in front of his daughter, Rawling cast his gaze to the floor to avoid her pleading stare. “Am-bear—”
“No,” she interrupted, the word slathered with repugnance. “Whatever you’re about to say is well beyond the boundaries of pet names. Show me enough respect not to use those lame cop-outs.”
“Ooh-hoo!” Head falling back, Markus’ guffaw echoed off the ceiling. “She’s a fiery one! Little Miss is having none of your shit, Lawrence. Better try a little harder.”
Rawling shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the tendons of his neck contracting, left eye twitching with the strain of sobriety. “You’re right. You deserve better than that.” Wetting his parched lips, he focused on channeling enough humanity to produce a feigned ounce of compassion. “Amber, I’ve arranged for you to stay with these men in exchange for—”
“Your next fix,” she finished for him, her tone a bluesy sonnet of melancholy and regret.
Anguish crumbled her face, her soul shattering while another red-eye flight roared off to its destination. The hollow cavity of my own torpid heart ached for her.
“You have to understand,” Lawrence pleaded, stare locked on the dagger instead of her, “my blood burns in my veins. I can’t think, can’t help myself. I’m …”
While he hunted for the wording of his paltry excuse, Amber arched back and spat in her father’s face. The thick glob of her saliva trailed down his cheek, dripping off on to his shirt with a heavy splat.
“You sold me for your next high,” Amber sneered. “You’re disgusting. Just go. Get the hell out of here. Whatever depravity they have planned could never be as bad as you. You were supposed to love me, to protect me. Instead, you used me as currency.”
For a beat, the twitching stopped. Clarity softened Rawling’s features. “That’s not true. I love you, Amber, more than anything. I need you to know that.”
“More than anything, huh? That’ll change the second you lick the blood off that knife.” Tearing her glare from her father, she addressed Markus directly. “He doesn’t need to be here anymore. I’m your property now.”
That ever-present grin, which could make the devil wince, coiled the corners of Markus’ lips. “You’re absolutely right. Rutherford, would you please show Mr. Rawling out.”
Crossing her arms over her mid-section, Amber folded in on herself, the fight having left her body. She wouldn’t try to run, of that I was certain. Why bother? Where could she go? The best she could do now was batten down for the storm with the rest of us wayward souls.
Markus tossed the knife to the ground at Rawling’s feet, sending the publicly respected County Commissioner scrambling to claim it as Rutherford seized him by the elbow and steered him toward the door. For Amber’s sake, I wished he had done the inconsolable father act, screaming for his daughter until he faded into the oblivion; that his despairing cries could be heard for miles, resonating his heartache to the heavens. As it was, the only sounds leaving his lips were happy slurps while he dragged his tongue down one side of the blade, then the other.
“And you have the audacity to call us monsters,” Rau marveled, shaking his head in disgust.
“What can I say,” Berry chuckled, tempting fate by scratching his temple with the barrel of the gun. “We’re a fickled kind.”
The hangar door banging shut brought with it a clap of realization. Two stories, lining up in a way no outsider could see.
“The timeline was wrong,” I muttered, acidic clarity burning up the back of my throat. “Joselyn’s father wasn’t trying to avenge his daughter. He never was. He hated vampires, to the point that dismembering them became his compulsion. To him, his daughter’s public involvement with one was an atrocity.” Catching Rau’s stare, I held it in a cradle of empathy. “He sold her to keep his supply of victims flowing.”
A fog of silence blew into the room, slowly turning Rau’s head from Berry to Markus. “You were both in my home. Whoever bought her knew about the mask and planted it there.”
Scream ripping from his chest, the vampire lord charged for Berry, knocking the gun from his hand with all the effort of an afterthought. Seizing the statesman by the shirt, Rau slammed him against the cement block wall, his forearm pressed to Berry’s windpipe.
“In all my years, I have loved exactly one woman.” Rau’s voice dipped to a threatening whisper. “If I find out you had anything, anything, to do with her death, I will make you an immortal just so I can spend my days finding new and innovative ways to make you suffer.”
“I suggest you relax, Mr. Mihnea. He had nothing to do with it.” Sauntering behind Amber, Markus’ hand lingered over her throat in an open threat. “I will admit to being the one who purchased your lovely inamorata. Even so, I viewed it as an act of mercy. Poor child’s father held no value for her life. Lord only knows what kind of depravity she would have been subjected to in the hands of a lesser caring individual. Still, if you want to gaze upon the face of her killer, you need not look farther than the closest mirror.”
Caught off guard, Rau loosened his hold, his exposed fangs dripping for justice. “No. I would never hurt her. I couldn’t. It’s not—”
Ffffft.
Ffffft.
Rau’s adamant denial was cut off by two darts missiling into his flesh. One imbedded in his shoulder, the other his calf. A blink later, he crumbled to the ground.
Berry stumbled from the wall, eagerly gulping air by the mouthful.
“What did you give him?” Carter asked, breaking the hush I’d imposed on him.
Markus dug into the pocket of his suit coat and extracted a black masquerade mask vined with gold. “The first was a horse tranquilizer laced with silver to make him more susceptible to its influence.” Ignoring Amber’s whimper of protest, he fixed it over her eyes and tied it into place. “The second was an artificial sulfur substitute. It makes vampires particularly vicious, yet is completely untraceable once the effects wear off. It’s the same concoction he was drugged with before ripping out the throat of his love. A few of your friends have experienced it as well. We find they make excellent hitmen under the influence.”
“He’s the son of Vlad the Impaler, the ultimate vampire,” I warned. “You douse him with that and turn him lose, he’ll kill us all.”
“Not if you’re already gone when he wakes up.” Markus’ expression was a sunny promise of the cotton clouds of freedom.
“And you’ll let us just walk out,” I huffed in wry disbelief.
“I will.” Bowing his head, he glanced up at me from under his brow. The deepest, most vile pits of hell churned in the depths of his stare. “The second you kill this sweet child.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Scientific Method – Continuous process which implements a body of techniques to investigate a phenomenon, acquire knowledge, or correct and integrate previous knowledge.
Whoa, now.” Berry’s complexion faded chalk white. The hand holding his gun drooped. “Nobody said anything about killing humans. Stagin’ a violent spectacle, I’m all for. But I draw the line at takin’ an innocent girl’s life. My mama raised me as a Christian, and I don’t need her kickin’ my ass at the pearly gates when I—”
His outburst was cut off by winging metal. Blood gurgled from Berry’s lips, a choked gasp rattling from his lungs. Jutting from his throat was a silver knife identical to the one Rawling sauntered out with. Amber shielded her face, her shrill shriek reverberating off the walls in a deafening echo. Legs folding beneath his slac
k body, the pile of meat that had been Bob Berry slumped to the ground while Rutherford straightened his coat from where he extracted the blade for its fatal toss.
Strolling over to Berry’s body, Markus shook a handkerchief from his breast pocket and used it to yank the knife out in a pulsing spray of crimson. “This will be destroyed,” he explained. “The only weapon able to be tied to this will be the one Daddy Rawling insisted on taking with him.”
“Why?” I forced the words through gritted teeth. “Why take out one of your own?”
Markus’ head snapped up, eyes bulging with faux innocence. “Oh, we didn’t. Rawling was your lap dog. Locked in the thralls of his blood addiction, he killed Berry when he tried to protect Amber from being drained dry by … you.” Clapping a hand over his heart, Markus saluted the corpse at his feet. “He died a hero’s death.”
Lifting my chin, I glared Markus down, frosting him over with my icy stare. “You hate vampires so much you would stage all of this at the expense of two lives?”
“On the contrary.” Markus handed off the knife to Rutherford who would undoubtedly handle the disposal. “I don’t hate any vampires.”
“I do,” Rutherford grumbled. Depositing the handkerchief and knife in a plastic bag, he tucked it into his coat pocket. “Bloodsucking parasites, the lot of you.”
“And your opinion is completely justified.” Markus stabbed a hand in his direction. “I’m simply of the mindset that the Nosferatu do not belong in civilized society. I had hoped voters would come to that decision all on their own, but the latest polls are leaning in the opposite direction. With your help, we’re going to remind them what’s at stake.”
“You’re putting a lot of stock in me playing along,” I snarled.
Carter’s chin dipped in my direction. “Vincenza, don’t.”
“No, I’m genuinely curious.” Talking over him, I took a brazen step forward. “What if, instead of biting her, I … don’t? Then what? You kill me? Give Rau time to wake up so he can tear my throat out for you? I say we skip right to those options, because I’m not touching that girl.”
The Veiled Series Collection Page 19