Blood Vice

by Angela Roquet

  “Oh, that makes it so much better.” Laura threw her hands in the air, sinking into soap opera mode. “You can’t just bite at every problem like a rabid dog, Jenna.”

  “She has a point.” Agent Knight glanced across the room at Laura, and I had the urge to move in front of her to block his view.

  “So, are we exchanging information or what?” I asked. “Can my sister unpack her things, or do I need to bite at this problem and ship her off to the ends of the earth?”

  His focus drew back to me slowly. His eyes were lighter than the navy hue of Laura’s and mine. Like glaciers. They were cold and calculating.

  “Let’s talk,” he said.

  I nodded at Laura, and she didn’t waste any time slipping down the hallway and back into our old bedroom. I waited until I heard the door close before returning my full attention to Agent Knight.

  He waved his hand at the sofa, inviting me to sit down before claiming the recliner. He didn’t lean back in it, but rather sat on the very edge, his feet firmly planted on the floor, knees at ninety-degree angles. There was a permanent air of distrust about him, and I wondered if he even knew how to relax.

  “I’ll ask my questions first,” he said, assessing the room as he spoke. He paused on the broken picture frame that I guessed Laura had hung back on the wall and then moved on to the scuffed coffee table between us. He frowned at the teeth marks and missing corner of wood where Maggie had worked her magic as a puppy.

  “Okay.” I nodded, ignoring his distasteful sneer. “Ask away.”

  “Is there anything missing from the report that your department turned over to the FBI?”

  “I don’t know.” I held my hands out apologetically. “I was benched after I woke up in the morgue. I haven’t seen the report.”

  He sighed and pressed his lips together. “Do you remember any identifying features about the vampire who sired you?”

  That one gave me pause. If Agent Knight were affiliated with House Lilith, then it couldn’t hurt to tell him what the asshole had looked like. He might even guess who it was. But I couldn’t spell it out for him without exposing Mandy. And I couldn’t tell him that there was no need to go on a man—er—vampire hunt since she’d made a three-course meal out of him.

  There was a lot to dance around, and I could tell Agent Knight would not be easily deceived. I would have to be extra careful.

  “He had light brown hair and fair skin,” I said, making steady eye contact. “He was really tall and strong, and—you know what? I can draw you a picture.”

  “Really?” He raised an eyebrow. Doubting was a fine art for this guy.

  “Yeah, really.” I reached under the coffee table and found my sketchbook.

  The first page I opened to was the half-finished drawing for the captain. A dozen eraser marks stained the image, and the head was strangely misshapen. Any time an online reverse image search pulled up a similar face, I’d changed a feature. I couldn’t bring myself to incriminate an innocent man, but the captain was counting on me. So I’d kept drawing until I’d made a Frankenstein monster of a suspect. Now the plan was to reverse engineer him until he looked vaguely human.

  “I can tell this is going to be really helpful,” Agent Knight said dryly as he leaned forward to examine my work.

  I sucked in my bottom lip and gave him a tight smile. “Give me a minute. I’ll surprise you.” I flipped the page and cleared my throat as I began the new sketch. “So, House Lilith. What exactly is that?” I asked. Again, I couldn’t confess what Mandy had shared with me. Besides, I wanted to hear an unfiltered version from a new source.

  Agent Knight sniffed and lifted his chin as if he was on to me. His eyes didn’t leave my sketchbook as he answered. “It’s the royal vampire household that oversees the America territory. Their headquarters are in Denver, but the duke has a mansion in Ladue.”

  “Duke?” I snorted. “And you work for him? As a spy within the FBI?”

  His eyes flicked up to my face before darting back to the sketchbook. “I’m in a division of the FBI that is privately funded by House Lilith. Blood Vice. We intercept and appropriate supernatural crimes to protect the supernatural community from human interference.”

  “But…aren’t you human? How are you part of the supernatural community?” I held the sketchbook out, angling it off to my right to better recall Raphael from my memory. That was the side from which he’d attacked.

  “I’m half-sired.” Agent Knight looked irritated by the confession.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means if I die tonight, I’ll wake up as a vampire.”

  I wanted to ask more about how that worked, but his jaw flexed, and I decided it was best not to poke the bear. Not knowing what else was likely to set him off, I went for the point-me-in-the-right-direction approach.

  “Is there a support group around here for new vampires? A social hour? Instruction manual maybe?”

  “You’re not registered,” he said. “By law, I’m expected to arrest you and deliver you to House Lilith.”

  I swallowed and stopped drawing so I could look up at him. “Why? Have I broken some vampire law? What would House Lilith do with me?” The edges of my vision pulsed red as fear bubbled in my chest.

  Agent Knight rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. “You’ve been hunting in their territory without permission. You’d be sentenced to community service at the very least.”

  “Community service?” I didn’t crack a smile or even blink. I could sense a but coming.

  “Menial labor for House Lilith—like an indentured servant—is most common for the smaller offenses.”

  I felt one side of my nose draw up in disgust. “For how long?”

  He tilted his head to one side in thoughtful contemplation. “A sireless vampling like you? Ten years, more or less.”

  “Ten fucking years?” I was going to be sick. “For taking a bite out of a carjacker? You can’t be serious.”

  “It’s better than being coffin-locked.” He shrugged and picked up my abandoned sketchbook with a frown. “Are you done with this?”

  I blinked a few times and tried to calm down by breathing through my nose. The drawing was finished and with cleaner lines thanks to my recent practice dummy. I felt pretty proud of my work, even if it was the spitting image of the bastard who had ended my human life.

  “Do you recognize him?” I asked, mimicking his detached calm the best I could.

  A long stretch of silence followed, and then Agent Knight rubbed his jaw and sighed. “You’re absolutely certain this is your sire?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “His name is Raphael.” He paused to steal a glance at me. I did my best to keep a neutral expression.

  “And?”

  “And he’s the exiled Baron of House Lilith.”

  I didn’t have to fake my surprise. “He’s royalty?”

  “Was,” Agent Knight corrected. His brow creased, and he tossed the sketchbook back onto the coffee table. “If House Lilith finds out that he’s created an unsanctioned scion, you’ll be looking at more than a few years of maid duty.”

  “What? Why?” I dug my nails into the couch on either side of my legs. The unfairness of this entire mess was really starting to piss me off. “I didn’t exactly get to choose my killer. House Lilith, this duke, or who the hell ever is in charge of doling out punishments will understand that, right?”

  “I wouldn’t hold your breath.” He gave me a thoughtful frown. “Raphael and his sister, Scarlett, run the brothel responsible for the missing homeless girls in the city.”

  “What a family business.” I scoffed and tried to bite my tongue before I let anything too revealing slip.

  “It’s common practice for exiled vampires. They offer an illegal service so their revenue goes unreported and they’re harder to track down.”

  “Well, my department tracked them down easily enough,” I said, my pride falling flat. It had cost Will his
life, so I was finding it hard to be proud of anything I’d done since making the vice squad.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Agent Knight’s mammoth hands gripped his knees, and he gave me a hard look. “I’m not going to bring you in. I’m going to trust that you didn’t know you were breaking a sacred law tonight and give you a pass. Do you think you can manage to find another willing donor or two?”

  “Donor?” I blinked at him.

  “Like your doctor friend?” He waved his hand in the air impatiently. “You’re a new vampire, so you’re going to need at least three or four humans in your blood harem. If you know a willing wolf, they’re as good as two humans.”

  “Blood harem?” I blanched.

  “Were you bitten by a vampire or a parrot?” he snapped. “Pay attention. I’m trying to help you.”

  “I am! I am.” I gave him a pleading look as my heart flip-flopped hopefully. “I…I don’t know if I can round up that many…donors.” My solo lifestyle had felt lonely at times before, but never so much as it did at the moment. “Can’t I supplement with cow blood?”

  Agent Knight made a face. “If you’re desperate, for a day or two at most, but you’re going to need human blood on a regular basis. Most vamplings share their sire’s harem for the first decade or two. You’re at a distinct disadvantage.”

  “Why the sudden change of heart?” I dared to ask, still curious about the repercussions of having a royally exiled sire.

  His blue eyes had lost their overbearing glint and just looked sad now. “House Lilith is very particular about new scions, even more so regarding the royal family. The last unsanctioned royal scion that I know of was fed to the sun and delivered to their sire in an urn.”

  My mouth was suddenly dry. Mandy had been right to fear this vampire society. Maybe I wasn’t ready for a social hour, after all.

  “What’s the catch?” I asked. Call me crazy, but Agent Knight didn’t come off as the kind of guy who bestowed random favors for free.

  Those spooky eyes of his changed again, sending a shiver through me. “You’re going to help me find the Scarlett Inn. You and that pet wolf of yours.”

  I thought I’d done a decent job of steering the conversation away from Mandy. Damn. Nothing got past this guy.

  Mandy wouldn’t like this. Not one little bit. But I was already building a solid argument in my mind. Why not? It was either that or pick out an urn, and ash was so not my color.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I wasn’t sure what to expect when I went to check on Mandy after Agent Knight had left. At the very least, I thought I’d find a busted-out bathroom window. Possibly lipstick hate mail on my mirror. Or maybe even a steaming pile of wolf shit on my bedroom floor. Instead, I found her curled up in the back of my closet, Maggie’s dog vest clutched to her chest like a security blanket and a vacant look in her eyes.

  “I have to find them,” she whispered. Her hair was still curled in loose ringlets that hung down to her collarbone, which meant she hadn’t shifted. She’d changed her mind and had hidden among my plundered wardrobe. A few dozen hangers filled the gaps between the garments that had been deemed lame or too mom-ish for her hijacked style, and none of my shoes on the rack below were paired with their mates.

  I had to keep reminding myself that Mandy was just a girl. She’d said she was eighteen, but after the case refresher Will’s notes had provided, I’d discovered that she wasn’t quite there yet. Her birthday was in a few weeks. The Fourth of July. The irony of it was too sad to mention.

  “We’ll find them,” I said, sitting down beside her and pressing my back against the wall.

  “But he knows what I am.” Mandy tilted her head back and sighed. “I didn’t know Raphael was royalty. What if that agent finds out what I did?”

  “He won’t.” I turned to look her in the eyes. “In fact, we’re both going to forget that it ever happened. Right now. We’ll never talk about it again, and that will solve that problem.”

  “What aren’t we talking about?” Laura asked from the doorway of the closet. She cradled Duncan in her arms, bouncing him like a fussy baby as he whimpered and whined.

  “Exactly,” I said, giving her a pointed look. “I could really use a Bloody Betsy right about now.”

  “Oh no.” Laura’s face pinched, and she cocked a hip out. “I almost got shot because of you tonight. And I’m going to get fingered by a doctor for you tomorrow.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s a physical, Laura. Not a pap smear.”

  “Whatever.” Her brow scrunched as if she’d taken offense. Duncan yipped, and she resumed petting him. “It doesn’t matter. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve more than made up for bumping uglies with Vin. So you make your own dinner. I’m not the maid.” She left the room with her nose held high in the air.

  “What if I stay in wolf form?” Mandy suggested, ignoring Laura’s outburst. Her mind was as saturated as mine by the prospect of having to work with Agent Knight. “Then, at least he wouldn’t know what I look like in human form. And we could keep looking for the girls.” She sounded equally hopeful and terrified.

  “I don’t see why that wouldn’t work,” I said. “We don’t exactly have any other leads.” My breath felt tight in my chest. If I said anything to dissuade her, I would be signing my own death warrant. But if I let her do this without encouraging her to think it through and something happened to her, I couldn’t live with myself.

  I guessed being dead had already fixed that. Part of me just wished that my conscience had kicked the bucket, too. My heart was getting awfully heavy.

  “Let’s do this,” Mandy finally said, a more determined note in her voice. “If he gets in my way, I’ll just eat him.”

  A repulsed groan escaped me. “What is it with you and eating people?”

  She shrugged. “Dinner and revenge. Free buffet. What’s so hard to understand about that?”

  “Ugh.” I glanced down at her twiggy legs and arms. “Where do you put it all?”

  Mandy flashed her sharp teeth at me in a cheesy grin. “In my winning personality, of course.”

  * * * * *

  Tuesday night came too soon. As I sat at the kitchen counter, sucking down my third Bloody Betsy and listening to Laura’s update on how she’d FUBAR’d my day, I began to wonder if it was too late to make a run for it. Did Agent Knight have eyes on the house? Would he know if we took off? How far could we make it in the Bronco before we needed to find a hotel with enough protection from the sun?

  Most of my concern was for Mandy. The girl was unusually quiet. And she’d only eaten two bowls of cereal since I’d risen. Something was definitely off about that. It distracted my thoughts from everything else, and my eyes kept migrating to her across the dining room, where she sat at the table, scribbling out something in an old notebook I’d loaned her.

  “Black or black?” Laura said, stepping into my line of sight. She held a lacy cocktail dress over one shoulder and a low-cut romper over the other. They were both too racy for my liking.

  “Neither.” I made a face, more at her than the taste of the cow blood, and shook my head. “This is for a funeral. I wouldn’t even wear those on a date.”

  Laura pursed her lips. “You’re such a prude.”

  “Is that a new thing on the west coast now? Picking up guys at funerals? Seems a little desperate to me.” I had no delusions about Laura’s social life. She might have looked nice on Hollywood’s arm, but they weren’t married. It would be naive to assume she wasn’t sleeping around as much as he was.

  “Oh, good grief. It’s summer.” Laura pouted. “It’s going to be hot outside. And my legs are so deliciously tan. I can’t believe you’re going to make me cover them up.”

  “Fu-ner-al,” I said again, enunciating each syllable slowly in hopes the word would sink in. “I appreciate you covering for me and all, but I’m not showing up to my partner’s funeral looking like a streetwalker.”

  “You’re not showing up at all.�
� She smirked at me and turned the outfits around to examine them herself. “And he was only your partner for a week.”

  I blew out a slow breath and gripped the edge of the counter to keep my hands from going around her neck. “He was Mom’s partner, too, and he was my friend. How can you be so callous?”

  Laura’s cheeks flared, but she managed to lift her chin as if she had nothing to be sorry for. After her declaration that she was done apologizing for the dirty business with Vin, she’d reverted back to her diva ways. I almost had to wonder if she was glad that Agent Knight had barged in guns blazing the night before.

  “He was Mom’s partner ten years ago, and I haven’t seen him since,” she said, folding the skimpy garments over one arm.

  “But you’re supposed to be me,” I reminded her again. “I would cry at his funeral. I would wear something respectful.”

  She threw her head back and groaned. “I could go in a clown suit, and you’d never even know.”

  “Oh, I’d know,” I said, slurping the last of my Bloody Betsy through a curly straw. “Collins would never let me hear the end of it.”

  “Speaking of tall, dark, and fashionable, I really enjoyed the run with him and the mister this morning,” Laura said, a more pleasant expression taking over her face. “I feigned a twisted ankle and lingered a few yards behind them, and oh my God, you could fry eggs on those ass-ets.”

  “There’s a special place in hell for your kind.” I gave her a wide-eyed glare. “Please, tell me you didn’t let them see you ogling.”

  She made an affronted noise and waved her hand at me. “I’m a television star. Anyone, straight or gay, would be flattered to catch me ogling them.”

  “Not when they think you’re me,” I said with a tight smile. “You want to fortify your acting chops by playing Detective Jenna Skye? You’re going to have to do better than that.”