Nodding, Charlie jumped up. “Hold on, let me get a picture of him. It’s a printout of his profile picture on Home-Time, that new social media site.” He crossed to his desk—the clean one—and sorted through a stack of papers, pulling one out to hand to us.
Nigel was human, all right, average height and altogether too slender. He looked slight, even, with blond hair and a thin scruff of beard. He wasn’t a handsome man, but rather plain—someone you’d see at the bus stop and your gaze would skip over as you perused the crowd. There was a look in his eyes, though, that made my hackles rise. Something about him set my teeth on edge.
“Where do you think he went?” Viktor asked.
Herne glanced at the photo, and he gave me a look that told me he saw what I did.
“I don’t know, frankly. He belongs to a couple groups, but I’m not certain what they are. We really don’t know each other very well. He’s a private person and keeps to himself, but he pays his share of the bills on time, and he doesn’t cause any trouble for me, so it works.” Charlie paused. “You know, there have been a few times where he actually made me nervous. You would think he’d be the nervous one, rooming with a vampire.” He held up his hand before we could say anything. “Don’t sweat it, I know that question had to be back there. But I think I’m more nervous of him than he is of me.”
“Why?” Herne set the photo down on the coffee table.
“He’s an odd sort. As I said, he keeps to himself, but once in a while, I’ll catch him looking at me in a way that makes my skin crawl. And that’s not easy to do to a vampire.” Charlie’s smile vanished as he set the bottle of blood on a coaster. “There’s something about him I find…off-putting. But I can’t tell you what it is, because I can’t pinpoint it.”
Charlie was a lot more thoughtful than I had expected.
“Why do you stay? Why not move out?”
“It’s hard to find a roommate willing to lodge with a vampire, for one thing. And I can’t afford an apartment by myself. Thanks to the college courses I managed to take before I was turned, I have a job coming up with a local credit union run by the Vampire Nation. That should secure me training and allow me to start moving up in my world. What’s my world now, rather. My parents disowned me when they found out I had been turned. They told me never to darken their door again.”
“I’m sorry,” Herne said. “It must be difficult, your whole life changing like that.”
“That’s an understatement.” Charlie stared at the floor, a misty look crossing his face. “It’s a lonely life, being a vampire. I’d give anything to have my old life back, even though I had credit companies coming after me and my girlfriend was a pain in the ass. But now, I don’t have anyone, and my sire—who would normally train me and help me make my way—was killed because he was a fucking psycho.”
We waited for a moment, then Herne motioned toward Nigel’s desk. “Do you mind if we have a look around?”
“Given he hasn’t been back in two weeks and I’m worried something might have happened to him, go ahead. If he comes back and pitches a fit about it, I’ll kick him out and just figure out a way to pay rent on my own.” Charlie stood. “If you don’t mind, I’ll pop into the kitchen. When you called and asked if you could come over, I decided to make some cookies. I used to do a lot of baking before I was turned. I worked at Doughnut Land, and I was the head baker for the franchise.”
The loneliness in his voice was tangible and I found myself feeling sorry for him.
“Would you like any help?” I asked, but he shook his head.
“Thanks, but I’ll be right back. Would you like some lemonade? I made it fresh.” He looked so hopeful that we all said yes.
“Let’s see what we can find,” Herne said, sitting himself at Nigel’s desk. He handed me a stack of papers. “Here, look through these. Viktor, can you do a quick call to your buddies in the know, to find out if Nigel’s been arrested or anything of the sort?”
Viktor nodded, pulling out his phone as I started sorting through the papers. There were a few forms that looked as though Nigel had been filling out requests for credit cards, and a bunch of personal bills, to a car repair shop, a couple department stores, his Paycloud credit card bill, unopened. I hesitated, then slit open the envelope and pulled out the statement. It was for three months, with two in arrears.
It was short, but hefty. He had donated two hundred dollars every four weeks for the past three months to some organization called HLA. I wasn’t sure what the acronym stood for.
“Charlie.” I looked up as he returned with a tray of glasses filled with lemonade, and a plate of cookies. They smelled wonderful. “Oh, those smell good.”
“I hope you like oatmeal raisin.” He smiled, then, and I realized I was staring at him. His vampire glamour was in full force, and he didn’t even seem to realize he had it.
“Love them,” I said, accepting a glass and a cookie. “Listen, do you know what ‘HLA’ stands for? Nigel donated to them every month for the past three months.”
Charlie frowned. “You’re shitting me. Seriously, he donated to them?”
“Yeah, why? Who are they?” I bit into the cookie, almost swooning from the chewy goodness. “This is great,” I said with my mouth full.
He held out his hand. “Can I look at that statement? I still can’t believe it.”
I handed him the statement and took another cookie. Herne and Viktor followed suit, helping themselves to the lemonade and the sweets as Charlie stared at the piece of paper.
“I’ll be damned. I knew he was a little squirrely, but…”
“Is she right? Did he belong to the HLA?” Herne asked, eyeing him closely.
Charlie looked up, his expression bleak. “Apparently so.”
Viktor and Herne seemed to know what he was talking about, but I still didn’t.
“What’s the HLA?”
Charlie glanced at me. “The HLA stands for the Human Liberation Army, a radical hate group out to rid the world of Cryptos. To them, it doesn’t matter what race or species or whatever you are, if you’re not human, you’re better off dead. But why the hell would he room with me if he believes in this crap?”
I hesitated. If they were a hate group, and Nigel belonged to them, were they the ones deliberately targeting the Fae?
“Herne, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I looked over at him, my stomach knotting.
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to search his computer, if you don’t mind, Charlie?”
Charlie roused himself out of his shock. “Whatever you want. He’s not setting foot back in this apartment. I’m hiring a mover to dump his stuff into a storage locker, and I’ll give him back his rent for this month, but he’s out of here.” He slowly sat down between Viktor and me. “So my nervousness was based in reality.”
“It seems so.” Viktor hesitantly clapped him on the back. “But at least you’re okay. He didn’t manage to do anything to you.”
“No.”
A thought occurred to me and I dropped my cookie on the table. “What did you make those from? Were they his ingredients?”
Charlie nodded his head. “Yeah, seeing I don’t really eat anymore. Why?” Then he turned a paler shade of white than I would have thought possible. “What did he do?”
“We think he poisoned a group of the Fae with a mutated virus.” I began to shake. “What if I ate contaminated food? Nobody survives this virus…no one who is Fae blood.”
Herne jumped up and took me by the shoulders, pulling me to my feet. “Breathe. I doubt if Nigel cooked the ginger chicken. Whatever he added to it had to be made off-site. The catering staff cooked the food. He probably just doctored it, and I doubt if he’d leave whatever vehicle he used to transfer the virus in the cupboard with the rest of the food. You’re okay, Ember.” He glanced over at Charlie. “Can we take all the food from the kitchen, in order to test it?”
“Of course.” Charlie jumped up, agitated. He rushed into the
kitchen and we heard a clanging and a few moments later, he returned with a grocery bag. “I added all the cookies and everything I used in them, along with the lemonade, though that was just lemons, water, and sugar. But the bag of sugar’s in there.”
Herne braced me up. “You’ll be fine, Ember. I promise, you will be all right.”
I nodded, trying to calm myself down. “Right. And getting upset isn’t going to help, either way. Go back to searching. We need to know more about this freak.”
Herne positioned himself in front of the computer again while Viktor rubbed my shoulder. I leaned back against the half-ogre and he gave me a gentle hug.
Charlie headed over to the door, where he threw the deadbolt and fastened a chain lock. “I’ll look through his room, see if he’s got anything suspicious in there. As I said, he’s not getting back in. I don’t want any more surprises from him.”
A few moments later, Herne let out a low whistle. “I just hit the jackpot.”
We all crossed the room to look over his shoulder, including Charlie, who ran in when he heard the whistle. We were looking at the HLA forum boards. The forum was locked, but Nigel’s name was in the log-in bar, and it looked like he had his password set to auto-configure. Herne clicked on it, first making certain that the webcam was turned off.
Nigel had twenty-three unread messages in his in-box, and Herne scanned through them, reading quicker than any of us could.
“He’s been missing from the boards for almost two weeks, too. Most of these are questions as to whether he’s okay. I’m marking them unread, so that no staff member who might think to look will know whether he’s read them.”
“Look through his history to see what his last few posts were.” I had used a number of forum boards over the years in order to find clients when I was freelancing. Forums had come back in style.
Herne skimmed through the list of links, then paused. He leaned closer, reading the subject line, then clicked on the link to one of the posts. It brought up a local chapter of the forum, and the post was a request for waiters for the FMR Day Labor company. Herne cleared his throat, reading it aloud.
Wanted, one or two wait staff to man booths at local event. Must have experience, be dependable, discreet, and willing to work outside of your comfort zone. This position requires a strong commitment to the tenets of the HLA. Contact FMR Day Labor at 206-555-0134.
“Well, we know how he found the job,” I said. “Should we try the number?”
“Ten to one it’s a throwaway phone number.” Herne pulled out his phone and pressed a button, then entered the number. “I blocked my name.”
“That’s handy, how did you do that?”
“My father knows a lot of powerful techno-mages. Yep, just as I figured. The number is no longer in use. My guess? A burner phone.” He turned to Charlie. “Have you ever heard of FMR Day Labor?”
Charlie shook his head. “Back when I was doing day-labor jobs, I went to Day-Jobs, one of the bigger day labor companies. They’re totes legit.” A dark look passed over his face. “So, Nigel is trying to hurt the Fae?”
Herne paused, then nodded. “Yeah, we think he is.”
“You want to take his computer and shit to look through? I mean, he’s been gone for two weeks. Something had to happen because he’s never been gone for more than a day. Plus, if you just leave it, I’m liable to smash it, I’m so pissed right now.”
“Then we’ll take it, along with all of his papers, if you can bag them up for us. Crap, wait a sec.” Herne typed away for a couple moments, then turned off the computer. “I changed the password so we’ll be able to get into it when we take it back to the office.”
“Good idea,” Charlie said. “Listen, whatever he did, I’m sorry. I wish I had never let him move in. I knew there was something wrong with the dude, he was so quiet, but I needed the money and he kept to himself.”
He was beginning to spiral. I recognized the emotions. He was blaming himself for what Nigel had done. Guilt by association, and all of that.
“Charlie, it’s not your fault. You rented him space because you needed a roommate to make ends meet. That’s all. You didn’t know he belonged to a hate group.” I leaned down, forgetting myself as I patted his shoulder. He jerked back, staring up at me with his fangs fully down. Oh crap.
“Sorry, forgive me.” He abruptly pulled away. “I wasn’t expecting that. Your pulse is beating so loud it’s practically playing a symphony in my ears.”
I slowly backed away as the light in his eyes died back to normal. Never get too close to a vampire, even if you knew them well. He would have been able to smell my blood right through my skin from that distance.
“Not to sound inhospitable, but I think you’d better go.” He was worrying one lip with his fang, enough so that I thought he might end up putting a hole through it.
Herne quickly closed the laptop and accepted the bag of papers Charlie handed him. “Thank you for all your help, Charlie.”
“Listen…” Charlie paused, scuffing the carpet with his sneaker. “Do you think maybe I could come visit your agency sometime? If you’re working in the evening?”
Again, the loneliness in his voice was tangible and it was apparent just how desperate the vampire wanted friends. I glanced over at Herne. It wasn’t my place to answer.
Herne looked flummoxed, but finally nodded. “Sure, that’s fine.”
Viktor spoke up. “Hey, maybe we can get together at a bar or something? I have a few free evenings coming up and I wouldn’t mind hanging out.”
A broad grin spread across Charlie’s face. “You would do that? Hang out with me?”
“Sure thing,” Viktor said. “I think it would be fun.” Whether or not he meant it, the words put a smile on the vamp’s face. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Cool. I don’t sleep in the daytime.”
Some vampires did, given they couldn’t go abroad in the daylight, but a number simply hid out until the night rolled around again. After Viktor and Charlie agreed on a time and date, we headed out, carrying Nigel’s computer and the bag of papers from his desk.
ONCE WE WERE back in Herne’s SUV, I pulled out Nigel’s little black book.
“I found his planner and address book. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you in front of Charlie, but it just seemed to be a good thing to keep quiet.” I flipped it open as Herne turned on the overhead light. As I skimmed through the pages, I saw an entry for both Fae Day and the night afterward.
“Hey, look, he was scheduled to work on Fae Day at the booth. Then, the next night, he was supposed to attend a party at the Goza Club. There are a few entries after that, but none of them are checked off, and he put a little red tick next to every other event that he didn’t cross out.”
Herne glanced at it. “So either he never made it to the Goza Club, or that was the last event he attended. You guys have enough energy left to run by there and check it out?”
“All right,” I said. “But don’t you think we should figure out exactly what the Goza Club is before we go crashing in there?”
“I’ll take care of that. Meanwhile, I just found the directions. I’ll send them to your GPS, Herne,” Viktor said, tapping away on his phone. “It looks like it’s in the industrial district. Rough area of town.”
As we headed out, Viktor did a quick search on his phone. He let out a sharp whistle.
“The Goza Club…it’s definitely the type of place none of us would be welcome in. Humans only. Segregated. Not overtly—there won’t be any ‘No SubCults’ signs on the doors, but it’s apparently known as the club to flock to if you’re a Xeno. Lot of guys in leather with guns and knives hang out there.”
“Great, a bar full of Xenos? I suggest we don’t walk in there. There are only three of us, and while Herne can recover from most injuries that come his way, I don’t want to test my luck. All right?” I wasn’t feeling up to a fight, especially against a lot of angry pitchfork-wielding x
enophobic bigots.
“We’ll just look around the area. Maybe I can send someone back who can pass to gather information.” Herne swung over into the next lane, then turned left. We wound our way through the streets until we pulled up across the street from the Goza Club. It looked jammed, which left me with a sinking feeling in my stomach. It disheartened me to see so many supporting the hate groups.
“What should we do now that we’re here? I don’t want to go in there.” Not only did I not want to face a radical group of zealots, but I didn’t want to face the fact that there was so much hate in this world.
“We search around back. We check out the alley. I don’t know why I feel we have to do this, but it’s the one idea that I think we do. So come on, let’s get moving.”
We followed Herne across the street into the alleyway. Viktor brought up the rear, keeping a close eye out should the haters find us and decide we were all better off dead.
Noise filtered out from the club, the sound of laughter and hoots, and the clinking of bottles. There were loud voices arguing over the laughter, and I wondered what they were debating. I debated straining to hear, but then again, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
We slipped into the shadows, silently passing into the alley. The brick building was chipped and worn, like so many buildings from historical Seattle, and the alley was uneven, with potholes everywhere. Weeds grew through the cracks in the concrete, and the dumpsters to the side of the building were full and reeking of decay. The other side of the alley was bounded by yet another brick building, and it, too, had dumpsters and recycling bins that were long overdue to be emptied.
We passed an older streep, a man with a long bushy beard peppered with white and gray, matted hair down to his shoulders. He was leaning against the opposite wall between two dumpsters on a pile of molding cardboard, covered by a ragged blanket. His feet were wrapped in paper bags that had been taped closed, and he stared at us as we passed by, a look of resignation on his face.
I paused, my conscience prodding me. Too many people were living on the side of the freeways and under the bridges and in back alleys. I reached in my pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill as I walked over to him. Herne and Viktor watched from behind me.
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