by Tegan Maher
Kat elbowed me and yelled, "This just isn't the same as watching them perform it live!"
I smiled and shook my head; she looked so young that sometimes I forgot she'd been around for three hundred years. She'd looked exactly the same right then as she had fifty years ago when she'd seen John Lennon and crew on stage.
Sully's had two rooms—one big one that housed the bandstand, dance floor, several tables, and the bar, and a smaller one that was a little quieter.
The rooms had been separated by a wall, but Sully had taken out nearly half of it so people could come and go, but the bartender could still see most of what was going on.
The smaller room had pool tables, a golf game, and some pinball and dart machines, along with a handful of tables. That's where we headed.
The cocktail waitress came and took our orders and I smiled when Rissa and Kat both ordered bloody marys. Being a vampire himself, Sully version of the drink was literal, though he did serve the traditional recipe to non-vampires.
While she was gone, Rissa fed money into the golf game and we teed off. None of us played actual golf, but we were pros at the video version. The band took a break before their next set, so we had a chance to talk a little.
"Has anybody heard from Scarlett?" I asked after putting my ball in one under par.
"Yeah," Monica said as the server delivered our drinks. "She called and said one of the kids are sick."
I pinched my lips together, disappointed. "I was looking forward to having us all together again. I love the kids, but I miss the old times."
Rissa gave me a half smile. "You get used to it. Things change. Look how great her kids are and how happy she is, at least when one of them isn't tossing their cookies. Maybe next time we can do something kid-friendly so she can bring them."
I felt a little bad that none of us had thought to do that before. In theory, girls nights were meant to be a time when we got together and forgot about life for a while, but if it meant Scarlett could join us, then I was all for it.
Moving my finger in a circle and uttering a couple words, I built a muffling bubble around us so we could talk in normal voices.
I was a people-watcher at heart. I'd never been much for being the center of attention, so when I wasn't directly involved in conversation or taking my turn, that's what I did. Sam said it was one of the things that made me a good cop.
The bar was busy but not slammed, and there were the typical couples dancing and working guys stopping for a beer after work. I was watching one of them try to pick up a chick at the bar, making a mental bet based on body language that he was gonna score, when somebody tapped me on the shoulder.
I turned, and one of the most attractive men—people—I'd ever seen in my life was standing there smiling at me. "Hi," he said, his smile reaching his emerald eyes. He ran a hand through sun-streaked hair that was a little too long, and I tilted my head, wondering if the move was planned or incidental.
Incidental. He didn't have the look of a player, and I was a pro at picking that up, both from my experience as a cop and as a woman. When he lifted his arm, his button-up shifted a bit and I caught sight of a quartz pen. I tried to get a better look without letting on, but he distracted me by speaking.
He nodded toward my drink. "Would you like another?"
I shook my head. I had a strict policy about letting anybody buy me a drink. I didn't know whether it was just a southern thing or an egocentric thing, but a free drink was rarely free. It was easier to politely decline right out of the gate rather than three drinks in.
"No, but thank you," I said, then held up a finger. It was my turn, and we were on the eighteenth hole. "Excuse me just one minute."
I finished 10 under, one of my personal bests, and turned to find the guy still standing there, one side of his mouth tipped up in a smile. Monica winked at me with her back to him, and waggled her eyebrows.
He was walking toward me when I noticed Kat, who was on her third drink, was starting to look a little green around the gills.
She squinted and drew her brows together. "Guys, I don't feel so great."
Despite the common misconception, vampires were sturdy, but they weren't entirely immune to sickness.
Monica looked at her, concerned, and touched her forehead. "You don't look so hot, either. Let's go somewhere a little cooler; you feel too warm." She looked around the table. "How do y'all feel about grabbing some ice cream?"
"Maybe you guys should go on," Kat said, waving us off. "I'm gonna head back to the house. I'm fine."
I arched a brow at her. "You rode with me, remember?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but vampire super speed, remember?"
Actually, I hadn't. I had to admit, that part made me a little jealous. I could cover a lot of territory in my wolf form, but that took a lot more work than just stepping out the door and making sure nobody was looking before I zipped off.
"I don't think that's wise," Monica said, shaking her head. "Let's go to my place. It's the closest. We can find a movie on Netflix if you turn out to be okay." She held out her hands, examining them and frowning. "And maybe do our nails while we're at it."
Kat opened her mouth to argue, but Monica held up her hand. "No objections. I wanna make sure there's nothing wrong before you head home."
"I'm fine," Kat protested again.
It was a little concerning because she never got so much as the sniffles. I didn't want her to sneak off by herself either, so I took a little different tack. She had a way of rebelling against mothering.
"Good," I said, grinning. "Then we're saving you some regret. If you go home, then feel better, you'll wish you'd have come."
Rissa agreed, giving a sharp nod. "Yep, so you're going with us."
The band, who'd been on break, chose that minute to launch into a semi-decent rendition of “Sweet Home Alabama,” and I shouted to Mr. Hotness that my friend was sick and we were leaving.
He tried to lean in closer to say something over the music, but at that point, I was more worried about Kat than my love life.
We drained the last of our drinks, dropped some money on the bar when Sully glanced our way, and left. Once we were in the Jeep, she sagged into the seat. I fired up the Jeep and pulled out of the lot, then stole a glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She really didn't look good.
Monica lived above her shop, and the smells of herbs and scented candles had permeated the entire store and seeped into her apartment. It was pleasant—vanilla and spices combined with undertones of fresh herbs she grew in window boxes and planters around the apartment.
People of all types came to her for her medicinal blends; if you had a problem, it was a good bet she could make a concoction or tea that would help.
Her brow was furrowed in concern as Kat collapsed into a chair. "Sweetie, you really don't look so hot."
Finally giving in, Kat replied, "I don't feel so hot, either. I feel like I'm being burned from the inside out."
I cast a worried glance at Rissa and was surprised. All color had faded from her lips and her eyes were dull.
"Rissa? Are you okay?" I asked, nudging Monica with my elbow.
She turned her attention from Kat and focused on Rissa. She felt her forehead with the back of her hand, then grasped her arm.
"I don't think I am," Rissa said, rubbing her face. "I feel the same as Kat—like I'm burning from the inside."
Monica's gaze darted to me. "She's hot, too. Something's not right. Will you get me my medicine kit? It's in my bedroom."
I did as she asked. She lifted to lid, revealing at least thirty small containers of different herbs and vials of liquid, each labeled.
She ran her fingers over the bottle, then pulled out three full vials. She motioned toward the kitchen. "There's a bag of O-positive in the fridge. I need it. And two clean vials."
I did as she asked, then sat on the arm of Kat's chair, my hand on her back, until her breathing became labored. For the first time ever, her eyes had a tinge o
f red, and I got a real sense of just how lethal she could be. My wolf raised her head, but I tamped her down.
"Move," Kat said from between clenched teeth, gripping the arm of the chair so hard her fingers sank into the wood. "Please. Now."
I did as she asked as Monica added a few drops of a greenish liquid into each of the two vials. It interacted with the other ingredients and the concoction turned a deep green. Taking the hospital-style bag of O-Positive from me, she filled the vials the rest of the way up, then whispered a few words in what I assumed were Latin over them. The concoction changed color yet again to a vibrant purple and she handed Rissa and Kat each one.
Rissa was rubbing her arms, and red-tinged beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. Her hands shook as she took the vial, but she didn't look as bad as Kat did.
"Bottoms up, ladies," Monica said. "It's gonna taste like shit, and it's probably going to hurt, but it beats a slow, miserable death."
In tandem, Kat and Rissa drained the vials, and gagged.
Kat wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Holy shit," she said, then gagged again. "That was foul. What was in it?"
"You don't wanna know," Monica replied.
She pulled me to the side. "Go get Sean Castle. I did what I could, but my knowledge of vampire constitutions is limited." She raised her brows and turned her palms up. "I've never had reason to learn much, since they pretty much never get sick."
Kat covered her mouth and made a dash for the bathroom, and Rissa did the same a few seconds later, stumbling toward the bathroom in the master.
Monica pushed me toward the door. "Go!"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SEAN CASTLE STILL MAINTAINED a sprawling Victorian mansion on several acres on the outskirts of town, and it took me fifteen minutes to get there, even driving like a bat out of hell. I wasn't even sure if he was going to be there, but I was trusting Fate to have my back.
Sure enough, when I pulled up, his Lambo was parked out front and half the lights in his house were on. Several other cars that cost the equivalent of five years of my salary lined the curved drive. I bolted out of the Jeep as soon as it skidded to a stop, then ran across the span of grass and vaulted onto the wide veranda.
Before I could even lift the lion-head knocker on the ornate door, it swung open and a tall, stoic butler looked at me like I was a wet dog.
"Yes?" he said, looking straight down his long nose.
"I need to see Sean Castle. It's an emergency." I peered around him. Several men were sitting around a poker table, smoking cigars.
"Master Castle is indisposed."
"Well I need him to get un-indisposed, Jeeves. Tell him the sheriff is looking for him."
"Indeed?" He made a show of looking around me, obviously for somebody who wasn't a thirty-something woman wearing jeans and a smart-ass t-shirt.
"Indeed," I said, pulling my badge from my back pocket and flashing it at him.
He took a deep breath, but didn't bother to uncurl his lip. "Wait here, Sheriff."
He shut the door in my face and I was just about to pound on it when Sean Castle himself opened it and stepped out.
"Cordelia," he said. "It's been a while. How's your mother?"
I inclined my head. Vampires, at least ancient ones, adhered to a certain formality, and if you wanted to earn their respect, you went through the paces. "Sean. Welcome back to town. Mom's as bossy as ever. She and Dad moved to Charlotte. I don't mean to be rude, but we have an emergency. I believe you know my roommate, Katerina Bellarosi—"
"Ah, yes," he said with a half-smile. "How is Kat?"
"Deathly ill. That's why I'm here. We were at the Hook, and she and another friend, Marissa Williams, were apparently poisoned—"
His smile faded and his face hardened. "Where are they?"
"Monica Loveridge's. She lives above her shop, Mystic Treasures, on Travelers Street. She's a healer and did what she could, but she's afraid it's not enough."
He gave a curt nod, and before I could open my mouth, he was back in front of me. "I'll meet you there, Cordelia" he said, and was gone in a blur.
Stupid vampire speed. At least he did me the courtesy of letting me know. I glanced at my watch. I'd been gone more than twenty minutes, and it would take me another fifteen to get back to town. Kat and Rissa could already be—I refused to think the word.
Desperate, I did something I'd only done twice before—and the last time had landed me in the middle of a lake instead of where I meant to go, minus a pinky finger. Mom had fixed it, but I'd been afraid to try it again, lest I lose something more important than a pinky finger. Sometimes my werewolf blood didn't play well with my magic.
I was willing to risk it, though. I closed my eyes and focused on Monica's kitchen, then gathered my magic.
I was relieved when the scent of vanilla and spices filled my nostrils, and opened my eyes. I was standing exactly where I'd pictured.
Monica looked to me, startled, as I examined myself for missing parts. "I didn't know you could do that," she said.
"I can't," I answered, then waved her off when she raised a brow. "How are Kat and Rissa?"
I'd no sooner asked than Sean Castle burst through the front door. He sniffed, then headed directly toward the bedroom, where I assumed the girls were, without so much as a by your leave.
Underneath the worry, I felt a little twinge of satisfaction that I'd beaten him there. Still, I considered it luck. We followed Sean into the bedroom and I was relieved that both girls looked much better, though still not up to full speed.
Kat was explaining what happened. "The only thing I can figure is it must have been our drinks. It hit me faster because I drank more."
Sean turned toward Monica. "What did you give them?"
"She rattled off the ingredients. "And I used an incant I learned in Ireland from Siobhan McCourt."
The name meant nothing to me, but it obviously did to Sean. His expression changed from mildly condescending to surprised respect. I made a mental note to ask Monica about it later and realized yet again how little I actually knew about my friend.
Sean examined them again, firing off a few more questions about who was working and who wasn't. I tuned back in, because these were questions I would have asked. I planned to do everything in my power to catch whoever tried to kill my friends.
A look of horror crossed Monica's face. "What if the whole batch was poisoned?"
I picked up what she was saying. If so, somebody had likely died.
I pulled Rock's number up on my phone, noting as I did that it was after midnight; the band should be packing up. He picked up after just a few rings and, there was a low hum of voices and clinking glasses in the background, but no blaring music.
Giving him a brief rundown, I asked if there were any other real bloody marys sold.
"No," he said, and I could picture him scratching his jaw, mostly because I could hear the scrape of whiskers. Sometimes super hearing wasn't all it was cracked up to be. "Kat and Rissa got the last of it because I ran outta mix. Got more comin' tomorrow mornin'."
"And they're the only ones you served bloody marys all evening?"
"Not the only ones, but the only ones outta that batch. They finished it, beginning to end, between the two of them."
"You're assuming it was in the blood or the mix," Sean said. "What about the vodka?"
I relayed the question.
"No way," Rocks said. "I did a coupla shots outta that bottle myself. Since it was Kat's, I used the good stuff. And I did the shots after they left."
I thanked him and hung up.
Monica took a deep breath. "There's another alternative."
Sean raised a brow. "And that would be?"
"The server," I said, realization dawning.
"And I hate to say it, but Rocks could have done it, too."
Sean and Kat shook their heads.
"No way," Kat said. "Rocks and I go way back. And I mean way back."
Sean rubbed his jaw, but s
aid nothing.
I narrowed my eyes. "Why aren’t you agreeing with her?"
He lifted a shoulder. "I don't trust anybody."
Kat scowled. "Thanks."
Sean rolled his eyes. You know what I mean. I haven't seen him in twenty years."
"But I have," Kat said. "And I'm saying no way. I've worked for him for ten years and known him for a couple of centuries. If he wanted me dead, he's had plenty of opportunities before now."
"Things change. Or maybe you weren't the target." He glanced at Rissa.
Raising her hand palm out, she said, "Oh, no. I haven't done anything to anybody. I keep my nose clean and to myself."
"Well we're not going to figure it out tonight." Monica pulled her hair back from her face. "We may as well all go to bed. I know most of the people in this room are wired to be up at night, but I'm not."
"Me either," I said. "I'll do some checking tomorrow."
"And I'll do some checking tonight," Sean crossed his arms, and looked every bit the killing machine he was, rather than the playboy he generally pretended to be.
I shivered. Though I was lethal in my own right, I wouldn't want to be on the bad end of that. Glancing at Kat and Rissa, my wolf growled and hoped that somebody would be.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE ALARM ON MY PHONE was a cutesy, fun melody, but when it went off a few hours after we got home, I wanted to throw it out the window.
When it rang ten minutes later, I almost did. I groaned when I saw Mom's face pop up on the screen, but knew I needed to take it.
"Yes, Mom?" I said like she was the hangman. That made sense, because it was kinda how I felt about her right then.
"Cordelia Delphine! I taught you better manners than that. Use them."
I force a smile to my face because they say actually smiling releases happy endorphins, which seemed the be in short supply for me right then.
"Good morning, Mom. How are you," I said, starting over.
"That's better. I was just wondering if Alexander has gotten in touch yet."