“Is there anything we can do to help?” Roman asked. I guessed I hadn’t been the only one with their ears pricked. The question seemed to agitate all three council members.
“No. That’s very kind of you to offer, but it’s an internal matter,” Dr. Delph answered. He slipped a card out of the pocket of his tweed jacket and handed it to me, ignoring the suspicious look Roman gave him. “That’s my direct line. Please, feel free to call if you need anything or have any questions. I’m sure our little town is quite alarming for you, but I promise you, they’re all good people here, just trying to live their lives with the hands they’ve been dealt. I’m sure you can relate.”
“Christian,” the mayor said, tugging Dr. Delph’s sleeve. He was desperate to get to whatever problem needed handling. To Selena, he offered one last request, “Play nice. The duke is a personal friend, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
She grumbled some noncommittal noise and split away from the pair of them, leading us back down the hallway in the direction we’d come just a few minutes prior. Her purposeful stride made me glad for the flats I’d chosen to wear with my interview attire.
“Is Mr. Macaulay’s shop far from here?” Roman asked as we entered the elevator. As if small talk could somehow disguise the fact that we were willingly sealing ourselves inside a metal box with a monster.
Selena tossed back her curls and hit the button for the basement level. “Just across the square.”
A second later, we stepped into the parking garage.
“We’ll follow you,” Roman said next, skipping over an invitation for her to ride with us. Thankfully.
“No,” Selena said, shooting the SUV a skeptical glare. “You’ll be riding with me. Your vehicle is too official. It’ll spook the locals. Plus, I can smell the silver and gunpowder of the arsenal you’re keeping in there. We’ll be having none of that for this interview or any other in Spero Heights. Understand?”
“Perfectly.” Roman gave her a tense smile. “We’ll just collect our overnight bags then.”
“Make it quick,” she snapped, heading for the black Ford.
Roman unlocked the SUV, and we each opened a rear passenger door. Our eyes met briefly over the back seat. I knew better than to attempt a conversation with him while a werewolf of Selena’s caliber was so near, but our unguarded expressions said plenty. I reached into the floorboard, my fingers brushing the Browning in its holster. When Roman cleared his throat, I pushed the firearm farther under the seat instead of stuffing it into my bag like I wanted to.
“You’ll both have to sit up front,” Selena said as we reached her truck. “Back seat is full.”
Roman opened the passenger door and urged me to enter first, much to my dismay. The smell of fresh apple pie hit me in the face as I climbed inside the cab. I’d expected something more along the lines of motor oil or stale blood. My eyes instinctually slipped over my shoulder to check the back seat, and I was doubly surprised.
Two child car seat bases were buckled in on either side of the cushioned bench. The center spot was narrow but still available. I debated whether or not to beg for it rather than sit next to the hateful woman.
“You have kids?” The question sounded more insulting than I’d intended.
“None that you need concern yourself with.” Selena glared at me. The threat seemed more protective than offended, though equally terrifying.
“We’d hate to keep you from your family tonight,” Roman said. I sensed the lead-up to his dismissal, but so did Selena. She snorted, not bothering to hide her resentment.
“You’re not. Ben’s my babysitter.”
Chapter Six
Spero Heights was no more than a few dozen blocks clustered around a whimsical park dotted with fountains and gardens. The sidewalks were mostly deserted now, though it was only ten o’clock at night. I suspected that had more to do with our arrival than anything else.
The variety of shops around the square didn’t raise any alarms. Everything appeared perfectly normal. Too normal. We passed a post office and a locksmith, and even a cheese-themed gift shop. I recalled Dr. Delph’s mention of their annual festival.
On the way over to meet our lead, Selena placed a brief phone call. She didn’t address the person by name, and she was none too kind in her request for them to pick up “the twins” from Ben for her. She told whomever she was barking orders at that she’d explain later and to get a move on. Then she hung up without saying goodbye.
Apparently, she was even a bitch to the people she did trust. I considered trying to break the ice by mentioning my own twin status, but Roman spoke before I’d worked up the required nerve.
“Is Mr. Macaulay a werewolf, too?”
The corner of Selena’s mouth twitched. Had that been a grin? It was gone before I could be sure.
“No,” she answered.
“Vampire?” Roman tried next.
“Nope.”
“Fairy?”
She shook her head. “But he does employ one part-time.”
I shuddered, remembering the assortment of things I’d seen outlined through the trees on our way into town. Fairies were only cute and awe-inspiring when they weren’t real. Like Santa Claus. If I spotted a fat, bearded guy rummaging around in my house on Christmas Eve, I’d shoot his ass. No question about it.
Roman sighed. “Is there anything we should know about Mr. Macaulay beforehand? I’d hate to unintentionally offend him.”
“Then I guess you’ll just have to be extra careful now, won’t you?” A dark light sparkled in her eyes, half-teasing and half-threatening. She pulled the truck up to the curb and stomped on the brake. I had to grab the dashboard to keep from eating it.
Nightshade and Morning Glory looked like the sleepy, winter retreat for Poison Ivy. Gray, leafless vines scaled the brickwork and front windows like spider webs, and frost clung to everything, glistening in the light of the streetlamps. Still, it looked right at home in Spero Heights, sandwiched between a used bookstore and a retro beauty parlor.
Curly, vinyl letters over the glass window of the front door announced the business’s name. Beneath it was a list of things that could be found within—herbs, incense, gemstones, books, and answers. We were here for the latter.
As we climbed out of Selena’s truck and made our way up the front steps, the door swung open. A squat, elderly man greeted us with a warm smile. He leaned on his cane and tilted his head down to glance at us over the top of his glasses.
“You just missed Logan,” he said, earning a harsh look from Selena. She jerked her head in our direction.
“Couple agents here would like to ask you a few questions, Ben. You mind? Because if you do, I can—”
“Not at all.” He smiled again, blinking curiously at our badges. They were getting quite the workout tonight. “Come on in, folks. I’ll fix some tea.” Ben hobbled back a step and opened the door wider for us.
“You don’t have to go to all that trouble,” Roman said as he crossed the threshold ahead of me. “We won’t take up much of your time.”
“Are you sure? I make a mean cuppa.”
Roman nodded. “I’m a coffee drinker, and this one can only stomach blood,” he added, tilting his head in my direction.
Ben shrugged and pointed us across the shop as Selena closed the front door.
Tall, see-through shelves crammed with books and curios cut aisles through the space. Baskets of herbs and crystals were tucked in wherever there was room, and caged lightbulbs hung from the ceiling.
The rich musk of incense filled my lungs. Every step across the creaky hardwood floor added a new layer—cedar, patchouli, jasmine. It was overwhelming. I paused to sneeze, and Selena sidestepped around me, keeping close on Roman’s heels.
The table Ben pointed us to had three mismatched chairs. Ben dragged a stool out from behind a small clerk counter in the corner.
“Let me get that for you,” Selena said, taking it from him. She wedged it in the space across from th
e chair Roman had chosen. I took the seat beside him, and we all patiently waited as Ben hobbled around to join us.
“How can I help you?” he asked, grunting softly as he made himself comfortable on the stool.
Roman took his cell phone out and pulled up the freeze-frame image of our suspect standing at the pump beside Ben’s truck. He held it across the table, positioning it between Ben and Selena for them both to see.
“Can you confirm that this is your vehicle?” Roman asked.
“Indeed, it is,” Ben answered, not a hint of concern in his voice.
“Do you recognize the woman in the picture?”
“That’s Annie. She does odd jobs for me on occasion.”
Roman sat up straighter. “Annie…?”
“You know, I never asked.” Ben frowned, and a deep dimple formed on his chin.
“Do you have a phone number for her?”
“Afraid not.”
“Does she live here in Spero Heights?”
“Don’t think so.” Ben scratched his cheek with the handle of his cane. “But she passes through on occasion and likes to make a little extra cash by picking up a few things for me in the city.”
“And you let her use your truck?” Roman asked.
“She can’t very well haul lumber with her motor-sickle.”
Selena had remained quiet—to my surprise. She stared intently at the screen of Roman’s phone.
“Do you know her?” I asked.
“Nope.” She gave me a tight smile. The lie was purposefully obvious, and I decided right then and there that I’d save my breath. There wasn’t an interrogation tactic scary enough to crack this woman.
“Is Annie in some kind of trouble?” Ben’s brows drew together with concern. “Does she need our help?”
Roman sighed and returned the phone to his pocket. “Not that we’re aware of. We’d just like to ask her a few questions.”
“Regarding?” Selena asked.
I beat Roman to the punch. “We really can’t discuss the details of an ongoing investigation.”
She snorted and narrowed her eyes at me. While the look sent a thrill of terror through my chest, the satisfaction of getting a jab in after all her hatefulness was almost worth it.
“Does Annie do odd jobs for anyone else in town?” Roman directed the question at Ben.
“None that she’s mentioned to me.” His smile was apologetic, but something about it felt…off. He was lying, too. Just not as obnoxiously as Selena had.
Roman nodded. “Well, just to be sure we cover all our bases, I’d like to show Annie’s picture to a few more people in town.”
“Knock yourself out.” Selena leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “Though I’m not sure how much luck you’ll have. Folks around here don’t like outsiders, and they definitely don’t like cops.”
“Are you going to tag along all night?” Roman asked. “I’m sure your sunny disposition will make the process less invasive.”
“I don’t like the rest of the people in this town enough to care if you make them squirm.” Her feral eyes flickered with that unnatural light again. “Though it is my job to keep them safe. So if you even think about arresting anyone in my town, I will find you.”
She didn’t have to spell out the threat. The look she gave us said it all.
The silence grew uncomfortable until something brushed against my leg, and I yelped. A fluffy, white cat purred at my feet. Crystal blue eyes as bright as Roman’s looked up at me from its flat face.
“Looks like it’s Miss Magnolia’s dinnertime,” Ben said, easing up off his stool.
The cat pranced after him as he shuffled over to the counter in the corner. He bent down and fetched a can of cat food from a cabinet. The creature mewled pitifully until Ben’s knotted fingers cracked off the pop-top lid, and he set the container on the countertop.
“I wish you luck with your investigation,” he said, petting the little beast as it noshed away.
The dismissal was polite, but it drew a frustrated breath from me. Roman stood and slipped a card out of his pocket. He set it on the counter a safe distance from the cat food.
“If you think of anything else you can tell us about Annie, please, don’t hesitate to call.”
Ben nodded. “I’ll do that. Y’all have a nice evening now.” He glanced over Roman’s shoulder as Selena and I rose from the table. “Thanks for the pie, councilor.”
Selena’s face flushed, but she offered the man a stiff nod. “G’night, Ben.”
Outside on the sidewalk, a petite woman waited for us in a fur-trimmed jean jacket. Fake eyelashes brushed high cheekbones when she smiled at us.
“You clean up nice, don’t ya?” She waited until recognition dawned on me. She’d been in the barn with Mandy and the rest of the girls from the Scarlett Inn the night of the raid.
“You’re looking well yourself,” I said, returning her smile.
Roman’s blank expression told me he didn’t remember her at all. To be fair, he’d been more focused on keeping me from killing Scarlett. Part of me still hated him for that. Scarlett was an exiled heathen. Would the council have really been that angry if I’d knocked her off?
“Jessica Meeks,” the woman said, holding her hand out to Roman. She cocked her head to one side and batted her lashes. “I remember your face, too, handsome. But I didn’t catch your name.”
I bristled at her flirty tone, but I bit my tongue. Roman would only feed off my jealousy.
“Special Agent Roman Knight,” he answered.
Selena’s truck door slammed, giving me a start. She’d walked around us without greeting Jessica or saying goodbye. The engine roared to life. Then she rolled the passenger window down, leaned across the front seat, and tossed our overnight bags out onto the sidewalk. Roman bent over and scooped them up.
“Stick to the Midnight District,” Selena shouted. “If you feel the need to harass the day walkers, save it until after 8:00 A.M.”
“Sure.” Roman gave her a short wave that she didn’t return. Then she put the truck in gear and pulled away from the curb every bit as violently as she had parked.
“A real peach, huh?” Jessica cackled. “Don’t worry. The rest of the town is a lot friendlier.”
“I sure hope so.” I took my duffel bag from Roman with a frown.
“It’s a wonder Ben gets on with her so well,” Jessica said. “Of course, that old gnome gets along with everyone.”
“Gnome?” I resisted making a face. Metaphors couldn’t be trusted in a place like this.
“Well, half anyway.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I suppose that’s why he lives here with us and not his own kind.”
“Right. Makes perfect sense.” I shot Roman a sideways glance, wondering how he felt about this new information. His blank expression revealed nothing, which either meant he was on guard…or simply bored. He was so hard to read sometimes.
Jessica waved for us to follow her down the sidewalk, past the beauty parlor, and around the corner. Across the street, a towering warehouse butted up against the walkway. Several bright lights suspended off the edge of the roof displayed a mural painted on the building. It featured notable monuments—the Statue of Liberty, Eiffel Tower, Sphinx, Taj Mahal, Stonehenge—all made of cheese.
Jessica glanced over her shoulder at us and then at the building. “The cheese factory. I bet half the town works there. They keep it running around the clock, so even the vamps have a place to earn an honest living. A few of the girls work there, too. But they still live with the rest of us above the bistro. Can’t blame ‘em for not wanting to open a vein, but it sure does pay better.”
“How many of you decided to stay?” I asked.
“Eight.” Her smiled sagged. “Three others left after rehab. One had a family she wanted to get back to, but the other two… I have a bad feeling they were running back to something else.”
Scarlett and Raphael had had the girls in the brothel strung out on heroin to keep them com
pliant. To be honest, I was surprised so many of them had kept it together after rehab. It was a nasty drug.
“I’m sorry,” I said, touching Jessica’s shoulder as we continued on, taking another left around the next block.
The streetlamps burned a haunting shade of blue down this stretch of town, and at least a dozen people roamed the sidewalks. Live music spilled from an open doorway, a piano and a violin dancing together in a playful tango. Neon business signs stretched over doors and in windows, and couples lounged against wrought iron balconies.
I spotted a man drinking from another man’s wrist and gasped softly, my own hunger pinching my gut. A woman seated at a small table watched us pass by. She sipped from a champagne flute, the dark liquid inside staining the glass red as it sloshed about.
Jessica watched us take it all in with a wide smile.
“Welcome to the Midnight District.”
Chapter Seven
The Midnight District was not quite what I’d expected. To see so many vampires going about their business in the middle of the night as if it were the most natural, normal thing in the world was…refreshing.
There was a little techno-goth dance club at the far end of the street, and a consignment clothing store with a flashy sign that stated they accepted bloodstained garments. There were also a few blood bars, including Hotshots Bistro, spaced between more mundane businesses that kept late hours—a barbershop, bank, laundromat, and even a DMV.
I wanted to enjoy the sights, but my nagging hunger made that difficult, not to mention the task at hand. Selena had been right about how well outsiders were received. These locals weren’t nearly as hateful as she’d been, but friendly was definitely not a word I would use. Jessica clearly didn’t have very high standards.
The few people Roman and I managed to engage in conversation weren’t helpful. They either ignored us after they gathered that we were feds looking for someone, or berated us in a hushed voice about stirring up trouble in a safe haven.
The thought of coming back to check out the place on one of my weekends off had sounded nice, but if we made enough enemies in our search for Odd-Job Annie, that wouldn’t be happening.
Blood Vice (Book 4): Blood Dolls Page 5