by Mary Hughes
He laughed, though I hadn’t meant it as a joke. He had a charming laugh…which I virtuously ignored. We were on a mission. I had a job to do.
I secured our defensive perimeter…I mean, I smiled at the scurrying ladies and men setting up. Eventually my attentiveness slacked to a dutifully pasted look of interest, and finally I was just trying not to fall asleep on my feet.
A soft “Aha” rescued me. I turned to see Ryker rising from a crouch near the base of the stairs. He unfolded like a ballet dancer, all lithe muscularity. He really was quite graceful for such a big man.
“What did you find?” I whispered.
He held out his palm. Two chunks of curved metal, their ends twisted as if broken under great stress, sat there. “Handcuffs.” He touched a small green LED, currently dark. “Electrified.”
Vampire cuffs.
He went on, “This was Elias.”
“Anybody could have been cuffed.”
“Only Elias would have the strength to break thick steel. Your turn to take a look. I’ll cover you. Then we’ll see if there’s anything upstairs.”
“Right.” As I prowled around the base of the platform, it struck me how easy he was to work with when he wasn’t all “I lead.” How naturally we’d fallen into a partnership.
Not partners. Hostile alliance.
But he’d be a good partner to have. He waved at the church ladies. Smiles abounded, several waved back, and one even cooed. The wily man had more charisma than was good for him.
My search turned up nothing other than the discarded cheese ball, which he’d tucked against one supporting pole. I bent closer. The metal gave off a vaguely alarming sizzle.
I returned to him. “We’d better go up before the support breaks.”
He grinned as if I’d made another funny.
That boyish expression did something fluttery to my tummy. As I tried to scowl the delight out of me, he bounded up the steps three at a time. Damn it. I ran after. Below us, the women and men bustled on.
I came upon him kneeling at the top of the stairs. His eyes were level with the rail; he was that big. He picked something from one of the joins of metal. It was another bit of cloth, a trouser-like wool or flannel.
Another clue, at a scene already combed by others. Clearly, he was a gifted investigator. I nodded, pleased.
He passed the cloth under his nose like a sommelier with a wine cork.
“The fight started here. Elias was drugged though not incapacitated. He went over the railing, taking several enemy combatants with him.”
Wow. There was gifted, and then there was plain incredible. “You can smell all that on one little piece of cloth?”
He startled. “No. No, of course not. I recognize Elias’s cologne on this fabric and deduced the rest from scrapes on the railing and this.” He teased another piece of fabric from the rail, this one some sort of dark camo. “His attacker’s.”
“Oh. If the king was fighting and not incapacitated, why is he missing?”
“I don’t know yet. Why don’t you investigate the booth? You first this time.”
The damaged window was actually a double, the inner pane broken. The sweet-sick smell was worse in here. Three chairs sat askew around a table. I found some spots of blood and scuff marks, indicative of a struggle. I exited the booth. “Did the police not search in there?”
“Elias’s Alliance lieutenants would have discouraged human officials from finding anything too damning.”
“A vampire alliance?” My dark web friends and I had found evidence of suckers banding together, but this was the first I’d had names.
“The Iowa Alliance is the king’s inner circle of knights. I think Elias imagines himself some sort of latter-day Arthur.”
“Vamps of the Round Table?”
He laughed. “Yes, something like that.”
“I underestimated you, Ryker,” I admitted. “Despite the police and the king’s vampires getting first crack at the scene, you’re finding a ton of good stuff.”
His laughter settled into a warm, appreciative smile. “Ah, well, I have an advantage. I understand Elias’s mind.” He tapped his temple. “He’d want to control the situation then get more information. And he’d be aware that I’d come here, searching for him. He’ll have deliberately left clues for us. Besides, the Alliance vampires didn’t stay any longer than the police, and I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t defy those cheese balls with anything less than full SWAT. Speaking of.” He glanced over the rail. “I think Mrs. Gelb is bringing us another sample.”
“If it were beer, I might be more receptive.” I went to the rail and leaned out.
Sure enough, she wheeled a cart through the front entrance, coming toward us. I waved then made finger-walking motions to signal we were coming down. She nodded and continued on.
As I descended, I scanned the whole space from my bird’s-eye view. Security cameras hung in prominent locations, meant to be noticed, all broken. A thought hit me. Those broken cameras wouldn’t be simple collateral damage from the fight—they were too high off the ground. I mentioned it to Ryker as he followed me down.
“Probably broken so there’s no record of exactly what happened in that booth.”
I put together the broken inner pane with the intense sweet-sick smell and shuddered. If that was poisoned gas, the broken window probably meant they were trapped with it, at least for a while. “I find it hard to believe that after the king broke the cuffs, he didn’t simply escape the building.”
Ryker vaulted over the railing and came to face me while I was still on the stairs. Level with those black, piercing eyes, I got a tiny thrill. He said, “Those vampires were trying to cuff him, not kill him. They wanted him alive but under their control.”
The intensity in his gaze drilled the horror of it into me—the king, aware but helpless. I shuddered. Even a vampire shouldn’t have to experience that kind of terror.
“But more. Kat, he’d want to know why.”
Horror gave way to surprise. “You think he let himself be taken.”
“I do. Let’s go see if I’m right.”
The PI checked the perimeter, lingering around the exits. I kept an eye on the setup crew, especially Mrs. Gelb.
As we neared the stage, something camo-colored caught my eye, nestled half-hidden under the platform’s skirts. “Psst. Ryker.”
He threw me a questioning glance. I pointed. To his credit, he got it immediately and nodded—then glanced significantly over my shoulder. I turned.
Mrs. Gelb was eyeing us suspiciously. Too much interest in stages and doors, not enough in couples-tasting magic. She started our way.
“Mrs. Gelb!” I dashed to meet her. A glance back showed Ryker had dropped to his hands and knees, nose tight to the concrete. I veered to put me between him and her, waving as I approached to secure her attention.
“Silly me,” I said as I neared. “I forgot my wallet. Can’t be tasting couples without cash.”
She screeched to a halt. “Nein, of course not.”
“We’re going to head out for a bit, but we’ll be back.” I spun, intending to flee before she offered me a cheese ball to go.
Her surprisingly strong hand caught my shoulder. “Young woman, a moment.”
Apprehension flooded my stomach. I barely stopped myself from drawing my talwar, instead turning cautiously. “I really have to go—”
“Tell me more about your young man. Is he gainfully employed?”
I blinked at her. Where did that come from? “Um…yes? He’s a PI.”
“And his family? Are they good?”
Confusion drowned my misgivings. I turned to face her fully. “Why do you ask?”
She lowered her voice and leaned close. “These are things all young women contemplating marriage should ask.”
Before I could resp
ond to that outrageous comment—though seriously, what would I say?—she went on. “You must also ask yourself, is he enthralled by you? Does he have any sort of brain at all? And the most important—does he share the housework?”
Wow. Small towns were supposed to be friendly, but it seemed sometimes they got a bit aggressive about it.
“Um…food for thought? Thank you, Mrs. Gelb.” I grinned and backed away. “Time to go,” I muttered as I approached Ryker. “Unless you want to talk about sharing housework.”
His glance was bemused but he only said, “Look at these.” Several swatches of cloth were delicately balanced between his forefinger and thumb. “Elias definitely let himself be taken—because before he left, he tore bits from his clothes and from his two sets of attackers and hid them here.”
“Two sets of attackers?”
“A group in dark camouflage that probably staged the original attack. Joined here by a group in solid black. And Elias and those attackers went…” His gaze switched to the exit, a single door.
“Thataway.”
Chapter Nine
I followed Ryker as he jumped to his feet and dashed out the door. His ennui had disappeared entirely, replaced by a sharp, captivating man who intrigued me.
Not intriguing. I needed to kill the king; I couldn’t afford any kind of attachment to the man who was his friend.
I emerged into the parking lot in the rear. Cold air filled my lungs, the October afternoon refreshing after the heat inside. A glance behind me showed an external security camera surmounting the door’s frame.
Hunching over, Ryker pointed. “Blood.”
I spotted elongated drips, dark against the pavement, their tails pointing toward the back of the lot.
“Elias made it look good. He struggled with at least a trio of rogues then let himself be dragged away. Come.” He took off like a greyhound toward the lot’s exit. I trotted after him as he followed the blood trail, my excitement growing.
In the rear of the lot, he stopped with a flinch. “The car was here. You can tell by the…” His nostrils flared. “Skid marks.”
I knelt by the dark marks. “He went with them?” A chill passed through me, like walking through a midnight graveyard. “Or did they take him?”
Ryker shivered, too.
Excitement gone, I rose. “That’s it then. We can’t follow a car.”
“Not quite.” Digging in his backpack, he came up with a hand-held controller, the size and shape of a television remote, with a plastic tube extending from it. Like an elaborate breathalyzer.
He flashed me a quick grin. “We have this.”
…
Ryker held up the breathalyzer he’d pulled from Officer Keydew’s duty belt, coiled inside the backpack. “This reads exhaust signatures.”
It didn’t, actually, but it was a plausible excuse while he used his acute senses to track the signature stink of the vehicle. “We can follow as long as no similar exhaust overlays it.”
Her eyes widened in admiration. “Cool.”
He stood straighter, liking that he’d impressed her. “The trail leads…” He pretended to be reading the instrument while he oriented his nose. “This way.”
He set off east like a cheetah. Though nowhere near his fastest pace, she had to run to keep up and, despite her excellent physical shape, she was puffing by the time they reached the outskirts of the small city.
Where he lost the signature stink.
“Skheid.” He spat the swear word. One fist clenched, the other holding the breathalyzer, he circled in place, hoping to pick up the trail again. No luck. “The car’s exhaust was so distinct…yet here, it’s lost among so many other vehicles.”
“More car traffic outside Meiers Corners.”
“Yes.” He grimaced in the direction of the lost trail. “Now we’re stonewalled.”
Her lips quirked. “As someone wise once said, ‘Not quite.’”
In spite of his worry, he laughed. “Me, wise? That’s arguable. What do you have?”
“There were security cameras.”
“I’m aware.” Impatience flashed through him, dusted with disappointment. He cast a restless gaze east again. “The cameras were broken.”
“Sure,” she said, nonchalantly, but he could hear the mischief bubbling below her innocent-seeming surface. “Inside. The outside camera, though…”
His head whipped toward her, his respect for her escalating sky-high.
Her sudden broad grin said gotcha. “The back camera was intact—and pointed at the lot where the getaway vehicle would have parked.”
The implications were staggering. The departure itself might be on tape. Proof Elias went willingly—or a record of what else had happened.
“Skheid,” he said again, this time in awe. “That’s good. You’re good.”
Her smile softened, as if she appreciated his admiration as much as he did hers. It made her lips especially sweet and appealing, and he thought perhaps she’d like to try another kiss—his body hardening in pleasured anticipation—when she abruptly straightened away with a scowl.
Perhaps she’d remembered she didn’t like him. His regret surprised him.
But her scowl wasn’t for him. “Even if we can get access to the footage, we won’t see license plate information at that distance. We may learn the type of vehicle, but…”
“That won’t help us find Elias.” What if Elias was truly gone? His shoulders sagged. He didn’t always like his brother, yet he couldn’t imagine a world without him.
Or rather he could, too clearly. That world was a cold and lonely place indeed. He shivered.
Hesitantly, Kat put a palm on his biceps. Almost as if she was trying to comfort him.
His gaze rose in surprise. She’d read his mood?
“Don’t worry,” she said. “The king is a powerful ancient, right? The bad guys would be nuts to take him without some serious preparation. Serious kit. At minimum, they’ll have installed restraint anchors fit for a rhinoceros.”
Would she ever cease to amaze him? His mood lifted.
“You’re right. Either he’s fine and simply gone silent, or the car will be heavy duty—not your everyday Chevy.”
“Exactly. We’ll find him, Ryker.” Her eyes met his, steady, direct, encouraging him to believe her.
She was so forthright. So compassionate. Surely such a beautiful, honest woman couldn’t really hate all vampires. Couldn’t she come to like one, at least for a time?
Maybe all he had to do was ask.
Clearing his throat, he tried, “Could you make an exception, do you think?”
“To what?” She cocked her head at him.
“Well…your revenge. Hating all vampires.”
She hesitated, and for a moment his heart rose, thinking she was going to say the word that would give him hope.
“No.”
“Oh.” His heart didn’t sink. He’d had too many disappointments to let it. But he was strangely numb.
…
Could you make an exception?
No.
I nearly spat, “Hell no.” Something in Ryker’s expression held me off.
“Why not?” Ryker asked me finally.
He didn’t sound disgusted or angry or any of the things I might have expected.
No, his voice and face held an honest, straightforward puzzlement—and an unexpected dusting of hurt.
It was his pain that prompted me to be honest. To try to put it into words for the first time. “Because… Well, they’re monsters.”
“Yes, yes. But why?” He waved it off as if calling them monsters was unimportant.
As if understanding me was more important.
Air filled my lungs in a rush of surprise and confusion. My foster homes and later guardians wanted me to be quiet. My dark web frie
nds wanted to talk about killing suckers. The only person who’d tried to understand me was Rey.
He cared.
Something inside me softened. Probably my brain…though maybe it was my heart. “Ryker, I was in the system five years before I got a family. Then, when my parents adopted me…” I’d been drowning in misery. They’d lifted me from the cold, lonely depths. “I loved them with everything I was.” Love was a bland word for my soul-deep gratitude and adoration. “After they died…” Tears itched, even now, after all these years. I drew a deep breath to try to hold steady. “A distant relative moved in as our guardian, but Rey and I basically raised ourselves from that point on.”
By his expression, he didn’t see where I was going with this, but he could tell I wasn’t simply making conversation. “Rey is your sister?”
“Yes.” I heaved another breath. “My parents were the first time I wasn’t lonely. The first time I truly belonged.”
His gaze widened, as if I’d struck a bell inside him. He reached to squeeze my hand, briefly, hard.
“The night I lost them, we’d just finished cleanup from dinner. All except Dad, who was in the kitchen putting away leftovers. Rey was doing homework at the dining room table, Mom helping her.” In my mind’s eye, I could see it. Though the furniture had changed over the years, the layout was always the same, a long shoebox with front room open to dining room with a doorway to the kitchen. “I was sitting on the floor by the coffee table, playing with Legos. There was a huge crash. Men, big men, broke through the front window. Poured through.” I shivered.
Ryker put a gentle, warm hand on my shoulder.
“Vampires. Blood streaked them where the glass cut—and then the cuts disappeared.” I stopped. Up until today, I hadn’t remembered that detail. I usually thrashed past the nightmare to how it all ended.
“My mother…she didn’t panic. She jumped up and shouted, ‘Kat, hide.’ Her voice hit me like a primal force. I dove under the coffee table.
“From there, I could only see feet. My mother’s runners, moving in front of Rey’s chair. Big boots stomping past my hiding place. My dad’s bare feet, dashing out of the kitchen.” Now that I’d started, it was as if a dam inside me had broken. The words came pouring out.