by E. A. Copen
Sven cocked his head to the side and said, “Harry was angry.”
I stared at Sven’s granite face and had to force myself to blink because my eyes were so wide it hurt. The voice that had come out of the gargantuan man didn’t match my expectations at all. I’d expected something deep and booming, perhaps with a Swiss or Austrian accent. He certainly had a Schwarzenegger look to him. Instead, he had one of the quietest, meekest voices I’d ever heard, the kind that made me want to pinch his cheeks and say, “Aww, how cute!”
As soon as he spoke, Crux glared at Sven. Then, he picked up the cup of coffee and tossed it at him. Thankfully, I’d left them sitting in the room long enough the coffee had cooled below a dangerous temperature. It must have still been warm when it hit Sven in the face, though, as he flinched at it.
“Who told you to speak?” Crux demanded.
Sven hung his head. Coffee dripped down his nose.
I stood and placed the palms of my hands on the table. “Mr. Continelli, I’m going to have to ask you to wait in the other room.”
Sven’s head shot up. At the same time, both Sven and Crux shouted, “No!” There was more fear than panic in Sven’s voice.
After another moment of hesitation, I sank back down into my seat, leaving my hands on the table. “Another outburst like that,” I threatened in my best mom voice, “and I’ll separate you two.”
I let the silence hang in the room until I was certain it had sunk in. “Now, Sven mentioned that Harry was angry the night of the murder. What happened to make him so angry?”
Crux gave me a belligerent shrug. “One of his girls didn’t show up to the set. Harry waited hours for her to show. She didn’t pick up her cell, didn’t call in, didn’t text…The little whore just decided not to show. He lost a whole day of filming because of her.”
I lowered the notebook and glared at Crux across the table, afraid to ask. “Why didn’t he just…you know, film other scenes? Find a replacement? I mean, he was in a strip club. I’m sure someone was willing and able.”
“Harry had a type.” Crux waited as if I should automatically know what he was about to say. When I didn’t guess and gestured for him to continue, he gave an exaggerated sigh and exclaimed, “He had a thing for this girl. Couldn’t perform when she didn’t show. You see, Harry’d injected himself into this film. Sex Files was supposed to be his crowning masterpiece. A little bondage, some mild blood play, nothing hardcore.” He gave a little cough and shook his head.
I raised an eyebrow. “Sex Files?”
“It was only a working title,” Crux explained, waving a hand. “But the concept was brilliant. You’d appreciate it, actually. Beauty and the Beast meets CSI with an erotic twist. A spunky, red-headed BSI agent falls for her co-worker who’s a vampire, but he just wants the pretty trainee—”
“Let me guess,” I said. “They settle everything with an amicable three-way?”
“Laugh all you want, agent, but the adult entertainment industry is outselling Hollywood these days. More people are willing to pay for well-conceived genitalia-laden plots than thought provoking rom-coms.”
I dropped the notebook with a loud crack, interrupting him before he got too far up on his soapbox. “So last night…Walk me through it. Harry was pissed. Things didn’t go as planned. You two had words. Things got heated. You left…”
“Not exactly.”
“Who was the girl who didn’t show up? What was her name, Crux?”
“How should I know?” he spat back. “You humans all look the same to me.”
“Forgive me, Crux, but I’m just not willing to believe you were in the room right next door and you didn’t hear, see or smell anything out of the ordinary.”
“There was the pounding,” Sven offered.
“Quiet, you!” Crux raised a hand to strike his companion.
I reached across and slammed his wrist down against the table, pinning it there. For the record, vampires are second only to werewolves when it comes to raw, supernatural strength. Exposure to daylight lessens their strength, but even a weak vampire is stronger than me. Crux was not a weak vampire. As he made his open palm into a fist, I felt the muscles and tendons in his arm flexing. The look he gave me told me his hand stayed on the table—and my head attached to my neck—only because it wasn’t worth the effort to strike me.
“You will remove your hand,” he said, his tone laced with vitriol.
“Strike him again in front of me and I’ll cuff you for assault.” I pulled away my hand, but only after making my point. Crux adjusted his jacket while I addressed the gentle giant next to him. “Tell me about the pounding, Sven.”
“It sounded like a big hammer,” Sven answered after a short pause. “Just slamming and slamming on the ground. I was really scared. Not scared like you feel when you’re watching a scary movie or at the fun house. I thought the wall would fall down. I thought we would die.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. If anyone would know what death felt like, it would be a man whose sole purpose in life had become to serve as food for an ungrateful, abusive vampire like Crux.
Sven took a long pause and a few deep breaths. “And it was so cold…So cold. Cold like death.”
“Yes, but we didn’t see anything,” Crux interjected. “And everyone who was in the room is dead.”
Crux was right. For now, my best lead would come from records I didn’t have. Since Robbie had pointed the finger at Kim, I needed to pay her a visit anyway. Kim did owe me an explanation for her suspicious absence from Aisling. It wasn’t a smoking gun but it was sure suspicious.
“Crux, can you think of anyone who would want Harry dead?”
“Almost everyone,” answered the vampire with a click of his teeth and a sigh as he again folded his arms. “Harry was the sort of black sheep of the family, the dirty money no one wanted to admit we needed. The family certainly had people who had motive but I doubt any of them would be so moved as to come here.” He thought for a moment and then his eyes lit up. “Although, there was an incident at the club when we first came to town. We were canvasing the club for talent. There was one girl Harry liked for the film and paid for a private show. A few minutes in, three rough looking fellows in leather jackets rushed the room and gave Harry a beating he wouldn’t soon forget.”
I flipped to another blank page in my notebook and began scribbling down notes in messy handwriting. “You saw this directly?”
Crux pointed to a tiny bruise on his chin. “One of them broke my jaw. I’m lucky it’s healing well of its own accord. The benefits of being a vampire with a ready food supply.” He patted Sven.
“Would you be willing to give a description to a police sketch artist?”
“Would it get us out of here faster?” he quipped back and then added, “Not a good one, no. I didn’t get the best of looks. I was busy having a broken jaw.”
I tapped my pen on the table, frustrated. For every advance I made, Crux forced me back two steps. He just wasn’t willing to cooperate. Why should he? It would be just as easy for him to call in a few favors and track down the killer himself. As he’d said back at Aisling, this kind of killing warranted retaliation from the Stryx. Revenge killings were their ancient custom. Unless I found the guilty party first, I’d wind up with another body to deal with. But, without more information, I wasn’t going to get far. It was a vicious circle. I needed someone other than Crux to come forward. How was it in a nightclub full of people, the only witnesses were a vampire and his blood slave? All I had to go on was a bad feeling, some supernaturally cold temps and unexplained pounding.
I flipped to a new page of my notebook, scribbled down some numbers and tore out the page, sliding it across the table to them. “This is my phone number. If you think of anything, anything at all, please give me a call as soon as you can. No detail is too small.”
Sven took the page with a shaky hand and gave it to Crux.
“And why would I call you?” Crux asked flatly
.
“Because if you don’t, and you decide to take matters into your own hands, then you’re committing several crimes,” I explained. “I may not be able to arrest you, but I can deport you. I can even seize any of the assets you’ve brought with you, including Sven.”
Crux snatched the paper away from his ward and frowned at it. “Your idle threats don’t frighten me, agent. I know my rights. I also know my family has sufficient pull with your superiors to make your time here in Paint Rock a living hell.”
“Where are you staying, Crux? In case I need to get in touch.”
“At the Holiday Inn in Eden.” He smirked at me. “Don’t worry, Agent Black. I won’t be leaving town until this matter is settled.”
“I’ll call you if I need anything else,” I promised, standing. “You two are free to go for now. Thanks for your cooperation.” I moved toward the door, halting only when Sven called out to me.
“What do you think it was?” he asked. “The thing that killed Harry?”
I turned back around, putting my hands in my pockets. “I don’t know yet. I’ve still got a lot of information to sift through.”
“So, the fae could be behind this,” Crux scoffed.
I pressed my lips together, thinking carefully about how to answer. In this climate, the wrong answer would spark more problems. “It could just as easily be a human or another vampire. The only thing I know for certain is, whatever it was, it came in and out of the room without anyone seeing anything. But no, I don’t think the attack was racially motivated considering one of the victims was human.”
“Whoever is responsible, he must be punished for his crimes against the Stryx.” Crux set his pale, gray eyes on me.
“I’m arresting the guilty party and they’ll face a trial here,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not about to hand them over for whatever your kind calls justice.”
Crux slammed a fist down on the table. Sven jumped at the sound. “A blood debt must be paid with blood!” he screamed. “No other currency will satisfy what is owed! Blood must be met with blood! It is our law, agent, and our birthright demands it.”
“We’re not in your territory,” I told Crux with a glare. “And the law of this land demands the criminal justice system punish the guilty. Stay away from this. Let me do my job.” I put my hand on the door and pushed it open.
“Then you’d better find him first,” Crux spat after me, rising from the table. “Come, Sven. Let them find their own perpetrators.”
I slammed the door closed and stormed back to the table, putting all my weight on it as I leaned forward on my fingers. “You’d better sit your ass down in your chair and think good and hard about your next move, Crux, or you can spend the night in a cell.”
“For what?” He wrinkled his nose and pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense.
“I can hold you for twenty-four hours for no other reason than I feel like it. After that, I’ll throw an obstruction charge at you. And those cells are pretty damn tiny, Crux. I can’t guarantee you and Sven will be roomies.” The vampire let out a grunt of frustration and sank back down into his seat. “Keep yourselves available,” I instructed as I pushed off the table and went to the door. “I’ll try and think up more questions for you two.”
I should have been happy Crux gave me anything at all to work with, but my investigative high had already worn off. All I felt was pressure. Crux wasn’t going to give up looking for the person responsible and there was nothing I could do or say to make him short of putting him in a cell. He was more connected than I was and had more information he hadn’t shared with me. If the Kelleys were in his corner, as I suspected they were, they could stall this investigation until Crux found his man. I wasn’t about to trade one killer for another. I needed to find whoever was behind this and fast. The clock was ticking.
CHAPTER SIX
I went to my office to collect myself. My office is smaller than most closets and seems to have gotten smaller since I moved in just over a year ago. Aside from the secondhand desk I had brought in, I also put up a corkboard and dry erase board and installed a filing cabinet. All three were overflowing with papers. Pinned photos of the missing fae littered the corkboard while dried up and curling sticky notes, now held in place with tape, occupied the wall around it and the dry erase board. More colored sticky notes plastered my phone. At least two stuck to my filing cabinet urged me to organize it.
Instead, I ignored them all, plopping down in the worn leather office chair behind my desk with a loud sigh. I pushed a pile of papers off of my laptop and opened it, staring hard at the screen as it booted up.
In my head, I ran down a list of the usual supernatural suspects. Ghosts caused cold spots. Vengeful spirits could even kill. I needed to go back to the scene with an EMF meter and see if I got any hits. Still, it didn’t seem to fit. What kind of ghost killed two people in two completely different ways? Spirits were creatures of habit, old recordings stuck on a loop. They didn’t leave whatever they attached to, be it a place, thing or person. If Aisling was haunted, why was this the first time anyone was noticing? It just didn’t fit, no matter how hard I tried to cram the puzzle pieces together.
But ghosts weren’t the only incorporeal being. It might be a demon. Dealing with demons and the occult was my specialty, but I hadn’t worked a case involving a demon in quite a while. Such cases were often dark, messy and never had a clear resolution. Demonic activity would explain the pounding and the level of violence but I’d seen enough demon-related crime scenes to think this didn’t fit the bill.
Maybe it wasn’t a spirit at all. Humans were capable of some evil things and, with the right magick, anyone could do what I’d seen. Clean cut evil like you see in the movies just doesn’t exist. More often than not, good people did bad things because they thought they had no other option. I couldn’t imagine being so cornered I would let a demon touch me, or any of the darker spirits. Even in the darkest, most desperate of times, a smart practitioner wouldn’t summon a spirit as a first choice.
First of all, the cost of doing so was too high. To call up a being powerful enough to do what this one had done…Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t have been surprised to find other dead things.
Living cost other lives. It was true whether I was talking about an eco-conscious vegan (even carrots are alive at one point) or a hungry demon. Everything in the world lived at the expense of other living things. Science called it the food web. I called it the law of equal exchanges. Big things needed more than small things to survive. Small things provided fewer resources than big things. It was a fact, the principal every system, from business models to elephant herds, had to abide by. This law drove all life everywhere and so, too, magick must abide by it. I was able to enhance my muscles to jump higher, run faster or react quicker. Doing so for an extended period of time had consequences. Whether the energy was expended over the course of a day or a minute, it used calories, water reserves, glucose in the bloodstream. It strained muscles and built up copious amounts of lactic acid, meaning I couldn’t do it for long. But, before I ever took an extra jump or ran the extra mile, I had to eat. Woman shall not live on coffee alone, after all.
Once the computer finally booted up, I went about logging into all the proper BSI databases to file my paperwork, pull files and get all the information necessary so I could brief my team. This was the glorious and fun-filled life of any investigator. Ninety percent of the job was done behind a desk, on a computer, filling out redundant forms.
The first thing I had to do was the most important. I had to file all the necessary paperwork through BSI’s online database that confirmed I was taking over the case. Until I did that, BSI had no record of what I was doing and I couldn’t get paid for my time. In retrospect, I should have filed the papers before talking to Crux and Sven so that I could claim the forty minutes or so I spent with them in the interrogation room, too. But doing that particular bit of paperwork was something I was dread
ing.
A foreign vampire belonging to a prominent and powerful clan had been murdered on my watch. Not only that, but another vampire family, the Kelleys, was tangled up in it. And once I mentioned that my main witness was Crux Continelli, son of the Stryx clan leader, BSI would send a specialist down to stand over my shoulder and make sure I was handling things well.
The government didn’t trust anyone, least of all its own employees. Once the story hit the news, they’d select someone to handle damage control. The last thing the American government needed was to spark outrage across the Atlantic at how we were handling such a case. Once I filed the paperwork, it would start a timer. Within twenty-four hours, someone from Washington would be standing in my office, telling me how to do my job while only managing to get in my way. It was not something I was looking forward to.
But, if I wanted to eat, getting paid was a necessary evil. Remember how important eating is?
After filing the paperwork, I hit the research, pulling together everything I could on Harry, Crux and Sven. Considering how high they were in the Stryx hierarchy and foreign citizens and, therefore, not required to register with BSI, I didn’t find much except for public records. Harry’s film company, though, had an American subsidiary, and that’s where I was able to find dirt on him.
The Continelli Climax Corporation, better known as Triple-C, was a multi-national corporation with enterprises in Italy, New York and Greece. On paper, Harry was a millionaire. He would have been expected to contribute a large part of his income to the family, and his financial statements showed he was doing his part. Harry was making once a month donations to the Stryx Medical Needs non-profit fund. When I put his information into the INTERPOL database, though, several flags came up. As it turns out, he’d been investigated multiple times for allegations of human trafficking, drug possession, various sexual assaults… INTERPOL was never able to pin anything on him. Mishandled evidence, disappearing witnesses and withdrawn charges made him impossible to hold. The guy was slimy, no two ways about it. I felt dirty just reading about him.