Cruz was waiting for my answer, looking very serious, and very young, though he had to be at least five years older than me. I realized again how strange and new this all must be for him. I felt the responsibility of it, of teaching him to navigate this world. If I did it wrong, he could get himself killed so easily.
I felt a very brief empathy for Olivia. Then I just wished someone else could be in charge.
“I think it’s a lot more complicated than a yes-or-no question. I’m certain that vampires are capable of some kind of love,” I said, thinking of Dashiell and Beatrice. “But every human servant I’ve ever met has been one hundred percent deluded. Human life is rich and desperate and complicated, with all these goals—money, family, power, fame, fortune, happiness, a career. It’s different for vampires. They have sort of a culture, a collective identity, but at the end of the day—night—they’re after blood and power. That’s it.”
Cruz’s face was very close, and his eyes were fixed so intently on me that, for a second, I pictured kissing him. Sue me. He was beautiful. I tried to imagine being on a date with him, doing something totally normal. He was a human, after all—he wouldn’t be using me for my lame ability or to get a leg up in the Old World. We could go to the movies, order pizza, like my dates in high school.
But then I remembered Eli and the tortured little thing we were doing, and how damaged I knew I was. I suspected that my ability to have a real human connection had died with my parents. Letting the keys jingle in my hand, I took a step back and broke the spell.
“Okay, so what’s our working theory here?” I asked.
He frowned. “It sounds like Abraham was the real target, and the other two vampires were just collateral damage.”
“But did they actually want to kill Abraham, or were they just trying to get to Dashiell?”
“Not sure. I’ll check out Rucker’s alibi, and we should talk to Freedner. If they were both Abe’s human servants, this whole thing could be a love triangle gone wrong. Rucker himself said that there was jealousy.”
“He said rivalry.”
“Same thing.”
“I don’t know, he didn’t sound that...worked up about it.”
Cruz shrugged. “Maybe Abraham dumped Freedner, and he decided to off Abe. If I can’t have you, no one can kind of deal. Rucker might not even know about it.”
I thought that over. “Could be, I guess. Getting a null is about the only way a human servant would be able to kill a vampire. But I’m still putting my money on the killer being someone who wants to hurt Dashiell. He’s the bigger fish.”
“Maybe.” He stretched his arms over his head, yawning. “If Freedner works third shift, he won’t be home for a few hours yet. In the meantime, we need to know more about Dashiell’s enemies.”
I thought about that for a second. “Okay,” I said. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Where?” he said, blinking fast.
“We need to know more about Dashiell’s enemies, and he doesn’t want to talk to us.”
We got in the car, and I began to back out of the dingy Copper Room lot.
“So where are we going, then?” Cruz said.
I glanced over at him. “To see his wife.”
Chapter 15
We were on the road to Pasadena before Beatrice even answered the phone. I was hopeful like that. To my relief, she agreed to meet me at an all-night coffee shop a few miles away from the mansion, and she reluctantly consented to my bringing Cruz.
The coffee shop, Kalista’s Koffee, was sparse and low-key, with concrete floors and unfinished ceilings. Paintings by local artists hung on the whitewashed walls, and flashes of color—a teapot here, a bouquet there—saved the place from sterility. Despite the late hour, there were two college students having a heated academic debate near the front windows and a tired-looking man in his forties typing at a laptop near the counter.
Beatrice was already there, sitting in the far back corner with an untouched glass of water in front of her. She was wearing a dress, as always, but this one was a simple burgundy wrap dress that brought out the auburn in her eyes. She watched us walk up with a calm, even friendly, expression on her face—until I got close enough for her to cross the line into my unique personal bubble. She took a couple of short gasping breaths and then straightened up; her composure returned, if somewhat dimmed by humanity.
“Thank you for meeting with us, Beatrice,” I said respectfully. I introduced Cruz, who gave an old-fashioned little bow that somehow worked for him.
Beatrice nodded gracefully and indicated that we should sit. “My husband does not know I’m here, though I will tell him if it becomes necessary,” she warned us. She focused on me. “Scarlett, I agreed to see you because I don’t think that you are capable of participating in that kind of slaughter.”
I have to admit, I was a little surprised she thought so “highly” of me. “Um, thank you.”
Her eyes darkened. “And, of course, I am sorry that his employees were a bit...enthusiastic with you.”
I touched my face, having forgotten about the bruises on my cheek and eye. As soon as I remembered them, they began to ache. Guess I hadn’t been doing much smiling. “It’s nothing.”
She nodded briskly. “Now, I understand you wish to know more of my husband’s enemies.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cruz said politely. “We have spoken to the human servants of the vampires who were killed, and they didn’t know of any other reason that those three would be killed, except to get to Dashiell.”
She looked at him, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. “You have learned so much in only a few days,” she said. “I wonder if it is too much.”
He blushed under her stare, and she turned toward me. “Are you certain that it is not the wolves? The carnage—”
“Pretty certain. Will would know if one of his wolves was that twisted, and I just can’t see him letting it slide. It doesn’t make any sense.”
She nodded. “What about Kirsten? I know little of witch magic, but I am told she is very powerful. Is it possible that a spell could cause the same reaction as a null?”
That idea took me by surprise. I thought it over for a second. I didn’t know of any spells that could subdue the vampires—surely someone would have told me if that were possible?
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I can’t see Kirsten causing a massacre like that, but it’s something to think about.” Unless she’d decided she was tired of the status quo...But Kirsten had sort of established the status quo. I had heard that she was the first to organize the witches, to request an equal share in using a cleaner to keep things under wraps. And she had been very helpful. Before her arrival, there had been too many incidents of witches setting fires or playing with love spells or experimenting with voodoo, of all things. Between my job and hers, there hadn’t been a public witchcraft incident in years. Which meant Dashiell didn’t have to throw money around to cover anything up.
“Is there anyone else who comes to mind, ma’am?” Cruz asked her.
Her long cream-colored fingernails tapped on the water glass. “There is one who wishes to take Dashiell’s place. She has had many names, but she currently calls herself Ariadne.” Beatrice’s long, regal nose wrinkled with distaste. “She and my husband were involved, many years ago. He ended their affair to be with me, and she was...displeased. When Dashiell became the master of Los Angeles, she was very bitter.”
“Can she...?” Cruz began, then paused, looking for words. “Um, can she take him?”
Beatrice smiled benevolently at him, as if he’d just done something adorable. “I do not think so. Definitely not in an even physical match. But a straightforward fight wouldn’t be her style. It would be like her to try to cripple him first, take away his wealth, or churn up animosity with the wolves.” Her gaze turned toward me.
“Do you know where we could find her?” I asked.
I was expecting her to say that Ariadne had gone underground or that she and some minions h
ad taken over an abandoned warehouse downtown, but I watch too much TV. Beatrice said simply, “Of course. She has a residence in Orange County.” She wrote an address on a napkin, passing it over to me. “If you speak to her, I would appreciate if you did not mention my name. The two of us have”—her lip curled, and though she was currently human, for a moment, I saw the predator beneath—“bad blood.”
Five minutes later, Cruz and I were in the coffee shop’s parking lot, trying to figure out our next move.
“What are we doing? Are we going to Orange County, or are we going home to bed?” I asked him. I was starting to sway. And not pay attention to my choice of words.
He gave me a bemused look, and I rolled my eyes.
“Our separate homes, idiot.”
“I don’t want to waste any of your time. Not with that deadline in front of us.”
I sighed. “I know. But it’s two thirty in the morning, and we’re both tired. It might not be the best time to hunt down an ancient jilted vampire.” And life on the line or not, I didn’t feel like going from downtown to Long Beach to Pasadena to Orange County. That is just waaaaaay more of LA County than any one person should have to see in the same night.
But Cruz’s voice was firm when he said, “I don’t think we have a choice.”
I sighed. “Fine. But you’re driving.” I tossed him the keys, and he fumbled to catch them as I grabbed the passenger-side door.
When we’d pulled out of the parking lot, he spoke up. “Something doesn’t fit with the Dashiell theory.”
I tried to stifle a yawn. “Hmm?”
“Look, if this Ariadne person really wanted to hurt Dashiell, and she had access to a null, why wouldn’t she just, you know, have the null go stand by Dashiell and then shoot him or whatever? Why go through all the trouble?”
“Maybe she really likes decorative murder.” I shrugged. “She is a vampire.”
He shook his head. “Nah. If she was close enough to those three vampires to kill them, then she’d be too close to the null, too, right? She’d be a human. And unless she’s fundamentally a lumberjack, there’s just no way a woman could have mutilated those bodies like that.”
“Hey,” I protested, but it was halfhearted. I was too tired to fight sexism on behalf of female serial killers.
“You know what I mean.”
“Maybe she had someone else do it, or maybe she knows someone else who may have wanted to. Or maybe Beatrice is sending us on a wild-goose chase.” Beatrice is probably the nicest vampire I’ve ever known, but my trust in her only extends to questions about as serious as Do these jeans make me look fat?
“That doesn’t bother you?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Jesse. In the last few days, we’ve seen a gruesome triple murder, I’ve been kidnapped, your life has been threatened, my life has been threatened, I got punched by a gorilla vampire, and nobody has gotten enough sleep. Why would it shock or offend me that the vampires are playing mind games? Haven’t you read Anne Rice? They live for this shit.”
“Ugh,” he said, frustrated. “You’re so...”
“What?” I sat up a little straighter. I was awake now.
He was silent for a moment, then said, “You’re, what, twenty-three, twenty-four? You talk like some of the detectives I know who are in their fifties or sixties and think they’ve seen everything human life has to offer. They’re numb from it. But those guys have had thirty years on the force. How are you this jaded?”
I didn’t answer him, just looked away. I felt my eyes starting to close again before I could come up with a defense.
Chapter 16
Scarlett drifted off for a few minutes, jolting awake when Jesse pulled off the freeway. He followed Beatrice’s directions to Ariadne’s house, which qualified as at least a mansion, if not a palace. Four stories tall and made of deep-red brick, it stood out even on a street that was lousy with mansions. Every house on that Orange County street had a gate, but Ariadne’s was the only one that was standing open.
Jesse stood by, a little amused, while Scarlett rang the bell and then jogged a few steps back. A vampire opened the door, and he tried not to gasp. Beatrice had appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties, which sort of fit with the way Scarlett had described her and Dashiell. But this girl appeared to be twenty at the most, although her outfit may have affected his estimate. She’d gone completely goth: black hair, black lipstick, tiny gold nose ring, and sort of a black layered look, with tights, a short skirt, and at least three shirts. She looked like someone that vice would arrest on Hollywood Boulevard.
She looked them up and down and motioned them closer. “Hello,” the vampire said, twitching a bit. Jesse realized after a second that she was switching over to humanity. She turned to look at Scarlett. “I’m Ariadne, as you must know. You must be Scarlett Bernard. Great pants.”
“Uh, thanks,” Scarlett said, sounding a little nervous. “You’ve heard of me?”
“Sure.” Ariadne shrugged. “They’re so rare, your kind. Who’s your friend?” She nodded toward Jesse.
“Sorry, this is Officer Jesse Cruz. I’m sort of helping him with a problem.”
Jesse stepped forward, unsure if he should reach out for a handshake. He didn’t really want to touch this woman, human or not, he decided, so he kept his hands by his side. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I was wondering if we might have a few minutes of your time?”
“Of course,” Ariadne said, smiling genially. “Please come in.”
She led them deeper into the house. It was overdecorated, like his parents’, but where their house always smelled of spices, lilies, and dog, this one stank of age and decay. It looked like something straight out of Dickens. But although the furnishings were old and uncared-for, Jesse recognized them as very expensive. If Ariadne had this much money, why was she answering the door herself? Shouldn’t a vampire who was this rich and powerful have a legion of servants?
The three of them finally reached a Victorian-style sitting room, and Ariadne gestured to two elaborate blue silk armchairs, perching herself on the edge of the opposite matching couch. As if reading Jesse’s mind, she said, “You’ll have to excuse my lack of proper hospitality. My maid is on an errand, and I’m afraid I’m between butlers right now.” She smiled slyly, displaying a mouthful of sharp little teeth.
She was seriously giving Jesse the creeps, and that was as a human. He glanced at Scarlett, but she was just looking at him expectantly. His cue.
“Ma’am,” Jesse began, “I’m investigating several murders that took place in La Brea Park a few nights ago. Did you hear about that?”
“Oh, yes, I get all the papers,” Ariadne said happily. “I understand that it was quite the bloodbath.” She licked her lips, just like Gregory.
Jesse thought of the scene in the park and tried not to shudder. “Did you know the victims?”
Ariadne gazed pensively at the ceiling for a moment, frowning. “Let’s see...Joanna and I were friends, of course. I was terribly sad to hear that she had passed.” It was such a perfectly normal thing to say about a dead person, but sounded so strange coming out of her black-lipsticked mouth. “I never thought much of her boyfriend, Demetri. Oh, and everyone knew Abraham, of course.”
“Can you think of a reason why anyone would want to harm any of them?”
“Why, my dear boy, of course I can. Can’t you?” she said demurely, looking up at him through her eyelashes. When Jesse remained stone-faced, she sighed. “Fine. Take all the fun out of it.” Her eyes turned to Scarlett. “How much do you know, Miss Bernard, about our internal structure—or lack thereof?”
“Almost nothing,” Scarlett answered cautiously.
“As I imagined. Most vampires, including Dashiell”—the name was said with a hint of scornful hissing—“prefer to keep any of our history from the humans, even those in our employ.” Ariadne rolled her eyes a little. “But I’ve always found their need for secrecy a touch excessive. Who on earth would believe you? Besides,
it is so easy to control humans’ minds. Well, most humans.” She licked her lips again and gazed over at Jesse.
He couldn’t help a little involuntary shiver, but managed to resist scooting closer to Scarlett, his protection.
“I’m assuming your young man is privy to our world, if he is accompanying you?”
Scarlett nodded.
“Well, then this will be educational for both of you.” She smoothed her black layers down as though they were the finest of gowns.
“Once, vampires had a governing council, a consortium, which made important decisions on behalf of all vampires. It was this consortium that decided that we would remain a secret from the humans. When the New World was discovered, however”—she gestured vaguely to the room—“the world became too big for a single source of authority to manage, and the consortium fell. There are now precious few vampires old enough to remember it at all. Without it, we took to governing ourselves.” Her eyes darkened. “For decades, vampires fought over territory, both here and in the older countries.
“After dear Mr. Stoker published his book, however, we knew we had to find a more stable way of life or face extinction. When the dust finally settled, each major city was ruled by a cardinal vampire, who was responsible for all the vampires in his territory. Some, like Dashiell, even tried to care for all the needs of the Old World, including the wolves.” She wrinkled her nose with distaste.
“What if the cardinal vampire wasn’t suited?” Jesse asked, fascinated despite himself. “What if they abused their power, or did things that humans noticed?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “It happens less often than you might think. If you’re powerful enough to control a city, you’ve been around long enough to understand the importance of discretion. Our kind cannot exist without it. But if a cardinal was unfit for some reason, neighboring vampires would group together to help a new candidate usurp the old.” She leaned forward, eyes suddenly bright with an intensity that was all her own. “That, you see, became our one rule, besides keeping our existence secret. No petty jostling for position. To maintain order, you didn’t just need a leader who would lead, you also had to have followers who were willing to follow. If a vampire kills off a master of the city just to gain his power, the vampires in the area will rise up against him.”
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