Dark Wine at Midnight (A Hill Vampire Novel Book 1)

by Jenna Barwin

  “Now, do you want the news on Henry?”

  “Ah, is there anything to tell?” she asked, crossing her fingers.

  Ari laughed. “He seems to be an altar boy in comparison to Zeke. He travels on business frequently, but he doesn’t work for the government and he doesn’t work for any mafia-type group. I didn’t see anything in his business contacts to explain why someone wants him dead. He does gamble regularly—mostly sporting events. He has a girlfriend in New York, though.”

  “You mean Anne-Louise?”

  “That is the name I got.”

  “She’s his maker. Anything else?”

  “Nope. That’s it for Henry. Want to hear about Rolf?”

  “Don’t tell me—he’s a serial killer.”

  “Not unless he’s really good at disposing of the bodies.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Every few weeks or so, he flies his jet to San Diego. When he does, all email and text messages stop for at least one night he’s there. He must leave his phone on the plane, because the tower pings show him at the airport for the night, which makes no sense. He doesn’t get a rental car. He probably takes a taxi and pays cash.”

  “I can’t believe Karen lets him get away with disappearing off the grid. Could he have a lover? Or is he visiting his maker?”

  “I tracked down his maker; she’s still in Europe. From what I found out, she never liked him. She turned him for political reasons during World War II.”

  “You’re sure there’s nothing to tie him to the shootings? Tig said the shooters had been in a prison in San Diego.”

  “Look, unless Rolf uses the grid, I don’t have any way to trace him. He may have visited the prison where the shooters came from—or stayed a hundred miles from it.”

  “Would you keep tracking him? See if any patterns develop?”

  “Sure, Ciss, it costs me nothing. If I see something amiss, we can plant a tag on him and see where he really goes.”

  She stood up. She had things to do. “Thanks, Ari.”

  “No worries, kid, glad to help. Before I go, can you answer my question?”

  “What question?”

  “What’s it like to sleep with a vampire?”

  Cerissa crossed her arms. No way was she discussing her love life with Ari. “You’re horrible.”

  “I try to be,” he said. “Does that mean you finally have?”

  “No, I mean, it’s none of your business.”

  “Come on, Ciss. What’s it like to sleep with the undead? I’ve tried kink, but nothing that kinky. Necrophilia. Might be worth a try.”

  Cerissa took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Even if I had a lover, I wouldn’t share personal information with you.”

  “Now, now, Ciss, no reason to be defensive. From the way Henry kissed you—”

  “Those damn lenses,” she whispered in a low growl.

  Ari raised his eyebrows in a good imitation of Groucho Marx. “You keep kissing him like that—I guarantee he’ll bed you.”

  “I’m not having this conversation.”

  “But Ciss—”

  “Here.” She stood and tossed him the packet she held. “Do something useful—scan these into the system. Leopold finally gave me dossiers on all the vampires and their mortal mates. I need access pronto. If anything concerns you, drill down on it.”

  “All right, cupcake, but next time I want to hear all about Henry.” He popped open the crystal of his watch, touched its face, and vanished out of sight.

  She plopped back onto the slipper chair. Zeke was an assassin? She had a hard time believing it, although she’d had her doubts since he first called her “little lady.” Only Ari could get away with calling her nicknames; he’d done it since they were kids.

  Ari had just disappeared when her phone rang. Zeke. She took the call. He’d returned from South America and wanted to see her. She told him she wasn’t available and had to focus on Leopold’s project. She clicked off the call.

  What to do? She began pacing back and forth, wearing a path in Gaea’s brocade carpet. Ari was right—she couldn’t let Zeke invest in the project. If he got caught, the bad publicity would be devastating, and that was just the practical side. Morally, the Protectors would never allow it.

  And Leopold—he was being unreasonable. He wouldn’t let Henry invest, and now Zeke had to be scratched off the list. She had no other leads. Not to mention Gaea’s news—the community didn’t want her here. She picked up a pillow and threw it across the room. It bounced against the closet’s mirrored door, rattling it, and landed on the floor. Screw the Protectors. Maybe I should just leave.

  A small pain started in the center of her chest and her throat tightened. The same pain she felt when her amma abandoned her. Why did leaving the Hill dredge up those old feelings? She stopped pacing and stood there, her eyes opening wider, the realization hitting her.

  She didn’t want to leave Henry. Her feelings for him weren’t just a by-product of her aura, or a reaction to Ari’s “stake him or seduce him” suggestion.

  Her feelings for him were real.

  She took a deep breath and shook her body, like a wet cat trying to get dry. Why wouldn’t her dread let go? Somehow she had to find a way to stay here, to convince the Hill her project was real. Until she did, her shot at having something more with Henry was nil.

  But how? Who could she turn to for help? Well, throwing things didn’t help. She picked up the pillow and slid open the closet door. Another problem—she didn’t have anything to wear to the dance. I bet Karen doesn’t have the same problem. Karen would know—

  That’s it! Karen may be the answer. She picked up her cell phone and began composing the text message.

  Chapter 39

  Driving to Mordida—the next afternoon

  “I can’t believe you haven’t bought your dress yet,” Karen said. She was behind the wheel of her Audi, driving them through Mordida. A hair band held her auburn hair away from her face. “Gaea should have suggested it weeks ago.”

  A large pickup truck made a left-hand turn in front of her car. Karen slammed on the brakes. “Asshole,” she yelled, leaning on the horn. “Probably has a short dick.”

  Cerissa wrapped her hand so tightly around the grab handle that it was in danger of being dismembered. Maybe I should use a little aura on Karen, just enough to calm down her driving.

  Once they were through the intersection, Karen acted like nothing had happened. “Things getting serious between you and Henry?” she asked.

  “Serious?” Cerissa repeated.

  “If you’re going to the dance with him, sounds like you’re getting serious.” The driver ahead of them braked for the next yellow light. Karen pounded the horn, stopping within inches of the black bumper.

  “Fucking idiot!” Karen yelled, making rude gestures at the car in front of her.

  She does that again, I swear I’ll get out at the next signal. I don’t need answers this badly.

  Turning back to her, Karen asked, “Is it serious?”

  “Ah, it’s all happening kind of fast,” Cerissa said. “There’s so much I don’t know about Henry, except for the fact I can’t stop thinking about him.”

  Karen laughed. “Look, when your potential mate has lived almost two hundred years, it can take a while to really know him, and the hormones get ahead of our heads sometimes. But Henry’s not more complicated than any other male.”

  “I’m beginning to think they’re all complicated.”

  “Yeah, but they’ll never admit it.” The light turned green and Karen floored the accelerator again. “You know, Henry might be a good match for you. You’re reserved—he likes that in a woman.”

  “Maybe.”

  “So I take it you two haven’t—”

  Why was everyone so interested in her sex life? “I don’t want to rush into anything, and neither does he.”

  Karen laughed. “Not like me. I tend to jump feet first. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’
t, but I have fun along the way.”

  “Karen—”

  “Look. Deep down, Henry’s a good guy. He won’t take you for granted or make you feel used. If you’re willing to accept he’s been unfaithful in the past, I hear he’s dynamite in bed.”

  Eww. How much of her sex life had Erin confided to Karen? Cerissa didn’t want to know.

  “What about Zeke?” Karen asked. “Zeke told Rolf you’re his girlfriend.”

  “He what? How could he? I told him—”

  “Everyone on the Hill knows he made a play for you at the casino and then you went with him to the square dance. And you had a private goodbye with him before he took off on business. You can see how he might have the wrong idea.”

  “I told him I wasn’t interested, that we couldn’t date, that we’re only friends. Not once, but twice. Told him. With words. What is wrong with him?”

  “Yeah, sometimes guys can be thickheaded. Maybe third time’s the charm?”

  She sighed. “All right, I’ll tell him a third time, but this better be the last.”

  “Good,” Karen said with a laugh, parking the car. “I hope you won’t mind if I do some shopping, too. I have my dress for the dance, but I can always use something new.”

  Four hours later, Cerissa had spent all the money she’d won at the blackjack table. She had a gown for the dance, along with some social clothes Karen ordered her to buy. Karen had a good eye for color and style—not surprising, given her marketing background.

  “Knowing Henry as I do,” Karen said, leading the way back to the car, “we’ll stay away from basic slut for now. But you do need a strapless bra for your dress.”

  “Ah, I don’t have one. Should we go back inside after we drop these off?” Cerissa carried the full-length bag containing her dresses, while Karen juggled the other packages. “If you don’t have time, I can come back tomorrow.”

  “I know just the place to get your bra. And don’t worry about the time. I told Rolf I wouldn’t be home when he woke. Shopping has to take priority sometimes.”

  At the car, Cerissa carefully hung her dress on the backseat hook, spreading it out over the seat. Now unencumbered, she followed Karen to a lingerie store called “Everything Sexy.” Karen made it to the display of bras first and held up an ivory strapless number. “This will look lovely with your skin tones, and it’s designed for your dress style.”

  Karen handed it to her and went back to browsing.

  Cerissa started looking through the racks next to Karen and picked out a bustier. “You mentioned Rolf wasn’t expecting you home tonight. Rolf travels on business, doesn’t he?”

  “Both he and Henry travel. Henry tends to take the San Francisco trips.”

  “And Rolf?”

  “We have some of our big distributors in San Diego. He’ll go down there a few times a month to wine and dine them.”

  “Do you go with him?”

  “Sometimes, but most of the time he goes alone.” Karen raised her eyes from the display rack. “You don’t have to ask; I can see it in your face. How come I trust Rolf? Well, I just do. I’ve seen his expense vouchers, the receipts for the trips, and he’s offered to take me, but with all the marketing work I do for the winery, it’s too much—I can’t work both day and night, you know?”

  “Sure,” Cerissa said, flipping through the rack of bras in front of her. “You’ve seen his receipts—what part of San Diego? I mean, does he stay close to the San Diego community’s headquarters?”

  Karen gave her a why do you want to know look. Thinking fast, Cerissa added, “I might have to travel there on business. It would help to know which restaurants are good.”

  “Most of his receipts are from the La Jolla area—a lot of gourmet restaurants there. It’s closer to our distributor’s office than downtown. He gets permission from the San Diego community to visit their territory, but he doesn’t go to their headquarters. He doesn’t have much time.”

  Hmm. According to her lenses, La Jolla was about a half-hour’s drive north of the San Diego community’s downtown location. Maybe Ari could work with that information. At least it’s a start.

  Karen held up a bra, one with a front clasp between the bra cups. “No back clasp to show through. You’ll want one for the stretch top you bought.”

  Cerissa slid the hanger’s hook over her arm and began wishing they had a shopping cart. The sound of her phone’s trill got her attention, and she had to juggle things around, temporarily placing the collection of lingerie on a nearby rack, leaving her free to reach into her purse.

  Henry’s text read: “Tomorrow 8p horseback riding? Idea to discuss with you.”

  “Yes. Looking forward to it,” she texted.

  “Meet at the corral,” he wrote back. “Bring your own dinner, I’ll bring wine.”

  “See you then. I’ll bring something for you too.”

  She returned her phone to her purse. Karen was still on the other side of a round rack, eyeing a vivid blue bra. “Karen, I have something I want to ask. Have you heard any rumors about my project with Leopold?”

  “Only the ones Blanche is spreading.”

  “What?”

  Karen looked up from the blue bra. “You didn’t know? Blanche has been telling everyone your project isn’t real, that it’s all a front so you can spy on us for Leopold. Look, Rolf and Frédéric said the same thing, but from what I hear, it’s Blanche who’s been driving the train on this one.” Karen lowered her voice. “Vs—they’re kind of paranoid.”

  Cerissa stepped closer so they could talk quietly. “What should I do?”

  “You need to discredit the bitch. Start a rumor about her.”

  “I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right to lie.”

  “She did it to you.”

  “Just because she plays dirty doesn’t mean I should,” she said with a sigh. Some things were just not right to do. “There must be another way.”

  “Well, you could show them the project’s real.”

  “I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out how. We need money first—that’s why I’m looking for investors. We have seed money; it’ll take more than what we have to build the lab.”

  “Chicken and the egg problem.”

  “Huh?”

  “You can’t build the lab without money, and you can’t get investors from the Hill without proof the project is real.”

  “True,” Cerissa agreed. “Real estate is expensive. You need a guarantor or a track record to get a loan. Our project doesn’t have either. Leopold refuses to sign as guarantor; his latest identity is too new, he doesn’t feel it’s well enough established to get the kind of financing we need, and he doesn’t want to transfer money to his new identity and have it taxed.”

  Karen wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a hug. “You’ll come up with something, I’m sure you will. Just think outside the box, you know?”

  “Thanks.”

  Karen handed her some more bras to try on, and pointed toward the rear of the store. “Dressing rooms are through there.”

  Cerissa scooped up the rest of her selections and walked through the curtain of red beads to the row of small white cubicles. After latching the plywood door behind her, she dropped the lingerie on the bench.

  She tried on the bra and panty set first, twisting and turning in front of the mirror. Karen’s right, the color looks nice against my skin. But will Henry like it? She sat down on the little bench, holding her head in her hands. Of course he’d like it, but that wasn’t the problem. For all of Ari’s teasing, he had hit too close to the truth. If she kept kissing Henry the way she had at the winery, they’d end up in bed.

  She took off the bra. In the mirror, she saw her tightly crinkled nipples. Just thinking about Henry had excited her.

  What would it be like to have his hands cup my breasts, his fingers touch my nipples?

  She shook her head at her reflection and tried on the next bra. Thinking about Henry would only distract her. She had to
get the community to trust her. She had to find investors for the lab. She had to figure out who was behind the vampire dominance movement.

  Maybe she should cancel her date with Henry. They could go horseback riding another time. She picked up her phone and opened Henry’s last text message, her thumb hovering over the keypad. She didn’t want to cancel, but she’d learned a long time ago what she wanted didn’t matter. Her mission had to come first.

  Chapter 40

  Sierra Escondida Police Department—the next night

  Tig stared at the screen of the computer in her police office. She gave up trying to write a polite email to Yacov. The potential suspect list—people who might hold a grudge against him—had yet to appear on her desk. When Henry called earlier, asking her to increase patrols on the wall tonight, he’d told her Yacov had taken over preparing his list too.

  She had already sent two reminders to Yacov, asking for his list. Really, how long could he take to write it? And Henry—she couldn’t believe he sent back the immunity agreement unsigned, demanding all sorts of changes.

  She didn’t understand those two. They were known to bet at poker on worse odds. The case was growing cold and everyone was losing interest in it. She didn’t want to wait until the next attempt on the Hill succeeded. Sure, that would motivate the survivor—if there was one—but she wasn’t losing anyone on her watch.

  Her only other lead was the prison. She didn’t like coincidences, the missing exit forms. If the person who picked up the prisoners was connected to the attacks, one of the guards may have been bribed to lose the forms.

  Speculation, but it would explain why all three forms were missing.

  Jayden’s written report was on her desk, which meant he was back on the Hill. Two days ago, he’d driven to San Diego to investigate the guards.

  A sticky note on top read: “Video is on your computer desktop.”

  She picked up the report and skimmed through it first. Two of the guards were dead ends. Their background information—deeds, vehicle registration reports, criminal history, work history in the prison system—didn’t hint at any abnormal spending habits. Both were married and lived in the suburbs near the prison. Jayden had followed each on their days off. According to his report, they had done pretty predictable things: home improvement projects, grocery shopping, and golf. At night, no sign of any vampire coming or going, and both wives had gone out during the day, so they could rule out their spouses.