Stupid smart people.
“You do realize I could just mesmerize you, right? Force you to tell me what I want to know.” I wasn’t so sure my mojo was up to it, actually, but he didn’t have to know that.
Hunter looked smug. “That’s why we’re meeting in a bar.”
“Huh?”
“Too hard to mesmerize someone under the influence.”
“Where did you come up with that?”
“P. N. Elrod—The Vampire Files.”
“What vampire files?”
“Hers.”
“Huh? Nevermind. Look, here’s the deal. You give me something I can use to catch Dion and I’ll turn you.”
“Tonight?”
“If I catch him tonight,” I answered. My fingers were crossed, so it wasn’t really binding.
Hunter gave me a hard look, trying to judge if I was telling the truth, if I could be trusted. I gave him my best innocent face.
“Want me to pinky swear?” I asked. It didn’t cost me anything. If the vampire myths could be believed, I didn’t have a soul to soil. As long as he didn’t make me swear on a stack of Bibles, I was golden.
“Fine, but I want a taste.”
I’d seen what my blood could do back in New York when it healed up a goth guy who’d been beaten into a coma. Just drinking my blood wouldn’t transform Hunter—there had to be a give-and-take between us, as in you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours … and drink your blood.
“Talk first.”
Hunter shrugged and took a sip of his wine, forgetting to roll it around in his mouth before swallowing this time, and asked, “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. I keep hearing that Dion ‘changed.’ Tell me all about him, before and after.”
The waitress came by to ask if we wanted another glass for me and to let us know that the kitchen would be closing in half an hour. I accepted the glass, just for appearances, but declined the menu and she went away. Hunter didn’t watch her go, which would have been totally sweet if we’d been on a date. His eyes also hadn’t dropped to my cleavage more than three or four times. He was a regular gentleman.
“Before the change … well, Dion was kind of a geek,” he told me. Okay, I thought, that was like the pot calling the kettle whacked. “He did something with electronics, I think,” Hunter went on. “And he was kind of on the fringes of the Burgess Brigade. I mean, he hung with us and all, mostly sniffing around Kali, but he never received a formal invitation to join the clan. Then he started working for Xander … ”
“Wait,” I cut in. “Kali? Xander? Pretend I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” Yeah, just pretend.
“I think Kali’s real name is Kelly. That was her family Dion went after. It was all over the news.”
Kelly Swinter. Okay, I was with him so far. “And Xander?”
“If he’s got a last name, I don’t know it. He’s one of them … I mean, of you.”
Funny that Selene had left out that little piece of information about Dion’s employment. I wondered how it fit in. Had Dion stolen something from the vamps, so they wanted him alive to lead them to it? Was there something he knew that they wanted to beat out of him?
“So working for Xander changed him?” I asked.
“Not at first. At first, he was still, well, him. Maybe a little cockier than usual.”
“Because he’d taken the deal you mentioned? Servitude in exchange for the eternal kiss?”
“Yeah, and because he thought it gave him some kind of status, working for them. When he disappeared, I thought the vamps were behind it. They aren’t exactly out of the coffin, and there he was shooting his mouth off. Not that most people would listen, only those of us who’d figured it out. The true believers.”
“Were they behind it?”
Hunter’s eyes searched the shadowy bar as if nervous that we’d be overheard, but no one was nearby. Only Bobby, with his super-vamp hearing, was close enough to pick up the conversation from where he sat at a table that let him see both us and the door, but Hunter bypassed him given his assumptions about human hearing range.
His gaze came back to me, those moss-green eyes almost black in the low light. “I don’t know. He wouldn’t say anything about where he’d been when he came back, but it was like he was a different person. Arrogant instead of just cocky; driven instead of desperate; a leader instead of a follower. That was when he started spouting the crazy ideas that got him banished.”
“What do you think happened to him while he was gone?”
“I don’t know, but it was enough to scare the daylights out of me. Uh, no pun intended.”
“It didn’t scare you enough to keep you away from the club.”
The look he gave me said he had no idea why it should. “That’s where my people are.”
“Um, okay, so when Dion went off on his own, he took others with him?”
“He’d already started … I don’t know what you’d call it. Recruiting? He talked about rising up, a blood tide, a sea of change … all kinds of crazy clichés. I tried to talk to him, but he was … I don’t know, different. Driven. Like a man on a mission.”
“So you think he was, what, possessed? Touched in the head?”
“I don’t know what I think. Something happened to him. Whatever it was turned him into a killer.”
A shiver went up my spine like a black cat had just walked over my grave, which was just silly since I wasn’t even in it any more. I looked around the bar, searching for the source of the feeling, and met Selene’s cold dark eyes. Selene. Here.
Wherever she’d come from, she had both hands on Bobby’s shoulders, holding him in his seat. He hadn’t sent me a mental message, so I figured it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, at least for the moment, but—
Hunter noticed my preoccupation, followed my gaze, and froze. I mean, he hadn’t been all that animated before, but this was the stillness of the rabbit in the meadow, hoping the hawk wouldn’t notice him. He must have recognized Selene from the club.
“Shit,” he said under his breath.
I put a hand on his arm, and he flinched like I’d struck him. “Don’t worry. They want me to find Dion. You’ve only been helping me do it.”
From the white all around his eyes, he wasn’t taking much comfort in that. “I’ve got to go. I’ll take a rain check on that blood.” He tried to slip out, but I was in his way. “Please,” he said, his eyes meeting mine.
I took pity and let him escape.
“Join us,” Selene asked, barely sparing Hunter a glance as he fled the scene. It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t take it as one.
I tossed some money down on Hunter’s table and went to face down Selene.
“Sit,” she ordered.
“I’d rather stand, thanks.”
She eyed me coldly, but I didn’t take it personally. “If I’d wanted to hurt you, you’d be begging for mercy by now,” she informed me. “I want a progress report. I understand you had Dion in your sights earlier tonight. You let him slip away.”
“I didn’t let him do anything,” I bit out. “He had a woman hostage, an ambush waiting to spring, and a house burning down around us. It was a trap.”
“Some would have chosen death before dishonor.”
I put a hand on one hip and stared her down. “Yeah, introduce them to me. Anyway, if failure were a killing offense, algebra would have sent me to an early grave. I won’t do you any good dead.”
“I don’t see that you’re doing us much good alive.”
We eyed each other like two lionesses about to spring for the same piece of meat … or each others’ throats if one got in the way of the other.
“Maybe that’s because you’ve been holding out on us,” I said. “If we’re going to stop Dion, we’re going to need to talk to Xander.”
An actual expression crossed her face … surprise, maybe. Somehow, I sensed it wasn’t so much about Xander’s involvement but the fact that I knew about it.<
br />
Then she closed off and was every bit as catwalk-model cold as she’d ever been. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Honey, we’re the living dead. Don’t tell me what’s not possible.”
She didn’t even blink. Her game face was back in place. “Xander is … no longer with us.”
I studied her, but she was as smooth as ice that’s just been zambonied. “No longer with us as in true dead? Gone? What?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“To which?”
“For all intents and purposes, Xander is dead and gone.”
“For all intents and purposes—what does that mean?”
“I’ll find you a dictionary.”
I growled.
“You have two nights,” she said. “Then if we have to tear down this town to get to Dion and to you, so be it.” I had a feeling Selene had been lobbying for that route right from the start.
“Why is this kid so important to you?” I asked.
Her hands tightened on Bobby’s shoulders and I saw him bite back a wince.
“Why is he so important to you?” she said.
Her ice was starting to seep into my heart, and I let it come out in my voice. “I doubt our reasons are the same.”
“Reasons don’t matter. Only results.”
She gave Bobby’s shoulders a final brutal squeeze and
let go.
“One last question,” I said quickly, before she could disappear into the night. “How is it that you can track me, but not Dion?”
She smiled, a sphinx’s grin, like right before it pounces and has you for dinner. “We have our ways.”
Then she was gone, and Bobby and I were left staring at each other.
“The phone,” I said into the silence. “Damn, I should have thought of that. If Sid can track us via GPS on the Fed phone, the vamps can probably do the same with the one they gave me.”
I was tempted to plant it on one of the bar’s patrons and be done with it, but that might put some unsuspecting person in danger. And if I just flushed it, Selene would figure it out when the phone stayed put. Anyway, it might still have a use. Right now, though, I felt like I was carrying a moving target.
As I was thinking it, the target rang in my pocket. Bobby’s gaze flickered from mine to my phone. “You gonna answer that?”
Reluctantly, I pulled the phone from my pocket. “Yeah,” I said into it.
“Ask your Federal friends what became of Alistaire.”
Selene. She hung up before I could say a word. Weird.
Alistaire was the creepy psycho-psychic who’d dubbed me “chaos” and who’d tried alternately to end and save my life. I owed him. I didn’t know for what, exactly, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. He’d gone missing on Bobby’s and my last mission. I’d thought he’d escaped, that the Feds had missed him, but what if … ?
What if, what? Why capture him and not tell us? Were secrets just that habitual with the Feds, or was there something more sinister going on they didn’t want us to know about?
9
I needed answers, and TV game shows had taught me exactly what to do in such situations—phone a friend. The problem was, I didn’t think it was such a hot idea to call Marcy on a Fed-supplied phone to ask my questions. For all I knew, calls were recorded for quality assurance. Besides, Sid and Maya hadn’t let me put her on speed dial, since the plan had been for me to get caught and for her to stay hidden. That meant my only option was to play telephone … with Bobby as the phone.
We got into the car with the doors firmly shut and locked around us, and I turned to him. “Bobby, ring up Marcy, would you?”
“Ring her up?”
“You know, do that voodoo you do so well. Give her a shout-out.”
“O-kay. The point being?” he asked.
“She works with Brent. He’s one of them. A Fed. Maybe she knows something or can find out. Maybe he talks in his sleep or has a map to some super-secret government facility tattooed on his ass. I don’t know.”
“You want her to check out his butt?”
“Honey, if I know Marcy, she already has.”
His mouth opened and closed for a second like a landed fish. You’d have thought he’d be used to me by now. I was glad I could still surprise him.
“Whatever,” he said finally. “But I don’t want details.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”
“Drive,” Bobby ordered.
“I want to give the call my full focus.”
“We’re sitting ducks here. I’d rather be on the move.”
He had a point. “Okay then, where to?” I asked.
“Back to HQ, but look for tails and make sure not to take a direct route.”
“But the vamps can find me anywhere, any time they want.”
“They’re not the only ones we’re worried about.”
True enough. I told him what Selene had said about Alistaire as I put the car into gear and pulled out of the space I’d backed into for a quick getaway. I hadn’t really thought beyond relief that the psycho-psychic hadn’t darkened my door since our last case, but now that I thought about things, it was out of character for him not to turn up again like a bad penny. Sure, vampires could be killed … just like humans, only different. But Alistaire was something infinitely scarier.
“And you think this means—what?” Bobby asked.
I stared at him until he grabbed the steering wheel to yank us back into our lane, then I switched over to words.
“She said it like something had happened to Alistaire and that the Feds were responsible.”
“This is Alistaire we’re talking about. Do you really think the spooks can out-boogey the boogeyman?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “but I mean to find out. I told you all along that something was off. This just confirms it.”
It was Bobby’s turn to stare. “It doesn’t confirm anything. You’re not saying the vamps are suddenly reliable sources of information now?”
I shot him a look. Just quickly this time, because I was in no mood to die. “Careful, we’re vamps.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Actually, I don’t. You seem very cozy with the Feds lately, like maybe you’ve been drinking their brand of Kool-Aid. Have you ever noticed there are no vampire handlers? I haven’t seen any vampires in charge, have you?”
Bobby bit his lip while he thought about that. “No,” he said at last.
“Right, so we check in with Marcy?”
In answer, Bobby closed his eyes and I felt that ripple of power from him, like someone had electrified the air. It made me all tingly.
“Hey, Marcy,” he said aloud for my benefit. All he really had to do to mind-speak to Marcy was think. “Wait, wait, wait, slow down.” Then, to me, “She wants you to call her, something about an awesome dress in clockwork orange.”
“Ooh, ask her if it’s red-orange or closer to copper, because she should totally stay away from the more yellowy tones.”
“Gina wants to know—wait a minute, what am I doing? Girls, focus. Criminal investigation, remember? Marcy, there’s something weird going on. I don’t know if the vamps are just yanking our chains, but they’ve implicated the Feds in at least one vampire disappearance. We don’t know if the Feds have some kind of Guantanamo Bay for the undead or—” He paused. “Guantan-a-mo,” he repeated. “Not Geronimo. G-u-a- … Look, forget it. We want you to see if you can get any information out of Brent.”
Pause.
“She says he’s not there right now.”
“Well, where is he?” I asked.
He passed it along.
“Where? But he’s left some things behind, right? Things you can go through for clues.” Another pause. “Like, I don’t know … anything. Check his computer.”
Bobby started to bang his head against the window. I knew the feeling. Marcy could make you nuts like that. I wondered if shatter-resistant glass was built to withstand the undead.
“Tell me what?” I asked.
“It blows Betsy Carmichael’s dress out of the water … that mean anything to you?”
“It means she damn well better take pictures!” Of the dress anyway, since she, sadly, wouldn’t show.
“Shoot me now,” he said. “I wonder if the Feds make vampire-strength migraine meds.”
“You can ask them yourself; we’re almost there.” In fact, I was turning onto our street now. “It’s your own fault, anyway. If you hadn’t—”
Our street was apparently the latest crime scene. At least there was no ambulance, although a police patrol unit lit up the storefront with alternating flashes of red and blue. The bulletproof windows of the pawnshop were still intact, but it looked like the door had been ripped off its hinges; it now canted to the left like a bird’s broken wing.
And inside, a uniformed officer stood with Sid and Maya, a guy I figured was the pawnshop frontman, and—Brent. At least, I thought it was him. He was the right size and build, but he didn’t currently look like a Fed or a goth. He looked like any frat boy off the street—baseball cap pulled low over his face, cargo shorts, gray sweatshirt.
I cruised right on past, hoping that they wouldn’t see me. I parked on a side street two blocks away.
“Do we check it out?” I asked Bobby, as though he actually had a choice in the matter.
“Yeah,” he said. “I think we’d better.”
We strolled back toward the shop under the cover of darkness and stopped behind a clutch of palm trees a half block away, outside the reach of the flashing red and blues. In the doorway, we could see Sid and Maya shaking the officer’s hand and sending him on his way with a “Thank you, officer. We’ll fax over a full list of what’s been taken after we’ve done inventory.”
The words carried to our sharpened senses, but with all the crap in the window, we couldn’t see well enough into the store to check out what the others were up to. Closer, I said mentally, hoping Bobby would pick up on it. I don’t know why I bothered—human senses weren’t as accurate as ours. I could have whispered and they’d never have heard, but it was getting harder to remember being human.
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