“This is bullshit,” Pete spat.
“Fine.” Olivia held her hand up, silencing him, but didn’t take her eyes off of Shane. “I had a feeling your help would come with strings attached. We’ll take the help, and after we capture the rogue and prove Maya’s innocence,” she said with a sigh, “I’ll also take an apology.”
Shane smirked but said nothing. Olivia knew his kind. He was blindly devoted to the Presidium, and even more than that—to his duty as a sentry. She had no doubt he would be a fierce hunter. She also had no doubt that he would kill her and the rest of her coven if it meant following the czar’s orders.
She turned her attention to Pete.
“We now have two dead humans thanks to this rogue asshole and—”
“Two?” Shane interrupted.
“Yes.” Olivia winked. “Try to keep up.” She looked back to Pete and did her best to ignore Shane. “Doug definitely thinks someone at The Coven is responsible.”
“On a first name basis now?” Pete asked.
Olivia chose to ignore the comment and continued. “On top of that, Vincent—my maker—expected me and the rest of my coven to run off to England with him. Apparently, us leaving town is the only way Augustus would overlook Maya’s involvement. He didn’t even want us to hunt for the rogue.”
Shane said nothing, but Olivia didn’t miss the slight narrowing of his eyes at the mention of Augustus’s willingness to bend the rules.
“What?” Pete’s eyes glowed red, a side effect of his demon heritage. “Since you’re here, I take it that you told him to fuck off.”
“Basically.” She looked at Pete through serious eyes. “When we get back to the Presidium, they’re going to tell you to kill Maya. Isn’t that right, Shane?”
“Yes,” he said calmly.
“No damn way.” Pete’s jaw clenched. “We’ll find the rogue and get it to confess to whoever turned it.” He sucked in a deep breath, and his eyes flickered back to normal. He gestured to the crime scene tape that fluttered in the wind. “I got a look at the body in the coroner’s van and took a DNA sample from the wound. The girl was killed just like Ronald Davis, so I had Millicent run the sample.”
“It was a match?”
“Sort of,” he said gravely. “It’s a rogue, but according to the DNA sample, it’s not the same rogue.”
“Son of bitch,” Olivia seethed. “There are two?”
Shane said nothing but listened intently as Pete continued.
“At least,” he said grimly. “Their DNA sequences match them as siblings, which means we’ve got someone out there making their own little rogue coven and a bloody mess. The only good news is that Maya’s DNA wasn’t present on the girl at all.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be, would it?” She went into the decrepit bathroom, and the room was thick with the scent of stale blood. “She’s been on lockdown since we found out about Ronald, but none of that really matters. Augustus has convinced himself, and the senators, that Maya made the rogue. If I know him, he’s already sent word to Emperor Zhao, especially since I didn’t agree to leave town.”
She squatted and placed her hands on the floor, hoping to capture some trace evidence of the rogue, but no luck. Olivia hoped there would be something to help her, but there was nothing here but stale blood and desperation—mostly her own.
“Damn it,” Olivia said on a sigh. “We’ve got our work cut out for us.”
“Since there are two, we’ll cover a hell of a lot more ground if we split up, and I have something that should help us track down at least one.”
Pete pulled a small glass vial out of the pocket of his long coat and held it up for her to see. Olivia leaned closer with a puzzled look as she stared at what looked like blood.
“What is that?” she asked hesitantly.
“A gift from Millicent and Xavier.” Pete grinned and placed it in her hand.
“I guess Xavier still doesn’t sleep much.” Olivia cracked a smile. “What did he make for us?”
“He used the DNA sample from Ronald’s wounds to create a synthetic version of that rogue’s blood—we’re calling him Rogue One. Xavier thought that it might help us track him down. Apparently, he’s been working on something like this for a while and was psyched to have a chance to use it.”
“Him?” Olivia arched one eyebrow at her progeny. “You tasted it already?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He flashed his fangs and elbowed Shane, who clearly saw no humor in the situation. “Xavier should win the fuckin’ Nobel Prize for the shit he comes up with. Anyway, I’ve got his blood scent now and so does Shane. So, in theory, if the rogue is in the area, then we should be able to track him.” He narrowed his eyes, and they flickered red. “I can smell him in here, that’s for shit sure, but Xavier said this may only last a few hours, so we should get moving.”
“Synthetic blood as a tracking device? Cool.” Olivia smiled and shook her head as she uncapped the vial and raised it in a toast to Pete and Shane. “Here’s to Xavier, my brilliant friend,” she said throwing it back like a shot.
The scent of rotting flesh filled her head, and the taste of dirt coated her tongue. Olivia fought the urge to vomit and grabbed the broken metal stall for extra support. The metal bent beneath her grip like clay, and for a second she thought she was going to pass out.
Her green eyes fluttered open and filled with tears. “Holy shit,” she whispered. “That tasted like concentrated evil.”
“Yeah. Evil dipped in dog shit.” Pete grimaced and patted her on the shoulder. “I didn’t know if you’d have the same experience, so I figured I’d let you try it for yourself. Why do you think it tastes so bad?”
“I have no idea.” She wiped at her tearing eyes. “Jesus. Even the junkies I’ve fed on tasted better than this.” She grimaced and shivered. “Well, that’s not a scent or taste I will easily forget.”
Olivia pushed past Pete and Shane to the fresh air outside and leaned against the brick wall.
“We split up, but keep communication open.” She tugged her gloves on tighter and tried to focus on the scent of Rogue One that still lingered in the air.
“Since I have no ability to telepath with either of you, I will go hunting with one of you.”
“Not me,” Olivia said as she adjusted the gun in her holster. “I’ve been to this dance before, but Pete has never hunted rogues, so you go with him.”
Why do I feel like I just got stuck with the class dork? Pete’s teasing voice drifted into her head.
He may be a stiff, but he’s got centuries of experience, and I’ll feel better if you hunt with him. You’re going to be a father, remember?
“It’s quite rude to telepath when I am standing right here,” Shane said with mild irritation.
“Whatever.” Olivia rolled her eyes. “If you find the rogue, don’t kill it. Incapacitate it, and get it to the Presidium. We need it to confess or, at the very least, read its blood memories, so we can find out who turned it and get it to tell us where they’re holing up during the day.”
“Any ideas where to start?” Pete asked.
“Sewer and subway tunnels are most likely or any abandoned buildings in the area. I suggest we start with all of the above-ground options tonight while it’s dark. I’m going to swing by Jerry’s place and see if he’s heard anything.”
“Who is Jerry? And if he is an informant, why have I not heard of him before?” Shane asked coolly.
“He’s my friend,” Olivia said evenly. “Not an informant. He wouldn’t talk to you or Pete because he doesn’t know you.”
Shane narrowed his eyes but didn’t respond. It was only a half-truth. Jerry was her friend, but he was also her best informant. If anyone got wind of a rogue coven, it would be him.
“If we don’t find either of them tonight, then we meet at the club tomorrow night and then go deal with Augustus.
You two take the East Village, and I’ll cover the West Village. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Pete winked. “Boss lady.”
Olivia watched Pete and Shane launch into the sky as she prayed they would find the rogue before sun up. The last thing she wanted to do was go before Augustus empty-handed. It could mean the end of Maya or even the end of her entire coven.
* * *
Chapter 7
Doug had a headache to beat all fucking headaches, and if he didn’t get out of the damn nightclub in a few minutes, he was going to vomit all over these fishnet-and-eyeliner-wearing civilians. He’d been battling the loud music and flailing drunk dancers for the past hour and a half in order to question some of the people who had been there last night. The best lead came from the little waitress who looked even more out of place here than he did.
He went back to the end of the bar where Tom had been parked much of the time, interviewing Maya and Trixie. Tom was a good man and deep down, a good cop, but nothing fucked him up more than a pretty girl paying him some attention. Not that Doug was one to criticize weakness for a pretty lady, especially given his less than professional moment with Olivia in her office.
“Hey.” He nudged Tom and gave a tight smile to Maya, who was lingering nearby. “I spoke to Suzie, the waitress, and she said that Brittany was here last night with Michael Moriarty and his crew.”
“Michael Moriarty, as in the son of Tony Moriarty, owner of Moriarty Construction and our very own NYC crime family?” Tom took a sip of his water. “Guess we better pay a visit to little Michael.”
“Anything, but let’s get the hell out of here,” Doug shouted. “This music is giving me a massive migraine.”
“Thanks for your help, ladies.” Tom tossed a tip on the bar and waved to Maya, who gave him a flirty wink and blew him a kiss. Doug shook his head. Tom either didn’t see it or acted like he didn’t.
Doug pushed open the heavy wooden door and sucked in a breath of city air. He snagged the pack of gum from his pocket and made quick work of unwrapping a piece and popping it in his mouth. He still had the taste of Olivia on his tongue, and it was messing with his concentration.
“Not a fan of nightclubs, eh detective?” Damien asked with a barely hidden smile.
“Not my thing, I guess.” Doug waved Damien to the other side of the door, away from the people who were still waiting in line and hoping to get into the club. “Olivia and Suzie said that Michael Moriarty came here with a date but that she left before he did. Is that true?”
“Oh man.” Damien ran a large hand over his head, and if Doug didn’t know better, he thought the big guy was about to cry. Looked like Damien was a gentle giant. “Did something happen to her?”
“Yeah,” Tom replied wryly. “Raped, murdered, and dumped in a public restroom. So help us out. What did you see?”
“She ran out of here last night right before closing.” He fiddled with the clipboard, and his mouth set in a tight line. “She was crying and muttering something about how no one treats her that way.”
“Would that someone be Moriarty?”
“Yes,” Damien hissed as his eyes darkened.
“What about Moriarty and the rest of his group?” Tom asked. “When did they take off?”
“They left in his limo not long after that, but he didn’t ask about the girl or where she went.” Damien’s brow furrowed, and a puzzled look came over him. “Come to think of it, I’m surprised he’s not here tonight.”
“Why is that?” Doug made a note and exchanged a knowing look with Tom. “He’s a regular here?”
“Yeah. He can be found in one of the VIP booths every Friday and Saturday night for sure. Weeknights too, sometimes.” A look of contempt came over his face. “He’s been after Olivia for ages. I guess he figures that if he drops enough money here, she’ll pay attention to him.”
“Mm-hmm.” Doug’s jaw clenched, and he kept his eyes on his notes as he tightened his grip on the stubby pencil. “I can’t imagine a classy lady like Olivia would be interested in the likes of Michael Moriarty.” He tried not to sound like a possessive lover but failed miserably. “Anything else you can think of that might help us? Was she here the night before as well? Do you know if she knew Ronald Davis?”
“No, I don’t think so, but if I remember anything, I’ll be sure to contact you.” Shouts and whining from the line behind them caught Damien’s attention. “I better get back to the door. This mob can get ugly pretty quick.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Doug handed the big bouncer his card. “If you remember anything else that might be useful, give me a call.”
“No problem.” He tucked the card in the pocket of his slacks and returned to his post at the door.
Doug pulled out without saying a word, and they drove for five minutes before Tom finally broke the silence.
“I take it you’re headed for Moriarty’s apartment?” Tom rolled down the window and adjusted the rearview mirror on the passenger side. “It’s close to midnight. Don’t you think it’s a little late to be calling on him?”
“No,” Doug said tightly. “By all accounts it was out of the ordinary for him to be absent from the club tonight, and he happens to be a no-show the night after his date ends up dead? That’s far too coincidental, and besides, he’s the best lead we’ve got.”
“Okay.” Tom adjusted his position in the seat. “I can see him as a possible killer for the girl, but what about Ronald Davis?”
“Not sure yet.” Doug shrugged. “Who knows, maybe Davis flirted with one of Moriarty’s dates, and he didn’t like it.”
“You’re grasping at straws, my friend.” Tom tapped his fingers on the side of the car. “But you’re right about it being our best lead.”
They pulled up in front of Moriarty’s swanky Upper West Side apartment overlooking the Hudson River, and the doorman looked at them with disdain. Moriarty’s family owned three apartments in the building, and chances were that this guy was buried in their deep pockets, so a hell of a lot of good he was going to be.
“You can’t park that here.” The doorman waved at them with his white-gloved hand and shook his head vigorously. His gold buttons blinked as they caught the light of the passing cars. “Move along.”
Tom and Doug flashed their badges simultaneously as they exited the car, which had the seasoned doorman rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath.
“What was that?” Tom asked with a big smile. “I didn’t quite catch that. Did you, Paxton?”
“No.” Doug glanced past the doorman to the empty, but brightly lit, lobby. “We’re here to see Michael Moriarty.”
“He’s not here.” The older man clasped his hands behind his back and avoided looking at them. “He went out last night and hasn’t been back since.”
Doug and Tom exchanged a curious look.
“How can you be sure?” Tom asked. “You’re on the night shift, so what if he came back during the day?”
“When I went off my shift at 6:00 a.m., I told Bert, the day shift guy, that Moriarty hadn’t come back and to keep his eye out for him.” He dropped his voice and leaned closer, clearly not wanting anyone to overhear, even though they seemed to be the only ones around. “Sometimes the kid goes on a bender, and when he comes home, he causes a scene. His father hates it, so it’s up to us to get him to his apartment with as little fuss as possible. Spoiled brat, if you ask me.”
“So, I take it that Bert told you he never came back and that it would likely be your problem again?” Doug suppressed a grin. He could only imagine the crap this poor guy put up with from Moriarty. “That can’t be much fun.”
The doorman nodded curtly and glanced at the camera in the doorway, clearly nervous that he’d be caught talking to cops on camera.
“Would you please call us when Moriarty shows up?” Doug handed him his card. “He’s not in any trouble. We just n
eed to ask him a couple questions.”
As Doug pulled away in the shadow of the towering steel building, he couldn’t squelch the nagging feeling in his gut that Moriarty was involved in this mess. His date had stormed out on him, then she turned up dead, and now he seemed to have skipped town. Moriarty was looking more and more like their prime suspect, but Tom was right, there was still no explanation for why he would have killed Ronald Davis.
***
“Tell me again why we’re coming back here when we could be going home?” Tom asked as he slammed the door shut on the sedan. “We’ve been working all night. The sun is gonna be up soon, and I need some sleep. I’m old and tired.”
“By all accounts, Moriarty and four of his crew have vanished. They never came back to their apartments, and nobody has seen them since they pulled out of here in his limo. The driver and car are missing too, and the last place anybody saw them was here. We could get old and gray sitting around waiting to get a copy of his cell phone records.”
“I’m already old and gray.” Tom shook his head and let out a weary sigh. “You said that the Hollingsworth broad lives here in the building?” He glanced at the spire of the old church. “That’s just weird. This place was creepy when it was full of people, and now it’s really fuckin’ creepy. The place is closed, man.”
“Yeah, but I think she and her staff know more than they’re letting on, and I want to know what it is.”
“Kid,” Tom said on a sigh. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
Doug pulled his jacket out of the car and questioned his motives as much as Tom did. When he looked up, the gothic lettering of the nightclub’s sign glared at him accusingly. They shouldn’t be doing this.
He pulled his jacket on and stepped onto the cracked sidewalk in front of the club. Damien, the velvet rope, and the throngs of people were gone. Doug glanced at his watch and saw it was well past last call. He tugged on the doors of the club only to find them locked, and his heart sank. He didn’t realize until that moment how much he wanted to see her—to taste her.
Tall, Dark, and Vampire (Dead in the City) Page 12