“You got worried?” Keller said in a perfectly professional tone. “Just because he didn’t answer the phone?”
“Yeah. I was hanging out with friends anyway, so I decided to stop by on the way home.” That was more or less the truth.
Keller pulled his notebook out of his inner suit pocket. “I’d like the names of those friends, please.”
“What?” I gaped at him, and so did John. “You think . . .” I sputtered, so angry with him that I momentarily lost the ability to form words. I should have seen the accusation coming, but I’d been too worried about John and Charlie’s safety to give it a thought. “You think I trashed John’s house? Where Charlie lives? Why would I do that?”
John came to my defense. “I can promise you that Lex—that Allison—had nothing to do with this. She would never hurt me or the baby.”
“Of course not,” Keller said. He had a controlled, everything-by-the-book expression that made me extremely nervous. “But this is the second time in—what, two months?—that Charlotte Wheaton has been the target of a crime. Ms. Luther was present for the kidnapping attempt, and as I’m sure you all know, that crime is still unsolved.” Anger and self-satisfaction flickered across his face before it returned to a professional mask. “And now Ms. Luther has arrived at the scene of a serious vandalism only a few minutes after we did.”
Stevens, who’d been quietly observing all of this, murmured to Keller, “Her reaction sure looked organic to me.”
Keller ignored her. “Mr. Wheaton,” he said formally, “isn’t it true that you’ve recently begun a new romantic relationship?”
John winced, not answering, as I stood there with my mouth gaping open like a walleye. The implication that I had destroyed his house out of romantic jealousy lay thick and awkward on the air.
Stevens said pleasantly, “Ms. Luther, would you be willing to come down to the station for an interview? We would appreciate getting your take on events. You can follow us in your own car, of course,” she added, like it was a great generosity she was bestowing on me.
John rolled his eyes. “This is complete bullshit, Lex, but it might be easier if you just went and explained.”
They all looked at me expectantly. This was happening so fast. I opened my mouth to say fine, I would come answer stupid fucking Keller’s stupid fucking questions, but then I realized that I couldn’t. Maven. If this Clara had come after Quinn and Charlie, and possibly me, she had to make her move tonight. Right now. I had no idea how strong she was, especially in comparison to Maven, but if Maven fell, the other Colorado vampires would kill me and come after Charlie again. I couldn’t let that happen.
Everyone was staring, and I said, “I’m sorry, there’s somewhere I need to be right now.” It sounded lame, even to my own ears.
Stevens raised her eyebrows. “I thought you said you were on your way home?”
Shit. “I was, but I’ve remembered something I need to do.”
Keller snarled, “You do know how it looks, that you refuse to answer questions that could help us find this ‘vandal’?” He didn’t actually raise his hands and make air quotation marks, but he didn’t have to.
“I’m sorry,” I said more firmly. “I need to go.”
“At least give us the names and numbers of the friends you were with tonight,” Stevens said, giving me a hard look.
“I can’t do that, either.” I couldn’t give him Simon or Quinn’s names until we had a story for what we were doing tonight, something other than hunting an ancient snake monster. Besides, if he tried to track them down right now, he might find them in a pretty compromising position.
“Because you need time to get your story straight?” Keller suggested.
I saw his right hand drift to rest on the butt of his service weapon, and for some reason that made me furious. “I understand how this looks, Detectives, but unless you’re arresting me for a crime, I am leaving now.” Stevens’s face clouded over, and I added through gritted teeth, “But I would be happy to come to the station first thing in the morning to answer all questions you have, in person.”
Before he could say anything else, I said, “John, can I talk to you for a minute?” I took his arm and led him a few feet away.
“Lex,” he said, puzzled, “what’s going on? What do you have to do?”
“I can’t tell you,” I said apologetically. “I need to do something for a friend, and I promised not to say anything.”
His brows were still furrowed, and although I was a tiny bit afraid of the answer, I had to ask. “You know I would never do anything like this to you, right?”
To my relief, he nodded at me, his face lit with perfect trust. “Lex, I’ve known you since you talked with a baby lisp. Of course I know you didn’t do this. I just want you to clear things up so they can focus on finding the real bad guy.”
“And I will, I promise. But I have to help a friend first.” I took a deep breath. “Listen, where are you guys going tonight? You’re not staying here.”
He shook his head. “There’s glass everywhere, and the beds are all torn up. I don’t understand why anyone would . . . anyway. We’ll probably go to your mom and dad’s place.”
I chewed on my lip for a second. “Do me a favor? Maybe go to your mom’s instead?”
“What? Why?” John had a somewhat contentious relationship with his mother, which was why he’d spent most of his childhood at our house. Blossom Wheaton was a full-blooded Arapahoe Indian who had turned guilt and passive-aggression into scalpels she wielded mercilessly on her loved ones. She had hated Sam, and didn’t like me much better. But Blossom’s house was thirty miles away, as off the grid as you could get. She also had two defense-trained Dobermans and a hunting rifle.
“I’d just worry less if I knew you two were there. Please, just for the night?” Until sunrise, I thought, but didn’t say.
John gestured at the house. “I know it looks bad, Lex, but I really think it was just some asshole high school kids, or maybe part of a frat hazing or something. They’re not coming after us at your folks’.”
“But what if they do? What if this was another attempt to take her?” I countered. I had to walk a fine line here: keep John afraid enough to get him to Blossom’s, without making him ask too many questions. But I hated doing it. “Or what if this is some nut who hates Dad? He does get death threats now and then, and you do work for him.”
I watched John’s face change as the blow hit home, feeling like a monster. “You don’t think . . .”
“No, I don’t. But just indulge your crazy sister-in-law for a little while?” I pleaded, trying to smile. “Take her to Blossom’s, just for the night. Please?” One way or the other, everything would be settled by dawn.
John thought it over for another moment, then shrugged. “Okay. I can do that, I guess.”
“Thank you.” I went on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I lost my phone, but I’ll call you in the morning after I find it.”
He nodded, still a little reluctant. “Be careful, Lex, okay?”
I gave him an innocent smile. “I’m always careful.”
Chapter 24
As I drove toward Magic Beans, I cursed myself again for dropping my phone at Chautauqua—I was desperate to check on Quinn, but even if I got a new phone, I didn’t have his or Simon’s number memorized. Stupid, stupid.
I stopped in an empty parking lot to reload my weapons. For the second time in two days, I was desperately wishing I had a shredder stake. I’d packed for a confrontation with a giant worm monster, not a vampire fight. Quinn had once explained that to kill a vampire you needed to either cut off its head or thoroughly destroy its heart—hence the wooden stakes spelled to shred the heart tissue. From now on, I promised myself, I was going to carry them everywhere. In the meantime, I was hoping a direct shot to the heart with the Ithaca would do enough damage, since I wasn’t convinced the shotgun could take a head off completely, even at close range. When this was over, I was definitely investing in a
machete or something.
I parked illegally on 13th Street, and ran straight to the back door of the coffee shop, with my jacket belted over the firearms like it had been at Chautauqua. I ignored the “Closed for Private Party” sign and banged on the door.
A long pause, and then I heard bolts sliding back, and the door cracked open. I had a sudden moment of bizarre déjà-vu, reminded of a few weeks earlier when I’d been called to Magic Beans to witness Maven’s execution of Itachi. To help her do it, really. Would I open the door on the same scene? Or was Maven already dead, and was I walking into my own execution? I unbelted the jacket and pulled out the big revolver before going inside. I wouldn’t be going down without a fight, anyway.
The back door opened directly onto the big concrete-floored room at the back of Magic Beans, where they occasionally hosted open-mic night or acoustic musicians, the same room that led to Maven’s little office. As I stepped inside, I almost slipped on the wet concrete, my foot bumping into something that didn’t slide away at the contact. I looked down to see a hand.
I flinched back so hard I stumbled, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The hand was stretched toward the door, attached to a bloody, half-rotted arm. The arm was attached to nothing, because it had been ripped off at the shoulder joint.
I tore my eyes away from it, because gaping too long at something like that is a great time for the enemy to ambush you. There was no movement in the room, though. Someone had stacked all the chairs against the back wall, leaving a single chair on the stage, lit by a spotlight. It was the only source of light in the whole room. Maven sat in the chair, her face resting on one palm, as she stared broodingly at a body that lay prone on the floor in front of her. There were streaks of blood all over the vampire leader, and more blood matted into her orange hair, but otherwise she looked fine. I surveyed the rest of the room and spotted the young-looking vampire from the Walrus—Opal, that was her name—standing near the door that led into the rest of the coffee shop, next to a body, this one missing a head. The body had deflated within its clothes, which marked it as a vampire’s remains, but I didn’t stop to stare at it. There was another vampire—I was assuming, since I couldn’t see Maven willingly letting any humans into this little situation—curled up on the edge of the stage, hugging his middle. From the vacant expression on his face, I was pretty sure his body was healing a wound in his midsection. My eyes moved back toward the floor. There was another body halfway in between me and the stage, and I realized I’d found the owner of the arm I’d nearly tripped over. Since there were no apparent, immediate threats, I stepped farther into the room, the revolver still in my hand.
“Maven?” I said cautiously.
She didn’t stir, just continued to glare at the body in front of her. It had been flayed, I saw, its chest cavity ripped open and the rib bones snapped aside to display the heart. There were bruises and swelling around the female face and arms, and I realized that this must be Clara. Why had Maven left her in this grotesque position? I took another step closer, and the thing on the floor moved, the arm twitching as it struggled to rise toward the ravaged chest cavity.
Oh, God. She was still alive? That was too much, even for me. My gorge rose, and I turned my head and vomited up all of the tea and mini sandwiches I’d eaten with the Pellar sisters a few hours earlier.
“It is not an easy thing,” Maven began, and her voice in the sudden silence was like a blast of cold air, “for a vampire to break troth. It’s easier for humans, of course. The one area in which you are stronger than we are.”
Oh, shit. I had absolutely no idea how to respond to her. Maybe she had lost her mind. What the hell was I going to do then? After a moment, she continued, “I see that you came to help, to keep your oath. I will not forget. Assuming we both survive this.”
“What—What are you—”
“What am I doing?” she said with exaggerated patience, as though humoring a child. “I am contemplating how we got here.” Her voice was formal, stiff, like she’d forgotten all her modern human mannerisms. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t even lifted her eyes from the mutilated mess in front of her. “I did not want to lead, you know.” She glanced at me. “You know. The last time . . . ended badly.” I honestly didn’t know whose “last time” she was talking about—hers or mine—so I just nodded cautiously. Her gaze returned to the body. “I did not want . . . But then they asked for my help, and I could not refuse. Then Itachi . . . and I felt responsible. And now this.” She sighed. “I can smell your fear, you know. We all can.”
I didn’t even know what to say to that. This whole situation was batshit fucking crazy, and I struggled against the urge to run. Or wet myself. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself.
“Is Quinn dead?” she asked in a small voice, and I understood that she was scared of the answer—not just that he might be dead, but that he might have broken troth and run away too.
When I was certain of my voice, I said, “No. Another vampire came after him, and he was wounded pretty badly. Simon Pellar is helping him.” Maven nodded, her shoulder relaxing just an inch. “What about her?” I asked, nodding at the mangled mess on the floor in front of her. “Will she die?”
“Who, Clara?” She sounded surprised. “Of course. The magic in her blood is still fighting, but there is too much damage. She’ll succumb. But it will take hours.”
“Who are the others?” It didn’t really matter—I was certain I didn’t know them—but for some reason it made me feel better to ask the question.
“The vampire who’s healing over there is Stone; he just moved here, after Itachi. To support me.” Her chuckle was dry and bitter. “I don’t expect he thought it would come to this, much less so quickly.”
“I meant the bodies,” I said gently. “Who are the dead vampires?”
“Benton over there was a dominus, like Clara,” Maven said, flicking a hand carelessly toward the headless body. “The armless one is Nels; he was Benton’s newest villanus.”
I pieced that together. Benton and Clara had been of the vampire ruling class, the domini. Nels had been one of Benton’s subordinates. Check. “Why did they betray you?” I asked softly. “Why now?”
Maven’s eyes finally lifted off Clara’s body, looking at me with resignation. “Because their villani are dying,” she replied. “Darren and Tony belonged to Clara, and Allegra was one of Benton’s.” She made a little sound that could have been a snort. “Or they just wanted an excuse to depose me, and saw their opportunity after three of their people were killed.” Her face darkened, and she returned to her brooding stare.
Okay. Enough. I’d had enough.
“Maven.” I circled the armless corpse and as much of the blood as possible, moving into Maven’s line of sight. Unfortunately, this also put me uncomfortably close to what was left of Clara, but I tried not to look. “Maven, I’m going to speak to you as though you’re an ordinary human for a moment, and I hope you’ll forgive me later.”
Detached interest bloomed on her face. I doubted anyone had ever said that to her. “You need to get your shit together,” I said firmly.
Her face hardened. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Snap the fuck out of it. We need you. I need you. I met the sandworm tonight. It calls itself Unktehila”—I pronounced it carefully, thought I did an okay job—“and it is terrifying. It’s going to keep eating people. It got into my head to tell me so. And in a couple of days, the werewolves will be able to change again, and all hell’s gonna break loose, maybe literally. We have to figure out what’s happening to the magic in Boulder before then, and we have to fix it. You have to fix it.”
For a second I really thought she would dart forward and rip out my spinal cord, but she leaned back instead, regarding me. “How do you propose I do all that,” she said, gesturing toward Clara, “when my own people won’t even obey me? Are, in fact, actively working against me?”
“You start,” I suggested, “by showing Clara mercy.”
“If I understand this situation correctly,” I said very carefully, “she challenged you because she and Benton thought you let their people die. The assumption is false, but the response is somewhat understandable.” I took a deep breath, giving her a moment to absorb that. “It’s also possible that whatever has stirred up our magic is messing with Clara and Benton, too. This might not be their fault, just like what happened at the Walrus last night might not have been Darren and Tony’s fault. I know you need to get your house in order, but I don’t think killing Clara is the way to do it.”
“What’s to stop her from attacking again, with better support and more weapons?” Maven countered.
The words were out of my mouth before I even had time to consider them. “I’ll press her.”
She thought that over. “Even after she tried to take your niece?” In response to my surprised look, Maven added, “Yes, I know. Clara told me everything, of course. Nels was dispatched to collect the baby and return here. Since he came back empty-handed, I assumed he failed. Is Charlotte all right?”
I nodded. “They weren’t home. And to answer your question, yes, I would let Clara live even though she came after Charlotte. Even though she destroyed my brother-in-law’s home.” I swallowed, remembering the fear and anger on John’s face as he looked at his ruined house. I forced myself to look at what remained of Clara instead. “She has suffered enough. She doesn’t deserve to die for wanting to avenge her people, and certainly not for busting up a house.”
“Hmm.” Maven looked at me. A full minute ticked by, during which Stone began to rock back and forth, and the thing that used to be Clara twitched several more times. “All right,” she said finally. She hopped off the throne and did something with her teeth and arm too quickly for me to watch. When she was done, deep, glittering blood began to run down her arm in a long line, like water diverted from a river. Maven positioned the stream of blood to splash down first on Clara’s ruined chest cavity, and then into her mouth.
Boundary Lines (Boundary Magic Book 2) Page 15