Blood Dolls

by Angela Roquet

  I took a quick shower and dressed in the outfit I’d packed—a pair of gray slacks and a navy blouse. My blazer was a little crinkled from where it had been tossed from the bed, but I found an iron in the closet and was looking professional again in no time.

  The hotel room proved even more interesting without Roman for distraction. An intricate cross was carved into the backside of the door, the outline of a coffin engraved around it. And a vase of red and white roses rested on the bathroom counter next to a complimentary bar of soap that was also, unsurprisingly, carved into the shape of a casket.

  When I packed up my bag and did a sweep of the room, my eyes snagged on the bed. The rumpled comforter and blood-spotted sheets tightened the breath in my lungs, and a wave of heat rolled over me.

  Something tiny glimmered on the floor just under the bed. I bent down to fetch it and discovered it was one of the buttons from Roman’s shirt. The only souvenir he’d left behind—other than the bloodstains.

  I tucked the button into my pocket as I hurried from the room, hoping a drink at Hotshots would help bridle my senses.

  The bistro was more than a blood bar. It also offered hearty sandwiches with a dozen meats and cheeses to choose from—all local, of course. Sandwiches were an easy trade to manage, and fairly popular among the wolves. It reminded me of Mandy, and my heart ached. I’d just seen the girl two nights ago, but I missed her already.

  The blood offered at the bistro was served in tiny, disposable coffee cups with plastic lids. It was fresh and hot—and extracted by unknown means in some back room. It seemed too rude a question to ask. I placed an order for a Plasma Pamela, the special of the night, and took it to go.

  It was creeping up on seven o’clock, and I still hadn’t heard from Roman. So I slung my bag over my shoulder and made my way back to the square in the center of town. I caught several uneasy glances, but a few curious stares, too. A young girl gave me a toothy grin as I passed.

  “Bampire!” she said to her mother, pointing me out with a skip in her step. Her mother absently nodded as she corrected her.

  “Vampire, sweetie. It starts with a V.”

  I licked my teeth, wondering if they were coated with blood. Then I glanced down at my cup, stamped with the Bistro’s logo, and realized what a dead giveaway it was—no pun intended. I downed the rest of the blood in one swallow and tossed the cup into a recycling bin near the crosswalk.

  “Agent Skye. Over here!”

  Dr. Delph waved at me from a bench set against a rock wall in the corner of the square. A fountain statue was erected in the center of the patio, likely winterized for the season. The large Greek figure held a basin under one arm. As I circled it, I spotted Ben Macaulay seated on the bench beside Dr. Delph.

  “Good evening,” he greeted me. Then he used the arm of the bench and his cane to stand.

  “Please, don’t get up on my account.” I waved a hand as I stopped in front of them.

  “I’m afraid I must be getting back to the shop.” Ben smiled and hobbled a step away from the bench, offering me his vacated seat as he dug his free hand into the front pocket of his overalls. “But I do have something for you, dear.”

  “Oh?” I accepted the glossy rock he offered.

  “Bloodstone. Cleans the blood and speeds healing.” His thin lips stretched into a grin. “It’s not quite as effective as drinking the blood of one’s enemies, but it’s surely more humane.”

  A nervous laugh slipped from me as I remembered how I’d tested that theory on the queen. Ben’s comment was no coincidence. One of his bushy eyebrows pushed up the mass of wrinkles crowding his forehead.

  “Word travels fast, even through this hidden bit of nowhere.”

  “I’ll say,” I grumbled and held up the stone for inspection. At first glance, it had appeared black, but it was actually a deep green flecked with a few red dots.

  “Keep it close,” Ben said, a serious note replacing the mirth in his voice. “You seem like the kind who could use all the help she can get.”

  I stared at him. “Umm, okay. Thanks.”

  He nodded and shuffled toward the crosswalk at the corner.

  Dr. Delph patted the bench beside him. “We don’t have much time, but I think you and I are due a conversation.”

  “Are we now?” I dropped my bag onto the patio and sat, scooching as far away from him as I could manage without being rude. If his psychic mojo were stronger in close proximity, I wouldn’t be doing myself any favors by getting all snuggly.

  “I think you’ve done enough snuggling recently,” he said, giving me a wry grin.

  My creep-out factor skyrocketed. I stood suddenly, ready to bolt. There were things in my head that no one could know, and this guy was too good.

  “Sit,” he said, nodding at the bench. “I’m very steadfast about doctor-patient confidentiality. Besides, I’ve been in Mandy’s head. I already know the things you clearly wish I didn’t.”

  My knees gave out, and I dropped back to the bench. “What do you want?”

  “My goodness.” Dr. Delph blanched. “You’ve really been through it, haven’t you? I’m not sure Mandy knows the half of it.”

  “What did she say about me? No—” I shook my head. “I don’t care what she said. What do you want?” I repeated.

  Dr. Delph leaned in closer, and it was all I could do not to crawl backward over the arm of the bench.

  “I want to offer my counsel,” he said as if he were offended I couldn’t read his thoughts as easily as he had read mine. “That’s what I do here. Nearly everyone in this town is or has been a patient of mine at one point or another. I help people. I don’t exploit them.”

  “And what do you think I need your help with?” I asked, still bristled and uptight.

  He gave me a strained smile. “Tell me, Agent Skye, how do you feel about vampires?”

  “What? What kind of question is that?”

  “Do you...like vampires?”

  I blinked at him, unsure what he was trying to get at. “I guess so?”

  “Even though you were killed by one?” he pressed. “Even though your former partner was killed by one, and your current partner was abducted and tormented by one?”

  “Okay, maybe I don’t like them. At least, not many. So what?”

  He sighed, but it wasn’t a terribly impatient sound. “Supernaturals who were turned against their will are, understandably, hesitant to trust or accept what they’ve become. They generally feel like outsiders, even among their new kind, which often helps fuel unhealthy vendettas.” He gave me a knowing look.

  “I was in law enforcement long before becoming a vampire,” I said. “And the case I’m working was assigned to me.”

  “Ah, but it’s not the one you’d prefer to be investigating, is it?” He had me there.

  “Is seeking justice such a horrible virtue?”

  “Justice? Is that what you call the things you’d like to do to the baroness?”

  I pressed my lips together and frowned at him. Those violent fantasies had kept me going most nights when all I wanted to do was lay out on my lawn and wait for sunrise. Laura was back in California. Mandy was bonding with her new wolf pack. No one relied on me. Revenge had felt like something worth holding on for.

  Now there was Roman. But even he hadn’t chased away my desire to see Scarlett burn. If anything, his guarded confession about her being his temporary sire had made me want to exterminate her even more.

  “One last bit of advice before you go.” Dr. Delph’s expression grew solemn as he glanced across the square. I followed his gaze and spotted Roman chatting with a man outside the gift shop. “Don’t get too attached to that one. It will not last nearly as long as you want it to, and if you are not very careful, it will end in bloodshed.”

  Well. That was promising.

  “I’m a vampire. Bloodshed is my every day.” I gave him a weak smile and a shrug, trying to brush off the warning as gracefully as possible. Dr. Delph wasn’t fooled in the
least.

  “This is going to hurt a lot more than you think.”

  The smile slipped from my face, and I swallowed. “It hurts plenty now.”

  “And it will get worse before it gets better.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed. “But it will get better.”

  Chapter Eight

  Roman and I didn’t talk much on the ride back to St. Louis. We were both quiet, contemplative. The tension was split between the uncertainty of our relationship and the bad news that we were on our way to deliver to Vanessa.

  There would be no gold stars awarded tonight.

  We’d been working this case for almost two months. Every lead had turned into a dead end. Either Ursula was hide-and-seek champion of the century, or we were doing something wrong. My pessimism settled on the latter.

  I’d been distracted. I could admit that much. By Scarlett, Roman, my condition—which was still very new and unsettling at times. I couldn’t help but suspect that I was the weak link on the team, that we hadn’t found Ursula because I wasn’t really trying.

  I should have been trying.

  This was what I was getting paid to do, and if I didn’t have something to show for it soon, I feared the duke would decide he’d overestimated my ability and cut me loose from Blood Vice.

  I was sure Vanessa would love nothing more. Especially if she found out that I’d fed from a member of her harem—from her potential scion of twenty years. I’d learned the rules of the vampire world just in time to break them all, apparently. Go big or go home, right?

  As we pulled into the office parking lot, Roman reached across the console and grabbed my hand.

  “I had a nice time with you,” he said as if we’d just returned from a casual date. “We should do that more often—get out of town. Maybe even when we’re off the clock.”

  I lifted an eyebrow at him. “Maybe this isn’t the time or place to be discussing this. Vanessa is waiting.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “Can’t blame me for stalling.”

  “Might as well get this over with.”

  “Why? Do you have a hot date later?” He grinned at my scowl. “Would you like a hot date later?”

  I didn’t humor him with an answer. I wasn’t in the mood. Not with my insides knotted so painfully that I felt like doubling over. Having my ass chewed by Vanessa was nothing new. It happened almost daily. But enduring it after what I’d done with Roman...

  I had a feeling that might be a ninth circle of Hell kind of experience.

  I pulled my hand away from his and opened my door, exiting the SUV without another word. Roman reluctantly followed my lead, and together, we filed inside the building and walked to our certain doom.

  * * * * *

  “So, let me get this straight.”

  Vanessa paced an angry path behind her desk, her stiletto heels clicking out a warning that sounded like a ticking time bomb. She wore one of her more expensive pantsuits tonight, with a single string of pearls around her neck, and her black hair pulled back in a tight French twist.

  “You found the guy who owned the truck she was driving,” she said, pointing a finger in the air. “He told you that she does odd jobs for him, but that he doesn’t know her last name or how to reach her, and you said, ‘Gee, thanks!’ and left?”

  Roman and I stood just inside the doorway of her office, our hands folded behind our backs and heads hung in disgrace. Vanessa had been silent through Roman’s briefing, and for some time after as if she were waiting for him to tell her something useful.

  “We know that she goes by Annie and that she has a motorcycle,” I said, biting my tongue when Vanessa’s laser-sharp glare migrated from Roman to me.

  “Great,” she snapped. “Wonderful! Let’s just pull up the entire DMV database for Missouri—assuming she’s actually registered in Missouri and not Kansas or Oklahoma or Arkansas, which are all within easy driving distance of Spero Heights—and then we can filter out anyone with the name Annie—or Anne, Anna, Annabel, Anastasia, Annika, Anita, Hannah, Julianna, Roxanne, Roseanne. Oh! And we’ll have to search middle names, too. And that is all assuming she didn’t borrow the motorcycle like she borrowed the truck she was spotted with.”

  “We showed her picture to everyone who would talk to us,” Roman said, momentarily transferring Vanessa’s wrath to him. We’d been playing this tag-team game for a few weeks now, buying each other breathing room whenever Vanessa neared the point of eruption.

  “You’re federal agents,” she said through clenched teeth. “It’s your job to make people talk. That badge you were issued is not something people should feel they have the option to walk away from.”

  “We were warned by the city council not to make any arrests,” Roman said. “You told us not to sabotage the duke’s relationship with the mayor.”

  “And what about my relationship with the duke?” Vanessa circled her desk and stood directly in front of Roman. “I told you not to sabotage that one either. Yet, here we are.” She glanced down at the watch on her wrist. “I’m supposed to meet with him in less than an hour to discuss our progress with this case. What should I tell him, Roman?”

  My insides churned at the sound of his name on her lips.

  “It’s not like the unit assigned to Scarlett has had better luck than we have, and she’s a far worse threat than Ursula,” I said.

  Vanessa stepped in front of me next. Her height was more intimidating this close. My eyes leveled with the dip at the base of her throat, and I could smell the expensive perfume she wore. I wondered if Roman liked it. Everything about her exuded class and luxury.

  “Scarlett is not your problem.” Her voice took on a scary calm that never failed to send a thrill of panic through me. It sounded as if she were contemplating snapping my neck, and I knew that she could if she really wanted to. I wouldn’t even see it coming.

  I clenched my teeth to keep them from rattling.

  Vanessa glared down at me and scoffed. “You might have been a decent patrol officer as a human, tucked away in the tame neighborhoods over on the west side, but you weren’t much of a detective, and you’re not turning out to be much of an agent. It’s a wonder you survived the bat cave. Isn’t it?” she asked sweetly.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, the words barely a whisper. I knew that tone well enough to know when to roll over and play dead.

  “You were not assigned to Scarlett,” Vanessa went on. “I’m done explaining that to you. Don’t mention her name in my presence again.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I tried to be discreet with my sigh of relief as she circled behind her desk again.

  “You have nothing,” Vanessa said. “As much as it pains me, I think it’s time I pass this case on to a more competent unit. Since the duke requested this one personally, I’ll have to get approval from him. Then he can decide if this unit is worth keeping together, or if the green agents would be better suited for perimeter detail at noble functions.”

  She was talking about Collins, Mandy, and me. Roman would likely be transferred to another Blood Vice unit. He’d had an impressive record before I came along, back when Vanessa had been his field partner. Now, he was stuck with three agents fresh out of training.

  We were dead weight, and he knew it, too. Humiliation overwhelmed me, but more than that, the thought that I might be separated from him clawed at my aching heart.

  “Wait. Wait!” I gave Vanessa a pleading look as I racked my brain, searching for some scrap of information I’d missed. There had to be something.

  It wasn’t just my career on the line, but Collins’ and Mandy’s, too. And as much as I knew better, I couldn’t let this failure stunt what I’d begun with Roman. I wasn’t ready to accept defeat or the duke’s disappointment.

  Think, think, think, I chanted inside my head.

  “Well?” Vanessa asked, lifting an eyebrow at my outburst.

  “Last summer,” I began, picking through every detail, every conversation I’d had with anyone connected to the secret underworld I
was now a part of—vampires, and half-sireds, and werewolves... “Arnie Moreau. He said something to me at the warehouse the Scarlett Inn had been operating out of.”

  “Skye,” Vanessa said through clenched teeth. “I’m not going to tell you again—”

  I shook my head. “He asked if I was one of Ursula’s scouts. Which means—”

  “He’d had a run-in with one before,” Roman finished. He looked from me to Vanessa. “We should ask him to elaborate on that.”

  Vanessa considered us for a minute, then she dipped her chin in a slow nod. “The Moreau Pack is a sleazy lot of fleabags, but they don’t like trouble. They’ll cooperate and even turn on their own if they think it’ll keep them out of hot water.”

  “Arnie was quick to give up names and addresses last summer.” Roman scratched his cheek and frowned. “He runs that Cajun joint over near Dutchtown.”

  “Snake Eyes,” Vanessa said. “They do a lot of illegal gambling out of the back room,” she added, noting the repulsed confusion on my face.

  “Are they open all week?” I asked.

  “Shit.” Roman pinched his eyes shut. “The micromoon is tonight.”

  “Then go tomorrow night.” Vanessa sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. “But if this lead is a bust, too, I’m going to the duke. I can’t keep wasting resources like this. It’s even more irresponsible and pathetic than having an unsolved case on my docket.”

  We were getting another chance. It was a slim one, but it was better than nothing. I was beginning to feel pretty good about pulling a new lead out of my ass until Vanessa turned to Roman again.

  “I fed earlier, but I could use a pick-me-up before facing the duke,” she said.

  I couldn’t find my next breath. My fingernails bit into the palms of my hands as they curled into fists at my sides. Then the room turned red, and I saw Vanessa, glowing in all of her finery and superiority, through the screen of my panic.

  “I’m Jenna’s ride,” Roman said, sensing the looming disaster.