by Cara Villar
I knew I had looked pale when I came out, and Des shoved past the instant she could do it without touching me. Felix’s gaze had examined me from head to toe, but when he opened his mouth to ask if I was okay, I spoke first. I smiled brightly and asked if he was ready to go to Natasha’s. I think he sensed that if he asked if I was all right, I might just burst into tears.
He wouldn’t know what to do, I knew it, so he was putting off asking me what Vincent and I spoke off until I was well out of blubbering-mess territory. In the meantime, I’d been trying to think up an answer that would both satisfy him and avoid actually answering. I didn’t want to tell him that the Alpha had some very personal truths about me that no one else did.
As I caught Felix’s mouth open out the corner of my eye, I stalled him by blurting, “I didn’t expect Natasha to live so close to the city.”
Felix gave me a suspicious look and cleared his throat. “It took her a couple years to get a place closer.”
“How long had she been here?” I asked, not looking at him.
“She moved here from Munich about fifty years ago.”
“Why?” I asked, the memory of how the blonde Vampire had gazed up at Felix as she died flashing through my mind. I wondered if she had moved here to be closer to her sire. Felix fidgeted, confirming my thoughts. I was too emotionally exhausted to feel anything about that. “She loved you,” I murmured.
He flinched. “I’ve known….” He cut off. “Knew…I knew her a long time.”
“Was she one of your firsts?” I asked, not really knowing why.
“Red.” He sighed. “Why are you asking me questions about Natasha?”
I turned from the window and looked at him. Why was I asking? I wasn’t entirely sure. All I knew was that this woman had been killed by a man I was hunting, and Felix cared for her. Part of me felt obligated to know the woman, so that when I finally brought justice for her death, I could do it in a way that would honor her best. I wasn’t a hero, nor particularly honorable in general. But the way she had died? Yeah… that got to me.
“Because you cared for her,” was all I told him. I didn’t think I could explain my additional feelings. I didn’t really understand them myself. “It was obvious that she cared for you too.” I looked back out the window, up at the sky. It was cloudy and overcast, dull as skies always are over a city. “No woman looks at a man like that if she doesn’t care.”
The last was said softly, but he heard. His whole body went rigid, and I could see out the corner of my eye his jaw clench hard enough to break his molars. “Natasha was headstrong,” Felix finally said, his tone soft. “She was reckless, stubborn and never listened to a bloody word I said.”
“Sounds like my kind of woman.” I replied, and his lips quirked, a hint of a dimple peeking at me as he glanced over.
“You would have liked her.” He sighed. “She would have liked you, too.”
I arched a brow at him. “Not if I were in the way,” I said, wryly.
“It wasn’t like that—”
I held up a hand, cutting him off. “Please. If Natasha hadn’t been in so much pain, she’d have killed me with the daggers her eyes would have been shooting.”
Felix tried to keep in his grin as he glanced at me. “Maybe.”
We were coming off the interstate onto a street lined with bungalows. They all looked very sweet and suburban with their neatly trimmed yards and pastel painted panels. I idly wondered if the interstate was loud up there, or quiet. The houses didn’t look like temporary dwellings until something better came along. They looked like long-term lived-in homes that were tended and loved well for it.
I miss my house.
Mood souring even further, I kept quiet the short drive to Natasha’s house, not wanting to grumble out-loud about how I’d given up bounties abroad for the very specific reason that I missed my nest. I wanted my bed, kitchen, gym and entertainment system way too much to keep going away on month long hunts.
We took a couple turns, and eventually Felix slowed before a quaint little one-story house with a loft conversion. He pulled into the drive, ambling to a stop and highlighting a garage farther back into the back yard with the headlights.
“Shouldn’t we park down the street?” I asked, peering through the window as he turned off the car. Cream colored walls and slate grey roof, neat little square lawn with a path right through the middle from sidewalk to entrance, four windows—two at the bottom, two in the roof—and the door in front;. It was…cute.
“The neighbors know me,” Felix replied as he opened his door.
“You got keys?” I asked, and Felix nodded. I wasn’t going to ask for details, just slid from the Merc’s butter-soft leather seat and closed the car door with a bump of my hip to make it soundless.
Felix moved with a casual grace across the grass to the footpath. I followed. Keys jingled. Locks snapped. Felix turned the handle, pushed the door open and just stood there, frowning.
“What’s wrong?” I asked softly.
“No alarm,” he replied.
Well…shit, I thought. No self-respecting Vampire left their lair with only a lock for security.
“What can you see?” he asked, and I blinked, eyes going night-glow as I peered around him.
Felix would see my eyes reflect any bit of light out there, giving my eyes a shifting gold-silver likeness. For me, everything filtered in hues of heat, dappled with shades of grey. It was disorientating for all of a moment before I was able to focus. Then I blinked again, this time in shock.
“Felix,” I breathed, moving around him as I peered inside the door, inhaling deep. “I don’t see anything. The place has been….,” I inhaled again, nostril burning with the scent of lemon and pine and chemicals and something else. “It’s spotless.”
“They’ve been here, then.” he said, and I looked up at him, blinking in surprise. Felix‘s heat signature emanated a bright red at his chest and filtered out to a pale yellow. Most Vampires were pale imitations, too cold and dead to give off much residue for my vision to pick up, but Felix was bright, clear and invitingly hot.
“Whoa,” I breathed, and his grin flashed through my night-vision. My eyes fluttered and my gaze returned to normal.
“Cold hands, warm heart, pet.” He smirked, pressing a hand to the small of my back and urging me inside. “Let’s make this quick.”
The layout of the house was a simple one. From the front door to the back was a straight hallway, lined with identically-framed miniature landscape paintings of Munich. Upon entering, the very large lounge was on the left, art-deco figurines placed strategically to catch the light of day, looking eerily suited to the modern black and white porcelain lamps, white carpet and pale grey velvet couches. The kitchen was on the right, decked out like a cottage with warm wood surfaces. Large stoves, deep sinks and a natural, exposed rock fireplace filled the space, with a massive island centering, a hanging rail of pots and pans fixed over it. It extended through a decorative archway to a dining room with an eight-seat dining table, mood lighting, and romantic sconces in the pastel-patterned wallpaper. The floors were polished oak throughout.
Further down, nearer the back, there were a set of white-paneled double-doors hiding a set of stairs; right went up, left went down. This was where I stood, Felix at my shoulder. We’d found nothing especially odd about the house, nothing standing out to my experienced senses, or Felix’s more familiar association with Natasha. Mind you, the main floor was so bloody clean, I’d bet my favorite pair of DC’s that you could eat off the floor. Not a speck of dust marred a single shelf, figurine, or utensil.
Whoever had been here, had done a masterful job at cleaning away all evidence of their intrusion…from Vampires. Not far into the house, my superior Were nose had detected an odd, musky, spicy scent thoroughly suppressed by all the cleaning materials. I had tilted my head, sniffed, and asked Felix if he could smell that. He couldn’t, but I bet any other Were with a decent nose could.
Vampires had
been there. The unique aroma was like an after-taste in the air, a subliminal message. Once I had their scent, my instincts picked up the residual echoes of their power signatures. Strange, I thought, I never knew power levels had their own aroma…
“I’ll go down, you go up,” Felix said, pulling me back to the stairs. I nodded, and he turned away, heading down the darkened stairwell. I turned right and headed up, the moonlight shining through a small circular window at the top of the stairs lighting my way. I paused just before the top and inhaled, head tilting as my hearing sharpened. I could hear nothing but the night, and smell nothing but what I had smelled already, except maybe a faint hint of the perfume Natasha was wearing at the mansion party. How I smelt her perfume under all her blood and intestine is beyond me!
Shuddering at the memory, I eased up the last few steps and turned into the converted loft-space. I stood there a moment, surprised to find an office when I had been expecting a bedroom. The strength of Natasha’s scent on the stairs certainly led me to expect a bedroom. She spent a lot of time up there, obviously, and as I moved forward, the tidy clutter of a working office became more obvious.
The large stainless steel and glass desk was L-shaped, and situated in the middle of the room, facing the stairs, with a large leather chair on wheels perched at an angle away from it, as if she’d pushed away from the desk, stood and walked off.
Like she wasn’t expecting to not ever come back…
Crossing the rich white carpet and onto the thick shaggy black and white rug, I took in the multitude of screens and technology, my eyes scanning over the back wall full of shelves, books on law and economics and political histories lining them. It was a collection any wannabe high-climber would die for and orgasm over.
Natasha had been teaching herself to be indispensable to Ambrose. She’d thought herself safe, having worked her way into his circle. But you’re never safe in the Lion’s Den. Surely she’d known that. Surely she’d known that eventually Ambrose would find out. He was a clever son-of-a-bitch, too damn sharp. And he’d proven it in his disposal of Natasha.
Turning away from the books, pushing down the churning rush of disgust at how she’d died, I looked over Natasha’s desk with a practiced eye of someone used to finding things no one else could.
I went for the obvious first. I ransacked her drawers and riffled her desk, emptying out and opening up everything that could be, from her fancy silver pens, to her pot of loose post-it notes, to her in-and-out trays, before hacking into her computer. I didn’t expect to find anything there, and I didn’t. Tossing down the last pen, I grabbed her personalized, thick vellum, engraved, luxury business cards—stacked neatly in a black box of a company I’ve never heard of. I emptied the whole stack into my hand and flicked them all like one of those pencil-drawn cartoons that move as you flick.
One card caught briefly and flicked up.
Tilting my head, I brushed the thick cards with my nail once more, noting the same card caught.
Heart flaring with hope and anticipation, I dropped into the leather seat, distantly startled that it was really quite comfy, and rolled to the desk, pushing paper and pen aside to clear a space. I set the stack down, and then dragged to the side, spreading the stack like a deck of cards.
“Oh…clever girl,” I murmured, pulling the slightly heavier card out from the set, instantly noticing on closer inspection, there was a faint plastic-like sheen to it when I tilted it in the muted light. My fingers probed the back, noticing ridges, and I flipped it over, my head tilted in curiosity at the inch-long oblong indentation that ran away from the edge. I inspected the seam, noticing fine lines, and as I fingered them, the card popped. I jerked in surprise as the slender oblong nipped out smoothly from the card, showing a plain white underbelly… and a USB connection.
My stomach thrilled. “Oh, very clever girl.” I pushed back from the desk, craning my neck to see the hard-drive underneath and then shuffling, bent over to plug in the stick. Straightening, I wiggled the mouse and a bubble-effect screensaver flashed briefly before the desktop appeared. Moments later her programs asked me what I wanted to do with the new drive, and I scrolled down and clicked appropriately, bringing up the USB content. My brows rose in surprise when the box flashed and it asked for the password to the encrypted file. Scowling, I glanced around.
“Um…” I bit my lip and typed ‘Felix’. No. I typed ‘Sire’. No. I typed ‘Vampire’. No. I wondered briefly when Felix’s birthday was and then wondered inanely at the date he made Natasha. My brain whirled at what the password could be, but I doubted I could just pull the word out my ass and it would work. I needed Felix to take a crack at it. He knew Natasha. Sighing, I closed the program and removed the USB. As I surfaced from under the desk, Felix was stood on the other side, brow arching. I flushed as I scrambled to my feet. I hated it when people snuck up on me.
Then I saw the small notebook in his hand. “Find something?”
“Tucked neatly into the back corner of an abstract painting of Munich by a street artist.” He waved the book as his eyes went distant in thought. “It was where she used to feed.”
Trying to hide my grimace, I held up the fake business card. “Looks like we both found treasure.”
His eyes came back to me, and he grinned ruefully. “Her business card?” As he watched, I slowly popped the USB connection, and his eyes narrowed. “Clever.”
“It’s encrypted with a password. Any ideas of what it could be?” I asked, fighting to keep a straight-face as my stomach let out a loud gurgle.
Felix’s lips quirked. “Let’s take it with us. I’ll try and hack it while you eat.”
“It wasn’t that loud,” I grumbled, following him towards the stairs, and he laughed softly. The sound was rich, gentle and genuine, and I could practically smell the hurt wafting from him over Natasha’s death and, most recently, prying through her belongings. I got the sense that his shocked silence while digging her grave would be the most emotion I would see him exhibit about it. Which I thought was a shame.
“Nothing wrong with a lady being ruled by her stomach, pet,” he said, his endearment for me rubbing my fur backward. I scowled at the back of his head as a scoffed.
“Lady?” I asked, pretending confusion. “What’s a lady?”
Felix laughed again.
16
“Oh, for piss, bleedin’ sakes!”
A pale blue and white pillow flew past the bathroom door, and I narrowly missed being hit by the soft missile as I leaned back out of the way. I watched it hit a cabinet supporting a vase of flowers and land harmlessly on the floor, shortly followed by the vase and the flowers. I looked at Felix, pacing angrily, fingers digging deep channels in his dark hair. He’d been at his laptop and Natasha’s encrypted USB, cross-referencing it with that little book he’d found, and couldn’t break the code. Twenty-four hours after leaving Natasha’s home, and he was completely irate.
And didn’t it just make him look fantastic!
I shivered as I took in his rumpled clothes, his mussed hair, the high color in his cheeks, and the angry sparkle of his eyes. Jeepers… I didn’t know whether to jump his bones or run a mile. Instead, I sidled back to my pew at the table, and continued with my eating. I’d done nothing but eat since we had gotten back, and Felix had briefly marveled at how much I could consume before digging into his work, fingers flying over the keys. I’d gone out about an hour before for food. Felix’s meal sat untouched, but I wasn’t eyeing covetously, which surprised me. A bargain bucket of fried chicken, fries, big bottle of pop and corn cob sides all to myself had left me glowing and content. Shocking, I know!
Felix, obviously, was not.
“Still no luck?” I asked warily.
“No!” he snapped, stopping to glare at me, one hand yanking at his hair, the other on his hip. “Everything I can think of, every damn idea I have, it,” he waved angrily at the laptop, “says no. No. No. Bloody no.”
“So…you can’t hack it?” I ventured.
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“No, I bloody can’t.” Felix growled grabbing up another pillow and ringing it like it was someone’s neck. “This was done professionally, beyond Natasha’s skill, and therefore, my own.” His scowl deepened. “God-bloody-dammit!” he snarled, and lobbed the pillow again, hitting a wall and plopping down harmlessly.
I stared at the fallen cushion for a moment, wondering if Felix’s rage was somehow connected to that age-old feeling of helplessness in avenging a loved-one. I know that feeling well. “Is there no one else you know who can break the code?” I asked.
“I do, but she’s on the other bloody side of the planet right now,” he replied.
My mind went into a dual thought process. The one that stalled on ‘she’ and then shifted to ‘how many times was he going to say ‘bloody’ today?’
I shook myself. “So you and yours can’t break it?” This is what I’d been waiting for. So far, me and mine had been casually pushed to the side, forgotten or disregarded as inferior, which rubbed my hackles backwards to no end. The Vampire, however delicious, was not a team player. Though I could relate to that, I wasn’t about to be set aside like a soggy coaster.
Felix let out a heavy sigh. “Not at the moment.” He rubbed his brow. “And I need it now, not three pissing days from now.”
Well, that’s a change from ‘bloody’.
“Right, then.” I bounced to my feet, practically ecstatic that I could finally tell him some of my own findings. Felix, I discovered, was about as accessible as a Fae mound when he was determined and downright bull-headed when he thought he could do something and was thwarted. “I have reports of possible sightings, a couple Were contacts sniffing out his trail, general gossip about Ambrose’s motives and intended actions, and possibly my techy person to take a look at those.” I pointed to the inaccessible files on his laptop.