“I think Ms. Lassiter has already answered these same questions twice, and in some cases three times. Are there any new questions?” I was mildly surprised he had not held out longer. He was getting paid by the hour after all.
“Not at the moment, but we may wish to speak with her further.”
“Fine,” he said, rising and straightening his jacket. “I’m taking her home. Please contact my office if there is anything else.” He carefully placed his card on Agent McCabe’s desk.
I was moving slowly as we made our way back to the car, feeling like I had been run over by a bus. I was completely exhausted, physically and emotionally. I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for three days.
I had muted my cell phone it during the interview with the agents and now was shocked to see it was only six-forty according to the display. What seemed like days turned out to be a little over three hours. In hindsight, I was thankful that Joshua had come with me to the interview. Surely, without his presence, I would still be in there answering the same questions for a fourth or fifth time.
True to his word, Joshua took me home, stopping to get himself some decent coffee on the way. I was mostly a tea drinker, so I decided to hold off until getting back to the house. I had foolishly accepted a cup of sludge from Agent Smathon during the interview. I swear they had a special pot brewing for those being questioned, the nasty coffee being a part of the interrogation process. It was so awful as to be nearly cruel and unusual punishment. I imagine if I had asked for water instead, they would have given me some nice unfiltered tap water with an extra shot of chlorine just to make it especially tasty.
Joshua offered to see me to my door after we pulled up in front of my two story brick colonial. “I’ll be fine,” I assured him. “I just want to go inside and sleep so that I can wake to find this was all a horrible nightmare.”
“Go in and get some rest,” he told me, nodding sympathetically. “Let me know if the agents try to contact you without me, okay?”
“Alright,” I agreed. It was probably a bit premature to be informing him that I planned to hire my own attorney. It was possible that I might need his assistance before I got that sorted out. Help with divided loyalties was better than no help at all, right?
Chapter 4
It was already dark and none of my exterior lights were on, so Joshua waited at the curb while I carefully picked my way around the perimeter of the crime-scene detritus that littered the driveway. Once I unlocked the front door and stepped inside, I turned on the outside lights, giving Joshua a little wave to let him know I had arrived without incident. After his car pulled away, I turned back into the foyer to turn on some interior lights.
I tossed my purse on the hall table before walking into the living room and hitting the wall switch. The instant the room was bathed in the warm glow of the lamps, I knew I had made a mistake not inviting Joshua in for more coffee. Leaning against the fireplace watching me was a very tall Asian man with shoulder length jet hair. Near the doorway to the kitchen was another man. The second guy was Caucasian, his strawberry-blond hair cut very short. He had whorls of intricate tattoos that started under his left ear, wending down his neck to disappear under the edge of his fitted dark grey t-shirt. The unifying characteristic of the two was that they were pale, very pale. I took a quick sniff of the air for confirmation. Shit. Why were there vampires in my living room? I wondered if this day could get any worse.
Now, forget what you might have heard about vampires and their inability to enter homes without an invitation. It’s simply not true, and explained how they were able to get into my house when I was quite sure I hadn’t invited them. The invitation myth was invented by an exceedingly stellar PR person to keep the general populace from freaking out and staking every vampire they met. It also kept the vampire clan homes from being burnt to the ground while they soundly slept the day away.
Maintaining this false sense of security in the general populace was a high priority for the clan masters, who made every effort to preserve the myth. They were concerned that there would be mass genocide if the general public found out that hungry vamps had the ability to waltz into the homes of sleeping citizens any time they wanted a late night nosh. Wait, can you call re-killing a race of dead people genocide? Not that they would admit to being dead. They were just transformed, as they liked to call it. Transformed into a walking, talking tick, by a virus that could be transmitted only at the point when a human was nearing complete exsanguination. Sounds like fun, right?
“Good evening Ms. Lassiter,” the man leaning against the fireplace said. I couldn’t place his accent but his tone was cordial, as if it was perfectly normal that he was standing in my previously dark living room, waiting for me. He smiled, showing off a lovely set of shiny white teeth and two particularly vicious looking fangs. If I hadn’t already noted their scent, that smile would have eliminated any remaining doubts that there were vampires in my house.
“Good evening…?” I said giving him an inquiring look and a tight, not quite smile.
“Ah, forgive me, my friend over there is Seamus and my name is Lok.” He dipped his head a little when he made his introductions.
“Doesn’t Lok mean happiness in Chinese?” I blurted out doubtfully.
“Why yes, it does,” he said, mocking me. “Has my presence brought you happiness?” he asked, tilting his head questioningly to the side. He looked like a curious terrier when he did that. I suspected he wouldn’t appreciate the comparison, so I kept it to myself. I spared a quick glance over at my other visitor. He was watching our exchange with interest but had not moved from his position by the door.
“Actually no,” I told him honestly. It was rude but really, why not be honest? They would know I was lying anyway. Nobody in their right mind would be happy to see two uninvited vampires in their living room, ever. Let alone after the day I’d had.
“If you’ve seen the news, you know that it’s been a particularly shitty day for me,” I replied. “I’m not really in the mood for company.”
“It was the news that brought us, Ms. Lassiter,” answered Seamus as he pushed off the doorjamb and made his way further into the room. His voice had an Irish lilt, not entirely surprising considering his name. Somebody had sent out quite the cosmopolitan welcome wagon this evening. Lucky me.
“So, I can assume that your being here has something to do with Jason’s death?” I took several deep breaths in an effort to slow my racing pulse. Vampires were predators and they could sense fear, in fact like most predators, the fear of prey could be intoxicating. I did not want to make the situation any more dangerous than it already was.
“You can,” Seamus confirmed while he walked a circuit around me. He was scenting me. Lovely. Not only were there two vamps in my house, this one was hungry.
“Do you mind?” I said, giving him a disgusted look. I was reassured to note that even though he appeared hungry, both he and Lok were very trim. You never wanted to meet an overweight vampire; their excessive girth was a testament to a dangerously overindulged appetite.
“Not at all,” he said, giving me a wicked, toothy smile. He sauntered back to take up his position near the kitchen doorway. His t-shirt was so tight that I could see the twin bumps of nipple studs on each of his pecs. This one was clearly the muscle, and Lok was obviously not, which meant I needed to keep my eye on Lok.
A person’s normal instinct was to watch the person who presented themselves as a blatant threat, and that could get you killed when dealing with vampires. They were all a threat; the less threatening they appeared the more dangerous they were, because you invariably misjudged them based solely on appearances. Even the most helpless looking, petite one-hundred pound female vampire could bench press a pick-up truck, completely defying the laws of physics. Definitely not someone you wanted to physically underestimate. Yes, these two dichotomous men were sent here as a pair for a reason. I suspected that it was because their master knew I was an elf, but did not have a good hand
le on my skill set. Someone was being careful.
Most elves were immune to glamour, which meant that I was not completely at a vampire’s mercy. Additionally, everyone was wary of confrontations with elves because our anger could be unpredictable. While renowned for our moderation and affinity for nature, we were also feared for our tendency to be overcome by our inner berserker when pushed by grief or anger to a place well beyond reason. Once the berserker was in control, we were unrestrained, mindless really, in our thirst for retribution and justice.
The lore of the Wild Hunt found its origins with the Elves. That was when we could still come back from the abyss if the rage took us. In moments of need our berserker would come to the fore, bringing with it strength and boundless courage to mete out punishment. Once the thirst for justice was sufficiently sated the berserker would recede, allowing the elf control once more. But a plague nearly three hundred years ago changed all of that, and it spared no one in the elven community. The illness caused irrevocable damage to the psyche of our entire species, the virus somehow separating us from the ability to control our alternate selves. Now, if the berserker was freed – even once – it could never be suppressed again.
The plague’s origin is unknown, but the resulting devastation was infamous. It was the start of a dark age in elven history where we were feared and hunted by the other races. Only our ability to finally contain the rage within the walls of our minds stopped the deaths – on both sides.
I think it was shock alone that had kept my beast at bay earlier today. I said a little prayer of thanks for that small favor, even though I was worried about how much longer my containment would hold. I had been working to strengthen the walls around my rage and grief since this morning. All elves are taught as children how to visualize a barricade around our alternate selves. We took yoga and meditated to create the quiet minds necessary for the task. It was effective when one had sufficient time to get a good handle on it. Unfortunately, I had not really had much opportunity to do more than a patch job today.
I considered my options. It might have been possible to make a run for it, if Seamus hadn’t been standing in front on the doorway to the kitchen. A vampire couldn’t outrun me, even without the berserker’s aid. I assumed that was why Seamus was by the entrance to the kitchen and subsequently, the back door. His position effectively eliminated that as a viable escape route. It was highly probable that there was one more fanged lackey around here somewhere, making sure I did not bolt out the front.
Boxed in like this I knew I wouldn’t stand much of a chance if I tried to make my escape on foot. I’d never get past them in the confined space. Besides, they would just be back tomorrow – and again the next day – so it seemed better to just find out now what they wanted. Since it did not appear they wanted me dead (or I already would be), I opted for cooperation.
“So, what is it that you want exactly?”
“Mr. McCallister would like to discuss a few things with you,” Lok informed me.
Liam McCallister was the local clan master. He was officially responsible for all the vampires in the City of Philadelphia and the surrounding region including Wilmington in Delaware, and Camden and Trenton in New Jersey. His progeny and blood-claimed protected his interests in those satellite cities, reporting directly up to him.
Despite his high profile position, McCallister was in reality a modern day crime boss who had his fingers into everything, from illegal gambling to drugs. Paradoxically, since he was also the local clan master, he was received in social circles where no other crime boss could hope to be admitted. He had even been allowed to adopt a young child, who was rumored to be an orphaned member of his still-human family. I was not sure I was buying the fatherly bit he portrayed in public but I had to admit he made an intriguing character for the media.
We had attended a few of the same social events on a handful of occasions, and had even met this past Spring at the annual charity gala for the local children’s hospital, if you could believe it. I assumed that he attended for the same reasons most politicians did – it was good public relations. ‘Look at the nice vampire, supporting such a wonderful cause!’ His money and position made everyone look the other way when whispers of his connection to drugs and prostitution floated through the media.
“I assume that this isn’t an optional discussion?” I said dryly.
“No,” Lok responded while shaking his head in mock sadness. “I’m afraid it isn’t.”
“You don’t suppose McCallister would consider doing this tomorrow evening?” I could not bring myself to call him Mr. McCallister. That implied I was beneath him somehow. Or owed him respect like a child to an elder. When we met he had told me to call him Liam, although I doubted he would remember. I opted for just using his surname, since the situation did not seem to warrant the level of casual familiarity that calling him Liam implied.
Lok just raised his eyebrows at the question, allowing me to draw my own conclusions.
I let out the deep breath I had been holding. “Well, it doesn’t look like I have much of a choice, then.”
“No,” Lok replied, shaking his head.
I got my purse off the hall table and started to slip my cell phone inside. I was happy to see it was still in one piece, since I had been gripping it so tightly.
“You need to leave the phone,” Seamus told me.
“Why?” I hated the thought of not having it with me; it made the trip that much more unsettling. This, when I thought about it, was surely part of the plan.
“Orders,” Seamus shrugged.
I reluctantly placed the phone on the hall table. There was an imprint from the edge of the case embedded into the palm of my right hand. I rubbed at it absently while grabbing my coat, all the while acutely aware that my two visitors were carefully watching me to ensure I did not bolt.
“I’m not going to make a break for it,” I assured them.
Seamus seemed about to make a comment when a female voice said, “There’s a car watching the front of the house.”
I turned to see a woman of about my height, with a fiery mane of red hair looking out the window next to my front door. I knew there was another one around here somewhere. She must have been upstairs or in one of the other first floor rooms when I came in. She could easily have circled back into the foyer to cover that exit.
Seamus took a peek out the living room window. “Looks like the Interspecies Bureau has decided to keep an eye on you Ms. Lassiter. Wonder why that is?” he asked speculatively.
“Maybe they think I need protection,” I suggested with no small amount of sarcasm. “Although, if that’s the case, they aren’t doing a very good job of it. I might need to make a complaint tomorrow.” That was assuming I was still alive tomorrow.
Seamus snorted and pointed to the kitchen, indicating I should head that way. I was all for cooperation. Everyone was minding their manners at the moment, which I could probably attribute to my father’s position within the government. I guess I had found something I could count on my father to provide – protection. But I couldn’t delude myself into believing that the Lassiter name would protect me indefinitely. I was being whisked away to meet a clan master without anyone knowing where I was going. I could disappear, and no one would be the wiser that Liam McCallister was involved.
Chapter 5
McCallister’s people had an Audi SUV parked about a block and a half down the street. We made our way out my back door and into the night without the agent in the car out front realizing anything was amiss. Someone definitely needed to ring his bell. Why even bother watching the front and not the rear of a house? The incompetence was mind boggling.
Once we reached the SUV, I sat in the back with the redhead who introduced herself as Jacqueline. The name was French, but she sounded more like a southern belle to me. She kept calling me “ma’am” even though I was certain she was older than I, and could break my neck with a flick of her perfectly manicured hands. The oddity of the situation would ha
ve had me laughing out loud if I weren’t about to collapse from stress and exhaustion.
They took me to the River Walk, one of McCallister’s clubs located in the Manayunk section of the city. The area was famous for its steeply hilled neighborhood that descended straight to the banks of the Schuylkill River. On the narrow flat stretch of land just above the water was Main Street. For several blocks the buildings backed up to the Manayunk Canal, but once you got to the 4100 block, the establishments backed straight up to the river. The whole area had an artsy vibe, and was lined with trendy restaurants and eclectic shops. I was thankful I had not been taken to Free Fall, a club he owned off Delaware Avenue. That one was located on the top floor of an otherwise vacant building. It creeped me out when I drove by at night and saw the flashing lights leaking out of the windows, especially when all the subsequent floors where pitch black. I had absolutely no desire to ever actually go inside.
We parked in a lot that ran alongside the building in a spot marked ‘Reserved’. It was so hard to find a parking spot in Manayunk, and usually a sign was not enough to deter anyone. Except in the case of vampire-owned establishments. No one in their right mind would park at night in one of their reserved spots, especially one owned by the clan master.
Lok led the way as we approached a side door manned by a vamp. This one was average looking in the sense that he was not tall, he was not ethnic – he was not noticeable. He apparently thought the same about me because he barely flicked a glance in my direction as we passed through the door into the bowels of the bar. We walked down an alley of supply boxes stacked nearly to the ceiling. A cursory look at a few labels indicated that they contained mundane things like stirrers and cocktail napkins.
We approached an interior door with another sentry. This time, the vampire was anything but average. He had an ebony complexion that looked nearly blue-black in the dim overhead lights. When he spoke to Lok, his teeth were a snowy beacon in the midnight landscape of his face. He glanced briefly at me before touching an earpiece fitted over his left ear and turning his head to speak softly. With a jerk of his head he indicated that we should go up the stairs beyond the door. Seamus remained at the bottom, while Jacqueline followed Lok and me up.
The Severed Thread Page 4