Stake and Dust (Stake and Dust series, Book I)

by Karen Michelle Nutt

  Chapter Eleven

  Cassandra ended the call with Tremayne with the plan to meet at the wharf after six tonight. She glanced at her watch. She had a few minutes to spare.

  There were very few slips vacant. She wondered if the Lamia took residence on a boat or if she lurked beneath the water just waiting to strike.

  She stepped closer to the edge of the ramp and glanced at the watery depths below. The murky color prevented her from truly seeing anything beneath its surface with clarity.

  The Lamia would think nothing of giving her lover a watery death once she drank her fill. And the vamp she hung out with couldn't be an innocent bystander either. Maybe they shared their victims. She couldn't rule out the possibility.

  Earlier today she'd spent time at the morgue, where the victims had been put on ice. The blood had been siphoned, but there was unusual bruising around each of the victim's mouths and beneath their eyes as if they had been starved, but they didn't appear emaciated.

  Where could the Lamia be hiding? She glanced at the sun sitting low on the horizon, the day slipping away to night faster than she'd like. She glanced toward the storefronts across the way, one being the Eternal Bliss. The pub had been a pleasant surprise. Even though Tremayne had been sent to the States as a punishment, he did all right securing a home base.

  "Speak of the devil," she murmured as she spotted Tremayne, leaving his establishment. He wore jeans and a sweatshirt with a hoodie even though it was a pleasant seventy-three degrees.

  "Have you had any luck at the morgue?" he asked upon reaching her side.

  "No more info than we already had." Her gaze slid over him. Tall, fit and he wore his jeans well, but the hoodie? "What's with the hoodlum getup?"

  "What do you mean?" His brows furrowed over the bridge of his nose.

  "Never mind." She rolled her eyes at his fashion sense. Who was she to judge when his attraction hadn't been hampered in anyway – at least not for her? "I checked out the morgue, but other than the obvious, there weren't any clues as to where the victims had been murdered and drained of their blood before being dumped. What I don't get is why would they want the bodies found when they could have easily hid them away where no one would ever be the wiser? They would have entered into the system under missing persons, case unsolved."

  "They like the notoriety," he offered his opinion. "They get off in letting us know they can kill at will, aye?" He fished out a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket.

  "What's this?" she asked as she took it from him.

  "I did some digging myself. As much as the paranormal duo wanted us to know of their proclivity to torture, they may have more killings they have not publicized."

  She unfolded the paper with the list of names. She glanced at him again. "This is a big list, and not all of them are men either."

  He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "These people went missing during the tourist season. Now some of those on the list just might be easily explained away as runaways from family disagreements, but at the very least we should check it out."

  She nodded. "What about the pub? What time do you have to check in tonight?"

  "I have it covered. I'm free to be your partner for the night."

  Her gaze met his and her heart thudded faster than it should. She really wished her libido would quiet down when she was around this man. They had a case to solve and no time for a partnering of a different kind, not that he was asking. "Great," she managed to say without her voice cracking and revealing her feelings. "Let's start with the first one on the list. The one the parents reported as missing then changed their story."

  "Tony Maillard," he said. "He hasn't been back to school. So one guess why the parents changed their story."

  "Glamoured by the vamp to forget their son is gone."

  "It's my guess." He nodded.

  "Do you know anything about him?" she asked. "You have the word 'local' next to his name on your list." She handed him back the paper for safekeeping, and he stuffed it in his back pocket.

  "The Maillards own a home in the Hamptons, and in North Carolina. Nice family is what I gathered. Tony turned nineteen this past May. And guess what his major is in college?"

  "The arts."

  "Oh aye. He wants to be a writer. He's been making a name for himself with a column in the local newspaper."

  "Definitely fits the Lamia's MO." She leaned against the railing as she peered at Tremayne. "What else do you know about him?"

  "By all accounts he seems to be a well-adjusted and responsible young man. His parents have money, but they encouraged their children to work for the summer, while not in school. His online presence appears squeaky clean, too."

  "And where does this upstanding teen work?"

  "Last place of employment is the coffee house as a barista."

  "Which one?"

  "It's the Coffee House." He motioned with an incline of his head. She spotted the 'Coffee House' sign with a vintage coffee cup as its logo.

  "I could use a cup a coffee just about now," she said, returning her attention back to him. "How about you?"

  His lips curved into a wide grin. "Thought you'd never ask."

  "Lead the way then." She waved her hand in front of her in a grand gesture.

  She was impressed with Tremayne's sleuthing skills. She hadn't expected him to arrive tonight with a clue to follow. He'd been busy when he should have been getting some shuteye. She glanced his way, looking for signs of fatigue, but the man seemed bright-eyed and ready to take on the night. She shrugged. She worked well on a few hours of sleep, too. Looked like teaming up with this guy wouldn't be so bad after all, and she'd had her doubts when they first spoke three days ago. She wasn't going to argue with the turnaround.

  They entered the Coffee House and the place hummed with conversations from the locals and tourists alike as they chatted over a cappuccino or a macchiato with whip cream. She personally liked good old regular coffee with a splash of flavored creamer, or milk and two sugars, which she ordered from the barista named Chloe, or so her nametag claimed.

  "I haven't seen Tony in a while," Cassandra casually said to Chloe as if she knew Tony personally. She carefully sipped her coffee and peered at the girl over the rim of the paper cup, hoping the girl would loosen her tongue and talk about the missing teen.

  "He skipped three shifts," Chloe said, "before his parents told us he wouldn't be back." Chloe pursed her lips and looked away. Obviously, not pleased with Tony's decision.

  "Did he move away?" she asked, pushing for more information.

  Chloe narrowed her eyes with suspicion. "I'm sorry, who are you again?"

  Maybe she pushed a little too hard. She opened her mouth to try another approach, but Tremayne beat her to it.

  "We're friends of the family," Tremayne said with a lazy grin that made his dimple wink. Damn that dimple was all kinds of sexy. She chanced a glance at Chloe, hoping she'd fall for Tremayne's charm. The girl's eyes slid over Tremayne's features, then to his broad chest, and then back up again before she gave him a big toothy smile. Oh yeah, she was under his spell.

  "Well if you're friends…" She let the sentence hang there for a half a second as she looked over her shoulder. She appeared worried someone would overhear their conversation, but those around seemed preoccupied with the latest gossip their friends had to tell, and others were on their smartphones. No one appeared particularly interested in their conversation at all.

  "I didn't believe Tony just decided to call it quits," Chloe revealed. "He wasn't that kind of guy. I've known him from grade school. He would have given us a two week notice, if he planned to leave." She leaned on the counter as if she intended to tell them a grand secret. "It was weird," she continued. "I worked with him on the last shift he showed up for. We made plans to see a movie on the following day. We were both off and we were to meet in front of the Coffee House, but he never showed, and when I phoned him, it went straight to voice mail."

  "Maybe he's just a flake," C
assandra said, which won her an exaggerated eye roll from the barista.

  "I just told you Tony wasn't that kind of guy. He was considerate. He'd phone in, even if he would be a few minutes late to work. He'd stay after his shift to help out if he noticed we were running behind. No, Tony wouldn't just flake. Something's happened to him, and no one seems to care. Not even his parents."

  "What about the articles in the newspaper? Tony's articles…" Tremayne said and slid a newspaper clipping over to the girl."

  She did one better. She leaned down to retrieve something, which happened to be a folder filled with newspaper clippings. She plopped the folder on the counter and opened it for them to see. "I've saved every article he's written. Don't get me wrong. Tony is talented, but his articles of late aren't quite the same. So either Tony has drastically changed his writing techniques or someone else has taken over his column. I'm betting on the latter." She closed the folder and looked at them. "Tony hasn't return any of his phone calls – from me or any of his other friends– and no one has seen him, but his articles keep appearing like clockwork."

  Cassandra exchanged looks with Tremayne before he questioned the barista further. "Was he seeing anyone? Was there a girlfriend perhaps?"

  "Nothing serious." She chewed on her lower lip as if she thought of something.

  "If you remember anything that might help us find Tony, we'd appreciate it," Tremayne pushed.

  "Well there was this guy who pestered him. Kept trying to talk to him about college courses. Tony, being Tony, never told the guy to take a hike. And before you ask," she directed her gaze to Cassandra, "Tony liked girls and this man didn't strike me as wanting to date Tony either, but..." She sighed with a frown as if she were recalling this man's motives all over again. "There was something off with him. Kind of gave me the willies. Tony would laugh off my warnings to dump the guy, and insisted I was just being paranoid, but now I'm not so sure. Maybe Tony should have listened to me."

  "Have you seen this guy since Tony stopped working here?" Tremayne asked.

  "Come to think of it, no." She leaned down behind the counter and retrieved something else. "I don't know the guy's name, but he left this after one of his visits." She handed Tremayne a box of matches with the logo: 'Bygones' printed in bold gold letters.

  Chapter Twelve

  With Chloe's lead, they headed in the direction of Bygones. Tremayne didn't bother with the hoodie. The sun had set, leaving the night to rule. He glanced at Cassandra who kept pace with him as she examined the matchbook as if she'd find a clue. He didn't note anything out of the ordinary about the matches, but he recognized the name of the place printed in bold letters.

  The establishment proved a favorite among the vampires and other preternatural beings, a legit place with nothing underhanded going on there—at least as far as he knew. At Bygones, vampires didn't have to pretend they didn't sport fangs and could order blood drinks without question. He'd been there a time or two, but he found some of the company dismal. Woe is me, I'm the un-dead, didn't suit him. He really detested whiny beings, vampire or not. They needed to get over themselves and move on. Gotta love yourself before you can love someone else. He was a big believer in that policy.

  "Have you been to this place?" Cassandra asked as they walked away from the boardwalk and headed toward the street where Bygones was located.

  He'd been to the establishment, but he didn't think it wise to share the tidbit with her. "I've been by it." He wanted to question the bartender there, but he wasn't sure if it would be a wise idea for her to go inside with him. The clientele would know she was a hunter just by her stance alone. It would make them leery to dole out information. Heck, they might even hide the vamp they were looking for purely on principle.

  "You've been by the place?" Her lovely brows furrowed and he had the urge to smooth the lines away with the pad of his thumb.

  "What aren't you telling me?" she asked and looked him in the eye.

  She was good. Never missed a beat when it came to hunting. "It's a place where hunters aren't exactly welcomed. They'd think we'd gone mental for just stepping foot inside."

  She gave him one arched eyebrow now. She had many expressions and he looked forward to learning each and every one of them. Arch eyebrow meant: 'Are you kidding?' and in a sarcastic manner of speaking.

  "Why hasn't the place been shut down then?" she asked, but he knew what she really meant. Why were the preternatural beings left to live?

  "They mind their own business," he told her. "If they watch their Ps and Qs…" He let the rest of the sentence trail off with a shrug.

  She glanced at him with a tilt of her head. "Out of curiosity, are you okay with the policy you just spewed?"

  "About not offing the preternatural beings and asking questions later?"

  "Yeah."

  He could lie and say he was a bad-arse hunter out to kill all beings not considered human. Too many of the hunters had that backwoods, narrow-minded view – where Otherworldly beings were concerned anyway. He went with telling her the truth. Their whole relationship couldn't be based on lies. "Not all preternatural beings are bad news," he said. "Just like not all humans are good upstanding individuals either. There's plenty of them who should have been offed a long time ago, but human laws prevent such vigilante pursuits." He held his breath waiting to see if she'd blast him with righteous hunter bull crap.

  "You sound like my brother, Derek."

  Not exactly the answer he thought she'd give him. "Is that a good or a bad thing?" he asked upon reaching their destination.

  "I think highly of my brother," she said and pushed opened the door to Bygones, and entered.

  His lips curved as he followed her inside. He really liked this hunter.

  The interior of the place held an old world feel to it with sconces on the walls and the overhead lights were faux candle-lit chandeliers. Of course all fixtures were electric and not the flickering lights of a real flame.

  The scent of coffee hit his nostrils first. Not a surprise. Preternatural beings liked their coffee as much as the humans did. An espresso was one of the favorite drinks among the werewolves. They tended to drink large quantities of the stuff as if amped up on caffeine would make their overly charged persona even better. He'd known more than a few werewolves. Truly, they should avoid the stuff.

  His gaze landed on a werewolf seated in one of the corner booths. He sported sideburns and long hair. He reminded him of someone, but couldn't quite put his finger on who. The werewolf eyed Cassandra with curiosity before his gaze landed on Tremayne. One thick eyebrow rose as if he realized Tremayne wasn't human. The werewolf sat back in his seat and folded his beefy arms across his chest.

  Tremayne ignored him for now. The guy looked like he wanted to watch the show, not join in. He turned his attention toward the jukebox against the far wall. One of the Fae stood there, looking over the selections offered, and a werejaguar hovered nearby as if to help him choose the best song. The place had yet to form a crowd, but the three customers present could make things difficult if they chose.

  He would bet the guy manning the bar was a lower level demon with the way his glamour slipped in and out, revealing glowing red eyes. His nervous response most likely initiated because he recognized Cassandra as a hunter, and the demons weren't overly fond of vampires either. The demon's gaze shifted from Cassandra then to him in confusion. Yeah boyo, you're truly seeing this. He was sure there was a bad joke in there somewhere. A vampire and a hunter enter a bar… Only he didn't know the punch line.

  "We'd like to ask you a few questions," Cassandra said upon reaching the bar, not wasting any time on pleasantries.

  "Yeah, and what would that be?" the demon asked with suspicion.

  "We're looking for a Lamia who may be fraternizing with a vampire."

  "What's it to you, hunter?" the demon spat.

  "We just want to chat with them," she told him.

  The demon chuckled without mirth. "Sure, and I bet you're going to ask
them to join you in a cup of coffee."

  Cassandra's lips curved. "Missing humans are bad for all preternatural beings…" She let the statement hang there for a few extra seconds to bring home her point. The demon pursed his lips and shifted his weight to one foot then to the other as he eyed her.

  "We suspect this couple is doing the kidnapping," she continued, "but if you want to harbor the fugitives then we'll have to hold you responsible as well." Her smile broadened at the prospect.

  The demon glanced at Tremayne. "You okay with this?"

  "I am. The Guards of Judgment would agree, too." He dropped the official Otherworldly law-enforcers' name, hoping to sway the demon to cooperate. It seemed to do the trick even though the demon put up a front of defiance with a few choice words.

  "Not sure what the Lamia's name is," he said, "but she hangs out with one of the Draugr vamps. I think his name is Gunthorn."

  "You wouldn't happen to know where Gunthorn lives, do you?" Tremayne asked.

  The demon shook his head, but then his eyes lit up. "I believe I heard him mention to one of the girls he tried to pick up that he owned a houseboat. Personally, I was glad she didn’t go with him. Human girl, probably a runaway. They seem to always want to flirt with danger. They wander inside Bygones looking for it, if you know what I mean."

  "I'm sure," Tremayne said as he placed a hand over Cassandra's. For some reason the demon was bating them and he didn’t want her pursuing it. They were here for one reason and one reason only. Cassandra glanced his way with annoyance, but once he made eye contact with her, she seemed to catch on and remained focused on the objective.

  She turned back to the demon. "It would make sense if Gunthorn hooked up with a Lamia that he'd have a place close to the water," Cassandra said.

  "The Lamia would need to rejuvenate often," Tremayne added. "Only seawater would do the trick." He glanced to the side where the werejaguar had decided to take up residence at the far end of the bar. He then noticed the Fae took interest in the opposite end. "We should go," he murmured in a low tone to Cassandra, who seemed to catch the same vibe. Her hand slid to her weapon hidden in the pocket of her jacket, but didn't draw it, which proved a smart move.