Peace, Blood, and Understanding

by Molly Harper

  “I did not know that,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m sorry that I know it now, though.”

  “Weston’s definitely going to file a report with the Council about tonight’s incident,” Dick said. “Which is a shame, right before the national office bigwigs are visiting in a few weeks.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Thanks to Gigi and Ben’s genius, our office took over multiple parts of the reverse genealogy search engine project and launched it ahead of schedule—because we do happen to excel in certain areas, despite tonight’s theatrics,” Jane said. “We’re even taking over programming projects that the Council has put off for years. So some of the Council’s national reps, the ones who specialize in public relations and information systems, are coming to visit and get a feel for how we manage to run that department so smoothly, so they can put together a shaming PowerPoint presentation for other offices. It would not do for said bigwigs to witness anything like what happened tonight.”

  “Why is it important for these people to visit the office right now?” I asked Jane.

  “Because when these people tell you that they’re scheduling a visit to your office, they’re coming to visit your office,” Dick told me. “That’s it. End of discussion.”

  “So what can we do?” I asked.

  “You can do nothing,” Dick told me. “You can go home and get some rest. Jane and I will take care of it.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “Neither do we, hon, but this is our job, not yours,” Jane said. “Go home. Get some rest. Take tomorrow off if you feel you need to.”

  “No, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, rising from the couch. “I’ll have this form filled out by then.”

  “Is there anything else you want to tell us?” Dick asked, his brow furrowed. “You’re kind of off right now. And not just in the ‘elevator accident survivor’ way.”

  My mouth dropped open, and I couldn’t seem to produce words. There was no way I was going to tell them what had just happened with Weston.

  “About your parents?” Jane prompted me. “Chloe mentioned that some ‘sweaty guy who smelled like waffles’ dropped by your shop while she was there. Which fits your description of that private investigator pretty perfectly.”

  “Oh!” I burst out laughing. “Right—in all the excitement, I’d sort of forgotten about it. Yes, he did come by the shop, and I took the letter my parents sent through him—”

  “Oh, I thought you decided you weren’t going to do that,” Jane said, frowning.

  “And then I set it on fire without opening it.”

  Dick nodded. “I approve of this course of action.”

  Jane snickered. “Well, that’s one way to get your point across, but how about I have the legal department send that scary letter we talked about? You should be able to run your shop without Waffle Guy harassing you.”

  “Thanks, Jane. I appreciate it. Also, we should probably stop calling him ‘Waffle Guy.’ It feels mean.”

  Jane pursed her lips. “Still seems appropriate.”

  * * *

  My walk home was slower and less exuberant than usual. I didn’t even pause at the Capitol lot. I was not one for sex and regrets, but I was not sure how to feel about what had just happened. I had enjoyed myself, thoroughly, even if it had been a quickie in a compromised elevator. But it complicated things for me, personally and professionally, and I didn’t really know how to behave now—around Jane or Weston or Luke or anybody.

  I climbed the stairs to my apartment and was grateful for its silent, vacant interior. I shuffled into the shower and ran it as hot as I could tolerate. I let the water beat down on back muscles that were still a little sore from bouncing around the elevator car like a pinball—though Weston’s recently knit bones were probably worse in terms of lingering aches.

  I leaned into the hot spray. What was I going to do? He’d shown me a different side of himself, a side I could connect with and maybe even have deeper feelings for. But then, of course, he’d gone right back to business as usual, measuring and documenting all of our failures. That was disappointing. And then there was the possibility of Jane and Dick finding out that I was developing those deeper feelings, much less the naked feelings, for Weston. I didn’t think they would be very excited about that. And then, of course, there was Luke, and the many ways he could be playing into the chaos at the office. And then the chaos of the office, which was starting to wear on me.

  I turned off the spray and wrapped myself in a thick white towel. I threw on a pair of blue cotton pajamas that smelled of the lavender sachets I kept in the drawers. I lay down on my couch and tried to think of anything else. I updated my shop’s website. I even took out a sketchbook and doodled a plan for a garden I dreamed of planting in a much larger, nonapartment living space someday.

  Between the adrenaline fade and emotional exhaustion, I’d almost nodded off when I heard a persistent pinging from my phone. I dug the phone out of my bag and checked the messages. I had a text from a number I didn’t recognize.

  Is it weird to text you from the other side of a wall?

  Well, the only other person who would be texting me through the wall would be Sammy, and I had his number saved. So this had to be Weston.

  Yes, yes, it is. Also, how did you get this number?

  I have my ways, he wrote back. Do you want to come out to the balcony?

  I don’t know if I’m ready to leave my apartment. I had this really weird day involving a ghoul running rampant in my office complex and getting trapped in an elevator with a guy who bugs the hell out of me.

  What if I promised to drink one of your teas?

  Curious, I shuffled out through my sliding glass door with my sketchbook still clutched to my chest. I found him standing on his own balcony, with his phone in his hands. He was still wearing his office clothes, and he looked very tired. He must have written a heck of a report, I thought sullenly.

  “Were you really going to drink one of my teas?” I asked him.

  “Sure,” he said, nodding.

  “But you’re really relieved I didn’t bring one out for you, huh?”

  He nodded even harder. “Yes, yes, I am.”

  I laughed. He leaned over the railing of the balcony and kissed me softly. “I just wanted to see your face. Is that strange?”

  I shrugged. “A little.”

  He nodded at my sketchbook. “What’s that?”

  “Um, it’s just a sketch of an idea for the Capitol lot. I was thinking if I could find the right funding and get the city to agree, maybe the Council could turn it into a community garden.”

  “Why all the roses?”

  “Entirely selfish reasons involving my rose hip supplier.”

  “So it’s a lovely altruistic gesture that you will personally profit from?”

  I shrugged. “I’m just glad you can tell that they’re roses.”

  “I like the balance of it,” he said. “By the way, this was taped to your door when I came by,” he added, pulling a thick linen envelope out of his back pocket.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake.” I sighed. I didn’t have to look at the return address to know it was from my parents’ law firm. “I should have known they would make a copy.”

  “Why would they make a copy?” he asked.

  “Because I set the last one on fire,” I grumbled.

  “Sure, that seems reasonable,” he said, nodding. “Well, with reluctance, I’m going to have to say good night. I still have a lot of work to do before bed.”

  I shook my head. “Of course you do.”

  He paused. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, don’t do that. If you’re bothered by something, tell me.”

  Maybe it was the fatigue, or the additional frustration of another contact from my parents, but that verbal filter of mine failed once again. “You’re going to go in there and write a report about how Dick and Jane are screwing up, when it should be so obvious to
you that someone in the office is intentionally sabotaging them while you’re here. Peter Crown is just waiting for them to screw up so he can swoop in and turn the Council’s clock back fifty years.”

  Weston’s hands dropped to his sides. “And it’s still Dick and Jane’s job to keep those things from happening, even if someone is out to cause problems for them. And you also have to question why someone is trying to cause trouble for them, if they’re such altruistic, kind leaders. Why is someone trying to make Jane look bad? What are she and Dick doing that is making her constituents so unhappy? What kind of underhanded criminal activity is Dick getting away with that is making someone respond this way?”

  “Why are you so hell-bent on Dick being responsible for some sort of Council crime ring?” I demanded.

  “Because he killed my sire!”

  “What!” I exclaimed. “What are you talking about?”

  “I told you that Jonas was investigating corruption in the Martin office. This was in the 1970s,” Weston said reluctantly, like he wished he hadn’t shared this information with me in the first place. “I looked into his notes a few years ago, and they were riddled with mentions of Dick Cheney.”

  “What did Jonas think Dick was doing?”

  “He wasn’t quite sure, only that Dick, an outside supplier, was receiving cash payments for the purchase of office supplies. And that the office supplies were substandard. Just as he was about to obtain hard copies of the purchase orders, the curtains in his motel room mysteriously malfunctioned, and he died of sun exposure. The investigation was dropped for lack of evidence, and Dick’s criminal enterprises went on for decades.”

  “I don’t think selling unlicensed Snuggies out of the back of his car counts as an ‘enterprise.’ And yes, up until a few years ago, Dick was the king of not-quite-legal commerce around here—counterfeit blue jeans and irregular iPhones and that sort of thing. He helps you find stuff that you can’t find through normal channels because he knows a lot of people. But Dick wouldn’t hurt anybody!”

  “Then you are stunningly naïve,” Weston told me. I was very glad I had the separation of a different balcony. This had been a huge mistake. Everything I had done tonight—a huge mistake.

  “Look, I’ve spent a lot of time with Dick. He’s not violent, and he’s not a murderer. He’s completely devoted to his wife. And when Jane was first turned, he kept her from getting killed on several occasions, at great risk to his own safety. That’s not the kind of guy that would take out an auditor to save his own ass.”

  He grimaced and said, “Well, I have opinions about Jane, too.”

  “Oh, wait, now Jane is a criminal mastermind? Jane the former children’s librarian who sponsors reading programs and school lunches for underprivileged youth?”

  He threw his hands up. “I just find it suspicious that someone who has such an unremarkable background suddenly finds herself in a position of power at the same time that her previously near-bankrupt business takes off and becomes highly successful—all while she spends an inordinate amount of time with Dick.”

  “She didn’t own Specialty Books before. A man named Gilbert Wainwright owned it, and while he was a very nice man, he was a terrible business owner. Anything Jane did by comparison would seem incredibly clever.”

  “Yes, the nice elderly human man Jane just happened to befriend long enough before his mysterious death to get into his will and inherit everything he owned? Are you really that blind? I would think, given everything you’ve been through with your parents, that you would be more suspicious of people.”

  “And I would think, given the amount of love and understanding you were granted, that you would be more willing to give people the benefit of the doubt,” I shot back. “And I suppose you probably shouldn’t spend any more time with me, what with my family’s immoral, drug-tainted past.”

  “You know I don’t mean it that way.”

  “No, actually, I don’t. Because your way of thinking is so black-and-white that I can’t trust you to think in any way but good or bad, guilty or not guilty. Clearly, my hands aren’t clean enough for you to spend time with me, so I should just move along. So please forget everything that happened between us earlier; it was clearly a mistake. Just put me in that big old column you’ve got marked ‘not good enough.’ And walk away.”

  “Meadow.”

  I turned back and found him staring after me, his expression guilty. “I need to remind you that under the Council order you signed, as an employee, you are not allowed to discuss any information that pertains to my investigation with other Council employees. I do not want you to discuss anything I just disclosed to you with Dick or Jane.”

  My jaw dropped, and I simply stared at him for a long moment. Then I turned away and slammed the balcony door, as much as you can slam a sliding door. While I wanted to scream and throw everything in my apartment, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing me. So I breathed through the rage bubbling up from my gut and tore the envelope he’d handed me into tiny little shreds. And then I burned them, because that seemed to be an effective way of dealing with communications from my parents.

  Also, because lighting Weston on fire would be illegal. And messy.

  10

  Your surroundings can be a major influence on your mood and outlook. So surround yourself with positive people and things that put you in a good mood. Or at least avoid twenty-four-hour news channels, heavy commuter traffic, and fluorescent lighting.

  —Peace, Blood, and Understanding: A Living Guide for Vampires Embracing Pacifism

  The Council office became a significantly less fun place to work, which I supposed made sense after a deadly mythical creature we hadn’t even known was on the premises escaped and endangered the staff.

  I never appreciated the relatively high morale we enjoyed until I walked into the lobby to find people scurrying to their offices with their heads down, not talking, not smiling, and certainly not exuding the casual confidence of people who were sure they weren’t about to be eaten by an unknown monster housed several floors below. I could actually smell the anxiety rolling off my coworkers, human and vampire alike, which made my gift feel a little bit like a curse.

  Of course, our discomfort could have stemmed from the significantly less cordial greeting we’d received at the door. Our usual security guards, Arjun and Nina, were now sporting several firearms and a large can of antivampire silver spray. We had to walk through metal detectors and were now required to show our ID badges as we came in the door. It communicated to us not only that our presence was no longer trusted in the building, but that the Council was willing to put the hurt on us if we stepped out of line.

  Walking through the administrative offices, I stopped like a tourist overwhelmed by Times Square, frozen in place by the changes I saw around me. Was it my imagination, or were the lights dimmer? Was the carpet grayer? I felt the energy sort of drain out of me in a vortex of lethargy.

  “Hey, is everything all right?” I asked Lainie as I passed by her desk. She tossed her dark hair over her shoulder as she scanned the empty lobby.

  “New security protocols, following the ‘incident,’ ” Lainie said, giving me a smile that was very satisfied. It was almost a smirk, and it instantly put my teeth on edge. “The building should be much more secure from here out.”

  “No one seems to feel more secure. Everybody looks pretty… what’s a nice word for ‘scurrying around like it’s pre–World War II Paris’?”

  “Well, if you ask me, things were getting a little too lax around here,” Lainie said airily.

  “Exactly.”

  Suddenly, I smelled juniper, a strange, discordant note that made my nose wrinkle. It was anger, so much anger and resentment that my belly curdled with it—which could only mean… Oh, hell.

  We turned to find Peter Crown standing behind us. He still looked about as friendly as a snake in a kiddie pool. His smirk was firmly in place as he sauntered forward. “People seem to forget that
this is a working environment, not a day-care facility.”

  “Mr. Crown,” I said. “So good to see you again.”

  “I doubt that very much,” he said snidely. “I’m very aware of how members of Jane’s clique feel about me.”

  “I don’t think the office runs on a clique system, Mr. Crown,” I said. “Trust me when I say I’ve been around enough of them to notice.”

  I sniffed subtly, but I didn’t smell honey or cucumber, just that awful sharp juniper scent. Maybe I’d been imagining the scent before? I’d been under stress in the elevator that night, but it wasn’t like me to just make up scent associations.

  “Yes, your unfortunate youth spent in Lexington’s upper circles,” he drawled.

  My carefully composed expression must have slipped, because he smiled rather nastily. “Oh, yes, I know all about you. I made some calls to the Louisville office after Weston jumped so quickly to your defense. You have had a… colorful history for someone so young, haven’t you?”

  “I don’t know if I would say that,” I responded, carefully keeping a lid on the exasperation that had sprung up so easily during our last encounter.

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t. You have a vested interest in keeping your history quiet, don’t you, Ms. Schwartz?”

  My smile was a thin slice of nothing. “I’ve never hidden who I am.”

  “Oh, we can never hide who we are.” The nasty grin returned and had me taking two steps back.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” I said, turning away.

  “And, Ms. Schwartz?” Crown called after me. I turned and gave him my fake grin, the “shopkeeper’s smile.” He gave one in return that was just as shallow. “Just a reminder: employees have been instructed not to discuss the incident.”

  “OK, then,” I said, nodding and backing away from him.

  Jane poked her head out of her office, and her expression was in no way satisfied or pleased to see Mr. Crown. While still a stunning example of vampire attractiveness, her face was pinched and rather drawn, like she hadn’t gotten much sleep the day before. “Hey, Meadow, do you have a minute?”