Nick had seen this kind of thing before.
Liquid monitors.
The room must be equipped with augmented reality—possibly full-blown virtual immersion.
No wonder Straven liked getting high in here.
At the moment, only the screen in front of the two couches was lit.
Morphing shapes, also reminiscent of the 1960s—or possibly the 1980s, when a lot of that stuff reemerged—melted, dripped, morphed, and flickered across the smooth surface, sending weird shadows across the back wall, making Nick feel like he was underwater.
He glanced back at Wynter and Straven when the androgynous vampire laughed, throwing back their head.
“Oh, you are naughty!” the artist proclaimed, kissing her on the cheek.
Nick tensed.
At the same time, he saw the vampire watching him, looking between him and Wynter as if measuring Nick’s reactions to where and how much they were touching Wynter, or possibly measuring something else, something Nick couldn’t see.
The look was subtle; Nick wondered if Wynter even noticed, especially with Straven currently doing an excellent job pretending Wynter was the only other person in the room.
Jordan’s voice rose in Nick’s headset.
“You mind letting me in on what the hell you’re doing right now, Midnight?” The detective spoke dryly through the sub-vocals. “Or is this just your psychotic jealousy rearing its ugly head? Crashing Ms. James’ date by bringing her in here… dragging her away from the hot blondie vampire who clearly intended to take her home?”
Nick glanced at the human detective.
Thinking about his words, he frowned.
“A little of that,” he admitted after a beat. “I also thought she might be a good distraction.” Giving Straven a slightly sour look, he added, “Looks like I wasn’t wrong.”
“Don’t go vampire batshit on me in here, Tanaka—”
“I won’t.”
“Anyway, aren’t I the distraction?” Jordan said, clearly trying to get Nick’s eyes off Wynter and Straven. When Nick didn’t answer, didn’t take his eyes off the other two, the human kicked Nick’s foot. “Are you saying I’m not pretty enough, Midnight?”
“She’s prettier,” Nick said, still watching her.
Jordan chuckled through the line. “Fine. Whatever. Still a lame excuse to drag your girlfriend in here, Tanaka.”
At Nick’s sharp look, Jordan rolled his eyes.
“Don’t even start with the ‘ex-’ shit. I know what ‘ex-’ looks like, Tanaka… I’m divorced. The two of you are about as close to being ‘ex-’ as me and the ex-wife are to getting back together. Just face it. You’re still a thing. Deal with it.”
Pausing, he added,
“Did you warn her she’d have Straven pawing all over her, at least?”
“I didn’t know she would.”
Nick glanced back at Wynter, frowning as he thought about his partner’s words.
He didn’t really want to go that far in his thinking, though, not now.
For now, he’d focus on the other reason he brought Wynter in here—meaning, beyond his jealousy issues with the blond vampire she’d come here with, and also beyond Wynter providing social lubricant with the flirtatious, androgynous, reportedly hermaphroditic, billionaire vampire who clearly found her attractive.
Nick focused on the third thing.
The part he couldn’t tell Jordan.
Jordan didn’t even know Wynter was a hybrid, much less that she had actual seer abilities. She wouldn’t be able to read Straven themself, of course—most full-blooded seers couldn’t read vampires, much less hybrids.
She could read Straven’s lawyers, though.
She could also get impressions off the conversation overall.
He hadn’t spelled that out to her before bringing her in here, but he knew she’d know what he meant, when he told her he needed her help in a “professional capacity.” She’d come to the club wearing human-mimicking pheromones, so she didn’t smell like a hybrid; there was no reason Straven would take any kind of precautions with her around his people.
There was no reason he’d worry about her being a reader.
He’d assume she was human.
Anyway, as far as most people were concerned, there were no species left on the planet who could read thoughts like that anymore. The vast majority of hybrids couldn’t read minds. The seers were gone, as far as anyone else knew. Vampires could only read thoughts off their feeds, and then only for a few hours after an actual feeding. They couldn’t read people without that blood connection.
Vampires weren’t seers.
Hybrids weren’t seers, either.
Wynter was different.
She was unique.
Even apart from her overt psychic talents—which Nick still didn’t know the full extent of—Wynter had a way of picking up things Nick missed.
She glanced at him, lips quirking as she looked over her shoulder.
For the first time, he noticed she’d colored her lips darker than usual, a blood-red, red-wine color. It brought his jealousy back in a hard flush when it occurred to him everything about her tonight—the dress, the lipstick, the artful curls in her hair—had all been done for someone else, probably with the intent of getting laid by that someone else.
But it didn’t distract him so much that he missed the significance of her over-the-shoulder look, or the humor in her eyes.
Had she heard that?
Could she just fucking hear him, now? All the time?
Even when they weren’t standing particularly close to one another? Or touching one another?
Was that a thing now, with the two of them?
She snorted, giving him a flatter look, and Nick felt that tightness in his chest worsen.
Jesus fucking Christ.
“I saw the story on the news,” she was saying now, rescuing her hand from both of Straven’s and murmuring sympathetically to the white-haired vampire. “I’m really sorry about your building. It was the Sphinx Building, wasn’t it? Downtown? That design is… genius. Absolutely gorgeous.”
Straven beamed at her all over again.
Nick felt himself stiffen when the vampire moved closer to her again, coiling an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to their lean body.
“You are too kind, my new, gorgeous friend.” Staring at Nick over Wynter’s bare shoulder, Straven gave him a half-smile. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am that your detective ‘friend’ brought you in here to console me. You are simply delicious, darling… I cannot remember when I last smelled anyone quite so intoxicating—”
“She’s not a present,” Nick said, speaking before he knew he meant to.
Even he heard the hostility in his voice.
He fought to dial it down when everyone looked over at him—including Wynter, who quirked an eyebrow, a faint question in her eyes.
Nick forced his eyes back to Straven’s.
“Be nice, sister-brother,” he added, subduing his voice with an effort. “Take mercy on a brother with a full heart.”
Straven smiled for real that time.
Releasing Wynter, they bowed their head to Nick, their eyes bright.
“Oh, my dearest brother.” Straven smiled wider, breaking out in a low chuckle. “I was teasing you. Truthfully, I was beginning to wonder how far I would have to go with your mate before you interceded in some way. You are far, far too polite.”
Jordan grunted at that, rolling his eyes.
Nick kicked him with a foot, and Straven chuckled again.
“You must know me better, so I don’t cause you undue distress in the future, my brother.”
Straven’s smile grew into a more obvious smirk before they added,
“Of course, that does not mean I do not envy you madly for this lovely creature. But I do not poach the mates of my brothers or sisters… and, if you don’t mind my saying, it was fairly obvious when I saw the two of you kissing on the dance floor when
I walked in… oblivious to everyone else around you… that you were not in any way interested in sharing.”
Nick felt his jaw harden.
Creature.
Straven just called Wynter a “creature.”
Before the wars, it was a word vampires generally reserved for seers.
It wasn’t a hard and fast usage, of course; Nick heard vampires refer to humans using that word, especially in the post-war world.
But it wasn’t common.
Nick definitely got the impression Straven wasn’t sloppy with language.
The vampire seemed to choose their words carefully, with an eye to effect.
Moreover, a vampire of Straven’s age wouldn’t have used that particular word without knowing exactly how it would come across to a vampire of Nick’s age—all the while knowing the reference would fly entirely over the humans’ heads.
Wynter’s pheromone mist, or whatever she used, might have worn off a little too much while she sweated and danced.
That, or Straven was old enough, they could smell what she was, even past it.
Whatever the truth of it, Straven clearly enjoyed playing games.
They also seemed to be amusing themself by testing Nick in some way Nick himself found increasingly difficult to give a shit about. If this white-haired, rich, vampire fuck threatened his girlfriend, Straven wasn’t going to like the results.
They weren’t going to like them at all.
Straven smiled as they held one another’s gaze.
Something in that smile told Nick Straven knew exactly what they’d said, the effect their words caused, and that they were now enjoying watching Nick come to the same conclusion.
Straven glanced at Jordan and smiled, right before their eyes returned to Nick.
“You do like playing with fire, Detective Midnight,” Straven mused, stepping back from Wynter entirely from where their arm lingered by her waist. The white-haired vampire motioned politely for her to sit next to them on the pink couch opposite Jordan and Nick.
Nick didn’t like that, either.
Whether Straven was just trying to yank his chain or not, he didn’t like it at all.
Wynter sank to the couch obediently, sitting easily between Straven and the thinner, more rat-faced of the two lawyers, the one who’d refused Nick’s hand.
She met Nick’s gaze.
That time, Nick saw a bare warning there.
He could practically hear her voice in his head as he held her stare.
Calm down, Nick, her eyes said. Don’t let him get to you.
Nodding, mostly to himself, he glanced at Jordan.
“Is everyone ready to begin?” Jordan said, clearing his throat. He turned, smiling at Straven. “This shouldn’t take long,” he added. “We appreciate you making time for us tonight. Especially under the circumstances.”
Straven smiled at him, waving off his concerns with a flourish of their hand.
“Of course. I appreciate everything you are doing for me, detectives, given what’s happened to one of my most favorite jewels.”
Nick saw the vampire’s fingers rest on Wynter’s thigh, linger there, and felt a pain in his chest that briefly blinded him.
Without thought, he spoke.
“Wynter. Would you come over here, please?”
She looked at him.
Studying his eyes, she seemed to see something there, or perhaps in the broader expression on his face. She got up at once, crossing the small distance in her high heels without a backward glance.
Sinking down beside him on the couch, she slid a hand deliberately over his thigh, and left it there, leaning her shoulder and back into his chest.
Nick immediately felt something in his chest ease.
He didn’t relax.
In fact, he more or less did the opposite of relax—but he felt so much better it was difficult to remain silent, to not say something to her, to not kiss her. He found he couldn’t even look at her, not directly, but his arm slid around her waist, tugging her closer to where he sat, so that she pressed deeper into his side.
When Nick glanced up, he found Straven staring at him, that smile hovering over the older vampire’s lips. Straven looked from Nick to Wynter, and back again, and Nick could almost feel the other vampire coming to some conclusion about what they saw.
Nick had no idea what that conclusion was.
Frankly, he didn’t give a shit.
Wynter had probably just saved Straven from a beating.
Well, at least until Straven’s lawyers called in security, and Nick got tased and dragged out of the club, probably in handcuffs.
Wynter let out a soft grunt of amusement.
Nick looked at her, in spite of himself.
“Relax,” she murmured, rubbing his thigh.
When Nick looked away, he caught Jordan scowling at him.
“Are we done?” the human detective muttered, giving Nick a disbelieving look. “Is everyone sitting in their correct fucking seats now?”
Nick turned his gaze to Straven.
“Did you know Silverton?” he said, blunt. “Abe Silverton?”
The vampire smiled. “Of course. He was a very dear friend. For many years.”
“You know he’s dead, right?” Nick said.
The white-haired vampire didn’t so much as flinch.
“I had heard that, yes. Most regrettable. They informed me when I was contacted about the explosion. I was told it was a burglary, correct?”
The white-haired vampire looked from Nick to Jordan when neither of them answered.
“Why are you asking about this?” Straven said, when neither immediately spoke. “I also heard there were recordings of the entire event. Abe always did like his gadgets… it’s hardly surprising that the whole thing was caught on camera. Surely there is little mystery left to solve? Nothing I could help with, at least?”
Nick frowned.
How did Straven know that?
Before he could speak, Jordan did.
“The couple who did it… they had a record. They are known for committing most of their work for hire,” the human detective explained. “We’d like to find out who hired them. For the same reason, we’re trying to determine a motive.”
“Motive? But it was burglary, na?” Straven said again. “Isn’t that motive enough?”
Nick frowned a little at Straven’s use of the seer word.
“Were you able to determine what was in the box?” the older vampire said. “The one that blew up?”
Nick felt his patience wearing thin.
Clearly the celebrity vampire wanted him and Jordan to know just how much information they were privy to—including the kind of information Straven definitely shouldn’t be privy to, particularly given how early it was in the investigation.
“How well did you know him?” Nick said, ignoring the question. “Silverton.”
There was a pause, then the vampire gave an elegant shrug.
“As I said, he was a dear friend. So quite well.” Straven extracted a silver case from the embroidered, 18th Century jacket they wore and thumbed it open, pulling out a long, dark, cigarette that smelled to Nick like it had real tobacco in it. “We were social friends. We were also business partners. We had several projects going currently. Quite lucrative ones.”
“What projects were those?” Jordan said, following Nick’s lead.
“Another business complex,” the older vampire said, their voice holding the faintest hint of a drawl. “A multi-story mall with business offices above.”
Straven ignited a small, neon-blue lighter and held it to the end of the dark cigarette.
“…In Queens,” they added, clicking the lighter closed and exhaling pungent, indigo-blue smoke. The vampire glanced down at Wynter’s hand on Nick’s thigh, and smiled. “There was also a design project Abe wanted me to partner with him on. And a big government contract. That last one was quite special. All very hush-hush.”
Nick noted the vampire’s cigare
tte smelled like mook, not just tobacco.
He wondered if it was laced with anything else.
“Can you tell us anything more about that?” Jordan said. “The government contract—?”
“No,” the rat-faced lawyer said, before Straven could answer.
Nick and Jordan both looked at him.
The lawyer scowled with his razor-thin lips, glaring briefly and somewhat inexplicably at Nick, then focusing his ire back on Jordan.
“He shouldn’t have told you about that project at all,” the lawyer added, his blue eyes boring into Jordan’s brown ones. “You would need the correct security clearance to know anything about that… and I wouldn’t hold my breath on getting it.”
He gave Nick another scathing look.
“You already know more than either of you should,” he added sourly. “Especially that one. The Midnight.”
Nick was finally relaxing.
He’d relaxed enough that he found himself studying the human’s hard, blue eyes, right before he glanced at the other lawyer, the younger one with the reddish-blond hair.
“I didn’t catch either of your names,” Nick said. “We’ll need them for the record.”
Both lawyers reacted to that.
“The record?” the rat-faced one said.
“You aren’t recording this?” The younger, heavier lawyer looked between Nick and Jordan. Even in the dim light, Nick’s vampire eyes saw him pale. “You can’t do that.”
Nick and Jordan exchanged glances.
Then Nick returned the lawyer’s gaze, his voice polite.
“It’s standard procedure, I’m afraid,” he said. “We are required to record interviews with any and all relevant witnesses or persons of interest adjacent to a felony crime, according to New York Protected Area legal code 8172-JE884—”
“This was supposed to be a friendly interview,” the same lawyer cut in, clearly not absorbing a word Nick said. He glanced at the older, rat-faced lawyer seated on the other side of Straven, and now he was turning red. “Informational only—”
“It is,” Jordan said, holding up a hand in a calming gesture. “We can keep the recordings off the official record, at least for now. But my partner’s right. We have to record it. It’s the law.”
The Prescient: A Science Fiction Vampire Detective Novel (Vampire Detective Midnight Book 3) Page 11