by Jenn Burke
But why was it here? Lexi had taken it home to do more research on it—
Lexi had taken it home.
“Oh fuck,” I whispered before bolting out the door.
* * *
Two cop cars sat at the curb in front of Lexi’s townhouse.
“No,” I whispered to my empty car.
I didn’t remember parking. I didn’t remember getting out of the car. One second I saw the cop cars, and the next, I was staggering up Lexi’s walkway and seeing—Marissa? She looked the same as the last time I’d seen her. More clothed, but the same. And she had no fucking right to be here.
I charged her and grabbed her arms. “What the fuck did you do?”
She yanked herself out of my grip and pushed me. “Nothing, you fuck!”
“Bullshit!” I started for her again, but arms surrounded me from behind, pulling me away. A cop, I confirmed with a glance over my shoulder, but I didn’t care. “What happened? Why are you here?”
The cop was saying something, something I should listen to, but all I could hear was the blood in my ears and Marissa’s harsh voice.
“Because the hospital called me!” she spat. “Lexi didn’t get around to changing her contacts, so they called me to say she didn’t show up for her shift. I came here and the door was open and—it’s a mess. Someone tore up the place.”
My breath caught and I—I stopped. The arms around me went from holding me back to holding me up. “Is she—”
For the first time, I realized there were tears on Marissa’s cheeks and her eyes were red. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice low and broken.
I wanted to yell at her some more, to tell her she had given up any right to cry for Lexi, but I could barely remember to breathe.
“Are you calm?” the cop asked me. “I’ll handcuff you if I have to.”
I nodded and she cautiously released me. When she pressed on my shoulder as a none-too-subtle cue to sit on the sidewalk, I gave in without protest.
Both Hudson and Lexi gone? This couldn’t be happening.
“Why are you here, Wes?”
“She left me a—a weird message.” Best way I could describe a suddenly appearing magical object to someone who didn’t know about magic. But that raised the question—Lexi had been gone much longer than the few minutes since the crown popped into existence over Hudson’s table. Had it taken the scenic route or what?
No way to know that answer until I could ask Lexi.
The cop, who’d wandered over to talk with her partner for a minute while keeping an eye on Marissa and me, marched back over to us. “What’s your name, sir?”
“Wes—Wesley Cooper.”
“And your relationship to Ms. Aster?”
“She’s my best friend.”
“Are you romantically involved?”
No, that would be the other missing person in my life. I laughed—and suddenly I couldn’t stop laughing. The cop’s words melted away, even though her mouth was still moving. I was pretty sure she was telling me to calm down, but like that was ever happening. My ex-maybe-not-ex-boyfriend and my best friend were both gone, and I had no idea who took them—no, that wasn’t true. I did. It was the asshole who’d grabbed me through the planes. Had to be. But his identity? Fuck if I knew. Fuck if I knew anything—
A sharp slap to my cheek snapped me out of it. Marissa had only an instant to give me a look of triumph before the cop had her on the ground, a knee to her back while she pulled her hands behind her to put on the cuffs.
I lifted a hand to my cheek—which still stung, she’d hit me good—and eyed her. “You’ve been dying to do that, haven’t you?”
“So worth it,” she said with a grin.
Whatever her motivation, the slap had definitely blown away the fog of nonreality. The cop helped Marissa, now cuffed, into a sitting position, and turned back to me.
“Mr. Cooper?”
“Yeah—I mean yes. Sorry. It’s been...” I didn’t even have the words to describe it. “Um... I’m a friend of Detective Hudson Rojas.”
The cop—her name tag said Langley—froze. “Rojas?”
I wasn’t surprised by her reaction. Of course word of his disappearance would be making the rounds. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and nodded. “Yeah. Could you give Detective Sergeant Katrina Li a call?” I hated to bring attention to what was going on, because the normal world and the paranormal one were getting far too close to crossing in an awkward and uncomfortable way. But if the cops could help find either Hudson or Lexi... “I think Hudson’s disappearance and Lexi’s might be related.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
This trip to the police station left no doubt that there was a significant difference in being questioned as a witness and as a suspect.
With Iskander’s attack, I was a witness.
With Hudson and Lexi’s disappearance, I was a suspect.
I faced two new detectives this time—Dubanowski and Nguyen—and they weren’t nearly as friendly as the others I’d encountered. Even Kat’s expression, when she popped into the room now and again, was flat and unkind. They wouldn’t answer me when I asked for updates on the search for Hudson and Lexi, and their questions—their demeanor—got progressively harsher the longer I was there.
“Just tell us the truth,” Dubanowski demanded. She was a white woman, tall and stern, with short graying hair cut close to her scalp. “We already know you’re involved.”
“I’m not!” How many times did I have to say it? “I haven’t seen Hudson or Lexi since early yesterday evening.”
“Okay,” Nguyen said placidly. She was a study in contrasts to her partner—shorter, softer, with longer black hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were sharp and cold. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not involved.”
“I swear to god I’m not.”
“You know something,” Dubanowski insisted. “It makes no sense for three of your close associates to be victims of crime and for you to know nothing, suspect nothing. So maybe you weren’t directly involved...” She blew out a breath. “But c’mon. You’ve got to give us something. Tell us who has Rojas and your friend Lexi. You’ve got some questionable connections, right? As a contract thief—”
“I’m out of that life.”
Nguyen grunted. “Maybe. But is everyone happy about that? Does someone want to keep you in? Scare you?”
“No. I don’t know.” I slammed my palms onto the table. “Hudson was working on a case. Why don’t you investigate that?”
“We are. But that’s not connected to Lexi Aster. You’re the only thing connecting Iskander Hassan, Rojas and her.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I let my head fall back. “I don’t know,” I whispered.
Hours passed. The questioning didn’t get any easier, and I wondered if I should give them Frank Girard’s name. I just didn’t know what to do. What was the right thing? My gut said springing the cops on a vampire—or vice versa—wasn’t a sound plan. This was a guy who’d killed one person, at least, and had attempted to kill Iskander—god knew what he’d do if cops decided to question him. If they could even find him. They wouldn’t be prepared to defend themselves against him, and I couldn’t be responsible for that.
So I kept my mouth shut, except for repeating “I don’t know” for five hours.
Five. Fucking. Hours.
They had only suspicions and theories, no solid evidence to tie me to anything, so they finally let me go. I staggered back to Hudson’s when they cut me loose, beyond tired. Beyond exhausted. Collapsing into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, I leaned forward until my head thunked against the cool, flat surface of the table. The piece of the crown hummed at me, wanting my attention, but I ignored it.
I needed to not think. No, more than that, I needed to not feel.
That was how Evan found me
god knows how long later. Long enough that my back protested when I straightened up at the touch to my shoulder. I looked at him, and my expression must have been bleak, because his own tentative smile fell away.
“What happened?”
“I—they’re gone.” I filled him in—the bare bones of information I had—and didn’t bother apologizing for the times my voice broke. “When I left, they didn’t have any more information and Detective Li hasn’t called me, so...”
“Oh my god.” Evan scraped his hands through his hair. “Wes, I’m sorry, I—”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Because I wasn’t awake. I wasn’t here.” He blew out a frustrated breath and hugged himself. “Some friend I am.”
I shook my head, but I didn’t have anything left in the tank to offer him. It wasn’t his fault that he had restrictions. “They called Lexi’s mom and dad. They’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Her mom’s a witch too, right?”
“Yeah.” So we’d have that advantage, anyway. Rosanna could scry or cast a spell or something.
Evan eyed me critically. “Have you eaten? Slept?”
“Not yet.” I pushed up from my seat. Enough pity party—Evan’s presence was the catalyst I needed to get moving. “I’m going to sack out on the couch. Give me an hour, no more. Can you make some sandwiches? We’ll plan while we eat.”
“You’ve got an idea?” Evan’s eyes glittered.
“Maybe.” Even I could hear the determination in my voice. “I’m a not-ghost. You’re a vampire. We’re not helpless and I’m sure as hell not sitting here doing nothing for the rest of the night.”
* * *
After an hour’s sleep and a peanut butter sandwich, I felt better. Not great—because I still hadn’t heard from Kat—but better. Better enough to try haunting Hudson again.
It was just as ineffective as it had been hours before. This time, there was a glimmer of hope, a sense that maybe in another day or two I’d be back to my old self. But, goddamn it, I couldn’t wait a day or two. We needed to take action now.
That left planning out something I really didn’t want to do—but it was the only course of action I could think of. The one that would make Hudson shit bricks if he’d been around to know about it.
But he wasn’t.
It didn’t take much to find a list of questionable establishments in Hudson’s office. I couldn’t tell which one was owned by Lana, the vampire he’d questioned who’d once been involved with Hudson’s sire, Pike, but I decided it didn’t matter. We just needed to pick one. Maybe we’d get lucky and it would be Lana’s.
Although, on second thought, that might not be lucky if she found out we were connected to Hudson.
The bar we chose was located in a dingy corner of Little Italy, not too far from Hudson’s house. It was intimidating. Not because it screamed Bloodsuckers Within but because it looked like your typical rough, dive bar—normal, even though it wasn’t. Monsters hiding in plain sight.
Because even though I knew not all vampires were animals—I had two excellent examples in my life—I’d been warned off these bars enough to know Evan and I were walking into potentially hip-deep shit.
You know those scenes in a movie when the hero steps into a bar, and all conversation dies away? Yeah, that didn’t happen here—the bar was already still and quiet as we stepped over the threshold. Well, duh. They heard us coming, no doubt. And now all the patrons watched us, like big cats in the jungle waiting for their moment to pounce.
Like this was an ambush.
“Shit,” I breathed. Before I could usher Evan back out into the parking lot, a half dozen vampires moved forward and cut off our escape.
I assumed they were vampires, at least. Four men and two women. There were no telltale signs—their eyes weren’t glowing and their fangs weren’t down. One of the men looked like a biker, complete with leather jacket and chains and a scantily clad biker chick hanging off his arm. But the rest looked like regular guys, wearing jeans and T-shirts or polos. The second woman wore a plaid button-down, open over a T-shirt and jean capris—a casual ensemble I’d seen a thousand times and not anything like what I expected a vampire to look like.
The biker spoke. “I think you boys might have the wrong establishment,” he said with a dangerous smile. His girlfriend licked her lips as she gave me and Evan a once-over.
Her predatory look freaked me out more than the biker’s smile. “Uh...we’re looking for Lana,” I said.
The biker laughed. “Wrong bar.”
Okay—good? I could work with that. Maybe.
“We’ve got some questions.” Evan let his eyes glow as he stared at the biker and opened his mouth to show off his fangs—but they were only halfway down. I guessed he still didn’t have full control over them.
The biker threw his head back and laughed. “A baby vamp!” he announced to the bar. “We’ve got ourselves a baby vamp!”
Instantly the atmosphere changed. The crowd had been interested before, but now they were intent. Their focus felt like a physical thing, almost suffocating.
The biker turned his attention from Evan to me. “And he brought us a present.”
Oh shit. Shit. I’d forgotten that my blood smelled like candy to vamps—and these ones didn’t look like they resisted the temptation to take what wasn’t theirs.
“Wait, no—” Evan started for me as all hell broke loose. A bottle crashed down on his head, spraying liquor and glass and blood everywhere.
Before I could reach him, a vamp yanked me back. An arm banded across my chest like steel, and another wrapped around my neck. The woman in the plaid shirt scooped Evan off the floor and had him in a similar hold. He drooped in her arms, stunned, bleeding, and my heart lurched.
Risking myself was one thing, but risking Evan? When he was still working his way out of his depression and starting to believe in life again? What kind of asshole was I?
The vamp’s nose brushed against my neck and I heard him inhale deeply. “Aw, fuck, Carlos. He smells so good.”
“Yeah? Make sure you save enough of the party favor for everyone, Doug.”
I didn’t try to fight—there was no way I’d break this guy’s hold. “We’re looking for some information.”
“I thought you were looking for Lana.”
“She knows a friend of mine.” I hesitated, but hey, the situation couldn’t get much worse. “Hudson Rojas.”
“Never heard of him.”
Goddamn it—of course he hadn’t. Hudson would have used an alias when he was undercover, right? And I didn’t know what it was.
I felt Doug’s breath on my neck, and I didn’t wait to feel his fangs. I stepped into the otherplane. My hold was shaky, but better than it had been when we’d faced Frank and his vampires at Cyril’s a few days ago—another sign I was recovering. Shouts filled the bar as the vampires realized I’d disappeared. All of the vamps—even Evan—had the same dark, spiky appearance I’d first seen in Meredith’s house, and I suddenly realized it was because parts of their essence were bleeding into the otherplane. Not enough that they could access it easily, though Hudson had proven that with enough need and will, a vampire could reach into the otherplane for a moment.
It was an interesting discovery, but at that moment, irrelevant.
I slid in behind the biker and rematerialized enough to whisper, “All I wanted was information.”
“What?” He spun around, but I was already fully back in the otherplane. I directed my energy to the neon signs above the bar and one by one, they popped and exploded. Followed by the top-shelf bottles, then the next, and the next. Exercising my inner poltergeist felt damned good.
The vampires abandoned Evan and fled to the opposite side of the bar. Some had fled the bar entirely, and I heard more than one set of tires squealing down the street. Figuring my point was made, I ree
ntered the living plane and knelt down next to Evan.
“You okay?” I murmured.
He nodded, then winced. “Yeah. It’s healing.”
“What are you?” Carlos the Biker Vamp asked, his voice not quite as steady as it had been a few minutes ago.
“Pissed off,” I growled as I stood up and refocused on the vamps. “Frank Girard. Know him?”
“Frank? Girard? I don’t—”
Scowling, I started to fade.
“Oh yeah, Frank!” Carlos nodded. “Sure. I know him. He’s an asshole.”
“Sounds like our guy,” Evan murmured.
“Just because he’s one hundred and five, you know? Thinks he’s all that because he can walk around during the day.”
“Where can we find him?” I demanded.
“I don’t know. We’re not friends. I, you know, see him occasionally at the clubs and he’s kind of well-known because there aren’t many of us over a hundred.”
One of the T-shirt and jeans vamps held up his hand. Like this was a classroom. Ridiculous. I barely managed to hold in the chuckle as I said, “Yes?”
“I heard he was hanging out in one of the upscale sections of town.”
“Which one?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I overheard him bragging about his new digs and how it had a whole room for music. I guess he plays guitar?”
I froze. No...it couldn’t be. “Was it in Forest Hill?”
“Yeah, that was it.”
Oh my god. Oh my god.
“Wes?” Evan’s voice seemed like it came from far away.
“We need to go,” I managed.
Moving from the interior of the bar to the parking lot was a blur, but things came back into focus at my first inhale of crisp, late-spring-night air. I bent at the waist and tried to hold it all together as pieces of the puzzle slipped into place.
“Wes...you’re scaring me,” Evan said, his voice low and less than steady. “What’s in Forest Hill?”
