by Helen Bell
“He knows we’re here,” Gideon said in a low voice. Just then, a dagger came hurtling through the air, aimed at Thomas’s chest. He seemed oblivious to the weapon flashing toward him. My new fast instincts kicked in. Timing the knife’s rotation, I caught it in midair by the handle, the silver blade a few inches shy of Thomas’s heart. Then a vampire lunged in my direction.
“Gee, thanks for the new dagger. You shouldn’t have,” I told him as I kicked him in his stomach. He stayed upright, as if my blow didn’t affect him at all. I scowled in annoyance. His fangs slid down, his eyes flashing silver. He took a swing at me. I dodged his fist, spun, and kicked his shin. Hard. He dropped to his knees.
“That’s more like it,” I said, then slammed a foot into his face, knocking him backward to the floor where he stayed for a second before leaping back to his feet. Jesus, really? As he attacked me again, I ducked to avoid his punch, twirled the knife in my hand with surprising expertise, and whipped the blade into his heart. He collapsed to the floor.
I looked down at the dead vampire, smirking. “Let’s see you get up from that one.”
“Nicely done,” Gideon said, and I turned to Thomas. He stood motionless, looking like he was processing what had just happened, clearly not used to having his ass saved.
“You okay, Thomas?” I asked. He snapped out of his stupor and gave a curt nod. A corner of my lips quirked up. “You sure? ’Cause, you know, we don’t have time to babysit.” I threw his own words back at him.
A tiny smile spread across his mouth as he pushed his dark glasses up his nose. “Indeed, Miss Newbern, indeed,” he said as his leg lashed out to aim a back kick at a vampire who appeared suddenly behind him. Then he spun around, pulled a silver stake from his suit jacket, and killed him with a single stab to the heart.
More bloodsuckers came out of hiding to fight us. After we finished them off, we moved down a hall, passing closed doors. It looked like no one, aside from the vampires who had assaulted us, occupied the place.
“Hey guys, how do we even know Andrew is here?” I asked when we stopped at a corner office door labeled with the name: Andrew Bassino.
“That weasel is here all right,” Thomas said. The door was locked so he bashed it in with his foot, and we walked into a large suite with floor-to-ceiling windows covering two walls. The furniture was modern and dark. A two-seat couch, a low, glass-top coffee table, and a black floor lamp faced Andrew’s desk. There was also a brown chaise lounge near the windows. To its left, a man in a suit sat behind a massive cherry-wood desk. Skin with the typical vampiric flawlessness, he looked to be about thirty-five in human years, his hair blond, his eyes brown.
Gideon glided toward him. “Andrew!” he said in a theatrical voice. “There you are, hiding out and sending your guards to welcome us. Tsk tsk tsk, that’s no way to greet old friends. I gotta say it does hurt my feelings.” He pulled up a chair before the desk and settled in, kicking his feet up on the table, legs crossed at the ankles, hands clamped over his stomach. “And here I thought we were getting along so well. Oh, by the way, how’s the eye I injected rat poison in doing? Still in pain?” A slow grin appeared on Gideon’s face.
Andrew’s nostrils flared, eyes flickering silver. His gaze then moved to me. “Who’s the girl?”
“Who? Her?” Gideon nodded to me. “She’s the one who will break your bones one by one if you don’t tell her where her sister, Zoey, is.”
Andrew’s face creased in a scowl. “I don’t know anything.”
Thomas, who was next to me, became a blur of movement. Suddenly at Andrew’s side, he slammed the lawyer’s head into the desk and pressed his palm against the temple to hold him still. It’d happened so fast that when the sound of Andrew’s skull crashing into the wood boomed in the room, I jumped. Gideon, on the other hand, didn’t move a muscle, reminding me how inhuman he was.
“Andrew, you wanker, how is it to be a demon’s little bitch?” Thomas growled.
“And Thomas, I believe, doesn’t need an introduction, right?” Gideon said, still in the same position.
“I can’t give out any information,” he told them. “If she knows I talked, she will end me, and then what?”
Thomas sneered at him. “And then the world would become a better place. My patience is running low. Spill everything you know. What was inside the package the bitch demon gave you? Where are the missing girls?” He released Andrew but didn’t move away from him.
Andrew touched his left cheek and hissed with pain. “You brute,” he cursed. “I talk and Maura, the demon, will torture me to death. I don’t, and you torture me to death, so I have nothing to lose. Do whatever you want with me.”
Gideon relaxed in his seat as he looked him over. “If you don’t start talking, yes, I’ll make you suffer, but I won’t kill you. My goal is to extract information from you, and it’ll be hard to do that if you’re dead.”
“Go ahead, torture away. Do your best. I won’t break,” Andrew said.
“I know you won’t break under torture.” Gideon smiled at him. “The beating part is just for my own enjoyment. It is after I’m done causing you pain that I’ll make you talk.”
Andrew snorted in contempt. “How? You have no leverage. Like I said I’ve got nothing to lose.”
“Wrong,” Gideon corrected. “There is one thing you’d rather end your pathetic existence than lose.” Dropping his legs off the desk, he stood, then slapped his palms flat on the table, leaning forward until his face was close to Andrew’s. “Money.”
That single word made Andrew shift his weight in the chair while running his finger around his collar and loosening his tie. Gideon straightened and went on, “I bet your biggest client won’t like hearing about your dirty secret. How do you think he’ll react when he discovers his two-hundred-year-old vampire lawyer is having a bit too much fun with his precious fifteen-year-old human daughter? I’m curious, how much money does his business bring to your firm?”
Andrew gritted his teeth. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, but I will,” Gideon promised. “However, unfortunately for me, the torturing part will have to wait until next time, but if you don’t start talking now, Mr. Brown will get a call—”
“Okay,” Andrew said. “What do you want to know?”
Gideon crossed his arms over his chest. “Everything. And for your firm’s sake, it better be useful.”
Andrew leaned back in his seat. “I’ve been working for Maura for the past two years, doing small things for her.”
Thomas snorted in derision.
“She’s been paying good money. No one would’ve said no to that,” Andrew told him.
“Speak for yourself,” Thomas said.
Andrew ignored his comment and continued. “The last time I met with Maura was when she handed me the package you inquired about. She instructed me not to open the box and to keep it in my office until someone came to claim it. I have no clue what was inside it, but I heard her speaking on the phone before she took off. From what I gathered, the contents of the package have something to do with some human girls. That’s all I know, I swear. My motto is as long as I get my money, I don’t ask unnecessary questions.”
“Did she mention the names Zoey or Kyla? Did she say where they are?” I asked.
His eyes met mine before returning to Gideon, as if I wasn’t worth his attention.
“Answer her.” Gideon’s tone was annoyed.
“Never heard the names Zoey or Kyla, but when Maura got off the phone, she asked me if I happened to know any human girls between the ages of eighteen and twenty. I did, and she paid me generously for the girl’s home address and phone numbers.”
“That’s it? That’s all you got?” Anger laced my voice.
“That’s all. My motto is—”
“Yeah, yeah, as long as you receive your damn money, you don’t ask unnecessary questions,” I finished for him.
“Who came to collect the demon’s item?” Thomas asked.
�
��He was a male. Human. About six feet tall, dark hair and eyes, young, maybe nineteen years old. A week after meeting Maura, he waltzed into my office without an appointment, and I handed the box over to him. He went by the name Jupiter.”
Jupiter … Jupiter … The unusual name was familiar. It took me a second to remember from where. The day I’d gone to Laurel’s for the weekend, I’d visited Zoey in her college dorm room. She’d been on the phone as I walked in, flirting with a guy named Jupiter.
“I need a computer with an internet connection,” I said. Andrew lifted his chin in the direction of a laptop that was on a nearby table. I moved to it and searched Jupiter’s name on social media, starting with Facebook. I got just three hits: Jupiter Wilson, Jupiter Hill, and Jupiter Powell. I clicked on their photos, opening a new tab in the web browser for each account.
I carried the open laptop to Andrew and placed it on his table. “Take a look. Do you recognize any of them?”
He leaned forward and glanced at the laptop’s screen. “The first picture, it’s the same Jupiter who was in my office.”
I checked his personal information, then looked up at Gideon. “He lives in New York and goes to college in New Haven. The last time I saw my sister was in her door room, and I think she was talking with this guy, Jupiter, on the phone. We gotta go back to New Haven and look for him.”
“Or for Maura. She may lead us to Zoey and Kyla, too,” Thomas said.
“We should split up,” Gideon proposed.
Thomas agreed. “Good idea. You two fly back to Connecticut. Look for Jupiter while I search for Maura. I’ll arrange for the jet to take you.” He pulled out his cell phone and issued a voice command to it.
“Okay,” Gideon said, and we stepped out of the office, leaving Thomas with Andrew.
After hailing a cab, we drove to the airport. A surge of hope rose in me as I stared out the car window; Jupiter Wilson was our best chance to find Zoey and the other missing girls.
Chapter 18
The new cell phone Gideon had bought me rang in my jeans pocket, surprising me. Who would call me? I dug it out and checked the display, then thumbed ignore. I shoved the device back in my jacket.
“It’s Kelly. I’ll return her call when we’re done here,” I said to Gideon as we stood in front of a two-story house, a fraternity banner hanging from the second-level balcony.
Most of Jupiter’s posts and pictures on his social media were public. His best friends’ names, his hobbies, his daily schedule. But the most useful piece of data was his current whereabouts.
“And you’re sure he’s here because …” Gideon said.
“Because I’ve been reading his tweets since we landed.”
“Tweets?” His brows wrinkled like I’d spoken in a foreign language. To him, I might as well have. I keep forgetting the dude’s old—like one hundred and sixty-five years old. He may own a cell phone and a laptop, but social media is not his area of expertise.
“Twitter’s like sending texts but to the whole world,” I explained.
“I see. And Jupiter tweeted that he’s at his frat house now?”
“He did.”
We climbed the three steps to the porch, and I knocked on the front door. A guy with a bag of Doritos in his hand answered it. He welcomed me with a flirtatious smile, but it vanished when he noticed Gideon.
“Yo, not being disrespectful here, but when was the last time you saw the sun? Go to the beach sometime, work on your tan, bro.”
Green colored Gideon’s irises. “Where is Jupiter Wilson?”
“With the pledges in the basement.”
“Go tell him to come up here,” Gideon directed, and without a word, in a trance-like state, the guy turned around and walked away.
After a few minutes, Jupiter filled the doorway. The gym looked like his favorite place. His eyes narrowed at Gideon, like he recognized the reason behind Gideon’s pale, flawless complexion.
“Not here. Someone may hear us. Let’s go upstairs. My bedroom is safer,” Jupiter said.
We stepped inside a typical frat house, passing by a large living room where half a dozen empty beer bottles lay scattered across the floor. Two guys were sitting on a brown couch, laughing at something on the big-screen TV in front of them. When we walked by a pool table between the living room and dining room, the guys playing threw us a glance before returning to their business.
We went up the stairs to the second floor, trailing Jupiter to his bedroom. He closed the door behind us. The medium-sized room contained an unmade bed, a nightstand, and a closet. A pair of jeans, socks, and a few T-shirts were strewn across the floor, waiting to get washed.
“Ever heard of a laundry hamper and a washing machine?” I said.
“You’re welcome to do my laundry anytime you want, sweetheart, but first, I’d like to know who the fuck sent you two to me?” He cut right to the chase.
“You flew all the way to New York to pick up a package from a law firm in Manhattan. What was in it? Why was it sent to you?” I asked, ignoring his question.
He chuckled as if it amused him that I thought he’d answer me. “Listen carefully, sweet pea, I have powerful friends, so you don’t wanna piss me off. I ain’t saying a word to you or to the vamp, so take your little ass and get out of my house.”
I sighed. “I guess we’re gonna do it the hard way then.” I stepped in front of him and kicked his legs from under him. He fell sideways. His shoulder and head hit the floor. With a moan and a curse, he rolled onto his back and was about to rise when I planted a foot on his chest, pinning him down. He struggled to get free but failed. “You listen carefully. Call me sweetheart or sweat pea again, and your next sentence will be without your front teeth,” I threatened as I applied pressure to his breastbone.
“What the fuck? What are you?” With the weight against his chest, his voice came out more throaty than the outraged shout he clearly meant it to be.
“Answers, Jupiter, I want answers,” I told him.
His head turned to Gideon. “Get this crazy bitch off of me.” He growled with pain.
One shoulder leaning against the doorjamb, hands in his front jeans pockets, legs crossed at the ankles, Gideon watched him, blue eyes twinkling with humor. “Crazy? Phew, you have no idea. You should see her when she doesn’t get her ice cream.” He pulled his hands from his pockets to mimic a mushroom explosion by spreading apart his hands and fingers, then advised, “I’d answer her questions, if I were you.”
My phone came to life in my pocket. I let it ring. “I’m waiting. Why was a package sent to you? What was in it?”
“I can’t … fucking … breathe.” Jupiter struggled to speak. He reached for the boot on his chest. “Get … your foot off of me.”
I pressed down harder. “My foot will be off you only if you tell me what I want to know, so you better decide: putting oxygen into your body or answering my questions.” My phone’s tune signaled another call.
“Fine, I … I’ll tell you.”
I lifted my foot with a warning look and silenced my cell.
He sat up, coughing and rubbing his chest with one hand. Then he stood and went to sit down on his bed.
“The package wasn’t for me. I was paid to go pick it up from a law firm in Manhattan, but I don’t know what was in it. Could be blood, though. Look, I met this guy a year ago at a party my fraternity brothers threw. He offered to pay me lots of cash to run some errands for him. Given that he comes from old money, I trusted he was good for it, so why the hell not, right?
“At first I was selling weed for him. Then it was pills, MDMA. And then, it was blood bags. I was like, what the fuck, man? What kind of twisted shit did you get me mixed up with? He explained that vampires were real and warned me not to whisper a word about it to anyone. At the time, I was sure he was bullshitting me, or high on something strong, but the next day he showed me this real vamp chick, with fangs and all. Man, it was sick. Never seen something so cool. I got all the proof I needed. The last
errand he paid me to run was that package in New York.”
“And where is the package now? Did you deliver it to him?” I asked.
“I did, about a month ago.”
“Is that guy a demon? Does he work for Maura?” I asked.
A quizzical expression crossed his face. “A demon? Demons exist too? Th—”
“What’s the name of the man who paid you?” Gideon cut in.
Jupiter shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Uh, Brad Lauridsen. He’s a senior at Yale and not a vamp, but not sure about the demon thing. And never heard the name Maura.”
“William Lauridsen’s son,” Gideon said under his breath, his tone filled with scorn.
I blinked. “William Lauridsen? Who’s he?”
“A powerful human with a lot of connections in your world, close friends with the governor,” Gideon replied. “His ancestors worked for a US Ruler, Djar. For years William Lauridsen was in the business of human trafficking. Then, his older son, Noah, took over the business.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. Human trafficking … All those missing girls. Oh God, Zoey … No, I couldn’t even think about her being sold like a piece of meat.
I glared at Jupiter. “Where’s Zoey? Zoey Newbern. You know her, I heard my sister talking on the phone with you. Where is she?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Zoey? Whoa, hold on a jiffy, she’s your sister? Aren’t you missing or something?”
“Where is she?” I repeated.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he answered. “She wasn’t picking up any of my calls, so I got worried and stopped by her dorm room. Her roommate told me she dropped out, just left town abruptly and took all of her stuff. Weird shit, if you ask me.
