by PG Forte
“Don’t do that.” Quickly tightening his grasp on her thighs, he pulled her hips flush with his. “I’ve got what you want right here. Why would you go anywhere else?”
He could see the hunger rising in her eyes. Her breath quickened, but still she hesitated. “So, no more stupid lap-dance jokes?” she asked, looking suddenly just as young as he’d first imagined her to be.
Brennan was all at once vividly aware of her firm, supple flesh, warm beneath his fingers, of how snugly the two of them were pressed against each other, crotch to crotch. “Well, now, I can’t promise that,” he said, partly to tease, partly to challenge her, partly because it was true. She continued to gaze at him, her eyes shadowed by uncertainty, but he was pretty sure he knew how to fix that. He angled his head to the side once more, tempting her with his neck.
His breath caught at the suddenness with which she surged forward to take his throat in her teeth. He never even felt her bite. Perhaps his skin was still numb from her ministrations. Perhaps it was just too quick for the pain to register. Euphoria hit him fast and hard, like nothing he’d been expecting, with a jolt that would have dropped him, had he been standing.
“You’ve done this before,” he muttered, when he found his voice.
She snorted, inelegantly, her mouth still wrapped around his neck. “A few times, yeah.”
“How come I haven’t seen you around before now?”
She didn’t answer right away, but the pull of her lips gradually slowed to a stop. She laved his throat with her tongue and sat up, her expression grim. “We’re not from around here, that’s why. My brother and I…well, we’re just here to see Conrad, but he’s gone off somewhere, no one seems to know where, and…and I guess we’re kind of stuck here, waiting until he gets back. You know what I mean?”
Brennan nodded. “Sorry I can’t help you find him,” he said, not really sorry at all. If Conrad’s return spelled her disappearance, he hoped he never came back. “I haven’t seen him all week.”
Julie’s eyes widened. “You saw him that recently? When exactly?”
“I dunno.” Brennan shrugged disinterestedly. “I mean, he’s usually around somewhere but, now that you mention it, I guess it has been longer. It’s been maybe two or three weeks ago, since I saw him. The last time…I remember because it seemed kind of strange. He was on his way out and I was just coming on duty and I asked if he needed me to drive him somewhere, ’cause I do that sometimes, but he decided to walk, which he doesn’t usually do.”
“Do you know where he went?” Julie pressed. “He didn’t say where he was going, did he?”
“Not really. Just that he was going for a walk in the park.”
“Which park?” she asked, pressing harder.
Brennan frowned. “Why? Is it important?”
“No, not at all.” Julie shrugged and dropped her gaze, fidgeting slightly. “I was just curious.”
“Better be careful,” he said, watching with amusement as she chewed on her lip. “That’s how the cat got dead.”
“So, you really don’t know which park?”
“I didn’t say that, did I?” He smiled, intrigued by whatever it was she wasn’t telling him and definitely enjoying the feeling of, for once, being in the driver’s seat with one of the vamps. Right up until the moment she brought her gaze back to his face.
That look in her eyes could have seared steak. “Which park, Brennan?”
“The park. You know, Golden Gate? Which, like I said, is why I remembered it at all. It seemed so out of character.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because usually he avoids that place like you probably avoid mornings.”
“He does?” A frown creased her forehead. “How come?”
“I wouldn’t know something like that, would I? It’s just something I noticed. Most of them don’t seem to care one way or another. Some of them hang out there all the time, seems like. But not Conrad. He won’t even let me drive through it—not even if it’s the most direct route to wherever he’s going. He and that other one—the guy with the red hair. Armand? He’s just the same. The two of them will go miles out of their way to avoid the place. The way they act, you’d think it was cursed.”
Chapter Six
“Wait a minute. He told you the park was cursed?” Marc frowned at his sister. “Even if that were true, how’s that supposed to help us?” It was enough of a challenge just trying to hear what she was saying over the din of a thousand hearts beating, he really didn’t need her being cryptic on top of it. He glanced around hungrily. It was also possible there weren’t really that many human hearts in the club tonight, but the amplification sure made it seem like that was the case.
On the surface, Akeldama appeared very much like any other nightclub, aside from the row of curtained alcoves set into the walls for unobserved feeding. Which was one of several things it had in common with the other two clubs they’d already visited tonight. And, just like those other clubs, and like Conrad’s mansion too, now that Marc thought about it, it was clear that certain aspects, the lighting and sound systems for example, had been designed specifically with vampire sensitivities in mind.
“That’s not what I said,” Julie snapped. “Would you listen? He said Conrad always acted that way—right up until the night he disappeared. So, I’m thinking, what if I asked Armand what his deal is with the park, since apparently he’s the same way. Maybe that’ll give us a clue as to where Conrad might have been going.”
“Better check with Damian first,” Marc cautioned. “Before you get too cozy with Armand. He told you to stay away from him, didn’t he?”
“What’s the problem? I’m just gonna ask a few questions, same as I did last night. Which, by the way, was your idea. Remember? Besides, I don’t know how else we’re supposed to learn anything if we don’t talk to people.”
Well, that was certainly a point. “All right. Just be careful.”
The pulsing crimson lights that bathed the club in a sanguine glow altered their rhythm, subtly, in time to the music. Julie frowned. “Do you think they have clubs like this all over? Or is it just in the big cities?”
Marc shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me.” It was hard to imagine a place like this could avoid detection in a small town. On the other hand, he couldn’t understand how the feat was accomplished here, in the heart of San Francisco, only steps away from Union Square. How did they go about keeping uninitiated humans from noticing the place and perhaps stumbling into it unaware?
Or was he missing the point? Perhaps they didn’t. Perhaps the possible presence of accidental tourists was one of the main reasons for the club’s location, as well as a big part of its appeal?
“Uh-oh.” Beside him, Julie stiffened and turned quickly around, putting her back to the room. “Don’t look.”
“Where?” Marc asked, automatically doing just what he’d been told not to do. “I don’t see anything.” His scan of their surroundings picked up nothing of interest, other than a single, hawk-faced man at the bar whose attention Julie had obviously snared. It wasn’t the first time that had happened, his sister never did lack for snacks, but it had never before been cause for complaint. Marc watched as the man spoke quietly to the bartender, then headed in their direction. “Do you know this guy?”
“See what you’ve done?” Julie grumbled, watching his approach out of the corner of her eye. “I told you not to look. Now he’s coming over.”
“Oh, that’s my fault?” Marc studied the stranger with renewed interest. “Who is he, anyway?” Medium height, medium build, indifferent brown hair, undistinguished features; there was nothing remarkable, or even particularly memorable about him, as far as Marc could tell, apart from the confidence in his stride as he made his way across the room. He looked like a guy who could take care of himself, the kind who wouldn’t run from a fight. Or, more to the point, like the kind of guy who would, perhaps, look for fights to run into.
“That’s the guy I saw outside the ho
use tonight,” Julie hissed “With Brennan.”
“What, the one you said had a lousy dismount?” Like he hadn’t already heard enough about that.
Julie sighed. “That’s him. I think his name is Drew.”
“Greetings,” the stranger said as he came to a stop in front of them. His tone was strangely formal. Marc half expected to see him click his heels and bow. “I don’t mean to intrude but you both look familiar. Have you been in here before?” Though he’d addressed them both, it was still Julie at whom most of his attention seemed directed.
“’Fraid not,” Marc replied. His protective instincts coming to the fore, he subtly altered his weight so that his shoulder partially blocked the man’s view of his sister. “As a matter of fact, this is our first trip to San Francisco. We just got into town last night.”
The man’s gaze shifted to Marc’s face. His eyes narrowed. “Is that so? Well then, welcome. I’m Drew Geiger. And you are?”
“Marc Fischer. My sister, Julie.”
“Fischer,” Drew repeated thoughtfully. “I don’t recognize the name. Whose House?”
“Quintano.”
“Ah.” At that, Drew’s expression relaxed into a smile. “As am I.” Extending his hand, he clasped Marc’s forearm. “Well met,” he said, clapping him heartily on the shoulder, leaving Marc with the uncomfortable feeling they’d just wandered into Renaissance Territory. Could huzzahs be far behind?
“As it happens, I’m currently in residence at the mansion myself,” Drew continued, apparently oblivious to Marc’s confusion. “Perhaps that’s where I saw you. I assume you’re staying there as well?”
Marc nodded. “Yes. Damian hooked us up with rooms.”
“Did he?” Drew nodded. “I see. That’s one mystery solved then, isn’t it? We’ve all known for days he was expecting someone. Obviously, it was you.”
“What other mysteries are you trying to solve?” Julie asked, turning finally to face him.
Drew’s smile widened, but Marc couldn’t help noticing there was still a hint of something shuttered in his gaze. “I don’t know. Are there other mysteries to solve?”
“Didn’t you just say there were?”
“I suppose one could make the claim that life is full of mysteries.”
“Well, how about we eliminate one?” Marc suggested dryly. “Were you at the party last night? ’Cause, if you were, that would explain where you’d seen us.”
“It would, wouldn’t it?” Drew agreed, his gaze shifting once again to Marc’s face. “So, if I might ask, what brings you two to town?”
“Just visiting,” Marc replied casually. “Damian suggested we might enjoy a trip to the city. We were hoping to see Conrad as well, while we’re here, but it seems we’ve missed him.”
“Armand said he might be traveling,” Julie added, smiling encouragingly at Drew. “You wouldn’t happen to know where he’s gone, would you?”
Drew sighed. “Sadly, no. I’m not generally among those who Conrad takes into his confidence.”
There was a sudden rise in the volume of conversation near the bar and Drew half-turned toward the sound, his brow furrowing. “Excuse me,” he said, his frown momentarily changing back into an apologetic smile. “I should get back there. I’ll look forward to seeing you both again.”
“Wait,” Julie said, stopping him as he was about to walk away. “You weren’t in Golden Gate Park earlier tonight, were you?”
Drew’s eyebrows rose. “No. Why do you ask?”
“I thought perhaps I’d seen you there.”
“Did you?” He studied her for a moment, then shook his head. “Again, no. I’m afraid you’re mistaken. Although I am known to hunt there, upon occasion, tonight I dined elsewhere.” Then he inclined his head in a slight nod and strode back toward the bar.
“The park?” Marc turned on his sister in a fury. “What the hell was that about? Why would you ask him something like that?”
“I wanted to see what he’d say,” Julie replied stubbornly. “I have a feeling it’s important and I wanted to find out whether or not he’d lie about it.”
“Oh, a feeling,” Marc growled in frustration. “Well, great. Why didn’t you say so? There’s just a coupla problems, though. If it is important—and he knows it—we just tipped our hand. And, either way, since you weren’t actually there yourself, we still have no way to know if he’s lying.”
It was almost dawn when they arrived back at the mansion. Brennan had already gone off duty, Julie was disappointed to notice. Not that she was actually hungry again, but having constant access to a ready supply of warm food was a luxury—one she’d never been able to indulge in before. It was making her greedy, or maybe she was just being practical. Surely, a sip or two before bed would improve anyone’s mood. Except maybe Marc’s.
“Well, that was a colossal waste of time,” her brother muttered, preceding her into her room and collapsing across her bed.
Julie gazed at him in annoyance. “Why is it you’re always hanging out in my room?” she asked, as she went to sit by the window. “Your room has a bed in it too, doesn’t it?”
“What’s the difference?” Marc grumbled, pulling her pillow over his eyes. “You weren’t using it, were you? Gah, I’m so frustrated by this place. I feel like we talked to every vampire in the city tonight and yet, going by Damian’s list, we’ve only just scratched the surface. We’ve got hella more clubs still to check out.”
“I know,” Julie sighed. “And all we’ve got so far is one measly suspect.”
“We have a suspect?” Pushing the pillow away, Marc lifted his head and frowned at her. “What did I miss? What suspect?”
Julie looked at him in surprise. “Well, Drew, of course.”
“Oh, right,” Marc snorted. “Drew. Exactly what do you suspect him of, anyway? Other than poaching. ’Cause, I gotta tell you, Jules, if it comes down to it, he could probably say the same about you, and with much better cause.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Julie scoffed. “There’s all sorts of reasons to suspect him.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “First of all, he admitted he hangs out in the park, right?”
“So what? Forget the park, it proves nothing. I’m sure a lot of people hang out there. It’s a tourist attraction. Free food.”
“Two. He admitted Conrad doesn’t trust him.”
Marc sighed. “Jules, Conrad doesn’t trust anybody. That’s why we’re all in this mess. If he’d only told Damian where he was going, he’d have been home weeks ago.”
“Stop making excuses,” Julie snapped. “What about all the mysteries, huh?”
“What mysteries?” Marc gazed at her blankly.
“Exactly,” she purred in triumph. “Drew definitely hinted about there being multiple mysteries tied to this house—which we know is true, but how would he know that?”
Marc shook his head. “I think that was him trying to flirt with you.”
“Yeah? Well, in case you didn’t notice, he also never answered you when you asked if he’d been at the party last night. So, how do we even know he was telling the truth about having seen us there?”
“The party?” Marc sat up and glared at her. “Are you joking? I only mentioned that to distract him. I thought we’d already established that he probably recognized you from earlier tonight. And, if we’re right about that, then maybe one of the ‘mysteries’ he was hinting at was what the hell you were doing squatting in the bushes, spying on him while he fed.”
Julie’s face flamed. “I was not spying on him. But, now that you mention it, here’s another thing. His manner tonight at the club was totally different from how he behaved with Brennan. He wasn’t nearly as formal. Even the way he talked to him was different.”
Mumbling something beneath his breath, Marc rolled to his feet.
“What’d you say?” Julie watched in surprise as her brother stalked toward his room. “Hello? Talking here. Are you going somewhere?”
Marc sighed. “No, what�
�s the point? You can’t run from yourself, right?” His shoulders sagged. He turned back around and stared at her sadly. “What I said was, ‘we all do it’. Okay? I don’t like it any better than you, but that’s the truth. We all treat our food, different than we do each other. And the way we behave with people we trust is different from the way we behave with those we don’t. You saw how Damian was acting last night—the way he was dressed, the way he talked to the others. He ordered them to leave and they all just hightailed it outta there. Did he ever once behave like that when he lived with us?”
Ignoring her brother’s accusation—she was not a snob, damn it, she did not treat her prey any different from other people—Julie shrugged. “I don’t know. Damian’s always been…flamboyant. I can remember him joining in when we played dress-up as kids. Can’t you? Also, you can’t tell me you think he and Conrad were ever the most lenient of parents. They ordered us around plenty when we were kids.”
“When we were kids,” Marc repeated, emphasizing the last word. “Yeah. That’s different and you know it.”
Julie shrugged again. Okay, fine, maybe Marc had a small point. She still wasn’t willing to concede it though—at least not out loud. She curled herself up in her chair and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I don’t know why we’re talking about this now anyway.” Talking about Conrad like this, bringing up the past—a time when they’d been happy, when they’d all been safe—could only have one result, could only leave her feeling more frightened, more lost, more hungry. What if they couldn’t find Conrad in time? What then? “How is any of this gonna help us find him, Marc?”
His face grim, Marc returned to sit on the bed. “It’s not. But neither is fixating on Drew simply because you caught him feeding on someone you want for yourself.”
“That is not why I’m fixated on him,” Julie insisted, stung by her brother’s criticism. Could it be he was right? “I mean, if I was fixated—which I’m not—that wouldn’t be why. I told you all the reasons why I think he qualifies as a suspect and they have nothing to do with me. Or with Brennan.”
