by Hannah Jayne
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a dog.” Then, “Do you keep Skittles in that pocket, too?”
Nina leapt off the couch and snatched the casing from Vlad’s fingers. “A silver bullet. How odd. Maybe one of my characters gets shot with a silver bullet!”
Sergio leaned over, flashed a big grin. “You’re a writer?”
“Novelist, actually,” Nina said, oozing pride. “I’ll read you something later.”
“Hello!” I sprang up from the couch. “My clients go missing, a banshee is bashed up with the message about eradicating ‘her kind,’ and now someone shoots at me and Will with silver bullets. Don’t you get it? Someone is trying to clean up. Someone knows about the Underworld and is trying to clean up.”
No one seemed to register the amount of shock and awe that my proclamation required, and I huffed. “Hello? Guys? There is a serial killer out there and you’re what he’s looking for.”
Nina bit her lip. “I don’t know, Sophie. Demon hunters can’t exist. Have you read Harley’s book?”
I was sputtering. “Wh-what? Harley’s book? Nina, Harley’s stupid book says you don’t exist! You’re in love with a man who has mathematically proven that you”—I jumped forward and batted her on the shoulder, to show how corporeal she was—“don’t exist. Yet, here you are, standing in our living room, looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you think I’m completely Looney Tunes for suggesting that we might be in danger.”
Sergio leaned over to Will. “What book is this?”
Vlad patted my shoulder in an effort to placate me. “It’s not that we think you’re Looney Tunes, but look at the facts. Someone shot at you and Will with silver bullets—silver bullets that only kill werewolves.”
I held up a single finger. “And can make a hell of a dent in your everyday average human.”
“You’re not everyday,” Will put in.
“Or average,” Nina chimed in.
“But I’m still human, and I was still shot at. And, Nina, I swear to God, if you say that being mistaken for a werewolf is proof positive I need to wax in the winter, I will drive a stake through your heart myself.”
Nina crossed her arms in front of her chest and jutted out a hip. “You said it, not me.”
“You guys, this is serious. Can’t you see?”
I looked into the unconcerned faces surrounding me: Nina, surreptitiously eyeing my winter-hairy legs; Vlad, dark eyes cutting from the clock to the front door; Sergio, intently flipping through the promotional copy of Harley’s book, which Will handed him.
This was going to be harder than I thought.
I looked around, feeling my eyes widen while my stomach dropped. “What if this is another fallen angel?”
Nina blinked at me. “If it were, don’t you think they’d toss out the middle man and kill you directly? I mean, no offense.”
“I don’t know.” I looked at Will. “Maybe they’re playing—trying to get me nervous or something?”
Will rubbed his chin. “There has been no information on any fallen angels coming into town. As for them playing with you? Nina is kind of right. Fallen angels don’t play. If they’re after you, it’s pretty direct.”
“And frankly,” Vlad stated, eyes glued to his screen,
“everything that has happened so far has been pretty coincidental. Kale got hit by a car—a hundred cars run through that intersection every day. It was bound to happen.”
I put my hands on my hips. “And Bettina and Mrs. Henderson and the centaur and me getting staked?”
“Muggings, break-ins—they happen. The economy is tanking, breathers get desperate. Unfortunately, both of those can end in murder.”
I tried to shoot a questioning glance at Will, but he was fully immersed in the last piece of pizza. I cleared my throat; and when he looked up, he opened his mouth, looking as though he was about to agree with Vlad. I pinned him with a glare and he snapped his mouth shut.
“The guy said he was going to eradicate her kind, Vlad. Do you really think that was just your average thug?”
Vlad shrugged. “I got mugged in New Orleans by a guy who told me he was mugging for Christ. It takes all kinds.”
Sergio stood up, dropping his napkin onto his plate. “Look, everyone, I appreciate your concern, and even more so appreciate the hospitality, but I really should get running.”
I felt hysteria rising in my chest. “But someone just tried to kill you!”
Sergio patted me on the shoulder and smiled at me kindly. “Again, I appreciate everything, but I’ll be fine.”
I watched Sergio walk out the door; then Will gave me a quick hug and turned to go, too, but not before telling me, “I’ll keep an eye out—poke around and see if there is anything that seems a little”—his eyes cut left and right—“angelically abnormal. But you never know, Sophie. Vlad could be right and this could all be a chain of coincidences.”
Will stiffened, and I sensed he could feel the ice-cold waves of disbelief wafting from me.
He tried an unconvincing smile. “Besides, why would someone want to attack the Underworld?”
I dug my teeth into my lower lip. If anyone is going to save the Underworld, I thought, it’s going to have to be me.
Chapter Fifteen
I set the pink donut box next to the coffee and tea service on the credenza; then I set a tray of artfully arranged blood bags next to that, trying to make the UDA conference room look welcoming. I was buns to the sky, rooting around in my shoulder bag, when Will’s lilting voice broke the silence.
“I love this country.”
I turned around and shot him an icy glare. “This is serious, Will.”
“Obviously.” Will stared skeptically at the fuzzy purple earmuffs I offered him.
“Go on. Put them on.”
He reached out, tentatively taking the earmuffs, his fingertips brushing mine. Though we were in the throes of a potentially life-and-death situation, my body reacted with all the hormonal decorum of a twelve-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert.
I waggled the earmuffs. “On.”
To his credit, Will snapped them on. To my credit, I didn’t wet myself laughing.
“Would you like a donut?”
Will’s brows went up. He plucked one fuzzy earmuff away from his ear. “Can’t hear you, love. I’m wearing the muff.”
I rolled my eyes, dropped a donut onto a plate, and handed it to him.
“Cheers,” he said before settling into a chair.
Vlad and Nina filed in next, each selecting a blood bag and a pair of earmuffs, then settling around the conference table. Dixon came in and I shut the door behind him, offering him a pair of earmuffs.
His razor-sharp eyebrows formed a tight V; his dark eyes slitted as he looked at the earmuffs. “Are those really necessary?”
I shrugged. “It’s your afterlife.”
Dixon pressed his lips in a pale, thin line and took the earmuffs, snapping them on.
“He’s so vain,” Nina said with a matter-of-fact head shake. “It’s part of the reason we didn’t work out.”
“I can hear you,” Dixon returned.
Nina’s stunned face broke into an easy grin. “Kidding,” she sang, quickly looking away.
“Okay, since everyone’s here now ...”
Each of the vampires looked at me, vague interest on their timeless faces. Will, on the other hand, kept chewing happily while humming a jazzy version of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.”
“Will?”
Nothing.
In my brilliant calculations I failed to note that while vampire hearing is ultrasensitive—even when encased by a set of fuzzy earmuffs—human hearing was not. I gestured for him to slide off the earmuffs and I started again.
“I know that you are skeptical about Mrs. Henderson’s disappearance. You think the guy who tried to turn Kale into a speed bump was a coincidence, and the guy who shot silver bullets at Sergio was—what?—a gang
banger. I know none of these are coincidences, so I wanted to prove to you, firsthand, that even if these events are remotely coincidental, we need to pay attention. Bettina? Could you come in here now, please?”
Will’s eyes widened, earmuffs locked securely in place, as I led Bettina into the room. In the day that had passed, her bruises had become more pronounced. Her gray skin had puckered and dropped into a deep purple; cuts and scratches, which I hadn’t noticed yesterday, looked blue-red and menacing today.
Bettina’s lower lip started to tremble, her lips parting a millimeter, hands curled into fists. I dove across the table, coming face-to-face with a startled Will. I clamped my palms over his fuzzy purple earmuffs just as Bettina started to shriek.
Will’s eyes were wide; terror and surprise sank in the deep hazel. Sweat beaded on his upper lip, and his body started to quake gently underneath my palms.
“Bettina, please!” I was shocked that I was able to scream over the choking knot of tears locked in my throat.
Will’s face was turning a mottled purple. His eyes bulged; a drop of sweat rolled from his hairline.
“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! You’re killing him!”
Bettina clamped a hand over her mouth and the silence seemed just as loud. Will crumpled forward. His shoulders slumped, his head deadweight in my hands.
“I’m so sorry, Sophie,” Bettina whispered as she backed out of the conference room.
“Will?” I said, the word barely crossing my lips before a torturous sob wracked my body. My cheeks itched as the tears flooded over them.
“Will ...”
“I can’t hear you, love!” Will yelled in my face, pointing to his head. “Got the muffs on, remember?”
“Oh God, Will.” Relief washed over me and left a cold sweat. I slid the earmuffs from his head, but Will continued yelling.
“And I think that gray bird tried to kill me!”
I wiped the heel of my hand across my cheeks. “Momentary lack of judgment on my part,” I croaked.
Will plucked a piece of donut out of my cleavage and popped it in his mouth. “We’re all allowed one.”
“Ms. Lawson? Perhaps your guest should take a breath of fresh air. Vlad, Nina?”
Nina and Vlad led Will out of the room. I worried my bottom lip as I watched them leave and Dixon approached me.
“Your demonstration was eye-opening.”
My stomach was in my shoes. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
Dixon held up a dismissing palm. “Regardless if the previous events are connected, Bettina’s experience has demonstrated that as an organization we are not doing enough to keep our clients safe. The Underworld Detection Agency will work to rectify that, and I will allocate all the resources necessary for you to conduct a thorough investigation.”
“For me to conduct an investigation?”
Dixon nodded curtly.
It should have been a victory, but it didn’t feel like one. But whether it was Will’s near-death experience, Dixon’s blood-tinged, conciliatory smile, or being charged with finding the Underworld killer and saving my friends, I wasn’t sure.
Dixon turned to leave; in a moment of confident solidarity, I stopped him.
“May I ask you something?”
Dixon nodded and took a seat at the conference table. I fished the silver bullets from my shoulder bag and laid them in front of him.
“Do you know anything about these?”
For a beat Dixon didn’t make any motion that he had heard me; did nothing to acknowledge the bullets glinting on the table.
“Silver bullets,” he said, sucking air in through his teeth. “Where did you get these?”
“From the wrong end of a gun.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
I shook my head and Dixon picked up one of the bullets, fingering it gingerly. Something in his eyes registered.
“You know something about these bullets?”
“Well, silver bullets are routinely used to kill—”
“No,” I said, feeling the frustration roil through me, “these bullets. These particular bullets. You know where they came from.”
Dixon tapped the bullet on the table, then cut his eyes to me. His smile was icy smooth, the entire visage glacial. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ms. Lawson.” He stood up and sauntered out of the room; the door slammed behind him with an ominous thud.
I gathered up my things and plodded to my office, where I dumped my papers and a donut box onto my now-naked bookshelf. Finally I lowered myself into my desk chair on a desperate, whooshing sigh.
“Exaggerating a bit?”
Vlad appeared behind my door and pushed it shut with a gentle kick. I clawed at my chest and willed myself not to pee. “My God, Vlad, can’t you announce your presence like a normal person? Or is that against the Vampire Empowerment bylaws?”
He grinned, showing a toothy mouth of fangs and imperfect teenaged teeth, and sat down across from me in my visitor’s chair. “It’s not against the bylaws, but it’s a lot of fun to surprise you. Should I get you a glass of water or something?”
I got my heartbeat—and bladder—under control and glared at him. “And to what do I owe this terrifying intrusion?”
Vlad paused. His tongue darted across his lips, just touching the fanged edge of one tooth. He drummed the fingers of his left hand against his knee. “I was listening to what you said today.”
My ears perked, but I remained wary. “And?”
“And I think you’re right to worry. I think we’re all right to worry.”
I sat up a little straighter. “But nothing has happened to any vampires yet. So far it seems your”—I cleared my throat—“kind is pretty safe.”
“If any demons of the Underworld aren’t safe, then none of us are.”
“So? Do you want to help me investigate?”
Vlad looked over his shoulder at my closed door; a millisecond later I heard the clatter of footsteps down the hall. Once they had passed, he leaned into me. “I can’t do that.” He reached across his chest, one hand sliding under his jacket. My breath hitched.
Is he pulling out a gun? No! This is Vlad! He could kill me in his sleep if he wanted to!
“Are you going to be sick?”
I shook my head. “No, no, sorry.”
Vlad retrieved his hand, and a thin file folder. He slid it across my desk. From the official Underworld Detection Agency crest, I knew it belonged to upper management. From the scrolled writing across the top, I knew that “upper management” was Dixon.
“The UDA keeps tabs on breathers and demons who produce weapons that could be used against our communities.”
“Where did you ... ?” But when I looked up, Vlad was gone, door shutting softly behind him. The trailing scent of his earthy cologne was dissipating slowly.
I slid the file onto my lap and opened it slowly, feeling my pulse speed up. Several pages were clipped together under the heading “werewolf.” The top page was a photograph of a newspaper clipping covered in thick Chinese characters. I didn’t need to read the language to know that the article oozed with rage and invectives; the hashes in the characters were deep and sharp. There was a name and address scrawled in red ink on the bottom of the paper. I was surprised to see that it was local, and was more surprised to see a tiny plastic bag with a silver bullet locked inside, taped to the back of the page.
Once I got home, I was pacing a bald spot in my carpet, rolling the bullet between my fingers when Will let himself in.
“Do you ever knock?” I asked, jitters going all the way up to my scalp.
“How’s that for a Guardian’s welcome?” Will smiled, unfazed, and shook his tea mug. He set the kettle on the stove and motioned to me with his empty mug. “So what’s that about, then?”
“What?”
“The pacing, the brooding”—he straightened—“the bullet.”
“I know where the bullet came from.”
Will t
ook the bullet from me and led me to a kitchen chair. “Well, then, let’s go there. Where is it?”
I swallowed hard. “Chinatown.”
Will stood up. “So what are we waiting for?”
I bit down hard. “I’m not sure. I ... It was Vlad.”
Will’s eyebrows rose and he sat down again. “Vlad is responsible?”
“No!” I shook my head. “Vlad gave me the information. He took it from Dixon.”
“Nicked it?”
I nodded. “I think so. And something about it just doesn’t feel right.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Nina said as she tore out of her room. Her red silk kimono was flailing behind her. “Listen to this.” Her eyes went wide when she saw Will. “Oh! Hey, Will. I thought I smelled you.”
Will smiled uneasily and looked relieved when the teakettle started to whistle. He disappeared into the kitchen and I went to assist, but Nina commanded me to “sit,” pointing at the chair I had just come from. I sank down and swallowed hard. “Go ahead.”
“Lady and gentleman,” Nina stated, her pale face positively beaming, “today I am proud to present to you the first reading of my new novel/memoir, Pale Is the New Black.”
I raised my eyebrows when Nina flopped a three-inch-thick manuscript onto the tabletop and fixed a pair of glasses at the end of her ski jump nose.
Have I mentioned that vampires have impeccable vision in their afterlife?
I must have furrowed my brow because Nina pushed the cheaters up her nose and said, “They make me look more literary.”
I couldn’t tell whether it was Nina’s fake glasses or the great tower of manuscript pages, but I wasn’t feeling Nina’s literariness, and I wasn’t all that thrilled about it.
“Now”—Nina began again as her small, pale hands clutched her book—“this first portion might be a little emotional for me, so I’m going to read the scene the whole way through.”
I looked over my shoulders, half expecting to see the literary masses Nina seemed to be speaking to.
“If you need any bathroom breaks,” she continued, “I suggest you go now and hold all questions and applause until after I’ve finished.”
In retrospect I should have run for the relative safety of our little 1920s-style bathroom, with the chipped black-and-white tile floor.
