At that moment, it was the rest of the team that had me worried. In the three months since they went from hunting vampires to saving them, the nightly body count actually went up. During the evening meeting, after Evan revealed what we had figured out that afternoon, I could practically feel the collective darkening of everyone’s moods. Despite his warnings to stay objective, I had a bad feeling that it was going to affect the performance of a lot of people. Unfortunately, I was right.
“It’s as if they aren’t even trying to talk to people tonight,” I said through clenched teeth as another request for a dead vampire pick up came through.
“I know, I get it, there are a lot more vamps being iced than before,” Layla said with a sympathetic look. “But Lucy, you’re being pessimistic. Look at the number of vamps who are actually listening to us. The increase in the number of mods we save has got to be higher than the increase in deaths.”
“It had been,” I admitted. “But after tonight, I wouldn’t be surprised if the numbers flip.”
“It’s one bad night,” she said. “There are way more of us now and we’re actively seeking vamps. When you guys were hunting, you only went after vampires that showed clear indication that they were going to kill. I don’t even have half the education you do and I know the numbers add up.”
Layla did have a point. When I was a hunter, there were seven pairs in total and only four to five groups worked on any given night. We now had a team of thirty, with several more converts ready to hit the streets soon, so yes, we were covering a lot more ground, but it still didn’t sit right with me.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t the hunters that I had expected to have trouble with who were raising the body count. At least, not most of them. When Evan asked me to lead the effort to transition hunters into outreach members, I had expected the most resistance from Hugh, who was known for his policy of kill first, ask questions later, as well as his rigidly conservative views on anything different from his version of normal. Shockingly, Hugh proved to be instrumental in bringing in the most vamps who wanted to change. I suspected that was partly due to his intimidating size, but more because of his romantic relationship with Ingrid, who happened to be a vampire.
But not all hunters had an effortless transition. Saba Sloan and her husband, Johnny, had been partners for nearly twenty years and worked well off of each other. But because Evan wanted seasoned hunters working with new recruits, Saba was now assigned to work with Penny, one of the vampires I had brought in through my outreach earlier in the year. Like nearly all of my recruits, Penny had long suffered abuse at the hands of her male clan leader and as such, had little sympathy for male vamps in general. Given that Saba joined the hunters after surviving a brutal vampire attack that left her disfigured, pairing her with Penny seemed to trigger her resentment of male vamps as well. The two of them sent more requests for dead vampire retrievals than any other team. Consequently, they also saved the least amount of lives.
Yet another call came in for a pickup, but this time it was from Andre, who was partnered at the moment with Saba and Johnny’s teenage son, Anil. Unlike his mother, Anil was more hesitant to kill, which was something of a relief, given that he grew up idolizing the hunters and spent most of his childhood trying to prove that he was ready to join the team. I checked my map to see where they were currently working and felt an unwelcome clenching around my stomach when I noticed that they weren’t alone.
“Ugh, why didn’t I stake that bitch when I had the chance?” I jammed my phone back into my pocket and kicked a nearby wall in frustration. Not even five seconds later, I pulled my phone back out and glanced at the GPS again, scowling at the proximity of one particular vampire to Andre’s location. Karen was a relatively new recruit and had only been out on duty for a couple of weeks, but it seemed that no matter where she was stationed, or who she was sent out with, she always managed to find her way to where ever Andre was located.
“Karen again?” Layla asked blandly.
“Unless we have another mod who shows her gratitude for having her life saved by stalking my boyfriend. Seriously, what the hell is her problem?” I had only myself to blame. If any of the other members of the outreach had found Karen, she would have been dead. Aside from trying to physically attack both Layla and me, we spent far longer than was advisable trying to convince Karen to join the outreach. Even though we both felt good about our actions at the time, I was beginning to wish I had a time machine so I could go back and follow standard procedure.
“Her problem is that she’s young and stupid and happens to have an obvious crush on Andre. Your problem is that you’re too insecure to realize that Andre ain’t even interested in that cow,” Layla said with a knowing look. “Seriously, Lucy, he’s threatened to have her taken off the team if she steps out of line again.”
“Yeah well, it looks like Andre made an empty threat, didn’t he?” I said, just barely containing my anger as I thrust my phone in Layla’s face. From the proximity of the two signals on my screen, either Karen had draped herself over Andre or they decided to have spontaneous sex in the middle of the street.
“Look again, jealous wife material,” she taunted. “He’s sending her off with the retrieval team. She’s done, Evan said so himself. I wouldn’t be surprised if she isn’t sent off to Rehab Ranch.”
“If only,” I sighed. Rehab Ranch was the nickname of a property Evan owned out in east Texas. Some mods, despite their desire to change their lifestyles, had a particularly hard time fighting the addiction to consuming blood. There were certain drugs and therapeutic measures that helped, so Evan had a secure facility set up for that purpose. I highly doubted Karen would be sent out there for an Andre addiction, but I liked the thought of being rid of her for good.
“Well she’s an idiot, regardless. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Andre’s a handsome fella, but she was paired with Jordan tonight,” Layla said with a suggestive eye wiggle. “If I was just a little bit younger…”
“Ugh,” I said and rolled my eyes. “Come on, this area’s pretty quiet and I really don’t want to hear the rest of that thought.”
By the time the sun was beginning to come up, Layla and I had talked to over a dozen vamps and managed to get positive responses about joining the outreach out of most. The real measure of our success would reveal itself when we found out how many of them showed up at the safe house later in the day. While it was great that so many were willing to listen, rather than attack us, the reason for their cooperation was still disturbing. More vamps were disappearing or turning up dead every day and people were scared. Of course, knowing this only made me angrier about the increase of deaths that our agents were responsible for.
“You sticking around for a while or running off this morning?” Layla asked as we met up with the van that would take us back to headquarters.
“At least until it’s time to bring Ben to school,” I replied. On nights that Andre and I were both working, Ben stayed in Andre’s old room at headquarters. I felt slightly guilty because I kind of missed hanging out and unwinding with the crew, but our house was almost five miles from downtown. I found out the hard way that I’m not the greatest driver when I’m tired and in truth, I was rather grateful for the days when Andre and I worked together because he drove.
The dining room was already packed by the time we arrived, so I went straight for the coffee and got in line behind Cynda, who was slumped, still half asleep, against the wall.
“Morning, sunshine.”
“Two things I could do without,” Cynda grumbled, rubbing her hands over her face and yawning. “Is it me, or is it crazy loud in here this morning?”
“Maybe a bit. We had the whole staff out last night,” I said. It did seem loud, but I figured that had more to do with the onset of my now daily headache. “Were you up late?”
“Ugh, yeah,” she replied, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I’ve got a geography midterm today and I’m struggling with that one. Why do we even need geography when w
e have Google maps?”
Admittedly, I was kind of stumped by that one. “Well, Google maps are pretty handy, but geography is good to know as well. You know, if you want to be a geographer someday.” Cynda’s expression made it clear that my attempt at humor fell flat.
“I guess I better go cram more knowledge down my throat. See ya, Lucy.” With a halfhearted wave, Cynda ducked out the side door with her mug of coffee. I didn’t fail to notice the look of disappointment on Anil’s face. The two teens had been inseparable since they met, but this was the second day in a row that Cynda seemed to be avoiding his company. It wasn’t any of my business, but I made a mental note to check in on her later and make sure that there wasn’t anything more than typical school stress bothering her.
With my own coffee in hand, I made my way over to where Ingrid and Hugh were sharing a table with Miles, who was gesturing wildly. “…hopeless romantic. Put me down for Halloween.”
“Put you down for what on Halloween?” I asked, noticing that the conversation stopped as soon as I walked over. “I see,” I said when no one answered me right away. “Okay, what are you betting on?”
“Basketball,” Miles said smoothly.
“Did you know that you wink when you lie?” I pointed out. “Seriously, every time. For someone who was supposedly a super-secret government spy, you’re pretty transparent.”
“I thought the latest rumor was that I was an assassin. I like that one better.”
“You were probably a Coast Guard and made up all that state secret bull to keep us from finding pictures of you in a Speedo,” Hugh teased.
“Nah, I’d have that one blown up and hung over the mantel,” Miles replied, flexing his biceps for comedic effect.
“Hey guys, check this out,” Ingrid said, interrupting the banter to read from an article on her phone. “Historic painting previously thought destroyed, shows up at Kimbell Art Museum under mysterious circumstances. Kind of an odd coincidence, don’t you think?”
My interest was definitely piqued. “May I see that?”
“Sure,” she said and handed over her phone. The article was from a small Dallas paper and gave little information, only saying that the yet undisclosed painting mysteriously appeared in an enclosed construction site overnight. Security was reviewing the camera footage for clues as to how it got there. An investigation was underway with the local authorities as well as the FBI’s Art Crime Team.
I was ready to write it off as an eerie coincidence until I noticed a link for a related article dated one week prior, announcing that renowned art authentication expert, Dr. Farrah Hayward, was currently working with the Kimbell to verify if some donated painting was really an undiscovered Picasso. The article had an update, stating that Dr. Hayward was staying on at the museum to assist in the investigation.
“I don’t think this is a coincidence,” I said, pulling up the article on my own phone before handing Ingrid’s back. “I’ve got to go find Evan.”
“He snuck out with your dad,” Miles said. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Gotcha,” I said and went up to the roof, where I found my father and Evan hiding out in the far corner of the garden, sneaking a smoke like a couple of teenage boys out behind the schoolhouse.
“I hope neither of you actually think you’re being stealthy,” I said as I handed my phone over to Evan to read. “Take a look at this.” He scanned the article and handed the phone over to my father.
“Could be a coincidence,” he said with a shrug.
“It’s not. Read the linked article,” I replied. “I’m willing to bet that’s another Erwin Arthur. Dr. Hayward was one of my art history professors. Actually, she was the only professor at Georgetown that I ever spoke to on a personal level and she’s the only person who I ever admitted my love of art to while my grandmother was alive. Of all the museums, including one right here in town, why would a painting show up at a small museum in Fort Worth where she happens to be working at the moment?”
“That does seem odd,” Evan admitted. “But a bit farfetched, don’t you think? How would anyone be able to link you to this Dr. Hayward?”
“How would they know any of the personal things they do about us?” I countered.
“Okay, assuming it is another painting by the same guy, why would whoever has them send one to a museum?” my father asked.
“To lure me out there,” I stated frankly. “If we take the name of the painting at face value, I’m the first target. Knowing that another painting exists and that I know someone on the investigating team is meant to be pure temptation and frighteningly, it’s exactly the kind of temptation that would totally get me. My only worry is the FBI. They aren’t going to be too keen on letting me near it unless we tell them we have one too.”
“Wait, hold up a minute. You aren’t actually thinking about contacting this Dr. Hayward anyway, are you?” he asked. “Especially if you suspect that’s what they are expecting you to do.”
“Hang on,” Evan interjected. “We’re jumping to some serious conclusions. How did you find this article?”
“Ingrid found it this morning. Why?”
“Because I can’t find any evidence that this story has been picked up by any major news outlets. Do you normally read local papers out of Dallas?”
“Well, no,” I said. “But it still seems fishy. Paintings don’t mysteriously appear at museums very often.”
“She raises a fair point,” my father said to Evan with a shrug. “It probably wouldn’t hurt to at least contact this professor and see what she knows.”
Evan seemed to consider this. “Your father is probably right, but Lucy, if you do manage to reach her, please do not say anything about our painting.”
“Say anything to whom?”
Andre had snuck up on our conversation, followed by Ben, who was packed and ready for school.
“Boring art stuff,” I said with a cheeky wink. Andre’s eyes narrowed.
“Why do I get the impression that’s not the whole story?”
“We’ll discuss it later,” I said with a quick glance at Ben. Andre turned his suspicious gaze on his uncle.
“It’s most likely nothing,” Evan assured him.
“Come on then,” I said, taking Ben’s hand. “I don’t think the school will accept plotting and scheming as an excuse for tardiness.”
After dropping Ben off at school, I read Andre the article. He agreed with his uncle that it seemed too much like a coincidence, but I sent an email to Dr. Hayward anyway. I was surprised when I received a phone call from her no more than thirty minutes later, confirming that it was indeed an Erwin Arthur painting that had been found at the museum. That was enough for Evan to clear his schedule and two days later; he, my father, and I were on a flight to Texas.
Chapter 4
To say that Andre hadn’t taken the news well was an understatement. We spent nearly the entire day before the trip arguing about the risks versus the rewards. At least his anger wasn’t entirely directed at me this time. He was equally as upset with Evan and my father, especially when both acknowledged the possibility that we were indeed walking into a trap. It didn’t matter that we weren’t even going to be gone for an entire day. I understood his concerns, but I was angry nonetheless, and I didn’t need the additional stress added on to my already frayed nerves.
Dr. Hayward agreed to meet us at a local barbeque place near the museum. Had I known that this would spark a heated debate over the best places to get barbeque in Texas, that lasted the entire flight, I would have suggested a less controversial eatery. Fortunately, both my father and Evan were in agreement that the restaurant my former professor picked was satisfactory, because I had bigger worries on my mind. Like whether or not Andre was right and I was needlessly putting myself on the enemy’s radar.
Dr. Hayward had already reserved a table for us when we arrived at the restaurant. After orders were placed and introductions were made, she wasted no time getting straight to the heart of
the matter.
“Well Lucy, it is an absolute pleasure to see you again, but I have to admit that the circumstances of this reunion are quite mysterious. You may have been one of my more astute students, but to have known the artist of the Kimbell’s new mystery painting suggests to me that either you have some psychic intuition or there is a lot more to the story than what you told me over the phone.”
“There’s a bit more,” I said with what I hoped was a disarming smile. All I had told Dr. Hayward on the phone was that in working for EJC, I had come to discover that it was possible that not all of Arthur’s paintings had been destroyed. It wasn’t a lie, just an over simplification of the facts.
“And what is it you do for EJC?” she asked. “I have to admit, there were more than a few of us who were disappointed when you didn’t return for your senior year.”
“I file patent claims,” I said with a blush. I hadn’t expected her to bring up the fact that I dropped out of college. “But occasionally I get to branch out a bit.”
“Dr. Hayward, I’m sure you have just as many questions for us as we have for you, and I promise that we’ll answer as many of them as we can, as truthfully as we can,” Evan said with practiced ease. “But I do need you to first understand that any omissions made today are strictly in the interest of the safety of my employees, including and especially Lucy.”
She seemed to consider this for a moment before turning to my father. “Is the New Orleans police department involved in this case as well, Mr. Gillman?”
“They are,” he answered cautiously. “But my role at the moment is purely that of the concerned father. Should that change, I assure you that I would have my department contact the local authorities to avoid jurisdictional compliance issues.” I couldn’t be certain if it was his words or the altogether too charming smile he flashed in her direction, but this seemed to put Dr. Hayward at ease.
The Eyes of the Sun: The Complete Trilogy Page 66
