by Jana Denardo
Unfortunately Lily’s little boy, Ben, had gotten sick, ending the fishing trip before it began. Luc missed the activity as much as he missed Lily, Ben, and Angela’s company. Fishing felt like home. While he really didn’t have much to miss back in Louisiana, it’d been home for half his life. Luc had had friends there Henri hadn’t messed with; not many, but still. New Orleans hadn’t been too far away, and while Luc rarely had money for a visit, he had enjoyed going there when he could. It was a magical town if he ignored the vomit, stale booze, and crime. Of course the Alibi currently presented him with plenty of all that.
The swamps were magic: green and crawling with life. It certainly made him happier than the gray-brown dust of the desert. Luc enjoyed fishing and hunting. Back home gators made for tricky prey, and frogs leapt about, plentiful. He hadn’t needed much money to eat well. Out here, nowadays people looked down their noses at hunters unless they were on Swamp People. He actually enjoyed the show, made him feel at home. Being in the wilderness was his one good memory of his da. When they were hunting gators or out shrimping, his da had always been kind to him, teaching him how to live off the land. Luc missed that here in the desert. He was meant for the swamps.
Lily liked his accent. Luc worried it made him sound like an uneducated redneck. Of course he was an uneducated redneck. He felt like a pile of dog poo compared to some of the suave, rich tourists on the Strip. At least in the Alibi he walked among his own kind.
With the fishing trip canceled, he had time to waste, which never sat well with him. His shitty father had given him a good work ethic if nothing else. Luc spent his free time at the library playing on the computers. They had a computer at home, but he didn’t want to hang around there on his day off. Besides there were things he couldn’t search at home in case Henri or Da checked, like what he was doing now: studying for his GED.
His da would stop him from getting his GED if he knew, not that Luc stood much of a shot of getting it. He felt too far behind to ever prepare for the test. His reading skills sucked, but math came easier, at least business math. Luc didn’t know where to start. He wanted to improve himself, but could he find a way to do it without his da and Henri catching on?
Luc sat in a trap and didn’t have brains enough to figure a way out. He wondered if Lily would have any ideas on how to handle this if he was brave enough to ask her. Luc bet Arrigo had ideas. Arrigo seemed to be full of them. Yeah, probably a little rich boy, spoiled all the time. Bet he’d never had to hunt or fish for his dinner like Luc had. Luc scowled. What was he complaining about? He had enjoyed being in the wild doing those things, and even though Arrigo was short, he was still taller than Luc, who took after his maman. Maybe Arrigo had more of his mom in him too.
On the other hand, he came off as more mature and much wiser than Luc could ever hope to be. Luc didn’t get Arrigo at all. How could he talk to him about this? Maybe that would make it easier. It would be like going to job counseling or something, telling his issues to a stranger.
He printed out some information, since the library would close soon and he needed to head home. He had some Swamp People recorded. He wanted a reminder of home.
AS HE walked from the parking lot to his and Taabu’s business, Arrigo wondered where he’d take Siobhan first. Vegas meant he’d be spoiled for choice. He knew she’d appreciate any of the Cirque shows. Arrigo wondered if Luc would. Personally he found them amazing, erotic. He hadn’t had a date night at a Cirque show in a while. He needed to make that happen.
Attraction could be white-hot and as alluring as a fistful of diamonds, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be awkward at the same time. For him, the sweetest plum came once he got to truly know his partner, connecting with them on many levels. He had miles to go before he got to that stage with Luc, if he ever did, but it would hopefully be a fun trail to hike.
It had been a long time since he’d last dated a human who, like Luc—or Taabu for that matter—had had no idea Supernaturals existed. He had considered bringing Taabu into the fold but wasn’t sure if she was cut out for the Chiaroscuro. Her gentleness with all living things wouldn’t aid her in the Chiaroscuro’s battles. Also she was so close to Shani, he didn’t think she could keep the Supernatural world a secret from her.
Just because Siobhan was coming to town, didn’t mean they’d pick up where they’d left off. If he told her he wanted to see where this thing with Luc might go, she wouldn’t be offended by him not jumping into bed with her. If it ended at a brick wall, which it could given how shy Luc was, then maybe he and Siobhan could heat up the desert.
Even before he opened the front door, Arrigo knew something was wrong. It forced him to a stop as if running into a wall. The skin on the back of his neck prickled, and his fangs tried to escape their hiding place. He tensed, scanning the sidewalks, but no one was around. A faint coppery tang rode the hot breeze. Arrigo slammed through the front door, hoping he wasn’t scaring some poor client with a nose bleed or something, and nearly fell over Taabu. She sprawled on the floor, blood trickling from her head.
His breath was stillborn in his throat as his knees wobbled. The scents of blood and incense clogged his senses. “Taabu?”
Chapter Seven
ARRIGO FELL to his knees at Taabu’s side. He sensed her heartbeat even before he noticed her chest rise and fall. Vampires always knew the living from the dead, even without touching them. Taabu bled from a small gash in her head. With shaking hands, Arrigo yanked his cell phone out of his back pocket and called 911. After babbling the street address, Arrigo told them about her injuries. Leaving the 911 operator asking questions and giving him reassurances—the phone next to him on the floor—Arrigo gingerly checked her out. Taabu breathed well on her own, so he didn’t want to risk moving her. It took a moment to spot the two fang marks in her dark skin. A vampire had made a meal of her.
Hell! A hard-to-ignore rumble started in his gut at the smell of her blood. He fought the urge to use the saliva under his tongue, a coagulant for after feeding, to stop the oozing. This was a crime scene. He didn’t want to have to explain how his saliva got on her wounds. Would they even swab and test her neck? If this was CSI, they would. No sense in risking it. Her neck no longer bled, and her pulse was strong. Whoever had attacked her must not have taken much blood, so Taabu should be all right once he got her help. He didn’t have to fear her dying or turning. Well, he didn’t fear that last. Not enough of her blood had been taken, weakening her enough for the virus to take hold in her. Even if it had, he’d find her a mentor, anyone other than him. He was a terrible mentor, far too impatient for it.
Arrigo might be shit at training fledglings, but he knew well how to track a rogue. Feeling it safe enough to leave Taabu be, and knowing he’d be short on time, Arrigo examined the lobby. Normals could miss some clues that might present themselves to him.
The office door had not been forced. Taabu often saw clients later in the evening. Vegas was a city of the night. She might have been closing up when the vampire came in.
Arrigo couldn’t help but wonder if this was directed at him. People he loved had been targeted in the past. He wasn’t unknown in town. He frequented the Crypt-Kicker bar, Shifty’s on Fremont. He was good friends with Diana and Pearce, the shifters who owned it. His fangs peeked out. Certainly as an enforcer for the Chiaroscuro, he’d gained a frighteningly large number of enemies over the years. It was one of the reasons he kept his human friends to a limited number. The Supernaturals could fight their own battles on more equal grounds. If this was simply about territory, he’d shred whoever had done this. To Hades with that, someone had hurt Taabu. Retribution would be his.
Nothing seemed terribly out of place in the lobby, but he was embarrassed to realize he’d spent so little time in the front room of his own business, he couldn’t be sure of that. The door to his office stood open. He never left it open. He liked an orderly place, and Taabu respected his privacy. Arrigo crept inside.
On his immaculate desk, his busi
ness cards rested slightly askew. He straightened them, wondering if the rogue had come in here looking for additional prey. He’d report it to the local Chiaroscuro group who were technically in LA. They depended on locals like him to keep the relative peace. He didn’t particularly like the local leader, having as little to do with John Craig in their quarterly meetings as he could. Craig wasn’t a bad leader, but he was self-important. Arrigo would have to tell Fadil as well. Fadil placed higher up the food chain.
A sickening, cold feeling pooled in his belly like old spoiled blood. Could someone be stalking him? He’d failed as a predator, not to notice it. Of course, Vegas constantly milled with people, especially in his usual haunts. Picking out someone watching him would have been exceedingly difficult, and in truth he’d become complacent. A Supernatural might have been noticed, but many of them, especially young, sun-sensitive vampires, hired humans to do their work for them. One human among tens of thousands on the Strip, no, Arrigo wouldn’t have noticed unless he had been expecting it. Of course, he could be assuming facts not in evidence. The attack on Taabu could have been random, as she stayed open late nights often.
Hearing sirens, Arrigo turned off his phone and fell into a role that needed no acting to pull off: concerned friend.
“I THOUGHT you were going to leave a calling card.” George dodged a group of drunken businessmen heading down the street in front of the Venetian. He still wore the blond wig and glasses he’d used as a disguise to visit Arrigo’s psychic partner.
“Maybe next time. He’ll be on alert now, nervous that someone invaded his territory,” Eleni replied. “Call it a slow turn of the screw.”
“Why didn’t you just… you know?” George drew his finger across his throat.
“It takes a huge hunger to drink enough to kill someone,” Eleni said as they rounded a corner onto a more crowded street. “It’s not like in the movies.”
“Or finish her off like any human would have.” George scowled, obviously remembering what happened to the lady of their current house.
“True, ripping her throat open and letting her bleed out is always an option. I wanted to get Arrigo’s attention. I want him to be sick with worry.” Eleni grinned at the mental image of it. “He has to wonder, will I be back for her? Will I kill her next time? He doesn’t know yet if this is an attack against him or something random. He’ll be freaked.”
“I get it.”
“Finding his business cards was a treat. I could text him threats to add to the fun.” Eleni laughed. “I wish I could see his face.” She tugged at her hair. “Too bad we couldn’t hide a surveillance camera in there so we could have watched his reactions like they do on TV. Maybe I should send you back to college so you could learn how to do all that computer stuff.”
George shot her a dubious look. “If you think that would help.”
“We can look into it.” She wouldn’t text Arrigo right away. If he were sure he was the target, he’d become more diligent. Let him wonder if it was random, at least for a little while.
“It’s a shame we couldn’t stay around to watch what happened when the cops got there.” George practically bounced as he walked. He was so young and enthusiastic. Eleni didn’t doubt he would have stayed to watch if he could have.
“That street is too deserted. Arrigo couldn’t have missed us there. No, we’ll get our chance at a different time, George. And remember when we get home, you need to ditch the disguise and shave off your beard.” Eleni ran a hand along the fuzzy line of his jaw. “Taking care of her has given me other appetites, ones involving you.”
His eyes gleamed. She could probably have gotten him to do it in the alley if she wanted. Maybe some other time.
IDLY ARRIGO wondered if the stark interrogation rooms in the police station imbued an ill effect on the detectives. He brushed the thought aside as a more important one cropped up: would they be done before the sun popped up bright and full? He’d be in for an itchy time if they weren’t. He doubted it, since it was a good four hours since the attack, and the officers at the scene had asked him to give a full statement at the station once the detectives were done processing the scene. He’d be happy to do that. At least he was able to stay at the hospital long enough to find out Taabu would be fine after a transfusion, no skull fracture. He never heard a clear answer as to what the doctors thought the pinpricks in her neck were about, probably the usual rationalizations: a mis-pinned brooch or attacked with a fork.
He stared at the sunburned detective across the table from him. Arrigo felt sorry for the man, Detective Daughtery. Even his bald spot gleamed an unhappy red. Daughtery’s partner, Detective Washington, was an older woman with skin the color of ebony. So far they seemed more concerned than hostile. Arrigo faced the problem of what lies to tell. He could hardly say a vampire bit Taabu, nor could he do anything to lead the detectives to a rogue. They didn’t deserve the death the vampire would deal them, not that he knew who the rogue was.
Of course, the detectives might think he was responsible for what happened to Taabu. In spite of coming to the station voluntarily, he still sat in an interview room. Did they talk to everyone in these cramped, featureless rooms? He’d dealt with police before over the years, but things changed from decade to decade. In reality his knowledge of how modern police worked was limited to what he saw on forensic television, which he watched diligently. The uncomfortable chair, the drab beige walls, the dinged-up table were all there to discomfort and dishearten the people the detectives interviewed.
“Let’s go over this again. You left the casino and headed to the shop. Why so late at night?” Daughtery asked.
“I’m a night owl. I do a lot of the preliminary work for our investigations in the evening when it’s quiet.” At least it wasn’t a lie. “Ghost hunting is best at night.”
“Don’t worry,” Washington said as if she sensed him rooting around for plausible lies and mistook it for nervousness. “Ms. Carter is a bit loopy from blood loss, but she did say she was attacked by a woman. That was backed up by the security camera you have on your place. We don’t think you did it.”
Arrigo nodded, his ponytail tickling over his back. That was good to know. He could eliminate half the rogues known to be at large. With his luck, it could be a complete unknown; such an unhappy thought. He glanced up at the camera tucked into the corner, ceiling level, and wondered if Shani, Taabu’s detective sister, was somewhere in the building watching this. More likely she was at the hospital. And she trusted him, not that he thought Shani would blame him.
“From what we could get from Ms. Carter, her attacker might have been a client. Unfortunately the CCTV video isn’t as clear as you’d want it to be. The last person before you arrived was a slight, short woman, but her hair was pulled up under a wide-brimmed hat. We didn’t get a good look at her face.” Daughtery’s pale eyes studied Arrigo as if he considered that attempted-murder-for-hire scenario. “Did any of her clients set off any alarm bells with you?”
Arrigo guardedly shook his head. Could this have been a random attack or was it directed toward him as a member of the Chiaroscuro? Until he had evidence to the contrary, he’d have to treat the attack as random. He’d be the one investigating it either way.
“No, but honestly, I didn’t interact with her clients much and vice versa.”
“Unfortunately Ms. Carter was in and out of consciousness during our first interview. We’ll be back to see her again with a sketch artist. I’m hoping she can come up with a description of the person. Would you be willing to talk to us again if she does?” Daughtery tapped his pen against the table.
Arrigo ignored the annoying sound. “Of course, but like I said, I don’t really know her clients.” He ran through a short list of female rogues who might want to hurt him and his friends, just in case it wasn’t random. Unfortunately, Arrigo realized the list wasn’t short. He would have to give it more thought and call the local regent with a list. None of the names would do Washington and Daughtery any good
. Arrigo couldn’t, in good conscience, send Normals against mages, vampires, weres, or any other kind of Supernatural creatures. He’d be just as responsible for their deaths. Even if he gave up a name to make sure it looked like he was cooperating, he knew they would be unlikely to get close to whoever the vampire was. He didn’t want the detectives wasting time concentrating on him as the attacker, but maybe he should. It might keep them safe.
“Are you afraid for yourself?” Washington sounded honestly concerned.
“No, I live in a secure building, and I can take care of myself,” Arrigo said, wishing there was a window in the place. He knew what time it was, but he preferred actually seeing the sky. “Is there anything else I can do to help?” He hoped the answer was no. He needed to return home and get some backup.
The partners exchanged glances but agreed he’d been helpful enough. He didn’t waste time. Arrigo cabbed it home, intent on getting other members of the Chiaroscuro to Vegas. All a vampire ever needed to take from someone was several good swallows, less than the Red Cross would take from a donor. They’d barely miss the little a vampire needed to drink. Reporting a vampire attack on a Normal that left someone as injured as Taabu seemed to be was standard protocol, but more importantly his friend had been hurt. At over a hundred and thirty square miles big, Las Vegas swarmed with tourists and locals and the only clue he had to hunt the rogue was short and female with a big hat. He was never clearheaded when his friends were hurt so he’d take any help he could get.
AFTER GOING home to put the call in to the Chiaroscuro, Arrigo drove to the hospital to check on Taabu, but she remained asleep. The doctors let him visit briefly, saying she didn’t appear to have a serious concussion, but the blood loss had made her drowsy. Arrigo knew the residual of having a vampire keep her quiet for feeding probably played a role as well. Shani, on unofficial guard duty over her sister, assured him Taabu would be okay and that Taabu, in her flashes of consciousness, couldn’t remember much of her attack. Maybe with time she would. Frustrating, but at the same time, his heart lifted over the fact she didn’t remember the terror. On the other hand, he needed to have some place to start looking for the rogue beyond “female.”
