The Fledgling: A Novella (Mind Sweeper Series Book 2)

by AE Jones

  She backed away, and when he didn’t stop her, she shook her head. “I’m not leaving until the job is done.” She stepped around him, and he rested his hand lightly on her arm, the heat of it cascading up into her shoulder.

  “I cannot impress upon you too strongly just how dangerous this killer is.”

  She shrugged out of his grip and walked toward the mouth of the alley, throwing a parting shot over her shoulder. “Sorry, but you didn’t impress me.”

  * * *

  She was such a liar. Jean Luc was the most gorgeous specimen she had ever seen. And that meant trouble. Talia sat in her car, her hands wrapped in a death grip around the steering wheel. She had turned into a first-class harpy when he questioned her, but even so, she hadn’t been able to control her emotions. She was confused, and in her line of work, confused could get her killed.

  Talia had not looked at a male, any male, since she’d been turned five years ago. She hadn’t had the time or the desire to do so. Falling for a man, or what she’d thought at the time was a man, was, after all, why she’d lost her humanity in the first place.

  And unless someone had put that bastard out of his misery, he was still out there somewhere. And she was not equipped to face him, so staying out of sight was her only option. There was no turning back. And no time for any libido-reviving, either, especially with a vamp who thought he was God’s gift to…well…everything.

  Chapter 3

  Jean Luc turned the corner, and the squeal of tires brought him to his senses. He slowed down as they neared the house.

  What an exasperating female! She had no idea what she was up against. How could he convince her to heed his warning? Because if she continued to chase the killer, she would most certainly become one of his victims.

  He turned off the ignition, but before he was able to open his door, Misha cleared his throat. He had been uncharacteristically quiet during the drive, and since Misha was seldom quiet, this meant Jean Luc should expect some sort of pronouncement. He stared at his partner, who was playing with a cube puzzle he hadn’t been able to put down for days.

  “Did you have something to say?”

  Misha’s eyes didn’t leave his puzzle. “I think you may have met your match.”

  “You are un fou.” Jean Luc shoved open the door and climbed out.

  Misha climbed out too and glared at him over the roof of the car. “No, I’m not a fool. You have not smiled in what seems like years, my friend. But with that woman, you actually grinned at her. I’m surprised your mouth remembered how to curve upward.”

  “She is going to get herself killed.”

  “I think she can handle herself.”

  “She is a baby.”

  Misha let out a bark of laughter. “She is most definitely not a baby.”

  Jean Luc had to agree, actually. Her mocha skin was flawless, and long, curly hair framed her face. A face with dark brown eyes with sparks of gold that lit up when she was angry. And she had definitely been angry with him. The memory of those snapping eyes made him smile.

  “Hah! You just smiled again.”

  “Come along, Russian. We have work to do.”

  Minutes later, Misha typed on the keyboard, and the name Talia Walker blinked on the green terminal screen. He glanced up at Jean Luc standing next to him. “Just think, two years ago we would have had to spend hours calling around to the other offices to find out about Talia. Now, I am able to access her information within seconds.”

  “I still do not understand how you convinced Nicholas to invest in this.”

  “He knows computers are the wave of the future.”

  “And I suppose that atomi game you have attached to the television is also the wave of the future?”

  “It’s an Atari, Jean Luc.”

  “Pardonnez-moi.”

  Misha frowned at the screen. “Hmm.”

  “What is it?”

  “Talia’s name is not in our database. Did she lie to us?”

  Jean Luc recalled the look of challenge in her eyes. “No.”

  Misha typed her name again and hit enter. “Nothing. How can we not have a record of her?”

  “We know there are supernaturals who do not report themselves to the Bureau.”

  “True, but we always catch up with them.”

  “She may be younger than even I guessed.” Which made her all the more vulnerable. Jean Luc clenched his jaw. Why was he so concerned about a female he had known for five minutes? She did not lack confidence, but confidence would not protect her from a killer with no conscience.

  Peter’s mutilated body flashed in his mind. He pushed the image away, but it was immediately replaced by countless bodies strewn about like broken dolls in a field of wildflowers. His friends, his parents, Jaqueline, and his son. Non! He would not relive that yet again. Jean Luc could not change the past, but he could stop this killer now. He had no time for a distraction by the name of Talia Walker.

  * * *

  “What have you got for me, Billy?” Talia ran her hand along the graffiti-covered shelf of the telephone booth and toyed with the broken metal chain where the phone book used to hang. It had been two days since Peter Peters had been found dead, and she’d found little to go on.

  “The first victim worked out at the Spencer Fitness Club on Broad Street.”

  She squeezed the chain harder. “According to his neighbor, Peter was working on their books at night.”

  “Bingo. You’ve got a connection.”

  “I guess that means I’m off to the gym for a visit.”

  “Be careful, Talia.”

  “Careful is my middle name.” Talia chuckled at Billy’s groan and then hung up.

  Thirty minutes later, she circled the block, searching for an empty parking spot. Several spaces simply had poles, the only remnants of meters that had been smashed or totally removed. She hoped her car would be safe for the short time she planned to be in the gym. It was a junker, but it was her only transportation, and she didn’t have the money for a better one.

  She parked along the side of the building and watched for a minute through the large plate glass window. Men and women exercised on a variety of equipment. When she walked in the front double doors, Talia was greeted by a teenage girl who sat behind a tall counter.

  She smiled at Talia. “Hi. I’m Deanna. How can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for the manager.”

  “He left about an hour ago.”

  Talia scanned the empty lobby. “Who runs the place at night?”

  Deanna’s warm smile cooled considerably. “Simon is the assistant manager, but he’s teaching a jazzercise class. Is there a problem?”

  “No. No problem. Maybe you can help me. I understand Peter Peters worked here.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you a cop?”

  “No. I was hired to figure out who killed him.”

  “He was a good man,” Deanna said in a tight voice.

  “Did he ever have any problem with anyone here?”

  “Never. He usually worked in the back office at night. And he always insisted on walking me to my car at the end of my shift.”

  Talia nodded, but she tensed at a slight buzzing behind her eyes that alerted her to the presence of a nearby supernatural. She glanced around quickly but didn’t see anyone. When she looked back at Deanna, her head was tilted to the side slightly, and she had a puzzled look on her face. Talia needed to focus on the conversation.

  “What about Tony Jensen?”

  “Who?”

  “He was a member here before he died.”

  Deanna opened the file drawer next to her and leafed through it. She pulled out a folder. On the front was a photo of Jensen. “I remember him. He was a runner. Came in to use the treadmills.” She looked up at Talia, eyes wide. “Was he murdered, too?”

  “Yes, he was. Did he and Peter know each other?”

  “I don’t think so. Jensen used to run in the afternoons, before Peter usually came to work.”
<
br />   “Did Jensen have any problems with anyone?”

  “Not that I know of, but I can ask the daytime receptionist if you want me to.”

  “That would be great.” Talia smiled at her. She pulled a business card out of her jeans pocket and laid it on the counter. “I wrote down the phone number of the hotel where I’m staying. If you think of anything, please call me. Any time. If I’m not there, you can leave a message with the front desk.”

  “Peter didn’t deserve to die.” Deanna’s lip quivered.

  “No, he didn’t. Which is why I’ll be grateful for any help you can give me.” Energy skittered across her skin. The supernatural was closer now, but she wasn’t skilled enough to distinguish what type she was dealing with. “Do you mind if I look around a bit?”

  * * *

  Jean Luc walked up the sidewalk to the small bungalow. He rang the doorbell and waited. Someone was definitely home, since a television program blared through the door. After another minute, the door cracked open, and an old man peeked out under the security chain.

  “I’m not buying anything.”

  Jean Luc held up his hands in front of him. “I am not a salesman. I work for the police department. I would like to ask you some more questions about your neighbor, Peter.”

  The old man sighed. “The cops questioned me two days ago and then again this morning. Don’t you guys talk to each other?”

  “I am sorry to bother you again, sir. May I ask who was here this morning?”

  “Real pretty black girl. Said she had some follow-up questions.”

  “And what did she ask you?”

  “Wanted to know if Peter had any hobbies or anything. Told her he was a workaholic. He was working a second job at the gym on Broad Street. Are we done? I want to get back to my show.”

  Jean Luc thanked him and jogged back to the car.

  “What’s up?” Misha asked.

  Jean Luc squealed away from the curb.

  Misha grabbed onto the handle above the door. “What’s the rush?”

  “Our bounty hunter was here.”

  “And? You’ve been driving like a madman ever since you met this female. Are your vampy senses tingling?” Misha laughed. “Spidey. Vampy…do you get it?”

  Jean Luc scowled. “We need to find Talia. If I had to guess, I would say she is getting herself into trouble.”

  Chapter 4

  “Hey, bayyy-beee.”

  God, she had to have set a land speed record for attracting trouble. She had toured the gym, but hadn’t found anything, not even the supernatural she had sensed earlier. All she wanted to do now was go back to her hotel, but two humans stood in the alley blocking her way. From their unsteady stance and the thick stench of alcohol wafting from them, they were drunk. Talia kept walking and reached into her pocket for her keys.

  “Hey! I’m talking to you.”

  Talia held up her hand. “I’m not looking for trouble.”

  “Who said anything ’bout trouble?” The guy stepped between Talia and the mouth of the alley.

  “It’s been a long day.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. I could use some stress relief.”

  Was he kidding? “Maybe another time, okay?”

  She tried to step past him, but he grabbed her arm and yanked her close. Instead of struggling, she used the momentum to push toward him hard, and then jerked back. He lost his grip, and she kneed him in the balls. With a harsh grunt, he folded in on himself, clutching his crotch and groaning.

  Talia spun around, ready to confront the other man. He reached for her and she dodged him, slamming her elbow into his back so he stumbled forward face-first onto the pavement. Talia pinned his arm behind him.

  “Bitch. What’s wrong with you? I thought you wanted some company.”

  “What the hell gave you that idea?”

  “He said you were looking for some fun. Gave us fifty bucks to show you a good time.”

  “Who?” He hesitated, and she yanked his arm, hard.

  “Ow, shit! I don’t know, some guy.”

  “What guy? What did he look like?”

  “I don’t know. Big.”

  “Well he was wrong.”

  “Okay, fine. Let me up.”

  Talia backed off, and he pushed himself up on hands and knees and finally struggled to his feet. He looked down at his clothes. His front was covered in some type of oil.

  He glared at her. “You’re going to pay for this.”

  One moment he lunged for her, and the next, he flew off his feet backward and hit the ground with a grunt. The air rushed around her, and Jean Luc appeared, standing over the prostrate man. He took one look at Jean Luc and scrabbled backward like a crab before jumping up and staggering down the street.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Apparently saving you.”

  She looked down at the other man, who was still moaning and holding his balls. “Thanks, but I had it under control.”

  Before Jean Luc could respond, Misha rushed around the corner of the building, shaking his head as he took in the scene. “I knew we shouldn’t have split up. I missed all the fun yet again.”

  The second man lurched to his feet and ran.

  “Should I go after him?” Misha asked.

  “Don’t bother. They’re drunk idiots.”

  Jean Luc scowled at her. “What if he had been a shifter instead of a human?”

  “I would have handled it. I can take care of myself.”

  Sirens wailed in the distance.

  He held out his hand to her. “Come. We need to leave.”

  “I’m not leaving my car here overnight.”

  He nodded, throwing a set of keys to Misha. “We’ll meet you back at the office.”

  Misha glanced between the two of them and then smiled like a kid in a candy store.

  “Why is he smiling like that?”

  Jean Luc shrugged. “Misha is perpetually happy. It takes a bit of time to become accustomed to it.”

  * * *

  Jean Luc watched Talia prowl the living room, which they had converted into the BSR office. She studied the mismatched, secondhand furniture.

  “I didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t this. Why is your office in a house?”

  “It is convenient. We live here as well.”

  Her gaze landed on the shelf next to the desk. It was piled high with enough food to rival any convenience store.

  “How many people work here?”

  “Misha and I.”

  Talia’s mouth fell open. “He eats all this food?”

  The corners of Jean Luc’s mouth quivered. “Misha’s metabolism is equivalent to an army of teenage boys.”

  She walked behind the desk and ran her fingers over the computer keyboard. Then she picked up the cube puzzle and started working it. “What exactly does the Bureau of Supernatural Relations do when it’s not solving murders?”

  “We cover up supernatural blunders. Humans are not ready to know about us.”

  She stopped playing with the cube and met his gaze. “Do you think they ever will be?”

  “Possibly, but I have not seen it in my lifetime.”

  “How old are you?” She grinned, her eyes sparking with mischief. “Or is it impolite to ask?”

  “I am three hundred and seventy-five.”

  “Holy crap.”

  He chuckled at her exclamation. “When you consider a vampire’s normal life span, I am actually not very old.”

  She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

  What did she mean? Had nothing been explained to her by her sire? “Talia, when were you turned?”

  Her expression shut down and she folded her arms. “Five years ago.”

  Five years? Dieu, she was an infant. What had her sire been teaching her during this time? He almost asked her just that, but Misha burst into the room in his normal fashion, a half-eaten burrito clutched in one hand and a take-out bag with a large grea
se stain in the other. “Sorry I took so long, but I had to stop for dinner.” He plopped the bag on the desk. “We better give Nicholas a call.”

  “Who is Nicholas?” Talia asked.

  “Our boss,” Misha responded while dialing the speaker phone.

  When Nicholas answered, Talia began to pace the room again. Jean Luc spoke first, introducing her and then explaining what they had learned about the victims so far.

  “Why did you go to this fitness club?” Nicholas asked.

  “The most recent victim worked for the gym in the evenings.” Jean Luc answered.

  Talia interjected, “And the first victim exercised there.”

  “How did you learn that?” Misha asked between bites of his nachos.

  She smiled. “I have my sources.”

  “Interesting,” Nicholas responded, his voice sounding like he was in a cave. “Ms. Walker, how would you feel about working with Jean Luc and Misha on this case?”

  That was not a good idea. Jean Luc interrupted, “She is a bounty hunter, Nicholas. We do not require her assistance.”

  She frowned at him, her eyes sparking.

  “I disagree,” Nicholas said. “She beat us to this fitness club and learned about the first victim as well. She has contacts we can leverage in this situation. We cannot allow it to keep escalating. Find a way to work together.”

  The phone went dead.

  “That went well.” Misha scooped up his food wrappers and stuffed them into the garbage can. He turned to Talia. “You will work with us, yes?”

  “Yes, if your boss is willing to pay me.” She glared at Jean Luc. “Unless you’re going to have a problem with it?”

  Jean Luc narrowed his eyes at her. “No problem.”

  “I will speak to Nicholas about your pay.” Misha glanced between the two of them. “Well…I think I could use an ice cream sundae right about now. I’m going to run out for a bit to let you two have some vampire alone time.”

  “That is unnecessary,” Jean Luc growled.

  “No, my friend, it is necessary, because my blood sugar is low. Something sweet should do the trick.” He winked at Talia and rushed out the door, much as he had arrived, in a burst of energy.