by P. G. Forte
“This warehouse is the logical place to begin looking for clues as to her whereabouts. I should think that would be obvious, even to you. Having it occupied like this makes the searching that much harder—if not impossible. Ergo, interference.”
“Nice argument. I’d almost buy it too, if I didn’t happen to know for a fact that you already searched this place weeks ago.” Conrad had assured Marc that had been the case. On the night Marc had been injured Conrad had sworn to him that people had been sent to the warehouse and would tear it apart, top to bottom searching for anything that would shed light on the case. He’d sworn no stone would be left unturned, no effort would be spared. He’d sworn that Audrey would be found… Right now it was looking like Team Conrad was batting a thousand. “What do you think you’ll be able to find now that you didn’t find then?”
“If I knew what we’d missed, I would have made sure it wasn’t missed the first time, wouldn’t I?” Georgia’s eyes flashed. “Besides, my primary goal that first evening was not to track your…friend…down. My priority was to destroy and confiscate anything having to do with her experiments, so that’s what we concentrated our efforts on. This time around, it’s different. Not that I should have to explain myself, but I’ll be looking for anything that might suggest where she’s gone, or who might be helping her.”
Helping her? Like Elise, perhaps? Marc shook his head. He didn’t want to think that way but right now he had to. If only he’d realized sooner that there might still be clues to find here. If there was anything that could implicate Elise—or, better yet—might help lead him to her, he’d make damned sure he found it first. “I don’t know what to tell you, Georgia. It sounds like a waste of time to me.”
“Does it? Why don’t you let me worry about that? You do want her found, don’t you, Marc?”
“Who, Audrey?” Marc raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Nah, why would you think something like that? I actually like going to sleep every day knowing she’s still out there just waiting for a chance to kidnap someone else, maybe kill them this time. Or that she might want to come back for me and finish what she started. That pretty much fucking makes my night.”
“Charming.”
“You know what I don’t like, though? I don’t like the mess you’ve made of things so far. I don’t like you coming back here looking for a do-over on all the mistakes and slip-ups you shouldn’t have made the first time around. I don’t like the feeling I’m getting right now that says you’ve done absolutely nothing these past few weeks, that you’ve made no real progress whatsoever, and that you’re no closer to finding her than you were at the start. That’s something I really don’t like.”
“No more than I do.” Georgia smiled grimly. “Which I guess means we’re in agreement. And, that being the case, I assume you’ll have no problem with shutting down your little dancehall and vacating the premises so I can conduct my search?”
“You know what they say about assuming stuff, don’t you?” Marc shook his head. “No. I’m not all right with that. I have a better idea. I’ll have my own people go through and give the place a once-over. They’re already onsite, after all, and that way nobody needs to be disrupted. If we find anything, I’ll let you know.”
“Your people? You mean those ferals out there? You must be joking. Does Conrad know you’ve gone so far as to claim them now?”
Marc nodded. “Wow, you really like throwing his name around, don’t you? But, yeah, actually, he does. And it’s no joke. They’re the ones who helped me get free when I was trapped in here and they’re the ones I trust now to find whatever clues your people may have missed.”
“How very fascinating,” Georgia murmured. “It does make me wonder, though, about whether you might know more than you’ve been letting on about what went on here before. Maybe it was no accident that it was you who was held captive, rather than someone else. Are you hiding something, Marc? Did you get caught up in a double-cross? Is that the reason you don’t want this investigation to succeed? If that’s the case, I will find out, you know. And I will tell Conrad. I can’t make any promises, but he might go easier on you if you come clean now.”
Marc pushed back his chair and stood. “Right. We’re finished here.”
“Are we?”
“If you’re going to sit there and insult me? Oh, yeah, we are. Besides, I’m pretty sure your five minutes are up. I’ll show you out now. I’d offer to let you find your own way, but I’m not sure how much the clientele would appreciate it if I let your kind have free rein in here, if you know what I mean. No offense.”
Georgia glared daggers at him, but said nothing. They left the office and descended the stairs in silence. Marc led the way, not pausing ’til they reached the door that opened onto the alley. Georgia turned in the open doorway to stare thoughtfully at Marc. “You’re playing a very dangerous game, young one. I wonder if you have any idea how dangerous.”
“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea.” Marc gestured at the patch he wore. “I’m not just making a fashion statement with this thing, you know. Believe me, I know exactly how dangerous Audrey can be and, no matter what you think about it, I assure you no one has more of a reason for wanting her found than I do.”
Georgia nodded. “We’ll see about that.”
“I guess we will.”
“But that’s still not quite what I meant. There are other dangers too, you know, and other consequences, some of which are far graver than the loss of a single eye. Far graver than I think you appreciate. You’ll think about that, won’t you?”
Marc was pretty sure her inflection was no accident. He was pretty sure the grave she wished him to think about was his own. “Good-bye, Georgia. I’ll let you know if we find anything.”
Georgia studied his face for another moment then turned away. Marc waited until the door had swung shut before he breathed a final sigh. Then he shook his head. “What’s with you two tonight?” he asked as he turned to face Heather and Nighthawk, who’d been trailing behind him. “Are we having trouble following simple orders now? When I told you to keep an eye on things, I’m pretty sure you both knew that didn’t mean I needed you to watch over me.”
“That’s not my fault.” Heather nodded in Nighthawk’s direction. “You said I should watch him. I was just doing what you told me to do.”
Nighthawk looked equally unrepentant. “Sorry, boss. I guess I musta gotten confused. I thought the idea was to keep track of whatever situation seemed most likely to result in bloodshed. This got my vote, so here I am.” He hesitated for a moment and then asked. “Everything okay now?”
Marc nodded. “Yeah. Everything’s peachy. Except, starting tomorrow, I’ve got a new job for everyone. I want eyes on every inch of this building. I want a report on every single item Audrey or her people might have left behind—every piece of equipment, each scrap of paper. If she left so much as a paperclip lying around, I want to know about it.”
“Ooh, so it’s like…a really big scavenger hunt?” Heather asked perking up with excitement. “That could be fun.”
Marc grinned at her. “Yeah. Just like that.” Then another thought struck him. “And let’s be creative, okay? Think outside the box. This was Audrey’s base of operations. We still don’t know what all she was involved in, but there had to have been some things she’d want to keep secret, right? I want everyone on the lookout for any hiding places she might have had. Concealed safes, secret drawers, hidden rooms—you name it.”
Nighthawk nodded. “A’ight. You got it. Anything in particular we should be looking for?”
Marc shook his head. “No idea. But, whatever it is, I’ll let you know when you find it.”
Chapter Nine
The following evening…
The mood in Akeldama was typically festive. The first and still the most successful of the Quintano clan’s private clubs was filled almost to capacity, which was no more than its manager, Drew Geiger, had come to expect at this time of year. Everyone was in the
mood to party. The humans were joyfully anticipating the upcoming holidays, the vampires were happily reaping the rewards of longer nights, and the Quintano coffers grew steadily fatter.
It was a state of affairs that usually gladdened Drew’s heart as well. He’d been born a pauper several centuries earlier, and even now, after all this time, with decades of prosperity under his belt and all Conrad’s wealth and power backing this current endeavor, the insecurity of those early days still marked him. If busy was good, then busier was better, in Drew’s very humble opinion.
This year he was finding it harder than it should have been to get into the holiday spirit. The crush of so much business seemed suddenly too much for one man to handle. He never would have believed he could have gotten so spoiled in so short a time, so acclimated to the idea of having a partner. It seemed especially odd when he considered how short Marc’s tenure in that capacity had been. Yet what else could possibly explain it?
During the several weeks before Drew even broached the subject of his working there, Marc had been an almost nightly fixture in the club. Now he was gone. Drew found he missed being able to count on his assistance almost as much as he missed having a friend to spend his after-hours with. It was a very odd thing, but everyone always seemed to behave so much better when Marc was around.
Drew still wasn’t quite sure how to account for that either. Early on, he’d assumed it was Marc’s position as one of Conrad’s current favorites that had all the city’s vampires flocking to him, seeking to get on his good side and curry favor. But even the humans, ignorant of Marc’s semi-celebrity status, had responded to his presence in a way that, upon reflection, made no sense at all.
It was curious, vaguely mysterious, and more than a little troubling. Drew had a natural distrust of anomalies. In his experience, ignorance wasn’t bliss. Ignorance was an engraved invitation to disaster. It was precisely what you didn’t know that could, and likely would, end up hurting you. Knowledge was more than just power. Amassed and acted on correctly, it offered more security than even money in the bank could provide. Even more importantly, knowledge frequently spelled the entire difference between life and death. And Drew had every intention of living for a very, very long time.
“Busy night,” his bartender observed as he poured out a pint of Drew’s usual stout.
Drew settled himself on his usual stool then took another glance around. “About average, I’d say.” He shrugged disinterestedly, unable to work up his usual enthusiasm for the sight.
The bartender slid the glass across the bar to him and frowned. “Everything okay with you, boss? You seem kinda out of it lately.”
Drew shot a quelling glance at the man. “Thank you for your concern, Daniel. Everything is fine.” He knew it was a common practice for the bartenders in many human establishments to operate as amateur psychologists of a sort, but that had never been the case in Akeldama. Certainly not where Drew was concerned! It was true he wasn’t quite feeling his usual self these days, but he didn’t need one of his employees, one of his human employees especially, commenting on the fact.
Daniel, more commonly known as Danny, grimaced slightly and returned to his work. Drew glowered after him for several minutes, just to make sure his point had been taken. Danny was wearing a black T-shirt this evening, with words printed on it, front and back. Do Not Meddle in the Affairs of Dragons, the shirt proclaimed in large white letters, For You are Tasty and Good with Ketchup. Drew found the message oddly apropos. If one were to substitute “vampires” for “dragons” and leave off the part about the ketchup, it would be excellent advice—well worth the taking.
Convinced, finally, that there would be no more unnecessary queries headed his way, Drew turned his attention to his drink. Where had this penchant for making small talk come from, he wondered. Then he remembered. Oh, yes, of course. He had Marc to thank for that too didn’t he? Although “thank” was, perhaps, not exactly the word Drew wished to use at present.
He’d just raised the glass to his lips when he felt it—a frisson of awareness that unsettled his nerves. Power approached.
“Good evening, Mr. Geiger,” a soft, feminine voice spoke at his shoulder, forcing Drew to suck in a startled breath as he revised his previous conclusion. Correction. Power was here.
“Lady Lancaster. What a pleasant surprise.” Drew scrambled to his feet. The surprised part was certainly true, but pleasant? That remained to be seen. The lady extended her hand. Drew raised it to his lips to bestow a respectful kiss on the knuckles. “What can I get for you, my lady? A drink perhaps? Something to eat?”
“Thank you, no.” Georgia edged closer. “However, I do wish to ask a favor of you.” The faint scent of roses wafted from her golden blonde hair. The aura of power tickled Drew’s senses. Though the lady appeared to be no more than thirty years old, or possibly younger, Drew knew that, in actual years, her age rivaled Conrad’s. Vampires as ancient and powerful as she didn’t ask for favors, they demanded them. Still, one must play the game.
“Of course, my lady. Only name it.”
“It’s a delicate matter. Is there not someplace more private we might go to discuss it?”
More private? Yes, there certainly was. And the fact that she’d sought him out here, rather than at the mansion, where such privacy was much more easily obtainable, struck Drew as being dangerously odd.
Pointing out anything so obvious, or suggesting a different course of action—preferably one that would not lead to the two of them being closeted with one another behind closed doors—was even more dangerous and clearly not a wise move to make where one of the Invitus was concerned.
“Of course,” Drew repeated, still steeling his features to remain politely impassive. He gestured toward the back of the club, where his office was located. “Right this way.”
“Now, what is it you need from me?” Drew asked once they were ensconced in his office and Georgia had once again refused his offer of a drink.
“How much do you know about what your friend Marc is up to these days?” Georgia’s tone was mild, her expression betrayed only vague curiosity, as though the answer was of no great consequence.
Drew was not deceived. She hadn’t come here to make small talk. “Very little, I’m afraid. He hasn’t been here in weeks.”
“Still, you must have seen him. Has he told you anything about these ferals he’s been spending time with? Or this warehouse he appears to have appropriated for his own use?”
The ferals again. Drew shook his head. He’d known he hadn’t heard the last of them. It was common knowledge that Marc’s interest in the ferals dated from the time he’d spent here in Akeldama. Drew could only hope the blame for that interest was not about to be laid at his door as well. “N-no, my lady, we haven’t really spoken in any great detail. But surely he has not appropriated anything without Conrad’s consent?”
“Whether or not he has Conrad’s consent in this is of no concern to me,” the lady replied, shrugging off the mention of their sire a little too easily, Drew couldn’t help but think. “I suspect Marc may be involved in many activities of which Conrad is unaware. At least at present.”
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know about anything like that.” In point of fact, Drew knew entirely too much about that. Furthermore, when it came to certain activities that he and Marc had once participated in together, he hoped Conrad remained in blissful ignorance for a very long time indeed.
Georgia smiled. It was not a pleasant expression. Her lavender-blue eyes gleamed with a very fell light. “You’ll forgive me, I’m sure, if I say I find that rather strange. In the past, I’ve always found you to be so well informed.”
“I-I do try to…to stay abreast of new developments.” Drew’s heart pounded. He was treading on some very thin ice at the moment. “But, as I’ve said, I haven’t really spoken to Marc in several weeks.” The woman before him was no one to trifle with. Marc might be one of Conrad’s current favorites, but Georgia’s position within the famil
y was inviolate and indisputable. Such had been the case for centuries.
Rumor had it Georgia was one of only two, or possibly three vampires whom Conrad had allowed to be tattooed with the Quintano crest during the late seventeen-hundreds, when the wearing of such things had become a fad among the English upper-class. It was more than just a status symbol, or a sign of their devotion to their sire. It was a mark of Conrad’s great regard for them, his pledge to give his life in their defense, should the need arise, and to treat any insult to any one of them as though it were directed at himself personally.
If Georgia had set herself against Marc, it did not bode well. Not for Marc and not for Drew either. It suddenly occurred to Drew that by befriending Marc he might have hitched his wagon to the wrong horse.
“I know only what I’ve been told, my lady, or what I myself have observed. If I’ve been misinformed about anything…I hope it won’t be held against me?”
“That’s not for me to decide.” Once again, Georgia shrugged off Drew’s concerns. “But, as Marc’s friend, you would want to help him, would you not, if he were to find himself in some kind of trouble?”
Drew swallowed hard. “I would hope that rendering such assistance would not come at the risk of…of losing Conrad’s favor.” The fact that he was not of Conrad’s direct bloodline was never far from Drew’s thoughts. However hard he worked at his job, his position within the family had always seemed more than a little precarious. On the other hand, the lady was also not of Conrad’s making. She, too, had been acquired by Conrad upon the death of her original sire. One could almost say it was a bond that she and Drew shared. Perhaps he should remind her of that fact? Or was her origin not something the lady would care to have mentioned? That certainly seemed to be the case with most of the Invitus.
