Five minutes later, Detective Alison Trent was watching me across the interview-room table as though I might jump up and bite her at any moment. Of course, she wouldn’t be thinking that literally – more fool her – but she still looked incredibly wary. I wondered if I was giving off crazy vampire vibes or something. I wasn’t trying to look threatening and, for me at least, I was dressed quite conservatively.
‘I’ve run a check on you, Miss O’Neal,’ said the detective. ‘My sources say that not only did you drop out of college weeks into the course, you’ve also never had a job. Who’s supporting you?’
‘My pimp,’ I said, batting my lashes.
Trent fixed me with tired blue eyes. ‘Listen, Marie, I could do without the attitude.’
‘But it’s my best attribute,’ I muttered.
She just stared at me, clearly not impressed, but I shouldn’t have to justify myself to this cop. She was judging me, and she didn’t even know me. And it wasn’t like I could tell her the truth, was it?
Trent opened the manila file beside her and placed two black and white photographs on the table. ‘Do you recognize either of these people?’ she asked. ‘People seen with Rick not long before he died.’ After my initial panic that maybe she had been about to show me something gory from a crime scene, I realized that they were just surveillance photos. Well, that’s what I assumed they were. Taken from a high vantage point, like the position of a camera – hidden or otherwise – and capturing a front and side view of a tall man wearing some kind of long trench coat.
Or a cowboy duster.
Thomas Murdoch. The pictures showed him outside an unmarked building talking to another person, but I couldn’t make out who that person was because in both photos Murdoch’s companion was blurred. Like a ghost. A vampire? It looked a bit like . . . Kyle. Kyle? Surely not. I dismissed the thought, but felt certain that the blurry figure was a vampire. Just like in mirrors, we didn’t show up in photographs properly. Was it perhaps one of the visiting vampires? That would make more sense, right?
I couldn’t, however, imagine Murdoch Senior knowingly working with the monsters. No, he might be involved, but that didn’t mean he was the one actually pulling the strings. Perhaps whoever was behind the murders just didn’t want to get his or her hands dirty? Could the hunter be under a powerful vamp’s persuasive brand of magic?
Which of course gave me a crazy idea.
I kept my gaze trained on Detective Trent, and as soon as I caught her eye, I chose that moment to push my sunglasses up onto the top of my head. I tried to relax and let my eyes draw her in. Don’t push it, I remembered Holly telling me one night when she was in a sharing mood. Let them come to you. Whatever I’d done to Jace the other day had been a total fluke; now I needed to make this vampire ‘gift’ work for me. And I needed whatever was going to happen to happen fast.
‘Detective Trent, I can understand you’re upset but if you’ll just give me a chance to—’
‘Don’t tell me what to do, kid,’ Alison Trent replied. Her voice was huskier than mine – that probably had something to do with the menthol cigarettes she chain-smoked.
She tapped her fingers on the desk, a nervous movement that gave me what I hoped was an opening. Something in her was reacting to my ability to capture her in my gaze. I knew my eyes must be glowing crazily, and yet the good detective wasn’t saying anything about that. I was getting to her, I could feel it.
I kept talking. ‘The newspaper today mentioned another murder over the weekend, one where the victim’s name hasn’t been released yet.’ Erin. ‘Is that true? Was it like Rick’s?’
Trent froze. ‘I can’t discuss that with you,’ she replied, but her voice held a note of uncertainty.
I leaned forward. ‘Could I see her body? Is it still an active crime scene?’
‘Crime scenes aren’t tourist attractions,’ she snapped. Her gaze fully met mine. I thought I could see the silver disks of my eyes reflected in her own, kind of like twin moons reflected in deep blue pools. Trent stood up and then sort of stumbled. ‘What are you—?’ Her voice trailed off.
‘It’s OK, Alison,’ I said softly. I still didn’t know how to make this work, and yet part of me seemed to be taking control of the situation. It was almost as if my inner-vamp was coming out of hibernation. It wasn’t the same as that time with Jace; now I felt more in control, as though I wouldn’t fall into her mind and get lost in some random memory.
At least, I hoped that wasn’t going to happen.
Detective Trent stood in front of me, not moving or speaking. Her eyes were fixed on mine, and I wondered what would happen if I broke that contact – would our connection end immediately? I wasn’t about to risk it so I had to talk fast; someone else could walk in at any moment.
‘Alison,’ I said. I cleared my throat. ‘Detective Trent, can you tell me if anyone else has been to see you?’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I gave Byron Castle – Erin’s boyfriend – my card yesterday; told him to contact me if he thought of anything that might help us with the investigation.’
Trent frowned, although her gaze remained fixed on mine. I was surprised she was so forthcoming, but she looked totally exhausted – maybe that helped this whole coercion thing to work better.
‘And where is Erin’s autopsy taking place?’
The detective frowned. ‘At the OPI’s headquarters in New York.’
Crap. New York City? I thought quickly. ‘What’s the OPI?’
Her face twisted and perspiration beaded on her forehead. Dammit, I was losing her.
I narrowed my eyes. ‘Detective Trent? The OPI . . . what is that again?’
Someone knocked on the door, making us both jump. In the space of a single second, I lost my grip and the link between us snapped like a fine cobweb being swept aside.
Being the spider at the center of that web didn’t feel so good. My head ached, and my eyes burned almost as badly as the time I’d rubbed them with chilli-coated fingers. I took slow, deep breaths as I regained my composure.
Alison Trent looked as shaken as I felt, but the presence of one of her minions forced her to regain her own composure and listen to what the young uniformed officer was saying. I’d slipped my shades back in place as soon as he came in, hoping desperately that he hadn’t seen anything suspicious.
The police dude cleared his throat. ‘Spook Squad are here for you again, Detective Trent.’
She scowled. ‘Hey, I’ve told you guys about calling them that.’
The cop shrugged, not looking even slightly embarrassed to be told off in front of a civilian. ‘So what are we supposed to call them? Next thing we know they’ll be opening up the basement and giving Mulder his own damn office down there.’
I examined my fingernails, trying not to look so interested in what he had to say. Spook Squad? Something told me this might be the very same organization as the mysterious ‘OPI’.
He nodded his head in my direction, a crooked smile on his handsome face. ‘Sorry for cursing, miss.’
I stifled the urge to laugh. ‘No problem, Officer . . .’ I leaned closer and squinted through my shades to make out his name badge. ‘Officer Delaney. Ah, I love an Irishman in uniform.’
Detective Trent looked as though she was busy trying to figure out what she’d spent the last few minutes talking about. She massaged her temples and, for a moment, exhaustion slipped through the cracks in her professional mask. ‘Miss O’Neal, don’t forget to let me know if you have any information that might help us.’
I took the card she handed me and slipped it into a back pocket. ‘Sure. Thanks for listening, Detective Trent.’
As Officer Delaney directed me out of the precinct I couldn’t resist flirting with the guy. Apart from being sort of cute, he might have information I could use. Back when Jace and I had been escaping from Rick’s final resting place at the hospital, the ‘Spook Squad’ had been mentioned by whoever had been on the other side of the door.
I smiled
at Delaney, peering over the top of my shades briefly before pushing them back up. ‘That Detective Trent is pretty intense, isn’t she?’
He shrugged as we stood by the entrance. ‘She’s good at her job.’
‘Right. And dedicated. We talked about the work she’s doing for the . . .’ I screwed up my face. ‘The Spook Squad, I think I heard you call them. The OPI . . .’ I let my voice trail off and turned my head as though more interested in the squad car pulling up to the doors outside.
He snorted. ‘Office of Preternatural Investigations. They’re a bunch of freaks if you ask me, always chasing shadows. Though you didn’t hear me say that.’ He looked guilty for a moment, probably wondering why he was even telling me this. ‘I think “Spook Squad” suits them better.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, nodding earnestly. ‘Definitely.’
He escorted me all the way back downstairs. At the bottom of the stairwell, he held open the metal door to the lobby. I exited the glass doors, grateful to avoid the stupid metal detector this time, and welcomed the chill winter air on my face. The sky had turned to granite while I’d been inside and I headed for the nearest T stop, trying to figure out my next move as I prowled through the afternoon crowds.
I couldn’t help feeling bad for taking advantage of Alison Trent, but I was also surprised at how easy it had been to influence her mind. Did this mean my abilities were getting stronger? She was clearly a dedicated cop – a good person – but it sounded as though she was under pressure from the so-called Spook Squad. Who knew there really was a modern-day X-Files? So, the Office of Preternatural Investigations was on to the case of these murdered kids. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Boston had some serious supernatural activity hidden away; it was only a matter of time before we attracted official attention.
I had to tell Theo about the Spook Squad (if he didn’t already know they existed) – and about the photo – but I couldn’t do that until he was up and awake. I glared at the sky, willing night to fall, but there were at least two more hours to go. Impatient, I called Jace but it rolled over to voice mail. I resisted the urge to throw my phone in frustration. Where next? Where might Kyle be? Or the visiting vamps? My lips curved into a smile. Where else but Subterranean?
Chapter Eighteen
SUBTERRANEAN WAS COOL, hip – all of that good stuff. I hadn’t been inside before, but Holly had told me all about it. I think she’d been trying to scare me off, but there was a little part of me that thought it was sort of cool.
I’d been home, grabbed a few hours’ sleep, then waited impatiently for the club to open, and now a group of young people crowded in with me, hooting laughter and pushing each other. Drunken shouts of, ‘Duuude! Let’s get a beer.’
Bass thrummed against the soles of my boots. Loud music filled my ears and my head, and I concentrated on that rather than on the scent of humanity. Kids were jumping and dancing to the heavy sounds pounding from the speaker system. They didn’t know they were prey just waiting to happen.
Vampires didn’t usually kill when they fed. Why would they? Random, blood-drained bodies would draw way too much attention, and vampires were all about the secrets. No, feeding was a seductive thing – that’s why places like Subterranean existed. It was full of youth and beauty with more than enough blood to go around, without anyone having to die for it. All the vampires had to do was come up from the sub-basement and take their pick. And when the victims rejoined their friends, it wasn’t exactly unusual to look out of it at Subterranean . . .
At least, that was the way it was supposed to work.
I’d left a message on Jace’s voice mail to tell him that I might stop by the apartment if I found out anything from Subterranean. I couldn’t believe I was actually checking in with the guy who only days before had been trying to kill me. My lips tightened and I headed with new determination through the nightclub. People changed. Sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse. I hoped that I was right about which one applied to Jace.
I suspected that if he’d been around to take my call he would’ve wanted to come with me. But the son of an infamous vampire hunter walking into a known vampire haunt was worse than suicide. I had to be careful not to bring the young hunter anywhere near my Maker: if Theo got hold of Jace, he wouldn’t give the kid a merciful death and be done with it. No, he’d probably torture him until his real target – Thomas Murdoch – came riding to the rescue. Theo still figured he had a score to settle with Jace for the way he’d treated me six months ago. But the scars on my arms were fading and, more importantly, the memory of that night seemed almost to belong to another person.
People can change, I told myself again. I’m evidence of that.
I craned my neck over the eclectic crowd, checking out the bar area and getting bumped by a black-clad couple as they gyrated past. Perspiration flicked onto my face as I got too close to a lanky blue-haired boy rocking glaze-eyed to the beat. The music was a fist, punching into my heart and making me feel alive.
I’d been there barely fifteen minutes, had seen nothing or no one of note, and was heading over to the bar when I was shoved in the back. Hard. I stumbled against one of the ebony pillars that surrounded the dance floor. I half turned, only to be grabbed from behind, my face shoved against the cold stone. The faint grain of the pillar scratched my cheek, and I could feel the thrum of the bass beating all the way down to my toes.
‘Well, well, what have we here,’ hissed a nasty voice in my ear. A voice I was unfortunately familiar with. ‘Looking for someone, little Moth?’
I tried to dig my elbow into the skinny ribs pressed against my back, but it felt like my wrists were being crushed in a steel trap. ‘Get off me, Kyle.’
‘Say please,’ purred that irritating voice in my ear.
‘Go screw yourself. Theo won’t be happy when I tell him about this.’
Kyle loved to mess with me; it was one of his hobbies. ‘Sorry, kid, but the boss isn’t here tonight. I’m keeping an eye on things. And what are you doing here? I didn’t think Theo had given you permission to come in here yet.’
I tried to rein in my temper. ‘I was looking for Theo, OK? If he’s not here, I’ll just leave. Is he at home?’
His eyes glittered, and his smile was as sharp as knives. ‘He’s out hunting, little Moth. Same as me.’
Theo was hunting again? He hardly ever went out on a hunt by himself, let alone this regularly. He’d already been out on Saturday – when I’d found him almost glowing with fresh blood. Erin’s blood. A horrible thought wormed its way into my mind, but before I could focus and try to unravel it, Kyle grabbed my chin and forced my head up until our faces were almost touching. His talons dug into my flesh, forcing a gasp of pain out of me. Kyle’s nails were more like claws – just another weapon he could use in combat. His eyes spat burning silver.
I tried to twist out of his grip, while nervously looking around at the human patrons nearby. ‘Put a lid on it, Kyle, you’re sparkling all over the freaking place.’
I couldn’t believe it was me having to tell him that. What had gotten into him? ‘Listen, I know this is our territory but there are still humans around.’
‘Ah yes, all the lovely sheep. So many tasty snacks wandering around.’
He moved next to me, pressing his hip against mine as he leaned against the pillar. He slid his arm around my waist and kept hold of me, gesturing at the spinning dancers with his other hand.
‘See how they move, little Moth. Can you smell it?’ His stance was watchful, focused, and his gaze was hungry. His presence seemed like a jagged rock in a stream. Wiry and feral.
I was starting to get seriously pissed. If I didn’t know better I’d say he was high, but vampires weren’t affected by narcotics – especially not the older vamps, and Kyle had more than a century under his tasteless studded belt. And just what was with his outfit tonight, anyway? He was dressed like a blond version of Russell Brand: all skinny jeans, unbuttoned shirt and guyliner.
‘What are
you talking about?’ I tried to move away from him but his fingers dug into my side, those long nails like small needles piercing my skin even through the material of my coat.
‘Take a good, long sniff, my dear. Breathe it in. Life . . . The scent of the living.’ He pressed his face close – so close that his long hair tickled my cheek. He opened his lips, showing the tips of white fangs. ‘Food.’
‘Get a grip,’ I snapped, trying to sound braver than I felt.
‘I’m perfectly in control,’ he said. ‘Just speaking the truth. Don’t tell me you haven’t felt it too. It’s what we are. It’s the darkness inside all of us, giving us the chance to lose ourselves in really bad places. I mean, really bad shit, you know? It’s being bad and liking it. You can pretend all you like, but you want to watch them bleed as much as I do.’
It was the way he said it that turned my stomach to lead. A weird sort of precognition, intuition or one of those fluke ‘feelings’ . . .
‘Get your hands off me and maybe I won’t tell Theo.’ Yeah, right. Because I really wasn’t going to tell Theo that his unofficial right-hand man was a total freak just waiting to flip out and go on a murdering rampage. I glared at him, seriously tempted to kick chunks out of his shins with my steel-toe-capped boots.
‘Theo doesn’t care what I do.’ He ran his tongue along his teeth, flicking it between razor-sharp fangs. ‘The boss is getting soft in his old age. Maybe he’s losing his touch – maybe he’s the one losing control, eh?’
OK, now this wasn’t good. Not good at all. My mind raced as I pictured Erin’s lifeless body and Rick’s transformation from emo-kid to Zombie Boy from hell. Kyle had been the one to look into their deaths for Theo, hadn’t he . . .?
Of course, we only had his word for whatever he had or hadn’t done to investigate these vampire-related deaths. Did Kyle really have anything to do with all this crap? He was probably the right age to create revenants – that book had said vamps were usually under two hundred years old in order to screw up a Turning enough to Unmake the victim. Was that him in the photo with Murdoch? I shivered. What was I getting myself into now?
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