I smiled at Maggie, grateful for her friendship. Without it, I’d never have been able to pull myself out of the lovesick hole I’d dug myself in over Lane. But Lane wasn’t on my mind any longer. This was about Josh.
“Does this have something to do with that nightmare you had? I’ve talked to V, and she said she might be able to help you.”
“Oh. Thanks, that’s good. And yes, that would be fantastic.”
“Good. Maybe she can come over tonight.”
“Okay. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”
“Oh?”
I took in a deep breath. “Promise me you won’t tell Cian or the others.”
Her brows furrowed with concern. “Of course, not. I mean, yes, I promise. You have my word. But,” she added, “if something happened and you’re in danger, please understand, I won’t be able to keep that promise.”
“I understand. And it’s not life threatening. Nothing I can’t handle anyway.”
“Chelle, just tell me already.”
“Okay.” I took in another deep breath. At this rate, I’d be hyperventilating within the next few minutes. “There’s this guy I met the other night.” I paused, as her eyes grew wide. I knew it was with excitement at the prospect of another man in my life aside from Lane. Everyone knew how fucked up that situation was. “I sort of like him. A lot.”
“That’s great! Who is he? Is he someone from the club?”
“No. I don’t think he’s ever been to Club Royal.”
“Then you have to bring him. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Well, that’s the thing, Maggie. You already know him.”
“What? Wait. Who? I don’t know many vampires.”
I decided to ease into it, one step at a time. “He’s not a vampire.”
“Oh.” She tilted her head in question. I knew she hadn’t known many human men in the city either, only the ones she’d worked with. She slowly moved her head back and forth and whispered, “Josh Barrett. No way.”
I nodded and bit my lower lip, waiting for her to say something else. We both knew how dangerous it was for me to see someone like Josh. A reporter. A reporter she’d used to work with. A reporter who thought she’d moved away so she could hide the fact that she was a vampire and couldn’t return to work.
“I know it’s wrong. But I didn’t take his blood, because…because I was hoping I could get him to help me with some things from my past. And then after I’d slept with him—”
“You slept with him?” Her interruption blurted loudly from her lips, and I thought for sure, soundproof room or not, the others had to have heard her.
“Shhhhh.”
“You slept with him, but you didn’t take his blood.” It was a statement, not a question. One of acknowledgment but not of understanding. We were creatures of habit. Though unlike most vampires, we didn’t take human blood because we wanted to. We took it because we needed to. The high that came with it was just an added bonus that contributed to our reputation of being monsters because sometimes we took too much. Some vampires enjoyed killing humans, regarding them as an inferior species and their lives as unimportant. We knew better. Without humans, vampires couldn’t exist, which made them very important.
“Yes.”
“Did you at least erase his memory?”
I shook my head.
“Why the hell not?” She stood up, facing me, her hands on her hips, trying to look all superior when I was actually a bit older, in vampire age, anyway. She was shocked because she knew we’d been trained to always erase a human’s memory after the deed.
“I know I shouldn’t have had sex with him and left his memory intact, but I didn’t erase it because there was no reason to. I didn’t take his blood, and he has no idea I am a vampire, and he…I like him, Maggie.” I sighed, hoping for some compassion. “When you and Cian first started seeing each other, he—”
“Don’t go there.”
“I thought you of all people would understand.”
She sighed and sat back down beside me. “I’m sorry. I do understand. Cian basically did the same thing with me.”
I chewed on my lower lip.
“So, what are you going to do? He’s a reporter.”
“That’s one of the reasons I was with him in the first place. I wanted to see if I could persuade him to look up some old news stories about the time when my parents died. I seduced him, hoping he would help me.”
“But?”
“I never got around to asking him. We fell asleep after several rounds of sex, and I woke up in a panic when I realized it was almost daylight. I just rushed out of his place.” Leaving him standing there in his apartment, naked—in all his glorious beauty, I almost added aloud. “Promise you won’t tell the others.”
“I promise. But you need to be careful with him. He’s an awfully good reporter. And you can’t bring him around here. If he sees me, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”
Chapter Seventeen
Josh
As instructed, I put my attention first on the girl, which I would have done anyway since I believed it was Chelle. Because of that and more, I needed to get to the bottom of it. There was really no way to confirm that all three photos were the same person, but using the facial recognition software I had along with another facial aging program, should give me some idea of whether or not my hunch was right.
I keyed in some instructions and clicked on some options to start the program then sat back on the sofa and waited. An information block came on screen.
Please wait. Approximate time to finish task: 1 hour, 30 minutes, 4 seconds.
I sighed and glanced at the time on my computer screen. It was close to four in the afternoon, too early for drinking by most people’s standards, but I went to the kitchen for a shot anyway. Just something to take the edge off.
I opened the cupboard to grab the bottle of scotch, only to find it not there. Then I remembered I’d left it by the sink last night after pouring a couple of drinks when Chelle was here. Drinks that we’d never drunk. I walked back to my bedroom and snatched up both glasses, downing the contents of one then nursing the other on the way back to the kitchen. Last night had been the first night I’d gone to bed sober in a very long time. I was surprised, too, because while Chelle had been sleeping in my arms, I didn’t have a single, fucking horror story play in my head.
Concentrating back on the case, I wasn’t quite sure where to start. One thing was for sure, I needed to talk to Chelle. She was hiding something, and I needed to find out what. I had a bad feeling she was in trouble, and I had a hunch it had something to do with the strange man at the café that had made Chelle go pale in the face—paler than normal.
I topped off my glass with more scotch and headed back to the computer.
This was going to take a while, and even I knew my stomach needed something in it besides malt liquor. Since I had to find Chelle, I decided to go back to the café under the bridge and get something to eat.
I entered the diner and took a seat facing the door like last night. Theresa, a cute brunette in her late thirties, still slim and fit with a smile that said “take me home if you’re not doing anything later” strolled over to my table with her pen and pad ready. I was glad to see she was on duty. Molly, who’d worked the last two nights, was older and not as easy on the eyes.
I ordered some sort of French pot roast, deciding a real meal might be better than another burger. I was right. A rich, flavorful gravy covered chunks of beef that were so tender, I could cut it with my fork, and mashed potatoes smooth as silk with little pearl onions and carrots around the plate. I managed to eat the entire meal, having had nothing all day but a crappy stale donut.
I sat at the café for about two hours before accepting the fact that Chelle wasn’t going to show.
With my attitude drowning in disappointment, and a heavy heart, I drove back to my apartment. Remembering that the bottle of scotch was just about empty, I stopped in at the local
liquor store on my way and picked up two more. Life was too hard these days to risk running out.
Inside my apartment, I shrugged out of my jacket and took my seat back on the sofa in front of my computer. I poured myself a drink and gave some more thought to why the SFPD wanted to drum up news on the disappearance of a girl placed in witness protection sixteen years ago, who was now missing. I kept coming back to the same conclusion. Her life was in danger. The question was, from whom? A dirty cop? The Feds themselves? Or someone completely different?
The identity given to the little girl in the first photo, the one taken from the murder investigation eleven years ago, was Charlotte Ferguson, only child of murder victims, Grayson and Sarah Ferguson. Status: Missing.
Missing, my ass. Forced into child protective services and then into witness protection, never to be seen or heard from again. At least, not as Charlotte Ferguson.
I swigged the contents of my glass and placed it down on the table, smacking my lips as the familiar burn coated my throat and numbed my perceptions.
Wait a minute. Wait a fucking minute. Since when was Chelle short for Charlotte? Charlie was short for Charlotte. Chelle was short for Michelle. But it was close. And maybe just close enough that changing a five-year-old’s name wouldn’t be too confusing for her and could be passed off as being cute, hence brainwashing the kid into thinking it was fun to be called Chelle rather than Charlotte. Ahhhh…I was grasping at straws.
I looked at the computer screen. Five minutes to go. I got up and strolled to the kitchen in search of a refill for my glass. I grabbed what was left in the bottle at the sink and brought it back out to the computer. I poured the rest of the contents into my glass just as my computer dinged that the task was complete.
I didn’t like what I saw.
Chapter Eighteen
Chelle
It had been a couple of nights since I’d ventured outside of the mansion. I hadn’t been feeling the greatest. Mostly depressed. Leaving Josh the way I had felt awful. Going out with the others to feed or even by myself just didn’t feel right. After sleeping with Josh, the intimacy that we’d shared had been amazing. The thought of sucking on another’s vein repulsed me. Even though I hadn’t taken Josh’s blood, I didn’t want anyone but him.
I headed down to the large dining room, realizing it was about the time in the evening when everyone gathered together for a meal. I discovered I was right when I entered the room and the delicious smell of seafood permeated the air. Everyone sat at the large, oval, dark walnut dining table eating what looked like a meal fit for a king. A huge platter of Dungeness crab legs and bodies smothered in some sort of Creole sauce, surrounded by rice, mixed with all sorts of vegetables. My mouth watered when the heavenly smell reached my nostrils.
Everyone that lived in the mansion was there, as well as Vanessa. I sat down in the only empty chair at the far end of the table. Maggie sat in between Vanessa and Cian. Gage sat at the other end of the table, and creepy Elvis, Ari, and Lane sat across the table from Cian and the two women. I couldn’t help but notice how unusually quiet Lane was. He was normally the one making all the jokes and wisecracks at his brother’s and band mates’ expense. But, tonight, he just seemed different. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well. Then I remembered that vampires didn’t get sick. He looked at me and smiled. Almost as if he were glad to see me.
“This all looks delicious. What’s the occasion?” I asked.
“One does not need an ‘occasion’ to chow down on Dungeness crab, Chelle,” Gage supplied.
“Ari picked it up on his errands today,” Maggie said.
I smiled at Ari. He shrugged. “It called to me as I was driving past Fisherman’s Wharf. We haven’t had it in a long time so I thought what the hell.”
“So fucking glad your inner glutton was working, my friend,” Gage said.
I grabbed a couple of crab legs from the platter and spooned some of the rice mixture onto my plate. I cracked one of the legs and culled out the succulent white meat with the tiny fork that had been set next to my plate, plopping the tender morsel into my mouth. “Oh. This is so good,” I said. I grabbed a couple more legs and tore into them. I must have eaten about eight of them before I realized I was full.
“So, Chelle,” Vanessa began. “After Maggie told me about your dreams, I researched some of my books and I have a memory spell for you. It needs to be performed the night after a full moon, which makes tonight perfect.”
“Great,” I said, putting my tiny fork down. More than anything, I wanted to know what had happened to my parents—to remember that day—but at the same time, the thought of finding out what happened made me feel a bit queasy. I suddenly wished I hadn’t eaten so many crab legs and two helpings of rice.
Everyone was finished eating and stepped away from the table as the servants began to clear the dirty dishes. It was nice to have dinner with everyone. I was glad we weren’t like the monsters that the media portrayed us to be.
“Witch’s spells can be nasty, and I doubt this will help you, but whatever.” Lane pushed the square, dark, wooden coffee table off to the side, and Vanessa unrolled a huge poster with a large design of a pentagram on it. She placed it on the hardwood floor in the center of the room and positioned a candle on each of the five points of the star. After she’d lit each one, she handed me a beautiful pinkish-red stone.
“It’s a Rhodonite crystal. You need to stand in the center of the pentagram while holding the stone in your hand, and read this chant three times.” She held out a piece of paper to me and I took it, stepping into the center of the star.
I recited the chant aloud.
“By the earth, air, fire, and sea, precious Rhodonite give unto me.
Penetrate my mind. Open my eyes.
May I remember all that I seek to recall from years ago, big and small.
Send your powers to me to bring forth my memory three times three.
So mote it be!”
After repeating the passage two more times, I stood in the circle. Everyone in the room stood around the outside of the star, watching me.
I looked at Vanessa and shook my head, disappointed. Nothing happened.
“It will take time,” she promised. “Your memory might come back in stages, like bits and pieces, or it could happen all at once. It might come to you in a dream or even when you’re awake, but you will start to remember things.”
I stepped out of the star toward where everyone was standing as a wave of lightheadedness fogged my vision and the room began to spin.
“Chelle, are you okay?” I heard Maggie’s soft voice, too soft and distant, considering she was standing right next to me. It echoed in my head before everything went black.
Chapter Nineteen
Josh
I’d stared at the photos over an over for the past few nights. I hadn’t heard anything from Chelle. But she knew where I lived if she wanted to see me. The problem was, I ached to touch her again. I reached out to finger the photo as if that would satisfy me. My software program was good, but not that good.
The facial restructuring of the five-year-old turned out to look almost identical to the older pictures of the girl. The eyes were the same almond shape, except in the picture they looked brown. Not like Chelle’s silverish blue. The Chelle I knew. But that could be just lighting or lack thereof.
I leaned back against the sofa, nursing my scotch. “Fuck. Now, what?”
I did some tweaking on the photos to change the eye color just to see. Yep, that was definitely her.
I studied the images on the screen. Something else wasn’t right, though. I sat up for a closer look, setting my tumbler of libation next to the laptop. There was a mark on the photos. All of them had it. I ran my finger over a small scar about an inch long below her left eye. The Chelle I knew didn’t have a scar just below her left eye.
What does that mean? I thought about different scenarios, circumstances, and scars. She could have had laser surgery to remove the scar. I opened up
a new window and searched for some information about laser surgery for scar removal. I found several videos on YouTube, so I opened one and watched. I stopped watching in the middle. I supposed it was possible that she could have had laser surgery, but that just seemed a bit too drastic for such a small scar that was hardly noticeable, unless you were really looking for it. I would have noticed a scar, mainly because I couldn’t take my eyes off her face. I couldn’t help but study every inch of her. I’m sure I’d touched every spot on her body and face the other night in an effort to try to memorize every detail of her. Her beauty had captivated me from the very first moment I’d seen her in that bar and had left me bewitched. When I’d had the good fortune to run into her again at the café, I’d thought it was just a coincidence. But I didn’t believe in coincidences. Things happened for a fucking reason. If Chelle were in trouble, I had a chance to help. Maybe. That’s a lot more than I had gotten last time.
I picked up my drink and stared at the lack of anything inside. Just like my life, the tumbler was empty. But one thing was different. The glass was easy to fill.
I understood why the Feds would be keeping the whole incident quiet. Revealing the disappearance of the only eyewitness to a sixteen-year-old murder could be detrimental to the witness if someone on the wrong side found her. The big question was, why in God’s name did the SFPD want to not only find her but also create buzz about her? Which kept bringing me back to “dirty cop.” And now I had to ask, was Adrienne involved with corrupt officials? Why had she agreed to the story?
It was time to change up my investigation.
I opened another of my software programs, a very expensive background checking algorithm; one of the best on the market. I may live simply, depriving myself of most luxuries because I didn’t deserve them, but one thing I didn’t skimp on was technology that made my job easier. I didn’t know the name of Adrienne’s source, so I typed in Adrienne Rhodes. It was high time I learned everything there was to know about my sexy little boss.
Captivated by a Vampire: Billionaire, Rock Stars, Vampires in San Francisco (Immortal Hearts of San Francisco Book 2) Page 9
