Rob grabbed her hand and started for the door again. “Drugs, I guess. Sex. I don’t know. Why do you care?”
She took one last look in the direction of the basement door as he led her onto the front porch. “I guess I don’t.” The air felt cooler outside and she could breathe again. “Beppe went down.”
“Who?” Still holding her hand, Rob led Kaleigh down the steps.
“Beppe. That Italian guy Katy met at the arcade.”
Rob halted in the driveway. Some HF girl was hunched over a bush at the corner of the house making puking sounds. Rob grimaced. “You think Katy’s with him in the basement? You want me to check?”
She thought for a minute, wondering where her special powers were when she needed them. If only she could see everything and be everywhere, now that would be some cool powers. “Nah. I saw her and Pete arguing earlier. She probably just went home and didn’t tell me—as usual.” She exhaled. “Let’s go.”
“You call her?”
“She lost her cell again.” Kaleigh gave a wave of dismissal, trying not to limp. “She’ll be fine. Let’s go.”
They walked down the middle of the street, holding hands. Kaleigh could smell the ocean and she breathed deeply. Everyone else in the town still dreamed of their homeland, of Ireland, but she loved Delaware. She loved the ocean. The beach. She loved the hope this new world had brought the sept.
At the end of the street, they turned for home. The streets were empty. Quiet. It was a quaint town. It was no wonder humans liked it here. They felt comfortable here. Safe.
She wondered if Colin Meding had felt safe.
Kaleigh was just turning to Rob to ask him if he’d heard anything more about the murder at the party tonight when she felt someone approaching. Mild panic fluttered in her chest and she immediately took command of her enhanced senses. Her encounter with the werewolf last year had made her less trusting of the world, more aware of her responsibility to others. But the man approaching was not of the genus Canis and not Homo sapiens. It was one of their own.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath and took off at a hobbling run.
Chapter 7
Regan knew what was going to happen before he turned the corner off Bourbon Street onto the quieter St. Philip in the French Quarter, yet he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t turn around. It was as if he was in two places at once. He was inside his body, but also following from behind, watching, waiting, knowing the scene that would unfold.
He tipped back the beer and tasted the last of the pungent brew. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he tossed the bottle onto the sidewalk and listened to the satisfying sound of splintering glass.
He was high. High and drunk and feeling pretty damned good. At least the walking Regan felt good. The following Regan, not so much.
Turn around, he wanted to shout after himself. Turn around and run. But of course he couldn’t because this was a nightmare, one he was doomed to relive again and again.
He heard them approaching before he saw them. It was nothing more than a whistle in the wind and the feel of the change in the night air. Maybe he heard the flutter of one of those ridiculous capes they wore.
Half a block farther and he would have been safe. Even at this time of night, there was always traffic on Dauphine. But of course he hadn’t reached Dauphine. He never did, no matter how many times he dreamed the dream again, knowing what would unfold if he didn’t make it to Dauphine. But once again, Regan was alone in the alley at two a.m. and they knew it, the evil bastards.
There were three of them, brothers: Zebulun, Asher, and Gad. Which was at least two too many, even if Regan had been sober. They always came from above…or maybe behind. He could never really tell. The first one, the blond, always came at him head-on so Regan would see him coming. The terror factor.
Regan heard himself cry out, startled by the apparition. No matter how many times he relived it, he was still surprised to see those damned Cajuns fly out of the darkness, descending upon him. They couldn’t actually fly, per se, but in his state, it always seemed like it.
Zebulun hit Regan full force in the chest, knocking him to the filthy sidewalk that reeked of rats, vermin, and human urine. His head hit the bricks with a sickening thud and bounced. He smelled his own blood oozing into his hair.
They always let him get to his feet before they knocked him down again. They always let him think there was a chance he could get away. That he might be able to avoid being trapped in the tomb. Regan half crawled, half dragged himself onto the street. The Rousseaus circled him like dogs cornering their prey.
The funny thing was, in the dream, they never said anything. The night it had happened, there had been curses and accusations made in that bizarre French-Cajun talk of theirs. They knew he had stolen the shipment of cocaine. They knew he had sold some of it, lost some of it, snorted a good deal of it.
But in the dream it wasn’t about the drugs. It was about the terror, about the anticipation of what he knew would come. Getting beat up wasn’t so bad. It was the waking up sober, locked in the tomb with the spiders crawling over his face that really got to him.
Just as Regan lifted his head, he saw the tall one’s black boot. He felt the boot connect with his chin. As his head snapped back, he heard the blood spatter on the street and on his new shirt.
One of them squealed with delight at the scent of his blood and lifted him to his feet from behind, pinning his arms against the small of his back. He smelled the sour breath of the blond as the cretin pushed back his cape and bared his pointed canines.
“No,” the Regan being attacked cried out. To be forcibly fed upon by another vampire was the lowest, the most despicable form of subjugation.
“No!” the follower echoed.
“No!” Regan sobbed, thrashing in his narrow bed.
To his relief, he woke in the dark, safe in his bed in the little cottage in Clare Point, far from the streets of New Orleans.
Rob ran after her, looking over his shoulder. “Why are we running?”
Ignoring the pain that shot from her ankle, Kaleigh cut between Mary Hill’s rhododendron bushes and raced through her backyard, skirting her fish pond.
“Kaleigh!”
“Go home, Rob,” she told him.
“Kaleigh, what’s going on? You’re hurt. Why are you running? Who’s chasing us?”
“He’s not chasing us”—she jumped over a row of marigolds, landing on her good foot on the brick sidewalk that ran along the side of Mary’s house—“just me. Go home, Rob.”
He jogged beside her. He didn’t have to run, she was moving too slowly. “Are we in trouble?”
“No.” She gave him a push. “Just head for home. He’ll follow me. If anyone’s in trouble it’s me.” She came up short in front of a gate between Mary Hill and Mary Kane’s side yards and gave Rob a quick kiss. “Trust me.” She threw open the latch and pushed the gate open. “Go home. Now. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Once through the gate, Kaleigh hobbled off as fast as she could go. Rob hesitated in the dark.
Trust me, she telepathed.
He didn’t always get her messages, as his telepathic abilities weren’t all that hot yet. But after a second, he sprinted in the opposite direction.
Kaleigh almost made it into her house. She was perched on a vine trellis, just reaching for the windowsill on the second story when the window slowly lowered of its own accord and the lock on the inside spun shut.
“Crap,” she muttered. Without looking down, she exhaled in exasperation and shifted her weight, as best she could, to her good foot. “So you going to levitate me down, or just leave me up here?”
“Just leave you up there,” Fin said. “At least for the moment. Where’ve you been?”
She gripped the trellis that now groaned under her weight. “Nowhere.”
“That why you were running from me?”
“I wasn’t running from you.” The wooden trellis shifted and wobbled a li
ttle.
“You’re not supposed to be out after curfew, Kaleigh.”
Kaleigh looked for a place to get a better footing. It was a long drop from here to the flowerbed, especially with one bad ankle, but she was afraid she was going to have to go for it. “Could I get a little help here before I fall and break my neck?” she snapped, clinging to the slats of the trellis.
“Let go.”
Trusting Fin completely, Kaleigh let go. For an instant, she felt the same rush she experienced when an elevator dropped, only she didn’t fall, she just drifted downward, the night breeze cool against her sweaty scalp. It was the greatest feeling; she wished it could have lasted longer. She touched down in a bed of purple and yellow pansies.
“Where were you, Kaleigh?” Fin sounded cross now. And tired.
She turned to him, folding her arms over her chest, slumping the way she saw human teens do when cornered by an adult. Fortunately, her stance allowed her to shift most of her weight off her injured ankle. “Why do you care?”
“Hmm. Let’s see.” He crossed his arms and imitated her posture perfectly. “Because you’re breaking the law and hmm, I’m what? An officer of the law?”
“It’s a bogus law. Passed by the town council. It would never stand up in court. And you’re a bogus cop,” she added.
“How about because you’re my niece and it’s my responsibility to keep an eye on you?”
“Only because you don’t want to piss off your mom or mine.”
She was disappointed he didn’t take the bogus-cop bait. It would have been a good way to sidetrack the conversation.
He met her gaze. It was pitch dark, the sky moonless, but they both had keen eyesight. That came in handy when you were a vampire prowling the earth at night for victims. Or trying to sneak back into the house without your parents catching you.
“How about I care because you, Kaleigh Kahill, are the one most responsible for the safety, for the very existence, of our family? All hope of our salvation rests on your shoulders. Without you and your guidance, we would never have come to these shores, we would never have seen God’s light, and our souls would truly be damned.”
She threw back her head and groaned, balling her hands into fists. “Jezus,” she said, imitating the Irish accent they had all once had. “You always have to pull the wisewoman card, don’t you?”
He smiled sadly. “I know it’s hard.”
She dropped her hands to her sides. “You have no idea,” she said drolly.
“So where were you?”
She stepped out of her mother’s flowerbed. “Can’t tell you.”
“Because you’re not a rat.”
“I’m not a rat.”
“Please tell me you’re being careful.”
This time she met his gaze and didn’t look away. She sensed they weren’t just talking about his concern for the safety of some teens sowing their wild oats a little. She tried to read his mind, but he was ready for her. She hit a brick wall, literally. In her mind, she visualized the psychic barriers people put up differently, depending on who it was. With the good ones, it was a brick wall. Solid. Impenetrable. At least to her now, in her current teenage state.
Sometimes, when she couldn’t read people’s minds, she had to resort to the human way of getting information out of people. “What’s up, Fin? It’s the dead guy, isn’t it?”
“Kaleigh, you know I’m not at liberty—”
She laughed. He was cute, her uncle. And he could be so silly. “Fin, you’re talking to the woman responsible for your soul and the souls of the couple hundred of us still left. You’re not at liberty? You can’t pull that crap on me. What did you find out?”
He glanced at the grass between their feet. “Looks like it was one of us.”
It took a moment for what he said to sink in. “Holy shit.”
He looked up, pointing at her. “But you keep that to yourself, okay? I’m serious.”
“Okay,” she breathed, still shocked.
“Now, go to bed.” He pointed to the dark window on the second story.
She looked at the window and frowned. “How do you expect me to get in?”
“Same way you got out.”
“You locked the window. From the inside.”
Fin turned away, but as he did, the window magically lifted.
“You’re not even going to give me a boost up?” she called after him.
“Go to bed.” He walked across the lawn.
“Anything I can do?” She remained where she was standing. She felt sorry for him, him being a cop all of two days. This was bad, a Kahill killing a tourist. Bad. “I mean about the dead guy,” she said. He was nothing more than a shadow now.
“Pray for our sorry souls.”
“So, what have you got so far?”
Fin cradled the phone on his shoulder as he sifted through the rising stack of paperwork the Colin Meding case was producing. He hadn’t meant to take over the chief’s desk, or his office, it had just sort of happened. Yesterday, he’d used the office because it was the only one with a door on it and lent some sense of privacy. Here was where he had spoken to Colin’s parents. Alone. Unsupported by the chief of police. Sean had never shown up for the appointment or for work. He’d had his wife call in saying he had a stomach bug. So far, he hadn’t shown up today, either.
The meeting with the victim’s family had been even worse than Fin had thought it would be, if that was possible. Mrs. Meding had done nothing but sob uncontrollably. Mr. Meding had been angry, bordering on violent. The older brother, a law student, was threatening lawsuits. Not that Fin could blame any of them. While talking to them, he had vacillated between wanting to cry and wanting to punch a wall. He really didn’t want this job.
“Fin?” Fia said on the other end of the line. “Try to focus, baby brother. What have you learned about the victim’s whereabouts the day he was murdered? Where did he go? Who did he see? You need to take facts to the General Council before you make accusations. You know how defensive some people get.”
Fin had had men on that all day yesterday. Good investigative skills would lead to a killer, be he human or vampire. Start at the moment of the murder and work back, Fia had instructed. Somewhere in that timeline, the victim’s and the perpetrator’s lives had intersected. Something had happened, throwing them on course to the tragic end result. In this case, a posed dead surfer and a Dumpster.
“That didn’t take any real detective work,” he said, making no attempt to hide his frustration. That was one good thing about consulting with his sister on the case. He didn’t have to play the tough, composed cop. “It was info easy enough to find. Everyone and their brother saw him Friday. Vs and Hs. No one acted like they had anything to hide. Colin worked an eight-hour shift at the Hillmans’ caramel corn place on the boardwalk. He had pizza with friends at Sal’s, then went to the arcade and stayed there until it closed. Then he went home. Apparently his roommate had a girl back to the house so Colin went for a walk.”
“Okay,” Fia said.
“So far, we haven’t been able to find anyone who saw him after he left the house on First Street around midnight.”
“And no one noticed when he didn’t return after his walk? Not his roommate, not the other guys living in the house?” she questioned. “What? You said there were a total of six of them in the house?”
Fin sat back in his uncle’s comfy leather chair and clicked his ballpoint pen rhythmically. “Six on the lease. Come to find out, there are nine actually staying there.”
“And it’s one of Victor’s rentals? Those places are dives and small dives at that.”
“The less you pay for rent, the more you have for beer, I guess.” Click-click. “Everyone saw Colin leave, but no one noticed he didn’t come back. Apparently, the roommates were having a Ping-Pong marathon in the backyard. When they turned in about five a.m., everyone assumed he’d come in earlier by the front door off the street and gone to bed.”
“What about
the guy he shared the bedroom with?”
Click-click. Click-click. “Roommate got the munchies after sex. He and the girl went to her place, another rental, on Third. She made him pancakes and he spent the night.”
“I guess it doesn’t really matter,” Fia said, “but I’m curious. Why didn’t anyone notice when Colin didn’t come out of his bedroom the next day?”
“Everyone assumed he went to work before they got up around noon.” Click-click.
“Makes sense,” Fia commiserated. “The roommates have any idea who he had sex with prior to death?”
Fin threw the pen on the desk. “The consensus was that if he got lucky the night of his death, it was his first.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Religious family. I’m telling you, he was a good kid.”
“Perfect,” Fia muttered on the other end of the phone line. “I don’t suppose anyone saw him hanging out with any locals?”
“Way too easy,” he responded. “I’ve made a list of friends and acquaintances he had in Clare Point. Mostly other college students renting on the same street. Everyone he hung out with was human. So far, the only connection I can make to one of us is Liz and Joe Hillman, who he worked for.” Fin hated to even suggest such a thing; Liz and Joe were some of the nicest vampires he knew.
“Not very likely killers, not with an MO like this,” Fia said, thinking out loud. “Something tells me Colin Meding would not have been interested in having sex with Liz.”
Unable to resist, Fin smiled at the picture Fia was painting in his mind. Liz was short for a Kahill. And round. And middle-aged. Not a hot ticket in a beach town where there were half-naked nineteen-year-old girls strutting up and down the boardwalk. “I’m thinking the sex and the murder might not be connected. Might be, but I don’t automatically want to assume his killer was his sex partner. He could have had sex with a human, then bumped into our friendly vampire.”
“Any evidence on the body? Hair? Fibers?”
Immortal Page 7
