Seduced by Blood

by Laurie London

  She didn’t laugh. “I’ve called that pawn shop so many times since we’ve been here in town, but I kept getting their answering machine. So I stopped by a few times only to see their ‘back in an hour’ sign posted on the door. I was starting to wonder if they were ever open.”

  That crappy pawn shop? The one with the bars on the windows and the partially burned-out neon sign? It didn’t make sense. “You don’t look like someone who normally frequents a place like that.”

  It wasn’t quite the same thing as an antiques shop or an interesting secondhand store, he thought. Pawn shops were for people to make money off the shit they owned. Desperate people who were desperate for cash. Just then a skinny man wearing a stained sweatshirt came out and stopped on the sidewalk directly across from them to light a cigarette.

  “It’s probably nothing. Why don’t you go on back to the office? I’ll catch up with you later.” She had a faraway look in her eyes that said she’d already dismissed him and was ready to tackle this on her own.

  But he didn’t want that. He wanted to remain a part of what she was doing and he had the sudden urge to understand what was going on. Did it have something to do with her attitude after leaving the jewelry store or was this something different? He may not be interested in the whys behind other people’s behavior, but it occurred to him that he sure as hell cared about hers.

  “You’re planning to go inside? What the hell for?”

  “Trust me. I’m not going to hock the ring you just bought.”

  For some strange reason, he noticed she didn’t refer to it as her ring. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I can take care of myself, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I…I wasn’t implying that either.” At least he didn’t think he was.

  Jesus, he hated how the words tumbled around his mouth like a bunch of pebbles when he was around her. But he really wasn’t thrilled about her going into a place like that anyway, whether or not she could kick some serious ass. He knew for a fact she could, but that didn’t make it easier for him to accept.

  He got the distinct impression she didn’t want him here, which made him want to stay all the more. “So tell me, what’s going on?”

  She turned her head and swept her gaze over him as if she were trying to determine whether he was worthy or not. He found himself standing taller and squaring his shoulders as a result of her scrutiny. On one hand, it made him mad that he cared so much about what she thought of him, but at the same time, he wanted to measure up to whatever it was she was looking for.

  She sighed heavily. “Fine. I can tell you’re not going to back down until I tell you the truth. Back when I was in Florida, I ran across a picture online of a sword this pawn shop was selling. Now that I’m here, I want to check it out, that’s all.”

  “A sword? At that place?” He couldn’t imagine them having anything of worth. Just a bunch of crappy used shit and what would she want with that?

  “It looked a lot like Ian’s blade,” she added quietly, the strain in her voice obvious. “I’m sure it’s not the same one, but I wanted to check it out to see for myself.”

  So that was it. Even after all these years, she hadn’t let go of him. She was still in love with the guy and she wanted to surround herself with things that reminded her of him. A deep, gnawing ache tunneled through his insides and took up residence in his gut. How could he compete with a dead man, he thought, but then he instantly chastised himself. He wasn’t interested in Roxy that way. Sure, maybe a roll in the sack and some joking around, but that was it. Nothing long-term.

  “A pawn shop with a Guardian weapon?” It didn’t make sense. When a Guardian died, his commanding officer presented the family with his weapon in a quiet ceremony. It was a way for his service and sacrifice to be honored. Santiago had performed a few of them himself over the years. It was one of the hardest responsibilities of his position, but it was also very necessary. “Why would his family want to sell it?”

  She recoiled as if he’d slapped her and her eyes instantly darkened. “They didn’t. They never had the weapon to begin with. It wasn’t recovered from the site where he was…killed.”

  “Then how…” The realization hit him like a piano dropping from an upper window. He recalled the blade retrieved from the DB up in Canada. Jenella was researching to figure out if it actually belonged to a Guardian. “You think the killer is trying to sell it.”

  If she could find his weapon and trace it back, maybe it’d lead to who was responsible. Now he understood her motivation. Justice for a man she loved.

  She shrugged. “Who knows if it’s his actual killer trying to pawn it or if it’s even the same weapon? Seems far-fetched, I know. But the photo posted to their website looked a lot like Grim, so I wanted to check it out while I was here.”

  “Grim?”

  “Yeah, that’s what Ian called his weapon. Short for the Grim Reaper. A blacksmith near Prague forged the weapon to his exact specifications.”

  “Petrov the Brave,” he mumbled. A former Guardian who’d suffered a career-ending injury centuries ago, the man began forging weapons for his former comrades from newly discovered Mexican silver mines. His services were highly sought after and people waited for years for a chance to have a blade made by this master craftsman. Misery was one of his first blades.

  “The one and only. Ian sketched out many possible designs—he was obsessive about it for a while—trying to come up with something that had meaning for him and his family and yet was functional. When Petrov was finished, it truly was something to behold.”

  “Well, let’s go. I want to see it.” It angered him to know that a weapon belonging to a Guardian could ever be sitting in a place like that. It was almost sacrilegious. He’d buy it, see if the thing needed to be restored, then he’d return it to the family.

  “I’m not sure they still have it. Hell, I don’t even know if it really was Grim to begin with. It’s been so long since I’ve seen it in real life, I could be mistaken. A week after they posted the photo, it was gone.”

  Damn. “They probably sold it then.”

  “Yeah, but maybe they have a better picture so I can tell if it is the one I’ve been looking for. I honestly don’t think it’s the same one. How would Ian’s blade have gotten clear up here from where he…died in Florida? But I couldn’t not check out the lead.”

  “I’d have done the same thing. If it is his blade, maybe the owners can tell us who brought it in to the shop in the first place as well as who bought it.”

  She flashed him a quick smile before they jogged across the street to Mike’s Pawn Shop. The buzzer on the door sounded like the noise a game show makes when you answer incorrectly. A man in a wife-beater—Mike?—sat behind the counter, watching one of those live courtroom reality shows. He barely glanced at them when they walked in then turned his attention back to the television.

  The tiny space reeked of stale furniture, cigarettes and old Chinese food. Overhead lights cast everything in the dull haze of an old color photograph. Shelves crammed with used tools, video consoles and games, and camera equipment lined all of the dingy walls, while musical instruments and old computers filled the center aisle. A drum set sat near the door and Santiago and Roxy had to step around it just to get inside. The display case beneath the counter housed a variety of watches and rings and knives.

  “You have a nice selection of blades here,” she remarked. Santiago was looking over her shoulder into the same glass case, but all he saw were a few hunting knives, pocketknives and switchblades. All crap.

  The man grunted a response without looking away from the television.

  “Can I ask you a question?” The sound of Roxy’s voice—lyrical and charming—contrasted sharply with their surroundings.

  The clerk didn’t turn around or even acknowledge her this time.

  “The lady is talking to you.” Santiago struggled to sound civil.

  “Verdict’s coming.” The man held up h
is hand. “Hold on.”

  Roxy waited patiently, while Santiago wanted to jump to the other side of the counter and wring the guy’s neck. The shrill ringing of a phone drowned out the screaming defendants.

  “You gettin’ that?” the man called to someone in the back. “I got customers.” The ringing stopped just before the commercial break, and he turned to face them. “What do you need?”

  Roxy smiled pleasantly at him, her face showing no signs of any frustration. Santiago didn’t know how she did it, when he was itching to shove Mr. Court-TV against the wall and demand answers. “I’m looking for information on a large knife I saw on your website.”

  “A knife? We got lots of knives.”

  “No, I’m looking for a specific one. It’s a sword actually.” She stretched out her hands to show the size. “It’s got a hand-carved hilt with pearls and gemstones embedded in the handle.”

  “Don’t sound familiar. Sorry.”

  “But I saw the sword on your website recently. Don’t you remember?”

  “Lady, we get a lot of things that go in and out of this place every day. I can’t remember them all.”

  “But do you put all of this stuff up online?” Roxy swept her hand over the case and continued her pleasant, nonconfrontational manner, but he could hear the frustration creeping into her tone.

  “Of course not. Just the high-end stuff and the stuff that we think would do well online.”

  Santiago had a hard time imagining a Neanderthal like him would even know how to use a computer, let alone put something up for sale online. The only buttons the guy would be familiar with were those on the TV remote control.

  “It was on your site for a few days and then it was gone.”

  “Probably sold it then.”

  “Do you still have a picture?”

  The clerk had a sour lemon face. “What for? It’s not like I can sell it to you if it’s already gone. Why don’t you pick something else?”

  “I think it may have belonged to a friend.”

  “Maybe you got the wrong website.” He spoke slowly as if he were the one exercising extreme patience here.

  “Come on,” Santiago said to her. If he stayed any longer, it wasn’t going to be pretty. “This obviously is a dead end.”

  Roxy’s shoulders slumped and she let him lead her toward the door. “Do you think he could’ve had his mind cleared?” she whispered as they stopped next to the drum set. “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t remember.”

  “Does he even have much upstairs to warrant clearing?” Santiago didn’t bother to keep his voice down. “I seriously doubt it.”

  “Wait.” An older man came out from the back room holding a stained rag and a bottle of solvent. Santiago hesitated, his hand on the door. “I might be able to help.”

  Roxy approached the display case again. “You remember the sword?”

  “Yeah, I sure do. Never seen anything like it before in my life. I won’t soon forget a blade that nice. It had a shine to it that you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Do you have a photo?” she asked quickly. It was obvious she was trying to control her excitement, but she wasn’t doing a very good job.

  “It’s probably around here somewhere.”

  The younger man looked irritated by all the talking. “Do you mind?”

  “Yes, I do,” the older man replied and he reached up and turned off the television.

  “Hey, I was watching that.”

  “Yeah, and we have a customer.”

  Santiago didn’t want to break the news that they weren’t exactly customers. It wasn’t like they planned on buying something here.

  The man rooted around in various drawers, opening and closing each one, scattering junk everywhere, and just when they figured he’d come up empty-handed, he said, “Found it.”

  He unclipped a bent picture from a piece of paper and handed it to Roxy. “Is that it?”

  She took it from him. “I’m…I’m not sure. Is this the only picture you have of it?”

  The quality of the photo wasn’t good, but even so, Santiago could see that it was a beautiful weapon. What he wouldn’t give to swing the thing in his hand to feel the weight and the balance. In Petrov’s foundry, he’d been instructed to strip to the waist while the man watched him wield weapon after weapon to observe how he moved. Apparently, it helped the man design the perfect blade for each individual. Had Ian done the same and that blade—Grim—was the result? While he’d have to examine it in person, from what he could tell, it very well could be a Guardian blade.

  “Afraid this is the only one.”

  Roxy was trying to conceal her disappointment, but Santiago could see right through it. “I can’t tell from this, but did it have black pearls embedded in the handle?”

  “Black pearls?” The man examined the dirty rag in his hand, then grabbed a corner and tossed it onto his shoulder. “Yeah, I think maybe it did.”

  She turned to Santiago. “Ian insisted on the pearls even though they’re not as durable as the gemstones. Black pearls had been used in their family for generations.”

  “Do you know who bought it?” Santiago asked the man.

  “No one. The seller came in and took it back. Said the money wasn’t necessary anymore.”

  “What’s his name? Do you remember what he looked like?” Santiago took the photo from Roxy and flipped it over but nothing was scribbled on the back. If the man wouldn’t tell them, maybe Santiago could get his hands on the paper that the photo was clipped.

  “Well, for one thing, it wasn’t a he.”

  Santiago snapped his head up. “The owner of the knife is a woman?”

  “I probably shouldn’t say anything. Confidentiality and shit.”

  Santiago reached across the counter and handed him back the photo, letting his fingers brush the man’s hand. “Tell us her name.”

  Blinking a few times, the man opened one of the drawers and pulled out the paper that had been attached to the picture. “Ann Black.”

  He narrowed his eyes. The name was entirely too convenient. Easy to remember…and forget. It sure didn’t sound familiar and he knew a number of the local vampires. Could she be human? If so, how would she have gotten hold of such a weapon?

  “What did she look like?”

  The man scrunched his face in concentration, making his nose look even more bulbous. “Hard to say. I’d say she was about average height. A little shorter than you,” he said to Roxy. “Not really fat or skinny. Brown hair, I think. Or maybe it was blond.”

  As if that narrowed it down.

  “It was hard to tell what she looked like because she had on these huge-ass sunglasses. The ones that make you look bug-eyed. Movie stars and rappers wear them. You know what I’m talking about?”

  Santiago nodded, a sourness taking root in his gut. Sounded like a DB.

  “She didn’t even take them off when she was inside. Funny thing was, it was dark when she came in. Wait. Is she a celebrity? Is that why you’re looking for her? Are you guys like paparazzi or something? ’Cuz if you are, don’t I get a finder’s fee, for, you know, finding her for you?”

  You haven’t found her yet, asshole. “Do you have any contact information for her?” Santiago slipped him a couple of twenties.

  The man’s eyes lit up as he pocketed the bills and thrust the paper at Santiago. “She didn’t leave a phone number, just her PO box. You could always send her a letter the old-fashioned way and see if she’s interested in still selling it.”

  “Is that all you can tell us about her?” Roxy asked.

  “Yeah, she didn’t stay long either time.”

  “Thanks,” Santiago said, ushering Roxy out the door. They could head to the post office and Roxy could try picking up her scent there.

  “Hold on,” the first clerk said. “She did take a liking to that ring there in the display case. I don’t know if that makes a difference or not.”

  “A ring?” Roxy approached the counter again. “Which one
?”

  He pointed to an oversize sapphire ring next to a scratched Rolex. “She tried it on and I think she would’ve bought it but she didn’t think it was the real deal. I showed her the certs and everything, but she didn’t believe me.”

  “Can I see it?” Roxy shot a sidelong glance at Santiago. He could see the excitement in her eyes. Maybe she’d be able to pick up the woman’s scent from an object she’d held recently.

  Roxy made it appear as though she were examining it closely, but in reality, she brought it up to her face to sniff it. She gave an imperceptible nod. “Got it.”

  “I’ll take it,” Santiago said to the man. “How much do you want for it?”

  “What?” Roxy’s head shot up.

  “I can tell you like it, darling,” he said, pointedly. “It’s just what you need.” He pulled out his wallet and paid the guy his asking price, without bothering to dicker.

  Out on the sidewalk, Roxy turned to him, looking a little confused. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  He shrugged. “I know, but this way, you’ll be able to track her more easily if you have the correct scent to use as a frame of reference. Let’s head to the post office and see if you can match the scent there.”

  She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him quickly. “Thank you.”

  “What was that for?”

  “I…I appreciate your support of what’s important to me.”

  A half hour later when they got to the post office, they found no box with that number, and Roxy couldn’t detect any Darkblood scent. They were at a dead end.

  He opened the passenger door for her. “I’m sorry. I know it means a lot to you to find that blade.”

  Rather than climbing in, she pulled the collar of her coat up around her ears and walked to the back bumper of the Corvette. With her arms crossed over her chest, she stared absently at the railroad tracks on the other side of the parking lot.

  He came up behind her and rubbed her back underneath the silky length of her hair. “I know it’s disappointing, but it’s bound to turn up. I can alert the Seattle field team to be on the lookout for a weapon matching Grim’s description.”

  She kicked at a pebble. “I’m so mad at myself I can hardly think straight.” Her breath fogged from the cold, mixing with his, and the tip of her nose had turned red.