Dallas felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh, Kenzie, no.” She walked over to her daughter and put her arms around her shoulders and hugged her. It didn’t matter that Kenzie made no response. Dallas closed her eyes, fighting tears. She’d tried so hard to protect Kenzie, but she was afraid it wasn’t working.
Chapter 23
I enjoyed my evening. I strolled the boardwalk, eating my caramel corn and drinking a delightful drink called pop, watching the young women in shameful attire pass by. Behaving in shameful ways. But now it is time to get down to business. With so little time until I must sleep again, I cannot dally. Usually I will watch a woman for a few nights. Study her habits. But tonight I am in the mood for something more impulsive. The thought excites me.
So many trollops to choose from! How will I ever choose?
As the shops close, as the streets become quieter, I begin to study with a knowledgeable eye, looking for an opportunity. She must be alone. Intoxicated would be acceptable. They are usually easy enough to spot. Stumbling. Preoccupied works, too. On the phone.
I walk the avenue twice before I choose and begin to follow her. I stay back far enough so that she doesn’t notice. She won’t notice. She’s too busy arguing with someone on the phone. A male voice. Her lover perhaps. She wears a short skirt and high heels that click-clack when she walks. She probably has many lovers. She probably accepts money for sex.
Whores. All of them.
The streetlights are bright, but there are patches of darkness. It is the darkness I desire. I adore.
She turns the corner and looks back over her shoulder. I stop and gaze in a store window. I pretend to sip from the straw in the empty paper cup I carry. She doesn’t notice me. I wait until she is half a block away before I begin to follow her again. She is still on the phone.
It is darker here, on the side street. Fewer parked cars. No pedestrians. There are no bars on this street. Just shops that have closed for the night. Ahead, I see a patch of darkness on the sidewalk. A street lamp is out. It is perfect.
I walk faster. She is speaking loudly into her phone. She calls him a son of a bitch, whomever it is she speaks to. I am quiet, and she is loud. Checking to be sure no one sees me, I sprint two or three steps and wrap one arm around her neck. She cries out. Her cell phone hits the ground and plastic pieces scatter. I cover her lips with my hand from behind and am shocked when she opens her mouth wide and bites me.
I cry out, out of surprise more than pain. I am shocked. I am used to being in total control of the situation. She tries to wrench free. They usually struggle some, but not like this one. I pull the knife from my pocket as I drag her toward an alley. There is a trash Dumpster that will give me the privacy I need.
But she does not go easily. Not even when she sees the glimmer of the blade. My hand slips off her mouth, and she screams.
I raise the knife to her throat, but she manages to sink her elbow into my abdomen. I am so shocked by her attack that I am slow to respond. She twists in my arms, using both fists to hit me. Somehow my arm gets in the air; she pulls it down, and the knife nicks my cheek. It’s not deep, the cut.
But it burns.
It makes me angry that she would do such a thing to me.
It makes me want to kill her.
Peigi stood in the hallway listening to the sound of automatic gunfire, the sound of her husband’s voice. She assumed he was wearing his headset, playing online. He played with people all over the world, via the Internet, which really was pretty amazing when she thought about it. There had been a time in their lives when games consisted of wooden dice that Brian hand-carved, and they had communicated with others over any distance by carrier pigeon.
“Yes! Take that, fucker!”
Peigi cringed. She knew it was just a word, a word that had been around since the beginning of time. Nonetheless, she hated hearing it come out of her sweet Brian’s mouth.
Who really wasn’t all that sweet right now, anyway.
There was more gunfire. An explosion. Another “fucker.”
She walked into the den. She’d purposely not put on her robe yet; she knew he hated it. The funny thing was, he’d hated it six months ago at the age of seventy-three, too. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. It was frumpy.
“Hey.” She stepped into the den.
Brian sort of nodded in her direction. His thumbs flew over the game controller, and explosives boomed on the TV screen.
“Victor still out?” she asked, just trying to make conversation. They never knew what to say to each other anymore. And that was probably the worst thing about their present relationship. She and Brian had always had something to talk about.
“He stayed at Kaleigh’s graduation party. I think a bunch of them were going out for ice cream.”
“You could have gone,” she said, feeling almost shy with him, now that she knew how things were going to go. How different they would be. “I could have walked home myself. You didn’t have to escort me.”
“Behind!” Brian shouted.
Peigi startled.
“The guy I’m playing with,” he explained, motioning with the controller. “He was gonna get his ass blown off.”
Peigi stared at the screen, at something that looked like a remote-controlled car with explosives tied on top. Brian was driving it down a bombed-out street. “What’s that?” she asked, squinting to see the screen. She needed her glasses, but she didn’t know where they’d gotten to.
“RC-XD. You, like, earn them with kill points. You can send them in to kill people without having to risk your own ass.”
She nodded.
“I’m on Prestige 14. ‘Black Ops.’ Pretty amazing, huh?”
“Pretty amazing.” She stood there a moment longer, looking at Brian rather than the TV screen. She wasn’t angry with him anymore. In fact, now that she’d been able to let some things go, she could actually see some aspects of his personality that could be appealing. He was cute . . . and he could be kind. He’d walked her home from the party instead of hanging out with the other teenagers.
“I’m going up for a bath, then I’m turning in. Make sure Victor locks the door when he comes in.”
“Right.” Brian laughed as a soldier on the screen fell dead in a pool of blood on a staircase. “I feel sorry for the poor sucker of a human who accidently tries to rob this house. You’ll light him on fire, and then me and Victor and Kaleigh and Katy’ll all jump on top of him and suck his blood.” He bared his fangs with a grin, then quickly covered his mouth with his hand. “Sorry,” he said, his voice muffled.
“We don’t jump on top of humans and suck their blood,” she said, trying not to be amused by his antics.
“Aw! Damn it!” He dropped his controller. “I died. I gotta start over.”
“Sorry.” She backed through the doorway.
“It’s not your fault. I suck on this level, anyway.” He picked up the controller again. “ ’Night, Peigi.”
She smiled as she walked up the stairs in the dark. Even after all these centuries, she still liked the way he said her name.
Aedan eased his Honda into a parking spot next to a state police cruiser and checked the clock on his dashboard. It was one-thirty. He’d gotten out of bed without waking Dallas at one, when Mark called. The state police station Mark worked out of in Lewes was only a few miles from Brew. It hadn’t taken Aedan any time at all to get there.
He morphed as he opened the car door, to a female in her thirties: black pants, black-and-white top, sensible black shoes, and a black briefcase he wore on a strap over his shoulder. He wore his brown hair pulled up on his head in a knot and small, silver hoop earrings. He looked like some midlevel state employee, or a counselor, some sort of professional woman. He made her nondescript on purpose. In the middle of the night, no one would spend too much time wondering why she was here. Not with Detective Karr having just brought in a witness.
In the lobby, Aedan gave his name. Angela Perkins. She said in a profe
ssional voice that Detective Karr was expecting her. A minute later, a door buzzed and Mark walked out, offering his hand.
“Detective Karr, nice to see you. Angela Perkins,” Aedan said quietly.
“Jeez, Aedan,” Mark muttered under his breath, good-naturedly. “I still wish you’d give me some sort of warning. I never know who I’m looking for with you. Come on.” He adjusted the cinnamon toothpick in the corner of his mouth.
There was the audible buzz again, and then Mark swung open the door. Mark led him down a hall that looked like the hall in any state office: slightly dingy, beige walls, tile floor, fluorescent light. Mark took a door to the right and then entered an interrogation room, which tonight served as an interview room. If the state police had had an “award room,” that’s where this girl should have been. She deserved an award for what she’d done.
“Kristen, this is Angela Perkins. I told you the state might send someone over, just to go over some things with you.”
The woman was in her early twenties, average height, with dark hair and heavy black eyeliner around her eyes. She sipped from a Coke can. “I told the detective I don’t need any counseling, and I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
As Aedan slipped into the chair across the table from Kristen, he noticed that the young woman looked unharmed. The only thing that looked out of place on her was the too-large blue T-shirt she wore that advertised the importance of proper car seat installation.
He guessed that her blouse had been taken for evidence.
He set his briefcase on the floor; there was nothing in it except for his cell phone. “I won’t keep you long, Miss Jewel. I know it’s been a long night and you just want to get home.”
“I want to wash that asshole’s filth off, is what I want to do.” She looked up at Mark. “You think I could bother you for some of those crackers? I am kind of hungry, now that I think about it. Fighting crime has given me an appetite.” She grinned at him.
“No problem. Ms. Perkins?”
“Nothing for me, thanks, Detective.” Aedan returned his attention to the young woman in front of him as Mark went out the door. “The detective already told me what happened, but I just want to go over a few things with you, if you don’t mind.”
“I guess. But can we make it snappy? I really want to go home.” She sat back.
“Did you get a good look at your attacker?”
“It was dark,” she said. “But I got a look at him, the little prick. I’m going to talk to a sketch artist in the morning. Give my description. Detective Karr said I could go home and shower and come back. He’s nice. The detective. He’s gonna call my boss, explain what happened, and get me the day off. I work at the outlets. I hate leavin’ my boss with no one to cover like this, but like Detective Karr said, this is too important. The police might be able to catch this asshole this time. I cut him, did he tell you? Right across his cheek.” She grinned as she motioned with her finger across her cheek.
“You’re sure you cut him?”
She took another sip of her soda. “Hell yes, I’m sure. He was bleeding. Got his blood all over my new tank top and jacket. He acted like no one had ever fought him before.” She leaned forward in her chair. “What’s wrong with girls? Don’t they know they’re supposed to fight and kick and scream? I screamed. I screamed like he was killing me even though I had no intention of letting that prick kill me. I got tickets to see the Beastie Boys with my girlfriends this weekend. I wasn’t lettin’ anyone rape me, put me in the hospital,” she declared.
Aedan couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, so he came up behind you.”
“I was on Maryland. That’s where I’d left my car. I had dinner with friends at Grottos. We had some beers, but I wasn’t drunk. I definitely wasn’t drunk.” She scowled. “I was on the phone with my boyfriend. It was like eleven-thirty, maybe. He was all pissed off because he heard I went out with this guy, only I didn’t.”
Aedan wasn’t interested in anything to do with Kristen’s love life, but he knew from past experience that it was important that he listen to the victim’s story the way she wanted to tell it. It was the way to get all the details. And it was her story. She had a right to tell it.
“So I’m on the phone with my boyfriend and I sort of hear someone come up behind me. One second my boo is bitchin’ me out; the next thing I know, he’s got his arm around my neck and I drop my phone. It hits the sidewalk and goes to pieces.”
“I thought you called the police from your cell phone.”
“I did.” She took another sip of Coke. “After the dude ran, I went back, picked up my phone, put the battery back in, and called 911.”
Aedan nodded. “Okay, so your attacker is behind you, with his hand around your neck—”
“His arm, like the inside of his elbow.” She demonstrated, thrusting her elbow out toward him. “It all happened so fast. I was so scared I thought I was going to piss my pants, but I screamed and I started twisting and kicking and punching. Then, somehow, we were facing each other, and that was when I saw him. Squirrely little face. He looked a lot like that brother on Two and a Half Men. You know the show? The guy Alan? He looked like him.”
Aedan didn’t watch the show, but he’d seen advertisements on TV. He knew what the actor looked like. Sweet Mary, Mother of God, suddenly he had a face to go with Jay’s name.
“He got in front of me, and he pulls this knife and starts draggin’ me into this alley. I knew who he was. My Aunt Silva read stuff out of the paper to me. What he does to girls. No man is gonna rape me,” she warned. “Not without me putting up a fight.”
Aedan just sat there and listened, knowing he was at that point in the interview where that was all he needed to do.
“I just went crazy, and I guess it surprised him.” She set down the can. “I mean, he was the one with the knife. And he gets cut? Somehow I got my pepper spray off my bag. I still had my bag. My Aunt Silva gave me the pepper spray. She gave it to all her nieces for Christmas. She always gives us crazy stuff like that. Anyway, I pull the pepper spray off my bag—it’s hooked on by the cap, so the cap is off now—and I stick it in his face, and I pull the trigger. I don’t know where the knife is by then. I don’t care. That stuff sprays out, and he starts yelpin’. I guess I got him right in the eyes, maybe even in the cut on his cheek. He kind of stumbles back, and I turned around and ran. I think he ran, too. I think I heard him running in the opposite direction. I ran out of the alley, grabbed my phone and the battery off the sidewalk, and I kept running until I got to the corner where there was better light and some cars. And I called 911. They sent a Rehoboth cop to get me, and then Detective Karr got me at the police station and brought me here.” She raised her arms and let them fall. “And here I am.” She took a breath. “Guess I’m pretty lucky.”
Aedan smiled at her, thinking to himself that this might just be the break he had been hoping for. “Not lucky. Brave. And tough. You beat him, Kristen. And you probably saved your own life.”
The cottage was surprisingly dark and quiet when Aedan arrived home around four in the morning. After talking with Kristen Jewel, he’d chatted with Mark in the parking lot for a few minutes. Mark agreed with him that this might be the turning point in the case. He was going to get the sketch artist’s picture in every newspaper and every storefront in the area. With the cut on his face, he was bound to be recognized by someone. Aedan had then driven back into Rehoboth, just to have a look at the crime scene. He’d walked up and down the block. Seeing nothing and no one of interest, he’d headed home.
Aedan was surprised when he got to the house to find the front door locked. He had to find the key under a flowerpot in one of the flowerbeds. When he let himself in, even the den was quiet; for once, the TV was off. Leaving the key on a table in the hall, he went quietly upstairs. The door to the boys’ room was closed. Peigi’s door at the end of the hallway was closed, too. He used the hall bathroom and then went to his own room. He stripped and climbed into bed, feeling like
maybe he could get a few hours of real sleep, something he felt like he hadn’t gotten in weeks.
As Aedan laid his head on his pillow, he felt something under his cheek. He heard a crackle of paper. “What the hell?”
He found a note on his pillow. He read the short note, in the dark, twice, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and dropping his head into his hands.
“Ah, Aunt Peigi,” he whispered, his eyes tearing up. “What have you done?”
Chapter 24
“God. I’m so sorry about Peigi.” Mark slid into the booth across the table from Aedan. “You hear about people talking about doing it.” He shook his head, pulling a toothpick out of his mouth. “But nobody actually does it. Who’s got the balls? She actually bled to death?” he said as if he still didn’t believe the facts. “I didn’t even think it was possible . . . for a vampire.”
“Apparently it’s possible if you do it right.” Aedan leaned back in his seat at the diner and closed his eyes for a second. His head was so full of the voices around him that he could barely think. Everyone in Clare Point was talking about Peigi Ross, about what she had done. The news would be all over the world, via the vampire network, by tonight. “She cut her carotid artery just right.” He drew his thumb across his neck. “Bled out faster than her body could replace the blood.” He opened his eyes, sitting up again. “Did it in her bathtub . . . so I wouldn’t have a mess to clean up.”
Aedan tried not to think about how he had held her lifeless body in his arms. How hard it had been to make the phone call to Gair. Waking Brian to tell him. Brian had been stunned, not completely understanding exactly what she had done or how it would impact them all. He and Victor and all the teens were gathered at the cottage now; the TV had been silent all day.
Mark folded his hands together and leaned forward on the table. “And the Council is going to let her be reborn?”
Voracious - (Claire Point Vampire 5) Page 24
