Or cutting me.
I cycled through the numbers on my phone until I found Toby’s and dialled. Werewolf douchebag bastard, yes, but also a good supernatural bounty hunter.
He picked up after two rings. “Can I do something for you?”
“Felix Laurent.”
“What about him?”
“Vampire. I think he’s in Quebec City now. I need you to find him immediately.”
“Uh...”
Right—faerie werewolf bitch ran the territory around there. “Work with Juliette if it runs into her area. I don’t want any trouble, I just want it done, and I will pay very well for it. The only reason I’m not asking just her is because you have more experience.”
“Okay, I’ll call you when—”
“You will have him in your custody tonight and then you’re going to ask him about the vampire witch he had with him when he tried to turn over Nathan O’Connor for a bounty six years ago. You will get her name, find her, and have her in my city tomorrow at dawn.”
“I can’t—”
“You can,” I cut in, “because your paycheck relies on speed. The longer you take, the fewer figures it will be, and am I making myself clear or should I go to Juliette directly?”
A deep growl nearly rattled my phone and then: “Clear.”
“Good. Call when you have the woman and I’ll tell you where to bring her. And she is a witch, so have Jules with you in case she throws a spell or a fireball or something.”
“Can they really do that? Throw fireballs?”
“So the fireball thing—can witches really do that? I asked Mish once and she wouldn’t tell me.”
“I prefer lightning.”
My feet stopped so quickly I nearly tripped over them. “Seriously?”
He brushed past me. “No.”
Figures.
I hauled up the elevator door. “That’s the trouble with you guys.”
He followed me into the elevator and moments later we were rumbling up to my floor. “What is?”
“No sense of drama. At least I wear a cool coat and jump from buildings. Have scary fangs that pop out. Paint myself in the blood of my victims. People would actually go to see a movie based on me ’cause it’d be flashy and awesome. I impress people.”
Lips parted, brows pulled together in confusion, he turned to look at me like I’d sprouted another head. “I removed us from this dimension’s timeline and teleported us outside. How is that not impressive?”
“Right—and no one saw it. I didn’t even see it and I was fucking there. So who does a witch impress? More witches. The lot of you are too subtle. No wonder covens are so inbred—no one else wants anything to do with you.”
I glanced at Nate. “I don’t think so but I don’t want you testing it on my dime.”
I hung up before he could respond.
Chapter Five
Whips and Chains
The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me that he was all bound up uncomfortably.
The cheesecloth that was my memory from the weeks after awakening was still clear about just how much that fucking sucked. For now he was compliant, but then he had also been drugged and the effects would’ve lasted a while, taking the edge off. The more uncomfortable he was, the more likely he’d try to break out. If he got out and went on a rampage, I sure as hell wouldn’t put him down, but others would. Vampires who kept a low profile. Demon Hunters. And then I’d have to kill anyone who came after him, which would time suck-even more when I couldn’t afford it.
So I started making calls. First was for a new bed. Black wrought iron canopy and I got custom feet soldered onto it so that I could bolt the whole thing to the floor.
Next? BDSM suppliers. Hey, you want your bedroom set up for chains and ways to bind someone, you call the experts.
I had appointments for both in the afternoon, and then did the math. Beds: mine, Nic’s old queen-sized still in her former room, and a cot folded in the downstairs closet. People: Nate, who occupied my bed; Ry and Ellie, who occupied Nic’s; and then Nic and Peri. Someone could take the couch, sure, but there was still me as well. Sleeping in shifts was fine and I didn’t think I’d be napping much, but I pulled out my phone and ordered two more cots from the guy bringing me my bed. And no one argued with me at that late hour because I tip very well.
“We’ll have the chick by tomorrow,” I said when I reached the bottom step after leaving the loft. “Any luck?”
Wheels squealed as Nic swivelled the chair back from the desk; she nodded at the interactive whiteboard they’d pulled out. Peri had taken over writing things down rather than using the phone and it was probably better for everyone.
“Three possibilities so far,” Nic said. “Rumours of a man in India who was with the Mehra coven. A bit of a wild child and they think he was bitten and turned into a vampire. No luck finding him, though. Next we have a woman in Northern Ireland. Or she was in Northern Ireland—no one can find her now. She may or may not be someone else we heard of named Myra Sweeney. So maybe that’s just two possibilities.”
I dropped to sit on the couch, sinking into the overstuffed cushion contentedly. “How many people have you called?”
“Sixteen. Spoke to seven. I’ve emailed another eight and two have gotten back to me already.”
Jesus, this sucked. I wasn’t so good at playing Nancy Drew. No, give me a problem I can shoot at and I’m good. But I didn’t have a target. Yet. If I didn’t get one soon, I’d just start shooting everyone.
“What are you thinking?” Nic asked.
I rubbed at my eyes and yawned. “Of buying a Gothic manor, locking him in the attic, adopting a dead French prostitute’s kid, and then hitting on the help. Where are the nearest moors?”
She gave me a look that suggested she didn’t see the humour. “I was thinking, why don’t you get him cleaned up?”
“Um, because he trapped me in my bedroom and tried to kill me last time?” Really, she wasn’t very bright, and I didn’t just say that based on who she chose to date.
“But he’s fed now. Let him feed again. Get anything sharp out of the bathroom—I see that look you’re giving me.”
Yeah, it was my you’re a fucking idiot look.
“I remember what it was like.” She shuddered, glanced away, and for a moment I remembered her crouched on my sofa as she had been in her grave. She showered that night and showered three more times the next day, like she just couldn’t get clean. “Spend time with him instead of supervise. We’re good here. Right?” A glance at Peri.
“Uh...” Peri’s dark gaze darted between me and her girlfriend. “Sure. Nic’s bossy about the computer anyway.”
Jeez, just ’cause I threatened to break all their legs earlier—it was like they didn’t want me around now. I rubbed tiredly at my eyes again. “Later. Anything else?”
“I have three messages on my phone from some guy named Craig,” Nic said.
Oh yeah. Maybe he hadn’t told his boss yet I wasn’t taking the job. “It’s a work thing. I’m calling in sick, though, so if you talk to him, offer a referral. Otherwise he waits.” Especially ’cause he insulted me with the lowball offers. Douchebag. “Gimme the list you’re working on and I’ll start at the bottom.”
She tore a sheet off the legal pad by her keyboard and rolled over in her chair to hand it to me. I pulled out my phone and started dialling.
****
I managed a catnap in the morning—okay, it was more like two hours—and awoke to the popping of fresh coffee being brewed. Humans congregated around the counter with cups in hand. I almost barked something and then realized I’d forbidden them to leave.
A glance at the board revealed nothing new from when I’d dozed off. We added just two more names, which meant four-or-maybe-five witches-turned-vampires.
Not good odds.
“I suggested perhaps Peri could take Ryann to pick up some of their clothes, along with ours,” Nic said and I glanced up to see her watching
me from the computer desk.
I waved her off. “Yeah. Whatever.” Good call, at least—it’s not like they’d take off forever and not come back to help. Not while I held their significant others hostage. “They can get food, too.”
“You haven’t been upstairs yet.”
“Why do I pay you so well when all you do is state the fucking obvious?”
She blinked, unfazed. That was the trouble with Nic and having had her as a roommate for so long—she’d ceased to be bothered when I snapped at her, even well after no longer living here. It was irritating as hell. “You should feed him before the deliveries arrive and we need to set up the new—Crisse, I’m backseat parenting, aren’t I?”
I shuddered. “Yeah, don’t use that analogy. It’s creepy.” Playing Mommy Vampire to her when she awoke? Fine. It was apt. But I’d fucked the guy and while I’m fine with the odd roleplay, I draw the line at pretending to be someone’s mother. “And also, yeah, you are. I think I’m entitled to a certain amount of avoidance and, should you disagree, I am more than happy to suffer a few burns in order to drop you headfirst out the window.” I caught a glare from Peri across the room.
And I gave her the finger.
Nic raised her hands, either deciding I was right, or figuring she didn’t want me and her girlfriend getting into fisticuffs again. I won last time and I’d win this time, but the Hell Bitch would put up a valiant effort and we all had more important shit to do.
I rose and walked to the congregation of humans—or sort-of-humans, as one was quarter-demon and I wasn’t sure what might be in one of the others—and crossed my arms at my chest, waiting until they’d all poured their coffee and turned to me for marching orders. Ellie’s eyes were big and happy, his coffee likely Irish-ed up. Ryann probably had no sleep, though her T-shirt was crinkled enough that she must’ve tried. Peri was coldly alert as always, and I figured she could stay up about forty-eight hours without showing it. Military type. She’d have to go that long without getting knocked out, though, and given her propensity for fights and mass amounts of blood loss—as well as exercising her demonic power—that was unlikely to occur.
“Peri and Ryann, go to your respective homes and get a change of clothes. Also, food. See Nic if you need money.” I glanced at Ellie next, dismissing them before they could argue. “Go over the list of names with Nicolette and then contact Peter, see if he’s heard anything at all about any of the people.”
They were slow to move, but eventually got going, still sipping their coffee. I never understood the human interest in caffeine—probably ’cause it didn’t seem to do much for me as a vampire. Nic always gave me a sad, sympathetic look when I would decline a cup and I had to resist the urge to smack her.
I pulled a bag of blood from the paper bag in the fridge—right next to the bottle of probably-ancient French Vanilla Coffee-Mate—and threw it in the microwave to warm it up, hoping this day would go a little better than the one before.
****
Nate took the second feeding well, though he eyed me warily and didn’t speak. When the BDSM people called to say they were on their way over, I had to tranq him and Nic helped me cart him downstairs to her old bedroom. That wasn’t going to win me any points with him but he already didn’t seem to think highly of me. I’d explain it to him later.
Hopefully.
Right when the BDSM people were installing rings I could hook the chains on later, so he could actually walk around the room rather than lie on the bed, the bed deliveries arrived, and I was too drained to feel any of the ensuing awkwardness. Nic helped me put together the new wrought iron king-sized bed frame in my room and we added a cot up there for me to sleep on. I’d more than likely be sitting on it and staring at him while he slept, but we didn’t discuss that part.
None of the new people in the house commented on the blood on my walls. I gave good tips to ensure it stayed that way. The second new cot we left with the old one in the living room for Peri and Nic to sleep on; the beds stayed folded against the wall by the computer and I left Nic with a stack of sheets so she could take care of everything. Peri and Ryann returned to stock the fridge and stow away clothes.
Worst case scenario, I owned the whole building including the empty apartment below, so I could set some of the others up down there. Or Nate, if I installed blinds over the windows. Let him run around. Free range boyfriend.
God, I was a terrible person.
I jerked fresh sheets over my mattress, rushing through it, focusing on my task because it was a lot easier than thinking, when my phone rang. Toby’s number flashed on the screen, and the phone chirped out a violin cover of “Smooth Criminal”.
Okay, so we met for drinks one time and he insisted. I indulged because he was useful. Criminal, yes. Smooth, only in his own deranged mind.
“What?” I snapped as I answered, pinching the phone between my shoulder and ear as I finished making the bed.
“We don’t have Felix yet.” Toby’s voice was near a growl, rumbling the phone against my ear. Clearly pissed. “Fucker agreed to see us in his office and had security there, threw us out.” A mumble in the background. “But we broke into the VBA and got a list of their clients. In case she’s there.”
It was a good possibility, crazy vamp feeding from stocked blood instead of live sources. Just in case she went nuts and killed someone. I pointedly did not think about Nate downstairs. “Fax it to me and Nic will compare it with what we know so far.”
“We have addresses for most of the clients. The problem is that there aren’t any names—just a number ID. And nothing to compare the numbers to.”
Well, shit.
“I can’t guarantee we’ll have her tonight, but we’ll get her if she’s on the list. Jules was shot—ow!”
I sighed. Like I cared. “So you broke in and got shot.” See, this is why I never outsource.
“She did. I got stabbed.” A pause. “By her.”
Oh my god, it was like a bad buddy cop movie. “My secretary will call you back if anything fits. If we can narrow it down, you can at least check out some of the residences to see if any witches live there.” Which was the shittiest plan ever but I had nothing else. “Put your super werewolf healing to good use and be on top of your game because this bitch will be dangerous and crazy. If you lose her, I will do enough damage that you won’t heal from it.”
I hung up before he could snark back. And he would—he didn’t like being ordered around and didn’t like not getting the last word in. Funny thing about Toby: he was a submissive who thought he was an alpha. Lone wolf, sure, but he still ended up working for others.
I tossed several freshly cased pillows on the bed and they flopped against the mattress. Rings were bolted just beyond the iron coils of the headboard so a chain could run through it, keep him bound but able to rest fairly comfortably. Others were bolted in the floor in various spots. A few more on the walls. And the bed was bolted in place; it could be thrown like the last, sure, but it would hold if he got thrashy.
Downstairs I found the rest eating lunch, save for Nic who was quite private about blood drinking and likely wouldn’t pull it out in public. She waved around a list from the fax machine. “Got Toby’s note. Still lost but I’m looking up an address.”
My phone rang again and I checked—not Toby, but a private number texting me. Private numbers didn’t contact me—it’s what I had Nicolette for.
I BELIEVE YOU’RE LOOKING FOR MYRA SWINNEY. ~M.V.
I blinked. Waited. Nothing else. “Do we know an ‘M.V.’?” I asked Nic with a frown.
“Not in my immediate recollection. Why?”
I held up the phone. “Someone says we’re looking for—” The phone rang once more. “Shit, here he is again.”
THAT SHOULD SPEED YOUR ENDEAVOURS. WE’LL SPEAK LATER. ~M.V.
Dealings with anonymous benefactors never end well. “He—or she—says we should be looking for Myra Swinney? Was that the Irish chick?”
Nic gestured to t
he white board of notes and I followed the list. “Sweeney, which is close enough. Irish a hundred odd years ago. She could’ve been among the ones who ended up in Quebec.”
Well. That was unsettling, to say the least. How in the hell did anyone know who we were looking for? Of course, Toby and Juliette could’ve talked. Or maybe someone from Felix’s organization? I shook my head. “See if you can find that name—”
But Nic was already tapping the keys. “Got it. One of the addresses Toby sent matches the name Swinney on 411. It’s probably her.”
“Probably” would have to do. “Call Toby with the name and address and work with him on it. Call our contacts and see if anyone knows her.” My gaze travelled over the humans congregating on the couch and floor with slices of pizza and I settled on Peri. “You can go meet Toby and Jules tonight.”
Peri frowned and mumbled around a mouthful of pizza, “Why do I have to—”
“Because I should have eyes and ears there, and you’ll make sure they don’t fuck around. Plus you can take them.” I held up a hand before Ryann could bitch at me. “You’re great, Buffy, I promise, but you’re too nice.”
Peri didn’t seem insulted; she did glance at Nic, who nodded her agreement. After muttering a few rather uncomplimentary things about me, Peri stood and stomped to dump her plate in the kitchen.
“You don’t have to go ’til tonight—”
But she was already stuffing her feet into combat boots. “I’m taking a nice car.”
“Fine. But not a vintage one.”
“Deal.”
Chapter Six
Showers Shouldn’t Be So Complicated
I popped another pouch of blood in the microwave for twenty seconds and watched it spin, green LED numbers ticking and counting down.
Exhumed Page 5
