by Dima Zales
“Stop, please.” Kit makes her ears disappear and reappear. “I don’t want to end up eating bananas for the rest of my life.”
“Sorry. Do you want to know what the sanitizer’s for?”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s pretty clear. I assume the other stuff is a prank on Firth?”
“That obvious?”
She assumes Filth’s weaselly visage. “You know how many jokes feature a vampire and a tampon?”
I grin. “You should tell me some. But only after I solve this case.”
“Right.” She becomes herself and knocks on the huge wooden door in front of us.
The giant—Colton—opens up. Unsurprisingly, he looks just like Kit’s impersonation of him, except he’s wearing an apron.
“I have a brisket in the oven,” he booms. “Is this going to take long?”
Felix snorts. “Cue the banana rant.”
I surreptitiously flick the earbud to hopefully deafen Felix. “Not long. But we can do this later.”
“No, come in.” The giant opens the door wider.
I step in but stay vigilant about touching anything that he could’ve contaminated during food prep. The aroma of fried animal flesh is unmistakable.
“Sit,” he urges as we enter a surprisingly modern kitchen—well, modern for Earth. Given the medieval ambiance of the castle, I was half expecting to see some unfortunate pig’s head on a spittle over a fire. Instead, there are white quartz countertops, stainless steel appliances, and a sleek table with backless chairs that appear to be sized for a giant. And, I guess, a brisket in the oven.
I clutch the sanitizer in my pocket for comfort. “I’ll stand, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” He plunks down in one of the chairs, making it creak under his weight. “What did you want to know?”
“It all boils down to one question,” I say, eager to escape the unsanitary environment as quickly as possible. “What were you doing at the time Gemma was ripped apart?”
He frowns deeply. “You think I’d—”
“She has to ask everyone,” Kit says. “Even me.”
He lets out a resigned sigh. “I was herding the goats.”
I shift my gaze from him to Kit, who turns into one of the puckish creatures and bleats.
Colton gives her a chiding look. “Goats keep the shrubs around the mountain at bay, give the monks a source of milk and cheese, and provide everyone with occasional mutton.”
“Milk, cheese, mutton—another chance for the banana rant,” Felix murmurs.
If I deigned to acknowledge his existence, I’d tell him that free-roaming goat products feel way safer to me than germ-infested industrial farm food, at least as far as Salmonella and E. coli go.
“What I really need are some details,” I tell Colton. “Like what the sky was like or in what formation the goats stood—anything that made that afternoon memorable.”
“Sure.” He tells me that the day was foggy, and that a bunch of mushrooms had sprouted on the nearby hill. As he keeps going, I take notes on my phone.
“Thank you,” I say when he’s done. “That’s all we needed.”
“You sure you don’t want to taste—”
“We shouldn’t keep Nina waiting. Maybe some other time.”
Kit looks at the oven longingly. I carefully elbow her. She turns into a monkey—no doubt a dig at my banana eating—and scampers out of the giant’s lair with me literally on her tail. She leads me through more corridors to a door as big as the one that led to Colton’s abode. Becoming herself again, she presses the doorbell.
A bloodcurdling wolf howl emanates from behind the door.
Chapter Seventeen
“I know,” Kit says when she sees how white I’ve turned. “Eduardo’s door chime takes getting used to.”
“That was a chime?” Felix whispers. “It sounded like someone getting murdered.”
The door opens on a tall, shaggy-haired man with intent lupine eyes. He also looks like Kit’s impersonation of him—and like Donkey Kong, as Felix mentioned, only dressed in a bespoke suit.
“I was just on my way out,” he growls. “What’s this about?”
The guy is so intense I can’t help but take a step back. “Do you have a minute? I’m interviewing everyone for the investigation.”
He looks at his Jaeger-LeCoultre watch. “You have two minutes.”
“Where were you when Gemma died?” I blurt. “Tell me in as much detail as you can.”
His eyes narrow. “I was hunting with my pack. It was foggy. We took down a buck with a broken antler. Is that detailed enough?”
“It is, thank—”
“Then get out of my way.” He moves forward.
“Just one second,” Kit says, staying put. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
He stares at Kit the way The Big Bad Wolf must’ve looked at Little Red Riding Hood. I gulp. Werewolves on Gomorrah are notorious for their bad temper, and Eduardo doesn’t strike me as a particularly zen member of his kind.
Without blinking an eye, Kit shifts into an orc.
“Pack business,” he growls. “Now move.”
“He’s the alpha of said pack,” Felix whispers more quietly than usual. “I’d obey.”
I pointedly pull on Kit’s sleeve. “Again, thanks. Kit, we have more people to interview.”
“Have fun.” Orc Kit turns back into herself and steps leisurely out of his way.
The next door Kit leads me to is no more than a large slab of rock. I see no handle or hinges. To the side on the wall is a doorbell with a camera, which Kit presses.
“Yes?” calls the melodic voice Kit simulated earlier. “What do you want?”
“Bailey is here to interview you,” Kit says. “It’s to help with the investigation. I’m sure you don’t mind.”
In reply, the giant stone slides up.
Nina looks just as Kit showed me earlier, only dressed in a black leather jacket and jeans. She’s gesturing at the stone slab with her hand, a look of concentration on her striking face.
Of course—she opened the door using telekinesis.
“Come in.” She waves us in with her free hand.
Kit waltzes in, but I hesitate as Pom turns black on my wrist. If Nina stops holding up that rock with her power, whoever is under it at the time will turn into a pancake.
Nina frowns. “Come on. I won’t harm you.”
Puck. If she didn’t want to squish me before, she might after this perceived slight. “I didn’t mean to imply you’d do it on purpose. It’s just such a big stone, and—”
“If I wanted to kill you, I could make it fly at you.” The stone rises another foot off the floor, then starts hovering in my direction.
“Fine.” I hurry through the doorway. “Thanks for not dropping it.”
Not dignifying that with a reply, Nina lowers the slab into place and leads us into her living room, where she gestures for us to sit on what looks like an IKEA futon. In general, her décor appears to be of minimalist persuasion, with a sort of New Age vibe.
“A drink?” A bottle of wine rises from the bar on its own and uncorks itself.
I shake my head. “Not on duty.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” Kit says.
A glass flies up from the nearby table, the bottle pours wine into it in the air, and the glass glides into Kit’s outstretched hand.
“Not just raw power but fine control,” Felix mutters. “Impressive.”
“How can I help?” Nina asks.
“Can you tell us what you were doing when Gemma was killed?” I ask. “It happened—”
“I know when,” she says, her expression darkening. “Does this mean I’m a suspect?”
“Don’t piss her off,” Felix whispers. “She could go Darth Vader on your ass and choke you with her power.”
“Everyone on the Council is a suspect,” I say carefully, not loving the picture Felix paints. “I’m merely starting with whoever had the ability to easily commit the la
st crime, but—”
“She asked me the same thing.” Kit’s form flows into Colton, then Eduardo. “Others as well, and that’s just so far.”
Nina’s face clears, and she peers at me curiously. “You’re a dreamwalker, right? Just like Leal?”
“We have the same power, yes, though I’m not sure how I measure up to his abilities.”
She pours herself a glass of wine in the air and sips it thoughtfully.
Could she be the culprit, after all? She’s not answering my question, and overall looks like she’s hiding something.
“So,” I prompt cautiously, “when Gemma—”
“I was doing yoga,” she says abruptly.
Huh. I suppose that goes with the New Age vibe. “Anything specific you recall about that session?”
“This is so you can verify in my dreams if I’m telling the truth, right?”
“Exactly. The more details, the easier my job.”
“I was in this room.” She makes a gesture that causes all the furniture to float up several feet, clearing the floor—as she presumably would do for yoga practice. “I started with child’s pose, then flowed into downward-facing dog.” She throws more yoga poses at me, and I note each one in my phone. “At the end, I always do a relaxing corpse pose. I’d never reflected on how macabre that sounds until saying it just now—as a murder suspect,” she adds, fiddling with the hoop in her nostril.
“You won’t be a suspect for long,” I promise. “Now that I know what you were up to, I can easily clear you.”
“Right. In my dreams.” Her dark eyebrows pull together. “Talk to me once you have no doubt of my guilt.” She glances at Kit. “Privately.”
Okay, what is that about?
I throw out a wild guess. “If you know who the real killer is, I can ask Kit to leave so we can—”
“I don’t.” She lowers the furniture back to the floor. “But we should talk. Afterward. Now if that’s all, you’d better go talk to the rest of your suspects.”
Kit stands up and sets her glass on the nearby table. “Thanks for the drink.”
Our exit beneath the giant rock comes with a lot less fear.
“Kain’s next,” Kit says over her shoulder. “Hopefully he’s back.”
Before I can ask her where he’d gone, I spot a familiar figure coming down the corridor.
It’s Filth, and he’s giving me the evil eye.
“If it isn’t the blood whore,” he sneers when I’m within earshot. “Do let me know when you’re ready for an undiluted fix.”
I give him a placid stare. “Did you have any trouble getting the tampons, errand boy?”
Felix chuckles. “I forgot to tell you, I did make the checkout process harder for him—and there is a video.”
Filth’s fangs emerge. “I’ll rip your—”
“No, you won’t.” Kit has turned into Kain.
“Speaking of ripping…” I look over Filth’s sickly body. “Are you strong enough to rip someone in half?”
Kain Kit gives me a glare. “Don’t antagonize him further.”
“I’m asking as part of my investigation,” I say, stretching the truth only a little. “It’s a compliment, in a way. You said only the oldest vampires can accomplish such a feat.”
“I’ve never tried to rip something in half. I suspect I’d greatly enjoy it, though.” Filth gives me a deliberate once-over.
“That’s nice,” I say. “So what were you doing when Gemma was killed?”
“I was on a job with Kain.” His fangs go away. “Someone without a Mandate stepped out of line, so we put him down like a rabid dog—the way we should’ve done with you.”
“Thank you,” I say calmly. “Sounds like you and Kain are each other’s alibis. I hope you don’t take it personally when I verify your story with Kain and in the dream world.”
“You keep doing your pretend work. I’ll wait until you fail.” He brushes past us.
Kit turns back into her usual self and heads down the corridor to a black metal door. She knocks on it, and just as I catch up, Kain opens the door.
“She’s yours again,” Kit says. She turns to me. “I have some business to attend to, but I guess I’ll see you in my dreams?”
I smile. “Thanks for your help.”
“How goes the investigation?” Kain asks, gesturing for me to come inside.
He leads me into a sleek kitchen that reminds me of Colton’s, just with a normal-sized table and chairs, and sits me down on a stylish black bar stool as I bring him up to speed on everything except the alibi Filth provided a minute ago. It’s unlikely their stories won’t match, but if so, that would be a major breakthrough. And I can’t dismiss what Kit said about Kain’s potential culpability.
The vampire opens a bottle of distilled water and puts it in front of me like a bartender. “Tonight, you’ll establish a dream link with everyone on the Council. You’ll dreamwalk in everyone you’ve spoken with thus far, plus a few people I personally suspect.”
I greedily gulp the water. “Actually, I might have to do one or the other. There’s a limit to how much I can use my power in a day, and setting up links is draining. Why don’t I just set up links and dreamwalk in the people I’ve spoken with so far?”
“I want everyone on the Council to feel as though their dreams can be invaded at any moment.” He perches on a stool next to me. “Then, if you have enough power, we can dive deeper into the suspects.”
“You don’t think it was Eduardo, Colton, Kit, or Nina who killed Gemma?”
“Doesn’t matter what I think. Just do as I say.”
I swallow a less-than-polite retort. “Sure. By the way—and this is mere formality—can you tell me what you were doing when Gemma was killed?”
He doesn’t blink. “No problem. Use your power to clear me of suspicion right away, so you can speak to me more openly about the case.”
“I will—though it could mean I won’t be able to set up links with everyone on the Council today.”
“Fine, fine. Can always leave people with strong alibis for later.” He gets up, takes a blood bag from the fridge, and tosses it into the microwave. “It’d been quite a day. An insane werewolf from one of the Otherlands arrived at the local airport and attacked the humans there. We had to kill him and glamour hundreds of victims to forget the incident.”
“Wow,” Felix whispers.
Indeed. I wouldn’t want to be an Enforcer, that’s for sure.
“JFK airport?” I ask as the microwave beeps.
“That’s the one.” He takes out his snack and returns to his seat next to me. Ripping open a corner of the bag, he takes a big gulp from it.
I suppress my instinctive disgust at the sight of him consuming someone’s bodily fluids. “Can you tell me something about the event that makes it memorable?”
“How often do you think insane Cognizant show up on this world?”
“No idea. Not often?”
“This was the first incident I’d been involved with. Newcomers such as yourself usually keep their heads down. They know that without the Mandate, they can be killed without due process just for being here.”
He downs the rest of the blood bag, no doubt to illustrate what would happen to someone with yummy blood in such circumstances. If it’s a threat, it works well.
I force my voice to stay steady. “That’s enough detail.”
“Good.” He slides down from his stool and extends his hand. “Come with me.”
I look at his hand, the very one that only a second ago held a bag containing someone’s blood. He gives me a look that seems to suggest the handholding isn’t optional. Inwardly cringing and making plans to use a whole bottle of sanitizer later, I limply take his hand and let him lead me deeper into the apartment.
Oh, puck.
The last room we enter is his bedroom.
A vampire’s bedroom, or what passes for one, given that they don’t need to sleep.
My heart rate skyrockets. This pl
ace looks too much like the dream room where I do Ariel’s exposure therapy. Instruments for erotic and not-so-erotic torture glitter and gleam everywhere. The bed itself has iron rings built into the headboard and the base, clearly to make it easier to chain people for nefarious purposes.
On Gomorrah, everyone thinks vampires are kinky, and this one is playing right into that stereotype.
Kain lets go of my hand and looks between me and the bed with a strange expression.
I loudly swallow.
Is he hungry… or worse?
Chapter Eighteen
Can’t be hungry. He just drank that whole bag, and why ruin his appetite before dinner, right? Which means—
Before I can complete this thought, Kain climbs onto the bed.
Does he think I’ll follow him? Not in a million years.
He sprawls on his back, his pale eyes intent on my face. “I know it sounds crazy, but I’m a little uneasy about what’s to come.”
Uneasy about what? Inviting me for an exchange of bodily fluids?
He swipes at his forehead, brushing back a string of limp brown hair. “I haven’t slept for decades. I can’t remember the last time I dreamed at all, and now I’m about to do it with a witness.”
I blink as everything clicks into place. He wants me to clear him of wrongdoing right now. Whew—that makes more sense. Damn sleep deprivation is making me paranoid.
“I’ll be invisible as you dream,” I say as soothingly as I can with all that adrenaline in my system. “There’s also a good chance you’ll forget the dream when you wake up.”
He nods and closes his eyes. “Give me a few seconds.”
I’ve seen this before. Vampires don’t need to sleep, but when they want to, they drift right off, no mooft counting required. Before long, Kain’s breathing changes, and a few minutes later, I see his eyes moving rapidly behind his eyelids in the telltale sign of REM sleep.
