by Arthur, Keri
“Only if he was in range.”
Amusement twitched my lips. “Meaning you’ve willingly given him the means of contacting you anytime he desires. Are you ill?”
“He’s received the usual warnings and has promised not to abuse the situation.”
“Of course he has.”
She gave me the look—the one that said “shut up now or pay the price.”
My smile widened, but I resisted the urge to tease her further. “Have you got any plans for this evening?”
“No—why?”
“I’d like to pop over to Émigré.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You’re not going to Aiden’s?”
“Yes, but he’s on late shifts this week, so he’s not picking me up until ten.”
She leaned a hip against the counter and took a sip of her coffee. “I take it then that this visit isn’t for pleasure?”
“No. I want to question Maelle about the murders.”
“If there was another vampire in the reservation, she would probably have already dealt with it. She’s not the type to share.”
“None of them are, but it is possible she doesn’t know. She doesn’t leave her lair very often.”
Belle snorted. “That may be true, but I’m betting she knows exactly what’s happening, both here in Castle Rock and the reservation in general.”
Of that, I had no doubt. Especially given she not only had Roger—her man-ghoul servant—to do her bidding, but an unknown quantity of ‘feeders’. “Shall we head over early, before it gets too crowded?”
She nodded and accepted the order Penny—our waitress—handed her with a smile. I finished my coffee and then got back to work.
It was close to seven by the time we arrived at Émigré. Despite the early hour, the venue was obviously already full, given there were over a dozen people lined up outside waiting to get in. I supposed it wasn’t unexpected, given it was Saturday night, but Émigré had similar lines on Mondays and Tuesdays, which were traditionally slow for most venues.
But maybe Maelle—who’d admitted to being familiar with the darker arts—was subtly applying magic to keep the customers and money rolling in. Just because I couldn’t feel it, didn’t mean it wasn’t happening.
The building itself resembled something straight out of a science fiction movie and had become a minor tourist attraction in recent months. Though it had once been an old pub, the entire thing was now painted matte black—even the windows—and the walls were decorated with weird, almost alien-looking biomechanical forms. The front door resembled an airlock and was guarded by two rather sinister-looking security guards wearing black. They opened the door the minute they saw us approaching, ushering us inside against a tide of protests from those standing in the line. We checked our coats, then stepped through the second set of doors; the music that had been barely audible outside hit full-force. It was fierce and joyous, and instantly made me want to dance—and there were a hell of a lot of people here doing just that.
The room itself was split into two sections—one side of the upper tier held a series of ‘pods’ in which there were seats and small tables, while the other half was dominated by a long bar that was made from twisted metal and glass. The lower tier was entirely devoted to the dance floor.
I lifted my gaze to the vaulted ceiling. The huge room had been painted a battleship gray, rather than black, and the ceiling again had a series of intricate and intriguing biomechanical and alien forms crawling all over each arch. A dark glass and metal room had been built into the point where those arches met. It was right above the dance floor and had a 360-degree view of the entire venue while generally being concealed from casual sight.
Maelle’s lair.
I couldn’t see her shadow through the glass, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of our appearance. There was very little in this place that she missed.
As if to emphasize this point, a tall, thin man with pale skin, paler hair, and eyes that were a weird milky white emerged from the crowded dance floor and bounded up the steps. Technically, Roger was a thrall, which basically meant he had—via a process that involved magic and the consumption of Maelle’s flesh—received eternal life in return for eternal servitude.
His gaze swept us both, and something close to disdain touched his expression. And with good reason—jeans, sneakers, and comfy old sweaters were not approved attire in this place. “The state of your dress indicates this visit is an official one.”
“Yes. There’s been a couple of murders, and I wanted to ask Maelle some questions if she’s free.”
“For you lovely ladies, she always is.” He motioned us to follow him. “I do hope, though, that you’re not suggesting she is in any way involved in these murders.”
“I wouldn’t be so foolish as to come into her lair with such an accusation.” Not without spells at the ready and a major arsenal of stakes, silver, and holy water at hand. And even then there was no guarantee of survival, given her age and speed.
“Foolish certainly isn’t a word my mistress would use in conjunction with you.” Amusement lurked in the cool undertones.
My eyebrows rose. “Then what word would she use?”
“Dangerous.” He glanced over his shoulder, his pale eyes holding an unholy glint. “Very dangerous.”
That last part had been said by Maelle rather than her creature. The two were telepathically linked, and she could, if she wished, both see and speak through him.
“I think we both know you have little fear of me, Maelle.”
“You are this reservation’s guardian, young Elizabeth.” Roger’s tone was still Maelle’s. “That makes you the most dangerous of us all.”
I snorted but didn’t bother replying—though a tiny part of me couldn’t help but wish it was true. There might have been a greater chance of our surviving what was coming if it was.
We made our way up the steps at the far side of the dance floor and walked toward a pod that was closed off by a wrought-iron door. There was an inconspicuous keypad on the right-side wall; Roger tapped in the code and the door slid aside to reveal a circular, black glass staircase.
“Please,” he said, and motioned us on.
Our footsteps echoed as we climbed. The metal door at the top was open and the room beyond filled with shadows despite the bright array of lights that constantly swept across the dark windows. A black glass desk dominated the rear portion of the room; a couple of plush-looking chairs sat at the front of this and a third behind it.
Maelle stood near the glass panel with her back to the door but turned as we entered. Tonight she wore a Regency riding habit that was dark blue in color and had gold braid across her chest. Her rich chestnut hair had been plaited and curled around the top of her head and looked rather crown-like. Her porcelain skin was perfect; there were no lines on her face and absolutely no indication that she was, in fact, centuries old—if not older.
Her lips were a stark contrast to her skin, though the deep ruby red was not due to lipstick but was rather an indicator of how recently she’d fed. It was a sight that always had relief surging—I’d already survived one vampire attack and I had no intention of going through that again. And while Maelle had vowed to the council not to drink from the unwilling, she also seemed rather determined to taste the power in my blood.
“What murders do you wish to speak to me about?” Her softly accented voice carried easily over the thumping base of the music coming from below. “The only death the gossips whisper about is that of the groom late last week.”
“The person behind that one struck again last night.”
“Another groom?”
“It was a newlywed couple this time.” I hesitated. “The rangers initially suspected a vampire, but it hasn’t the usual hallmarks.”
“So you’ve come to the local expert for advice?” Her expression was amused, thankfully. She motioned toward the chairs in front of the desk, her movement elegant. “Please, sit. Can I get either of you a d
rink?”
“Thanks, but no.” Belle perched on the edge of the chair, her spine stiff.
And with good reason, came Belle’s thought. The bitch might want to taste your blood, but she wants me in her bed.
Oh, I don’t think you’ll escape the whole blood thing. I think that’s part and parcel of her loving. To Maelle, I added, “A sparkling water will be fine, thanks.”
She handed me my drink and then picked up hers and sat down at the desk. The liquid inside the glass was thick and a deep red in color, and I had a suspicion it wasn’t tomato juice.
“Give me the details of these murders.” She took another sip that left her lips an even richer color.
I thrust down the mild rise of horror and obeyed.
She frowned. “You are right—while there are certainly vampires who prefer to drain, few would eat the flesh of their victims, let alone go to the trouble of extracting the heart in such a manner.”
“Why’s that?” Belle asked. “Vampires are capable of processing food and liquids, aren’t they?”
“Liquids, yes, but we only consume food on rare occasions, when it is necessary for appearances’ sake.” She shrugged. “The change we undergo to become eternal alters the structure of our digestive system, and leaves us incapable of processing solid food. The result can be… unpleasant.”
If the woman who’d rolled around in the bloody remnants of a body that had exploded right here in this room considered the results of eating unpleasant, then it was not something I ever wanted to see.
“Do you have any idea what sort of creature might be responsible for these deaths?”
“There are many who would fit the bill, and this reservation has already seen a number of them.” She took another sip of her drink. I hadn’t thought her lip color could get any deeper, but I was wrong. They were so damn dark now, they were almost black. “But you have suspicions, do you not?”
“We were thinking it might be some sort of ghoul.”
“Perhaps, although the fact there was nearly a week between attacks would suggest it is not a standard ghoul.” She paused. “If one has come into the reservation, however, that is grave news indeed.”
Belle frowned. “Why? I mean, they’re no worse than some of the other supernatural critters that have hunted here.”
“Except many ghouls have insatiable appetites.”
“Why am I not surprised,” Belle muttered. “This reservation doesn’t appear to attract the milder form of evil.”
“Indeed it does not.” The glint in Maelle’s eyes suggested she was including herself in that statement. Her gaze switched to me, and the glint was replaced by something altogether more intent. “Why was your café attacked this evening?”
I blinked even as my stomach twisted. “Who told you that?”
She waved a hand. “Anyone with an ounce of magical knowledge would have seen the dismembered threads carried on the wind.”
Meaning one of them had been near our café close to the time it had happened, and that was an unsettling possibility. There could be very little reason for either of them to be driving past at that hour, given our end of Mostyn Street was a cul-de-sac. It was possible she’d sensed the attack and had decided to investigate, but given she hadn’t bothered leaving her lair when her feeders were being killed off, why would she do so to investigate an unusual attack on my place?
Then another possibility hit, and my heart leapt. Had she seen Clayton in her travels last night? Had she met him? Talked to him?
Even worse… had she made a deal with him?
Chapter Four
The little I knew about her said it was unlikely. She was in my debt, and I doubted she would in any way harm me until that debt was paid.
But she was also a vampire, and they had a long history of dark and bloody deeds. Maelle, for all her refinement, had the heart of a monster.
I took a quick drink of water and heartily wished it was something far stronger. “The attacker is a man from my past—”
“The man you have been running from these many years?” she cut in.
The thump of fear got stronger. “You’ve been checking on me.”
“As I have said, I always ensure I am familiar with the power players in whatever town I choose to settle in.” Her expression was amused. “But fear not—my enquiries would not have revealed your whereabouts to this man. My sources don’t inhabit the world of witches willingly. I think it more likely he’s here because of the tracer.”
“You don’t miss much.”
“I cannot afford to, young Elizabeth.” She studied me for a moment, her expression giving little away. “Do not forget that I am in your debt—and that is a situation with which I am never comfortable. Not for long. If you desire any help getting this witch out of your life, then I would be more than happy to oblige.”
And if that isn’t a threat wrapped up in an offer of assistance, I don’t know what is, Belle said. I seriously wish we hadn’t helped this bitch.
Refusing her wasn’t really an option. I forced a smile and said, “I appreciate the offer and will certainly enlist your help if necessary… but I can’t afford to kill this man.”
“I am capable of more than merely death.”
The flicker of light—or was it darkness—in her eyes suggested death remained her first and second option. Dark magic, I suspected, was a distant third.
“I know, but this man holds a lot of power—”
“And such power always calls to one such as me.”
“I meant in standing and alliances rather than actual magic, though he has plenty of the latter.”
“Ah.” She shrugged, the movement casual and unconcerned. “The offer nevertheless remains. And please do remember that it sometimes takes one monster to render another impotent.”
I nodded, gulped down the rest of my drink, and then rose. “Thank you for seeing us, and for the offer of assistance.”
She brushed the comment away with a graceful hand. “I will ask Roger to keep an eye out for a ghoul, if indeed that is what lies behind these murders. He is familiar with their scent, as we have dealt with them in the past.”
I frowned. “Ghouls have a scent?”
“It is… acidic. Ashy. It speaks of the cemeteries in which they are often found.”
“And the best way to kill them?”
“That would depend on the type of ghoul,” she said. “But generally, what works against a vampire will work against a ghoul, though I have a personal preference for decapitation.”
Of course she did. And she probably feasted on their blood afterwards. “Thanks, Maelle.”
She nodded and turned her chair away from us. Summarily dismissed, we headed back down the stairs and were silently escorted out of the building by Roger.
Belle drew in a deep breath once we were out in the open air. “Well, that was interesting.”
“It always is when it comes to Maelle.” I grabbed my car keys out of my purse and walked down to where we’d parked the SUV. “But at least we did get some worthwhile information from it.”
“Maybe,” Belle said. “But I’m thinking we should seriously put some distance between us and her. I’m not liking the vibes she’s throwing at the moment.”
“I’ve never liked them, but I believe it’s better to keep communications open rather than cut them altogether.”
“Oh, on that we agree. I just think we should find a different venue to attend for a while.”
“Which would affect you more than me.” Aiden definitely wasn’t a fan of the place, so I generally only went there with Belle.
She sighed. “I know, and it’s a shame, because owner aside, the place rocks. And it’s not like we’ve many other dance venues open in the reservation—and don’t you dare suggest those ballroom things Aiden drags you to. They don’t count.”
I unlocked the SUV and climbed in. “I’m not entirely sure how many more we’ll be going to. His feet are constantly in a bruised state.”
&n
bsp; Belle laughed. “Well, he can’t really complain when he was given fair warning of your three left feet. But he’s a damn werewolf—why aren’t they healing between shifts?”
“He reckons the damage is so constant, his natural healing magic is struggling to keep up.” And while he had been joking, I also suspected there was a tiny grain of truth in the statement.
Belle snorted. “Then he needs to take the hint before the healing ability throws up its hands in disgust and gives up.”
After a quick check of the mirrors, I pulled out and headed home. “It’s hardly fair he gives up something he loves because his partner sucks at it. I have suggested less frequency, however.”
“A good move for both of you, I think.”
It didn’t take us long to get home, but as we drove down the lane that led to the parking area behind our building, lights pulled in behind us. My heart leapt, and fear surged… and then I realized it was Aiden’s truck. He parked beside us and climbed out, a backpack and what looked to be a sleeping roll slung over his shoulder.
As Belle walked over to unlock the café’s back door, I stopped and waited for him. The man moved with predator’s grace, and despite the cold, warmth curled through me. “Are you planning on going camping tonight?”
“Yes—here.”
“And why would you do that when you’ve a perfectly good bed—” I stopped as realization hit. That curl of warmth got stronger.
“Until that bastard is tracked down and neutralized, you can’t risk staying at my place. I’ll do everything in my power to protect you, but my place is an open book when it comes to magical forces. He can gain access far too easily for my liking.”
“I can place protections around—”
“Why bother when your building has already proven capable of withstanding his assault?”
I wasn’t sure that was entirely true, but all I said was, “I appreciate the offer, but in reality—”
“I’m not entering into a discussion about this, Liz.” His voice was flat—determined. “He can’t attack the magic protecting this place and defend himself from physical attack at the same time. No witch can. If he does try to enter, I will stop him.”
