Under Suspicion

Chapter Fifteen

I set the pink donut box next to the coffee and tea service on the credenza; then I set a tray of artfully arranged blood bags next to that, trying to make the UDA conference room look welcoming. I was buns to the sky, rooting around in my shoulder bag, when Will’s lilting voice broke the silence.

“I love this country.”

I turned around and shot him an icy glare. “This is serious, Will.”

“Obviously.” Will stared skeptically at the fuzzy purple earmuffs I offered him.

“Go on. Put them on.”

He reached out, tentatively taking the earmuffs, his fingertips brushing mine. Though we were in the throes of a potentially life-and-death situation, my body reacted with all the hormonal decorum of a twelve-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert.

I waggled the earmuffs. “On.”

To his credit, Will snapped them on. To my credit, I didn’t wet myself laughing.

“Would you like a donut?”

Will’s brows went up. He plucked one fuzzy earmuff away from his ear. “Can’t hear you, love. I’m wearing the muff.”

I rolled my eyes, dropped a donut onto a plate, and handed it to him.

“Cheers,” he said before settling into a chair.

Vlad and Nina filed in next, each selecting a blood bag and a pair of earmuffs, then settling around the conference table. Dixon came in and I shut the door behind him, offering him a pair of earmuffs.

His razor-sharp eyebrows formed a tight V; his dark eyes slitted as he looked at the earmuffs. “Are those really necessary?”

I shrugged. “It’s your afterlife.”

Dixon pressed his lips in a pale, thin line and took the earmuffs, snapping them on.

“He’s so vain,” Nina said with a matter-of-fact head shake. “It’s part of the reason we didn’t work out.”

“I can hear you,” Dixon returned.

Nina’s stunned face broke into an easy grin. “Kidding,” she sang, quickly looking away.

“Okay, since everyone’s here now ...”

Each of the vampires looked at me, vague interest on their timeless faces. Will, on the other hand, kept chewing happily while humming a jazzy version of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.”

“Will?”

Nothing.

In my brilliant calculations I failed to note that while vampire hearing is ultrasensitive—even when encased by a set of fuzzy earmuffs—human hearing was not. I gestured for him to slide off the earmuffs and I started again.

“I know that you are skeptical about Mrs. Henderson’s disappearance. You think the guy who tried to turn Kale into a speed bump was a coincidence, and the guy who shot silver bullets at Sergio was—what?—a gangbanger. I know none of these are coincidences, so I wanted to prove to you, firsthand, that even if these events are remotely coincidental, we need to pay attention. Bettina? Could you come in here now, please?”

Will’s eyes widened, earmuffs locked securely in place, as I led Bettina into the room. In the day that had passed, her bruises had become more pronounced. Her gray skin had puckered and dropped into a deep purple; cuts and scratches, which I hadn’t noticed yesterday, looked blue-red and menacing today.

Bettina’s lower lip started to tremble, her lips parting a millimeter, hands curled into fists. I dove across the table, coming face-to-face with a startled Will. I clamped my palms over his fuzzy purple earmuffs just as Bettina started to shriek.

Will’s eyes were wide; terror and surprise sank in the deep hazel. Sweat beaded on his upper lip, and his body started to quake gently underneath my palms.

“Bettina, please!” I was shocked that I was able to scream over the choking knot of tears locked in my throat.

Will’s face was turning a mottled purple. His eyes bulged; a drop of sweat rolled from his hairline.

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! You’re killing him!”

Bettina clamped a hand over her mouth and the silence seemed just as loud. Will crumpled forward. His shoulders slumped, his head deadweight in my hands.

“I’m so sorry, Sophie,” Bettina whispered as she backed out of the conference room.

“Will?” I said, the word barely crossing my lips before a torturous sob wracked my body. My cheeks itched as the tears flooded over them.

“Will ...”

“I can’t hear you, love!” Will yelled in my face, pointing to his head. “Got the muffs on, remember?”

“Oh God, Will.” Relief washed over me and left a cold sweat. I slid the earmuffs from his head, but Will continued yelling.

“And I think that gray bird tried to kill me!”

I wiped the heel of my hand across my cheeks. “Momentary lack of judgment on my part,” I croaked.

Will plucked a piece of donut out of my cleavage and popped it in his mouth. “We’re all allowed one.”

“Ms. Lawson? Perhaps your guest should take a breath of fresh air. Vlad, Nina?”

Nina and Vlad led Will out of the room. I worried my bottom lip as I watched them leave and Dixon approached me.

“Your demonstration was eye-opening.”

My stomach was in my shoes. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Dixon held up a dismissing palm. “Regardless if the previous events are connected, Bettina’s experience has demonstrated that as an organization we are not doing enough to keep our clients safe. The Underworld Detection Agency will work to rectify that, and I will allocate all the resources necessary for you to conduct a thorough investigation.”

“For me to conduct an investigation?”

Dixon nodded curtly.

It should have been a victory, but it didn’t feel like one. But whether it was Will’s near-death experience, Dixon’s blood-tinged, conciliatory smile, or being charged with finding the Underworld killer and saving my friends, I wasn’t sure.

Dixon turned to leave; in a moment of confident solidarity, I stopped him.

“May I ask you something?”

Dixon nodded and took a seat at the conference table. I fished the silver bullets from my shoulder bag and laid them in front of him.

“Do you know anything about these?”

For a beat Dixon didn’t make any motion that he had heard me; did nothing to acknowledge the bullets glinting on the table.

“Silver bullets,” he said, sucking air in through his teeth. “Where did you get these?”

“From the wrong end of a gun.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

I shook my head and Dixon picked up one of the bullets, fingering it gingerly. Something in his eyes registered.

“You know something about these bullets?”

“Well, silver bullets are routinely used to kill—”

“No,” I said, feeling the frustration roil through me, “these bullets. These particular bullets. You know where they came from.”

Dixon tapped the bullet on the table, then cut his eyes to me. His smile was icy smooth, the entire visage glacial. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ms. Lawson.” He stood up and sauntered out of the room; the door slammed behind him with an ominous thud.

I gathered up my things and plodded to my office, where I dumped my papers and a donut box onto my now-naked bookshelf. Finally I lowered myself into my desk chair on a desperate, whooshing sigh.

“Exaggerating a bit?”

Vlad appeared behind my door and pushed it shut with a gentle kick. I clawed at my chest and willed myself not to pee. “My God, Vlad, can’t you announce your presence like a normal person? Or is that against the Vampire Empowerment bylaws?”

He grinned, showing a toothy mouth of fangs and imperfect teenaged teeth, and sat down across from me in my visitor’s chair. “It’s not against the bylaws, but it’s a lot of fun to surprise you. Should I get you a glass of water or something?”

I got my heartbeat—and bladder—under control and glared at him. “And to what do I owe this terrifying intrusion?”

Vlad paused. His tongue darted across his lips, just touching the fanged edge of one tooth. He drummed the fingers of his left hand against his knee. “I was listening to what you said today.”

My ears perked, but I remained wary. “And?”

“And I think you’re right to worry. I think we’re all right to worry.”

I sat up a little straighter. “But nothing has happened to any vampires yet. So far it seems your”—I cleared my throat—“kind is pretty safe.”

“If any demons of the Underworld aren’t safe, then none of us are.”

“So? Do you want to help me investigate?”

Vlad looked over his shoulder at my closed door; a millisecond later I heard the clatter of footsteps down the hall. Once they had passed, he leaned into me. “I can’t do that.” He reached across his chest, one hand sliding under his jacket. My breath hitched.

Is he pulling out a gun? No! This is Vlad! He could kill me in his sleep if he wanted to!

“Are you going to be sick?”

I shook my head. “No, no, sorry.”

Vlad retrieved his hand, and a thin file folder. He slid it across my desk. From the official Underworld Detection Agency crest, I knew it belonged to upper management. From the scrolled writing across the top, I knew that “upper management” was Dixon.

“The UDA keeps tabs on breathers and demons who produce weapons that could be used against our communities.”

“Where did you ... ?” But when I looked up, Vlad was gone, door shutting softly behind him. The trailing scent of his earthy cologne was dissipating slowly.

I slid the file onto my lap and opened it slowly, feeling my pulse speed up. Several pages were clipped together under the heading “werewolf.” The top page was a photograph of a newspaper clipping covered in thick Chinese characters. I didn’t need to read the language to know that the article oozed with rage and invectives; the hashes in the characters were deep and sharp. There was a name and address scrawled in red ink on the bottom of the paper. I was surprised to see that it was local, and was more surprised to see a tiny plastic bag with a silver bullet locked inside, taped to the back of the page.

Once I got home, I was pacing a bald spot in my carpet, rolling the bullet between my fingers when Will let himself in.

“Do you ever knock?” I asked, jitters going all the way up to my scalp.

“How’s that for a Guardian’s welcome?” Will smiled, unfazed, and shook his tea mug. He set the kettle on the stove and motioned to me with his empty mug. “So what’s that about, then?”

“What?”

“The pacing, the brooding”—he straightened—“the bullet.”

“I know where the bullet came from.”

Will took the bullet from me and led me to a kitchen chair. “Well, then, let’s go there. Where is it?”

I swallowed hard. “Chinatown.”

Will stood up. “So what are we waiting for?”

I bit down hard. “I’m not sure. I ... It was Vlad.”

Will’s eyebrows rose and he sat down again. “Vlad is responsible?”

“No!” I shook my head. “Vlad gave me the information. He took it from Dixon.”

“Nicked it?”

I nodded. “I think so. And something about it just doesn’t feel right.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Nina said as she tore out of her room. Her red silk kimono was flailing behind her. “Listen to this.” Her eyes went wide when she saw Will. “Oh! Hey, Will. I thought I smelled you.”

Will smiled uneasily and looked relieved when the teakettle started to whistle. He disappeared into the kitchen and I went to assist, but Nina commanded me to “sit,” pointing at the chair I had just come from. I sank down and swallowed hard. “Go ahead.”

“Lady and gentleman,” Nina stated, her pale face positively beaming, “today I am proud to present to you the first reading of my new novel/memoir, Pale Is the New Black.”

I raised my eyebrows when Nina flopped a three-inch-thick manuscript onto the tabletop and fixed a pair of glasses at the end of her ski jump nose.

Have I mentioned that vampires have impeccable vision in their afterlife?

I must have furrowed my brow because Nina pushed the cheaters up her nose and said, “They make me look more literary.”

I couldn’t tell whether it was Nina’s fake glasses or the great tower of manuscript pages, but I wasn’t feeling Nina’s literariness, and I wasn’t all that thrilled about it.

“Now”—Nina began again as her small, pale hands clutched her book—“this first portion might be a little emotional for me, so I’m going to read the scene the whole way through.”

I looked over my shoulders, half expecting to see the literary masses Nina seemed to be speaking to.

“If you need any bathroom breaks,” she continued, “I suggest you go now and hold all questions and applause until after I’ve finished.”

In retrospect I should have run for the relative safety of our little 1920s-style bathroom, with the chipped black-and-white tile floor.

“Ahem.” Nina cleared her throat and began to read in earnest.

“‘Darkness touched the Paris night sky like a gentle kiss, and I—young, beautiful, supple ...’”

I shifted in my chair, and Nina pinned me with a death squad glare.

“‘... was bored. I waited for something to happen, for something to whet the appetite for blood that was stirring within. I could taste my want. My need rose until it was almost too much to bear, and then I saw him. Tall, warm, soft, in the darkest night.’”

I raised a tentative hand. “What kind of book is this again?”

Nina snarled, a single nostril flaring. “I asked you kindly to please hold all commentary until the end.”

“I was just—”

“Please hold all commentary until the author has finished, thank you. Now where was I?”

“Supple,” I reminded her.

Nina fixed her glasses and started again.

“‘He turned and I could see the vein throbbing in his neck. I longed to sink my teeth into the flesh, to taste of meaty life juice.’”

I clamped my jaws shut. Every muscle in my body winced and I bore down against the torrent of laughter.

“‘Suddenly my fangs were in him and he was underneath me, writhing.’”

My stomach dropped into my fuzzy slippers when the heroine was introduced as she plunged her fangs into her beau Horatio’s “tender virgin neck.”

When Nina was through, she looked up, beaming, expectant. “Well?” she asked breathlessly.

Somewhere around Cecilia falling into Horatio’s arms and her going back for a second taste of “that meaty life juice,” Will must have returned from the kitchen. He stood in our doorway; his face pale, his lips drawn. The little Arsenal Football logo on his chest was jumping as his heart thudded underneath. He held his tea to his lips, a statue with darting eyes.

Will eyed the stack of papers Nina held. “Is that her diary?” he asked, voice low.

Nina’s eyes went wide and her chest swelled. “Do you really think it’s that good? That believable?” She shook the papers. “Because I wrote it.”

Will eyed her. “You wrote it down or made it up?”

“Made it up.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Inspired by true events?”

“A little.”

Will’s smile showed a small amount of relief. “Then you’re either a hell of a writer or a very, very scary woman.”

Nina preened. “Thanks. On both counts.” She flopped into a dining-room chair, forearm thrown over her forehead, fainting Victorian style. “I can’t read anymore. It’s very emotional.” Nina’s gaze was steady on me, waiting, and I took the hint. I jumped to my feet and started clapping. Will joined in.

I know you should never lie to a friend, but when that friend has two-inch fangs, I consider it warranted.

“Thank you!” Nina’s grin was so wide that it went to her earlobes. “So what are you two still doing up?” She bobbed her small shoulders and waggled her eyebrows. “A little nightcap?”

Will and I exchanged a glance. “Actually, we were just talking about the case a little bit.”

Nina’s eyes lit up. “Wait, wait, wait one second.” She jumped up, bounded over to our junk drawer and pulled out a pen and notepad. “I’m thinking my next novel might be romantic suspense or, you know, espionage. So ... go ahead. I want to take notes.”

I licked my bottom lip. “There isn’t that much to tell. I think I know where the silver bullet came from. I have an address in Chinatown.”

“Sophie, that’s huge! How did you figure that out?”

I pinched my bottom lip, quiet.

“Vlad nicked a little something from Dixon.”

Nina blinked. “Oh. Well, why aren’t you checking it out?”

“I—I’m not sure. There just seems—maybe ... I don’t know ...”

Nina put her notepad down and dropped her pen. “You think Vlad has something to do with all of this?”

My eyes went wide. “No. No, I don’t think—”

“Do you think my nephew is trying to lure you into some kind of trap or something? Because if that’s what you think—”

“No,” I said definitively. “I don’t think that at all. I just got the information, so I haven’t really had a chance to look into it. I know Vlad wouldn’t do anything like—like this.”

The lie tasted sour on my tongue.

I was reading the same line of an Elle Adair romance novel over and over again when I heard the lock tumble and Vlad walked in. He was wearing an ankle-length duster over his pressed black pants and clean white shirt. I expected a top hat or another stupid ascot, but he looked almost twenty-first century.

“Where have you been?” I asked.

“Out” was his quiet reply.

He went directly to the fridge and yanked it open. “Where’s Nina?”

“Poe’s. She’s still working on her novel.”

Vlad snorted and snatched up a blood bag, piercing it with his fangs. For the first time that motion, which I had seen every day of my life with Nina, made me wince, made me consider those sharp fangs digging into soft flesh.

Vlad grinned; and with his teeth stained a hearty bloodred, he looked momentarily sinister. “What’s with you?”

“What do you know about the murders?”

“Murders?” Vlad continued working on his blood bag, then flopped down on the couch, clicking on the TV. I perched myself in the chair-and-a-half (that cost me a paycheck-and-a-half) next to him.

“The Underworld. Mrs. Henderson. Bettina,” I elaborated.

“I thought Bettina was fine.” Vlad didn’t look at me; he kept his eyes transfixed on the glowing TV screen as he clicked past the guy from CHiPs selling Lake Shastina real estate and an ad for Mister Steamy.

“The file you gave me.”

I watched his nostrils flare; his top lip curled into a bloodstained snarl. “I thought I was helping you out.”

I straightened, feeling a spike of nerves rushing through my body. “I know, I was just curious.”

Vlad looked at me now; the snarl moving up into a gruesome smile. “You don’t have to be upset, Sophie. I was just saying.”

I fought to slow my heartbeat to a normal rate. “I’m not nervous.”

Vlad went back to watching his stream of infomercials “What do you want to know about the file?”

“How did you get ahold of them?”

Vlad’s eyes cut from the TV, cut across mine, and flashed back again. “I’m holding them for a friend.”

“Come on, Vlad. These aren’t condoms or cigarettes. They’re official Underworld Detection Agency files. They’re Dixon’s files.”

“Like I said, I thought I was doing you a favor.”

I held up my hands placatingly. “I’m just trying to get to the bottom of this. I don’t suspect you, personally, of anything. I’m just trying to explore all of the options. Maybe look into some factions that might have had a grudge against other demons.”

“Factions?” Vlad cocked an eyebrow. “You mean the Empowerment Movement, don’t you?” Vlad stood up so quickly that I lost my breath.

“It’s just that Dixon is also a part of the movement—”

“I don’t believe you, Sophie. You say that you’re on our side—the Underworld side—but when it comes down to it, the first thing you do is start pointing fingers at demons. Whatever happened to ‘never judge a demon by his horns,’ huh?”

I gripped the chair arms, burrowing my fingernails into the soft fabric. “I’m just following the facts.”

“There are no facts that lead you to the Empowerment Movement.”

“Vlad, the goal of the movement is to advance the vampire race.”

I could see Vlad’s jaw clench.

I could see his fingers roll into tight, pale fists.

“And you think the only way a vampire can advance is by taking out the competition?”

I steadied my voice. “You have to admit, it’s a little odd. A banshee, a dragon, a centaur, a werewolf—but no vampire hits? Vamps are the majority in the Underworld. Statistically speaking, they should have been hit, too.”

“Statistically speaking, vampires are much more intelligent than any of those other demons,” Vlad snarled. “We don’t have to take them out. Given enough time, they’ll do it themselves.”

“Vlad, I ...” I stood up and tried to put a calming hand on Vlad’s shoulder.

Truth was, I believed what he was saying; and deep down—and maybe even more on the surface—I didn’t believe that VERM could be responsible for the Underworld murders. VERM had been around a long time—and the Underworld murders were just beginning. Vlad let my hand rest on his shoulder for a chilling millisecond before he flicked it away; he spun on his heel, and snapped his black leather duster from the hook by the door. He shot a look over his shoulder—anger? disgust?—and said nothing before he stomped into the foyer and slammed the door hard behind him. I let out a breath, which I didn’t know I was holding, and it was like every bone in my body turned to jelly. I collapsed on the couch and stretched out, pulling my grandmother’s afghan over myself and falling asleep.