Under Wraps

Chapter Six

I was splashing cold water on my face when Hayes appeared in the doorway, a combination of concern and amusement washing over his face. “I barfed at my first crime scene, too,” he said companionably.

“Good for you,” I said, swishing water in my mouth and then spitting it into the sink. “But I don’t think I’m cut out for this.” I turned off the tap and wiped my hands on a towel—a dead woman’s towel—and felt the urge to vomit again. It passed and I pressed my hands against my heart in an effort to keep it from thundering through my chest. “This was a bad idea. I’m an administrative assistant. I don’t do murders. I file papers. I take fingerprints.”

Hayes leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. “Demons have fingerprints?”

“Everyone has fingerprints. Except hobgoblins because of the slime but—” I glanced up at Hayes’s amused face and frowned, fists on hips. “A woman is dead here, Parker. I’m having a severe panic attack. Can you be serious for like, one minute?”

Hayes came toward me and bundled me into an awkward, one-armed hug. His lips were right at my hairline and he whispered, “It’s okay. I’m here, Lawson. Everything is going to be okay. We’ll get this guy.”

A rush of warmth washed over me and I wasn’t sure whether it was more nausea or Parker’s proximity, but I voted for the latter, then felt immediately guilty for having sexy thoughts in a dead woman’s bathroom. I wriggled out of Parker’s arm, smoothing my hair back.

“Thanks,” I muttered. “I think I’m okay now. Sorry.”

“Are you ready to help me with this?” Hayes asked, one hand on the small of my back as he led me back into the bedroom. “Because if it’s too much for you …”

I steeled myself. “No. I’m okay. Let’s just get this over with.”

I walked into the room, my eyes immediately going to the bed, to the dead woman. The sheet was still thrown back, and I balled my hands into fists, digging my fingernails into my palms as I willed myself to walk forward, to take in the scene. The woman’s peaceful head still rested calmly on the silky pillow, but now I could see that her neck was barely attached. There were horrible-looking bite marks at her collarbone and across her chest; the skin was puckered, torn, and purpled. There were double puncture wounds on each upturned wrist, and more blood than I had ever seen in any of Nina’s blood-bank lunch deliveries.

“Who could have done this?” I whispered, unable to tear my eyes away.

Hayes looked sideways at me, his jaw set, that muscle twitching again. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

I found myself stepping closer, examining the corpse. I pushed aside a crumple of torn, blood-soaked nightie and gasped.

There was a yawning, bloody hole just under the woman’s left breastbone—and her heart had been completely removed.

I wretched and clamped my hand over my mouth again, but the vomit didn’t come this time. My knees weakened, and before I knew it, Hayes was holding me up, his calm chest pressed against my heaving one, my head buried in the crook between his neck and shoulder. I felt his hands pressing against the small of my back, massaging in small circles softly, as I was sobbing, gasping, hiccupping. He led me into the hallway, shutting the door gently behind us. It didn’t help. The image of the woman’s bloodied nightgown and her naked, hollow chest burned in my pinched, closed eyes.

“Oh,” I mumbled, sinking down onto the top stair. “Oh, my God.” I leaned forward, my head between my knees. I tried to breathe deeply.

Hayes hunched down beside me and brushed a few stray locks of hair behind my ear, his fingertips lingering gently on my skin. The movement was so tender that I wanted to cry.

“I’m sorry,” I sniffled, looking up at him. “I guess I’m not a very good detective.”

“No one is supposed to be good at this, Lawson. No one should ever be good at this.” He stood up. “You stay here. Catch your breath. I’m going to go in and finalize things, and then we’ll head back to the station.”

I smiled weakly, and Hayes disappeared back into the bedroom.

Once the door clicked shut, I steadied myself enough to stand up and shakily followed Hayes through the bedroom door. Hayes had his back toward me, was hunched over, taking pictures of the body and writing in his little black leather notebook. He glanced over one shoulder at me, his blue eyes clear and focused.

“I think it’s vampires,” he said.

“No,” I said, my eyes following an arc around the body. “Do you see that?” I pointed, and Hayes’s eyes followed my finger. He frowned and shrugged.

“What am I looking at?”

I crouched down to the hardwood floor, my fingers brushing a smooth white powder. “There’s a pentagram drawn around the bed.”

Hayes wagged his head, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t see anything.”

“Veil,” I said, showing him my chalked fingers. “Someone was trying to cover their tracks—magically speaking.”

Hayes swallowed thickly. “So, pentagrams? That’s demonic, right? So, vampires.”

I looked at the destruction of the body, the dark red splatters of blood on the bottom sheet, the pool of red seeping into the mattress. “I don’t think so,” I said.

Hayes pointed to the woman’s pale arms lying palm up, the delicate skin on each wrist punctured by two tiny, perfect holes spaced equidistantly apart, the skin puckered as though it had been violently sucked.

“Aren’t those teeth marks? Fangs?”

I shook my head. “Vampires don’t leave this kind of destruction. They generally aren’t interested in being caught, in leaving any traces. And the blood—” I swallowed hard against a fresh wave of nausea. “That’s a lot of blood to leave behind. Human blood is a life force to a vampire. They aren’t going to leave that much—they can’t. It’s a survival instinct. And the heart …” I couldn’t finish, and Hayes wagged his head.

“Maybe the vamp was angry, sloppy. Maybe he wasn’t doing this to feed. Or maybe he didn’t care if he was found out. He certainly didn’t care the last time.”

“We don’t know that it was a vampire last time. Besides, there is no reason that a vampire would gouge out someone’s eyes. And if he didn’t care whether or not he was found out, why would he bother to put her back in her bed? To veil the pentagram? Why would he bother to make it look like nothing happened?” I found myself whispering the last part: “And why would a vampire take out her heart?”

Hayes blew out a long sigh. “I don’t know. But I know it’s a vampire. I know you’ve got a soft spot for whatever reason for the pointy-toothed bloodsuckers, but let’s face it: when you hear hoofbeats, you don’t go looking for zebras.”

I put my hands on my hips. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that if there are teeth marks, I’m going to go looking for vampires.”

“Vampires. Crap!” I slapped my palm on my forehead and glanced at my watch.

“What?”

“I was supposed to pick up Nina’s nephew from the Caltrain station. He comes in in eight minutes.”

Hayes shrugged. “We’re done here and we’re not too far.”

“Yeah, but I need to get my car. It’s going to take at least forty-five minutes to get back across town now—it’s rush hour. And then to get back to the train station. I can’t let him just sit there on the platform waiting all alone—he’s just a kid.”

Hayes pulled his keys from his pocket and dangled them in front of me. “So we’ll turn on the siren.”

“We’re going to pick him up in the squad car?”

Hayes was already heading for the stairs and the front door. “Do you have a better idea?”

Once I had buckled myself into the passenger seat and Hayes had pulled into traffic he looked at me, frowning. “I thought you said Nina was a vampire?”

I nodded, fishing a half-wrapped piece of Trident out of my purse. Better my breath smelled like purse lint and peppermint than barf. “She is.”

“So how does …”

“How does she have a nephew? Same way anyone else has a nephew. And yes, he’s a vampire, too.”

“Great. I’m going to go pick up a vampire. And now you’re going to have two vampires hanging around?”

I nodded. “It’ll be kind of nice, actually. Nina and I have been friends for ages, and I’ve never met any of her family. I think it might be fun having another member of the LaShay family hanging around—fanged as they may be.”

Hayes wagged his head. “I really don’t think I’m ever going to get any of this Underworld stuff.”

I filled him in on Nina’s history with Louis, and by the time I had finished talking, Hayes’s cheeks were flushed and we were at the King Street Station, the old trains groaning down the tracks.

“Whoa!” I said, pointing when we were lucky enough to find a nearby parking space. I grinned at Hayes. “You’ve got good parking karma. That never happens at rush hour.”

He ignored me and stepped out of the car, scanning the hordes of Caltrain riders as they strolled out of the station, beelining for their cabs and buses. “Okay, what are we looking for?”

“Who,” I said, coming around the car and grabbing Hayes’s elbow. “Louis is a who, not a what. And Nina says we should be able to recognize him right off.”

“Will he be carrying his graveyard dirt with him, or is he having it sent?”

I socked Parker in the arm and kept on walking, nodding to the janitor who was concentrating on pushing a broom across the tile floor in the train station foyer.

“You know him?” Hayes asked.

“I filed his papers just last week. His wife is going to be coming over from Canada early next month. I’m really excited for them.”

Hayes swallowed and lowered his voice. “So he’s … what?”

“Vampire,” I said. “Works the night shift.”

“I thought vampires were all hoity-toity. You know, big-time jobs or just independently wealthy or whatever.”

“Some are. But all of them are obsessed with cleanliness.” I smiled and beelined for the number seven train platform.

“Okay,” I told Hayes once we were waiting on the edge of the tracks, “he should be coming off any minute now.”

Hayes and I stood on the platform, examining the faces of all the people stepping off. I was looking for someone who bore a vague resemblance to Nina—pixie-nosed, a thick head of blue-black hair, fine-boned—when Parker sucked in a sharp breath beside me.

“That has got to be him,” he said, his blue eyes steady.

I followed his gaze and held my own breath, eyeing Louis as he stepped off the train. He was tall—exceptionally so—but shared Nina’s slim build and fine, elegant facial features. His marble skin was porcelain-perfect and made the inky black of his eyes, the rose-wine stain of his lips, stand out. The teenaged girls and young women exiting the train around him clamored to stay next to Louis, despite the fact that he was dressed like Bela Lugosi.

I was just thankful that he had decided against the cape.

“Is he wearing a tux?” Hayes asked, leaning into me.

“No. I think that’s an ascot. Tuxes have bow ties, right?”

Hayes furrowed his brow.

“Well, maybe that’s what all the boys wear where he comes from.”

“I’ll bet,” Hayes snorted.

Indeed, Louis was dressed in carefully pressed black dress pants with a well-tailored black dinner jacket. A red jacquard vest peeked out from underneath the coat, and a silky, patterned ascot was looped tightly around his pale, elegant neck. His dark hair was slicked back, showing off the same widow’s peak that Nina routinely brushed her hair over.

There was a thin line of black outlining his dark eyes. “He’s wearing makeup,” Hayes said. “Do you think where he comes from, all the boys wear eye makeup, too?”

I socked Hayes in the arm again and pasted a welcoming smile on my face. “Louis!” I called, waving my hands over my head.

Louis’s dark eyes scanned the heads of the group around him before settling on me. His expression remained blank, unfazed, but he headed in our direction.

“Hi!” I said, smiling brightly when he reached us. “It’s so nice to meet you!” I extended a hand that Louis looked at disdainfully. “I’m Sophie, and this is my friend, Parker Hayes. He’s a detective.”

Parker and Louis exchanged the universally male partial head bob while I chattered spastically. “I’m your aunt’s best friend. But I’m sure she’s told you that. Do you like to be called Louis or Lou or—”

Louis’s dark eyes raked over both Parker and me, the expression on his face that age-old vampire/teenager mixture of boredom and contempt. “Actually,” he said, slowly, “its Vlad.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“Vlad,” Louis said carefully, his fangs pressing against his ruddy lips. “I prefer to be called Vlad. Louis no longer exists.”

Parker looked at his feet, but I could see his apple cheeks pushing up into a quiet smile.

“Vlad?” I repeated. “Well, okay, Vlad it is. Are you excited to be here, Vlad? Have you ever been to San Francisco before? We’re really glad you’re here.”

Vlad blew out a bored sigh. “I was here during the big quake.”

“Nineteen-o-six or the eighty-nine quake?”

“Both.”

“Okay,” Parker said, clapping his hands. “How about we head to the car?”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay alone with Count Dracula?” Hayes asked me once we returned to the police station parking lot.

“Be quiet, Parker. I’m sure he’s a nice kid.”

“Did you get that from his overwhelming silence or from his spitting glares?”

I rolled my eyes. “Look, this day has been long—really long. I just want to get home and get Louis—Vlad—settled. I’ll see you at the police station tomorrow?”

Hayes and I stood awkwardly staring at each other until Vlad blew out an annoyed sigh as he stood on the passenger side of my car. “Can we go now, Sophie?”