Angel: Private Eye Book One (26 page)

“You felt sorry for her, so you agreed to
kill one of the most powerful vampires in the city?” he summarized
with an awful blank expression.

As he stared at me with that nonplussed
gaze, I suddenly realized that his rage was better. Because when he
was visibly angry, I didn't have to guess what he was thinking. Now
I had no idea what devious thoughts were running through Benson’s
mind.

“No,” I stuttered, “I didn't know what I was
agreeing to. All she said was that she wanted my help to get away
from Theodore. The next thing I know, I'd signed the contract, and
she tells me that I have to kill him,” I squeaked.

Benson brought a hand up and covered his
eyes for a fraction of a second. When he let the hand drop, he
locked me in an unmistakable look. It was the kind of look you shot
the most pathetic stupid creature in the world. “You signed the
contract without reading it?”

I winced. I dropped my gaze to the table and
nodded.

Silence. An edgy silence filtered between
us, and Benson no doubt counted the ways he could make me pay for
this.

After all, he'd specifically contracted me
not to kill any vampires. So what had I done? Gone and signed a
bloody contract to kill one.

As I realized how horribly bad this was, I
crammed a thumb into my mouth and chewed it as if I had every
intention of biting off my whole arm. “This is bad, this is bad. I
know it's bad. But please believe me when I say I didn't know what
I was signing. I know I'm not meant to kill any vampires,” I let
out a burst of nervous laughter like a car exhaust playing up, “And
it's not like I'll even be able to lay a finger on Theodore. I'll
just… find some way to break the contract. I can do that, right?”
Reluctantly I pulled my thumb from my teeth and stared at Benson,
misplaced hope crumpling my brow.

Benson stretched out a hand, locked it on
the table, and started to drum his fingers. One by one. You think a
ticking clock on a bomb is ominous? Try listening to this. So much
terror pulsed through my heart I was pretty sure I was seconds from
passing out.

Before I could, Benson ground his teeth
together and sighed. “I suggest from now on you read what you sign.
Did you catch the name of the vampire who contracted you?”

Wincing even harder and trying to hide under
my hand, I shook my head.

“Of course not,” he said in an exasperated
tone. “Why would you look for a simple little detail like that? No
matter.” He held a hand out to me. “She would have given you a copy
of the contract. She is legally obliged to. Now hand it over.”

Having exactly no option but to comply, I
shrugged a hand into the inside pocket of my trench coat, and
pulled out the contract. At least I tried to. First I pulled out
the binoculars, then I brought out a half-eaten sandwich.

Starting to blush with embarrassment, I
shoved my hand as far into my pocket as it would go and grasped the
parchment.

Bashfully, not making eye contact, I gave it
to him.

He snapped it open, read it, then pressed it
flat on the table with a white, stiff hand. “Her name is Betty
McLeod.”

“Oh.”

“And you’re wrong.”

“W-wrong?”

“There’ll be no way to break this contract.
She’s inserted a little of her soul into this deal. The scrap of
her soul will bind you to this contract. If you try to break it,
her soul will break you. And before you ask – the answer is no. You
do not have the magic to fight this spell. Or at least you
shouldn’t,” he appeared to add to himself under his breath. “Worse,
there is a time condition included in the fine print. You have
until the next full moon – which is in precisely one week – to end
Van Edgerton’s life.”

My head started to spin. “So… so what does
that mean?”

“It means, Lizzie,” he steepled his fingers,
“You have to kill Theodore.”

A buzzing started to fill my ears as if
locusts were swarming in my head. “K-kill him? Isn’t there a way
out of the contract?”

He shook his head. It was a short, almost
brutal move. “You have to kill him in seven days, or you will be
killed by a scrap of Betty’s soul.”

I locked a hand over my mouth and stopped
breathing.

I… I started to black out, head tilting to
the side as I lost my balance.

Before I could keel over and take my coffee
with me, Benson snapped out a hand and grabbed mine. He wrapped his
warm, large, strong fingers around my own.

And anchored me there. The buzzing stopped.
My thoughts stopped swarming and choking me. And my balance
settled.

I was stunned by the powerful effect of
something as simple as his touch.

“Now is not the time to black out. Go home,
Lizzie. I’ll take you there myself.”

“My– my car is parked back
there.”

“The beast? It’ll find its own way
home.”

“Oh,” I said, trying not to be too overcome
by the warm fuzzy feeling filling me up like a hot cup of cocoa on
a cold night.

It was him. Oh Christ, it was all him.
Benson’s mere touch was like your first teaspoon of sugar after
eating lemons your whole life.

“Come on.” He turned and led me forward.

“But… but what will I do?”

He stopped, turned, and looked right at me.
“I’ll deal with it,” he promised.

Oh god, I could have melted into his
arms.

Maybe he was a little worried that I’d try,
as he cleared his throat and took a pointed step backwards. “For
now, go home and sleep. Tomorrow, I will come for you.”

I went suitably gooey at that promise.

Then William Benson took me home.

I didn't face Mr Marvelous. Instead, I
chewed industriously on my lip and turned pointedly away, as if I
was suddenly distracted by a cockroach climbing the wall.

Mr Marvelous had obviously been dealing with
scumbag criminals long enough to know that I was trying to hide
something.

He cleared his throat. It was one of those
really slow, grating, gravelly, unmistakable sounds that couldn't
exactly be mistaken for anything other than suspicion. “What
happened?” His voice dropped a full register.

I let out the smallest, lightest, silliest
laugh on record. A laugh that suddenly quite violently turned into
a groan.

“Tell me,” he snapped.

Realizing he would just drag the truth out
of me like Benson had, I spilled.

When I was done, he crumpled his brow so low
it was as if he was trying to snack on it. “So let me get this
straight. This morning you were kidnapped by Theodore Van Edgerton
and his cronies. And a little under three hours later, you signed a
soul contract promising to kill him. Is there anything else you'd
like to tell me, Lizzie?”

His tone was neutral. Unreadable. His
expression, however, wasn't. He looked ready to string me
alive.

“I ran into Benson again today… twice.”

I actually had to count on my fingers just
to ensure I hadn't missed any run-ins with my mortal nemesis.

Mr Marvelous groaned as he brought up a hand
and fell against it. “You're meant to be my coup d'état. My Hail
Mary, my ace in the hole,” he rambled as he mixed metaphors like an
alcoholic mixing cocktails. “But here you go, practically your
first day on the job, and you're already signing deadies.”

There was something obviously cavalier about
the way Mr Marvelous was referring to the contract. He had a cutesy
pet name for them like they were no more onerous and unusual than
filling out a quiz.

I sucked in my bolting fear for half a
second and frowned at him.

I frowned, because slowly the edge was
coming off his anger, until he actually shrugged, brought out his
arms, and sighed. “I ain't saying I'm pleased by this, but I guess
it offers us a kind of opportunity.” He brought up a hand and
started to scratch at his neck, counting down on one finger as if
he was assessing exactly what those opportunities were.

I gasped, breath catching in my throat.
“Sorry? This offers us an opportunity? I stupidly, foolishly,
hopefully illegally, signed a contract to kill a man.”

Mr Marvelous brought up a hand and shrugged
easily. “Keep your socks on, Lizzie. I've seen worse. Plus, maybe
this will work to our advantage. You're going to have a hell of a
reputation when it gets out you’ve been contracted to kill
Theodore. It might drive more scared witnesses out of the
woodwork.” Mr Marvelous clutched a hand on his chin and started to
tap it as he muttered to himself under his breath.

Me, I stood there completely flabbergasted.
Eventually I managed to suck in the breath to make a squeaking
sound. “I can't kill the guy,” I stuttered, reminding him of that
incredibly important fact.

Marvelous continued muttering to himself,
even going to the extent of thrusting forward, grabbing up one of
his scribble pads, and drawing a few frankly unpleasant
diagrams.

I thrust forward, locking two hands on the
edge of his desk. “I can't kill Theodore. Not only is he a bloody
vampire lord, and I have about as much chance of killing him as I
do of being elected as president, I'm not a murderer.

Marvelous tilted his head to the side. He
brought up a hand and held up two fingers.

I didn't need to ask what those two fingers
meant. Two fingers for two body counts. The vampire from the
laneway and the glass demon.

I clutched a hand on my stomach as a wave of
nausea goaded through my gut.

I shook my head so fast it was a surprise it
didn't take off like a helicopter. “That… that… isn't fair, I
didn't kill them,” I said as I kept an arm locked around my middle
and a hand flattened against my curdling gut. “It was self-defense.
And… plus, I don't even know how it happened.”

Marvelous’ expression softened, and he
tucked his hand behind his back. He also shrugged. “You're right,
you didn't kill those guys on purpose. You just saved yourself. And
there's nothing wrong with that, Lizzie. Just as there is nothing
wrong with moving against a bastard like Theodore Van Edgerton. I'm
sure I shouldn't have to tell you this, but that bastard is dark.
He's always remained just beyond the reach of the law. But that toe
rag belongs 6 feet under for the crimes he’s committed. Murder,
assault, you name it. He's been on the prowl for centuries, Lizzie,
centuries,” Mr Marvelous’ voice shook with emphasis. “You know what
kind of a body count that leaves a vampire like him?” He began to
mouth.

I shook my head.

“Thousands,” he mouthed.

I shuddered back, suddenly as cold as the
heart of a glacier.

“Theodore Van Edgerton is going to stay
ahead of the law. There is nobody in Hope City with the balls to
touch him.”

Though I should have just kept my big mouth
shut, it opened of its own accord. And his name split from my lips.
“Benson?”

Marvelous snorted. “William? You think
William can do a thing against Van Edgerton? I don't know if you've
noticed, Lizzie, but there's not exactly any love lost between
them. If Benson had the resources and gall to move against Van
Edgerton, he would have done it already.”

I winced as I realized Marvelous was
right.

He locked a hand on his desk and leaned
forward, his potbelly brushing several papers along the smooth
wood. “It's going to take somebody powerful, somebody courageous,
and somebody with a goddamn fine trench coat to take down that
asshole.”

I blinked and shook my head. “Ah, what?

Marvelous pointed at me with a stiff, podgy
finger. “You, Lizzie. It's going to take somebody like you with
your special powers to take down Theodore Van Edgerton for
good.”

I spluttered. There was so much wrong about
that statement that I didn't know where to begin.

Firstly, as I kept telling everybody, I
wasn't a murderer. Secondly, hello, I didn't have special powers.
Or at least nothing I could control. Whatever I'd done to the glass
demon this morning had been a fluke. And everyone was right about
one thing – Van Edgerton was a seriously powerful vampire. The kind
of seriously powerful vampire who would never be brought down by a
fluke.

I was a dead woman.

That thought kind of slammed into my mind
and knocked me off my feet. Before I knew it, I staggered sideways
and fell into the chair beside Marvelous’ desk.

He looked at me with a keen, unflinching
gaze. “This is two birds with one stone, Lizzie. Not only do you
get a scumbag like Theodore Van Edgerton off the streets, but you
will also solve Susan Smith's case.”

I brought up a hand and covered my eyes as I
shrunk further into the seat.

A few times I experimentally opened my eyes
and stared between my fingers, as if I were testing reality, hoping
this was all some kind of twisted, terrifying nightmare.

It wasn't.

This was real. And apparently, I had seven
days to kill a vampire.

I was on my bed. Reading. About vampires,
about demons, about every aspect of this magical world. I was also
looking for something. A frigging magical bullet. Anything to get
me out of this contract and out of this goddamn city, too.

Mr Marvelous was still in a good mood. It
had been three days since I'd signed the contract to kill Van
Edgerton, and Marvelous had barely lifted a finger to help me. In
fact, he was going around changing the merchandise for the shop,
using my grinning face to attract customers with the byline
“Vampires? No problem.”

I groaned as I settled further under the
covers and hid my head in the file book.

I'd read the section on vampires over and
over again, but no matter how many times I read it, the frigging
information changed. It updated as frequently as a Wikipedia
article.

I crammed my thumb into my teeth and chewed
on my nail for about the 50th time that day. The nail was now so
ragged I was starting to taste blood. Did I stop? Hell no.