Bloody Bones (17 page)

Freemont walked towards them with her hand out. Showing she was unarmed and friendly. Yeah, right. “I'm Detective Freemont. This is Anita Blake.”

I appreciated being included in the introductions. I stood up and joined the foursome.

Agent Bradford looked at me for a long time. Long enough that it got on my nerves. “Is there something wrong, Agent Bradford?”

He shook his head. “I attended Sergeant Storr's lectures at Quantico. The way he talked about you, I thought you'd be bigger.” He smiled when he said it, halfway between friendly and condescending.

A lot of scathing comebacks came to mind, but never get in a pissing contest with the Feds. You'll lose. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“We've already talked with Officer Wallace. He makes you sound taller, too.”

I shrugged. “Hard to make me sound shorter.”

He smiled. “We'd like to speak with Detective Freemont in private, Ms. Blake. But don't go far; we'll want a statement from you and your associate, Mr. Kirkland.”

“Sure.”

“I took Ms. Blake's statement personally,” Freemont said. “I don't think we need her any more tonight.”

Bradford looked at her. “I think we'll be the judge of that.”

“If Ms. Blake had called me in when there was only one body on the ground, there wouldn't be two dead policemen, and a dead civilian,” Freemont said.

I just looked at her. Somebody's ass was going to be in a sling, and Freemont didn't want it to be hers. Fine.

“Don't forget the missing boy,” I said. Everyone looked at me. “You want to start pointing fingers, fine; there's enough blame to go around. If you hadn't chased me off earlier, I might have called you in, but I did call the state police. If you'd told your superiors everything I told you, they'd
have connected the two cases, and you'd have been here anyway.”

“I had enough men with me to cover the house and the civilians,” Freemont said. “Not including me cost lives.”

I nodded. “Probably. But you'd have come down here and kicked me out again. You'd have taken St. John and his people out in the dark with five vampires, one of them ancient, when all you've seen is pictures of vampire kills. They'd have slaughtered you, but maybe, just maybe, Beth St. John would be alive. Maybe Jeff Quinlan would still be here.”

I stared up at her, and watched the anger drain from her eyes. We looked at each other. “It took both of us to fuck this one up, Sergeant.” I turned back to the two agents. “I'll wait outside.”

“Wait,” Bradford said. “Storr said that sometimes the legal vampire community will help on a case like this. Who do I talk to down here?”

“Why would they hunt down one of their own?” Agent Elwood asked.

“This kind of shit is bad for business. Especially right now with Senator Brewster's daughter getting killed. Vampires don't need any more bad publicity. Most of them like being legal. They like the fact that killing them is murder.”

“So who do I talk to?” Bradford asked.

I sighed. “In this area, I don't know. I'm not a hometown girl.”

“How do I go about finding out who to talk to?”

“I might be able to help you there.”

“How?”

I shook my head. “I know someone who might know a name. I'm not trying to give you a hard time here, but a lot of the monsters don't like dealing with cops. It just hasn't been that long ago that the police shot them on sight.”

“So you're saying the vampires will talk to you and not to us?” Elwood said.

“Something like that.”

“That makes no sense. You're a vampire executioner. Your job is to kill them. Why would they believe you and not us?” he asked.

I didn't know how to explain it, and wasn't sure I wanted to. “I also raise zombies, Agent Elwood. I think they sort of consider me one of the monsters.”

“Even though you're their version of an electric chair.”

“Even though.”

“That's not logical.”

I laughed then; I couldn't help it. “God, has anything that happened here tonight been logical?”

Elwood gave a very small smile. I pegged him as the newer of the two. I don't think he'd gotten over the thought that FBI agents don't smile.

“You wouldn't be withholding information from the FBI, would you, Ms. Blake?” Bradford asked.

“If I come up with a vampire in this area that will talk to you, I'll give you the name.”

Bradford stared at me. “How about if you come up with any vampires in this area, you give us the names. Let us worry about whether they'll talk to us or not.”

I looked at him for a heartbeat and lied. “Sure.” If I expected the monsters to help me, I couldn't give them all over to the cops. Only a select few.

He looked like he didn't believe me, but couldn't quite call me a liar to my face. “When we find the vampires responsible, we'll be sure to call you in for the kill.”

That was more than Freemont had been willing to do. The night was looking up. “Beep me any time.”

“We'll talk to Sergeant Freemont now, Ms. Blake.” I was dismissed. Fine with me. He offered his hand. I took it. We shook. Agent Elwood and I shook. Everyone smiled. I left.

Larry was waiting out in the entryway. He got up off the stairs where he'd been sitting. “What now?”

“I need to make a phone call.”

“Who to?”

Two more men with “Federal Agent” tattooed on their foreheads walked up the hallway from the direction of the kitchen. I shook my head and went out the door into the cool windy night. The place was swarming with cops. I'd never seen so many federal agents in my life. But hey, the very first vampire serial killer was news. Everyone would want a
piece. Watching everyone mill around on the carefully tended lawn, I suddenly wanted to go home. To just pack up and go home. It was still early. Hours and hours left of darkness. It only seemed like it had been an eternity since we left the graveyard. Hell, there'd be time to go back and look at Stirling's boneyard before dawn.

I got in the jeep that Bayard had loaned us. I'd use the nifty portable phone it came with.

Larry got in the passenger side.

“Private call.”

“Come on, Anita.”

“Out, Larry.”

“Out in the dark with the vampires.” He blinked his big blue eyes at me.

“The place is lousy with cops. I think you'll be safe. Out.”

He got out, grumbling under his breath. He could grumble all he wanted to. Larry wanted to be a vampire hunter, fine; but he didn't have to be as intimately involved with the monsters as I was. I was trying to keep him as out of it as I could. Not easy, but worth the effort.

I'd lied to the nice agents. It wasn't the fact that I raised zombies that got me in good with the vampires. It was the fact that the Master of the City, of St. Louis, had the hots for me. Was maybe in love with me, or at least thought he was.

I knew the number by heart, which was a bad sign all on its own. “Guilty Pleasures, where your darkest fantasies come true. This is Robert. How may I help you?”

Great; Robert, one of my least favorite vampires. “Hi, Robert, this is Anita. I need to speak to Jean-Claude.”

He hesitated, then said, “I'll transfer you to his office phone. It's a new system, so if I disconnect you, call back.”

The phone clicked before I could answer. A moment of silence, and the voice came on the line. You can criticize a lot about Jean-Claude, but he gives good phone.

“Good evening,
ma petite
.” That was it, all he said, but even over the buzzing phone his voice was like fur inside my skull.

“I'm near Branson. I need to contact the Master of the City down here.”

“No ‘Good evening, Jean-Claude, how are you doing?'? Just down to business. How terribly rude,
ma petite
.”

“Look, I don't have time for games right now. Some vampires down here are on the rampage. They've kidnapped a young boy. I want to find him before they can make him one of them.”

“How young is the boy?”

“Sixteen.”

“In centuries past,
ma petite
, that was not considered a child.”

“It isn't legal age right this minute.”

“Did he go willingly?”

“No.”

“You know that for a fact, or were you merely told he was kidnapped?”

“I talked to him before. He didn't go willingly.”

Jean-Claude sighed. The sound slithered down my skin like cool fingers. “What do you want of me,
ma petite
?”

“I want to talk to the Master of the City down here. I need the name. I'm assuming you do know who the Master is down here?”

“Of course, but it is not that simple.”

“We only have three nights to save him, and a hell of a lot less if they just want a snack.”

“The Master will not talk to you without a guide to take you in.”

“Send someone, then.”

“Who? Robert? Willie? Neither of them is powerful enough to be your escort.”

“If you mean they can't protect me, I can protect myself.”

“I know you can take care of yourself,
ma petite
. You have made that abundantly clear. But you do not look as dangerous as you are. You might have to shoot one or two to teach them their place. If you got out alive, they would not help you.”

“I want to get this boy back intact, Jean-Claude. Work with me here.”

“
Ma petite
 . . .”

I had an image of Jeff Quinlan's brown eyes. His room with its cowboy wallpaper. “Help me, Jean-Claude.”

He was silent for a moment. “I am the only one powerful enough to be your escort. Do you wish me to drop everything and rush down to you?”

It was my turn to be quiet. Put like that, it didn't sound right. It sounded like a big favor. I didn't want to be indebted to him. But I'd probably live through owing him a favor. Jeff Quinlan might not.

“Fine,” I said.

“You want me to come help you?”

I gritted my teeth and said, “Yes.”

“I will fly down tomorrow night.”

“Tonight.”

“
Ma petite, ma petite
, what am I to do with you?”

“You said you'd help me.”

“And I will, but these things take time.”

“What things?”

“It might be helpful if you thought of Branson as a foreign country. A potentially hostile foreign country where I am working to get us safe passage. There are customs to be observed. If I barge in, it will be seen as a declaration of war.”

“Isn't there any way to start tonight?” I asked. “Short of starting a war?”

“Perhaps, but if you wait one more night,
ma petite
, we can enter much more safely.”

“We can take care of ourselves. Jeff Quinlan can't.”

“That is his name?”

“Yeah.”

He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh that made me shiver. I would have told him to stop that, but it would have amused him, so I didn't.

“I will fly down tonight. How do I contact you?”

I gave him the name of my hotel and then, with a sigh, my beeper number.

“I will call you when I arrive.”

“How long will it take you to fly this far?”

“Anita, do you think I am going to fly myself down, as a bird would?”

I didn't like the faint amusement in his voice, but I answered truthfully. “It was a thought.”

He laughed, and it raised goose-bumps on my arms. “Oh,
ma petite, ma petite
, you are precious.”

Just what I wanted to hear. “So how are you getting here?”

“My private jet.”

Of course, he had a private jet. “When can you be here?”

“I will be there as soon as I can, my impatient flower.”

“I prefer
ma petite
to flower.”

“As you like,
ma petite
.”

“I want to see the Master of Branson tonight before dawn.”

“You have made that abundantly clear, and I will try.”

“Do more than try.”

“You are feeling guilty about this boy; why?”

“I'm not feeling guilty.”

“Responsible, then,” he said.

I sat there, not sure what to say. He was right. “I don't suppose you read my mind just then?”

“No,
ma petite
, just your voice and your impatience.”

I hated that he knew me that well. Hated it. “Yeah, I feel responsible.”

“Why?”

“I was in charge.”

“Did you do all you could to keep him safe?”

“I had hosts put at every entrance.”

“Someone let them in, then?”

“They had a doggie door that exited through the garage, into the house wall. They didn't want to cut a hole through any of the outer doors.”

“Was there a child vampire among them?”

“No.”

“Then how?”

I described the thin, skeletal vampire. “It was almost a form change. He changed back in seconds. Once he changed back, he could have passed for human in dim light. I've never seen anything like it.”

“I've only seen the ability once,” he said.

“You know who it is, don't you?”

“I will be with you as soon as I am able,
ma petite
.”

“You sound serious all of a sudden; why?”

He gave a small laugh, but this one was bitter, like swallowing broken glass. It hurt just to hear it. “You know me too well,
ma petite
.”

“Just answer the question.”

“Did the boy who was taken look younger than his years?”

“Yeah; why?”

Silence thick enough to slice was the only answer.

“Talk to me, Jean-Claude.”

“Have there been any other young boys gone missing?”

“Not to my knowledge, but I haven't asked.”