Dead Spots (16 page)

“He’s with me, and Dashiell okayed it,” I told him, trying to look stern.

I don’t think stern is my best look, but his eyes widened when I said the name
Dashiell
, as if I’d said we were on a mission from God. Which probably wasn’t far off, from Rucker’s point of view. He took a quick gulp of his cranberry-vodka and nodded.

“I know all of them.” He pursed his lips, thinking. “But I don’t think they can help. Grottum and Myles split town, from what I heard.”

“Why?” Cruz asked. “Did they think they were in danger?”

Rucker shrugged. “They didn’t know. None of us in the community”—he twirled a finger to include the other vampire freaks in
the bar—“know why those guys were killed, so why risk it? Probably, they just wanted to play it safe.”

“Do you know where they went?”

“No.”

“What about the other one?” I asked. “Freedner.”

“He’s still around, I think. But I doubt he can tell you anything I can’t.” There was a note of broken pride in his voice, which Cruz picked up on.

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

Rucker’s face blanched, and he huddled into himself a little. “Nothing. Never mind.”

Cruz glanced at me. I took the hint.

“James,” I said carefully, “were you Abraham’s human servant, too?”

And just that quickly, the last traces of bravado vanished and the bald man’s eyes began to shine a little. Deflated, he looked down into his drink and made a snuffling noise, mumbling, “Don’t tell nobody. I got a wife.”

I worked to keep my expression even. I didn’t know what a normal human would see in this guy, much less a vampire who could have his pick of the groupies.

“We won’t,” Cruz promised.

“Me and Freedner talked the day after, you know, the bodies. He was the one who called Dashiell when Abe didn’t show up for their plans. But neither of us know a damn thing about why they got killed. Abe wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary—that we knew about—and nobody had threatened him.”

“Was there anyone who would have wanted Abraham dead?” I asked. “Anyone who hated him?”

“No. Abe was...He was very calm, you know? Like, a nice guy. I know he was a vamp and all, but it’s hard to see anyone wanting to kill him. That’s why he did such good work. He kept the peace.”

I looked over at Cruz. He had this look on his face like wheels were turning.

“Did you two know about each other?” he asked. “You and Freedner?”

“Oh, sure. There was...ah...a bit of a rivalry for Abe’s attention, but it was friendly. Tom works third shift, and I keep daytime hours, so we were able to split up the nights okay. Tom was with Abe in the early evening, and I had the early morning when everyone was asleep.”

“James,” Cruz said quietly, “where were you two nights ago? Around three a.m.?”

Rucker’s eyes narrowed, calculating, and I saw Cruz’s hand drift slowly back toward his hip. But then Rucker relaxed. “Hey! That was the night my wife and me, we’d gone down to San Diego to visit our son.” He looked at me. “He’s a freshman at San Diego State, doing real good.”

“Can you prove you were there?” Cruz prompted.

“There will be credit card records and stuff from the trip, and the hotel we stayed at—the Holiday Inn by campus—they might remember me ‘cause I chatted with the guy about the free cookies in the lobby.” He peered suspiciously at Cruz. “You’re not gonna question my wife, are you?”

Cruz had produced a small notebook and was writing down the details. He looked up. “We’ll start with the hotel and the cards. But if those fall through, yes, I’ll have to ask her.”

“Can you tell her something else? Like...” His brow furrowed a moment; then he brightened. “There was something stolen at work, and they’re asking everybody, something like that?”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Cruz took down both Rucker’s and Freedner’s addresses and phone numbers, and we headed out. On the street, I stopped and leaned against my car, stretching my stomach muscles, which had gone stagnant. There had been a lot of driving today, which is kind
of par for the course in LA, but I was still feeling a little cramped and sore. It was a lovely California night, sixty degrees with a soft breeze, and I closed my eyes, resting for a moment. I was so tired.

I felt Cruz lean against the car next to me. I had about fifteen seconds of peace before the questions started again.

“So, what was that?” Cruz asked. “Vampires have multiple human servants? I thought they only kept one.”

I opened my eyes. “Most do. Having a human servant is kind of like having a mistress. They’re whiny, they’re annoying, they require constant gifts and attention—all just so you can get what you want when you want it. Why would anyone have
two
of those? But some vampires do keep more than one, yes.”

“And from the wife comment, I take it there’s usually...intercourse?”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “Dude. Don’t say
intercourse
. You sound like my seventh grade health teacher. But yes, there’s almost always a sexual component to the human servant thing. And vampires are a lot less picky about sexual preference.”

He mulled that over for a while, then asked, “Do they love each other? Are vampires capable of love?”

That woke me up. I looked over at him, but he was just gazing back with calm curiosity. “That,” I said finally, “is the big question. Human servants would definitely say yes—they all think they’re in a
Twilight
book.” Which makes them easy pickings for any vampire willing to style his hair and slouch around looking sour.

“What do
you
think?”

I paused. It had been a long time since anyone at work had asked me that. A few months after I started doing crime scene cleanup with Olivia, I had asked her if vampires had souls. Could they feel? Could they love?

“What do you think?” she’d said.

I had thought it over for a long time. “I think it’s kind of like breathing. They don’t need to do it, it doesn’t come naturally, but
they remember the feeling and the need. And they can pretend when they have to.”

She’d smiled broadly at me, her star and only pupil, but she never really answered. To this day, I still don’t really know. I call them the undead, and they don’t need to breathe or eat or have a pulse, but for all I know, they’re normal people with a disease that makes them distant and frozen. Who knows?

Cruz was waiting for my answer, looking very serious, and very young, though he had to be at least five years older than me. I realized again how strange and new this all must be for him. I felt the responsibility of it, of teaching him to navigate this world. If I did it wrong, he could get himself killed so easily.

I felt a very brief empathy for Olivia. Then I just wished someone else could be in charge.

“I think it’s a lot more complicated than a yes-or-no question. I’m certain that vampires are capable of some kind of love,” I said, thinking of Dashiell and Beatrice. “But every human servant I’ve ever met has been one hundred percent deluded. Human life is rich and desperate and complicated, with all these goals—money, family, power, fame, fortune, happiness, a career. It’s different for vampires. They have sort of a culture, a collective identity, but at the end of the day—night—they’re after blood and power. That’s it.”

Cruz’s face was very close, and his eyes were fixed so intently on me that, for a second, I pictured kissing him. Sue me. He was beautiful. I tried to imagine being on a date with him, doing something totally normal. He was a human, after all—he wouldn’t be using me for my lame ability or to get a leg up in the Old World. We could go to the movies, order pizza, like my dates in high school.

But then I remembered Eli and the tortured little thing we were doing, and how damaged I knew I was. I suspected that my ability to have a real human connection had died with my parents.
Letting the keys jingle in my hand, I took a step back and broke the spell.

“Okay, so what’s our working theory here?” I asked.

He frowned. “It sounds like Abraham was the real target, and the other two vampires were just collateral damage.”

“But did they actually want to
kill
Abraham, or were they just trying to get to Dashiell?”

“Not sure. I’ll check out Rucker’s alibi, and we should talk to Freedner. If they were both Abe’s human servants, this whole thing could be a love triangle gone wrong. Rucker himself said that there was jealousy.”

“He said
rivalry
.”

“Same thing.”

“I don’t know, he didn’t sound that...worked up about it.”

Cruz shrugged. “Maybe Abraham dumped Freedner, and he decided to off Abe.
If I can’t have you, no one can
kind of deal. Rucker might not even know about it.”

I thought that over. “Could be, I guess. Getting a null is about the only way a human servant would be able to kill a vampire. But I’m still putting my money on the killer being someone who wants to hurt Dashiell. He’s the bigger fish.”

“Maybe.” He stretched his arms over his head, yawning. “If Freedner works third shift, he won’t be home for a few hours yet. In the meantime, we need to know more about Dashiell’s enemies.”

I thought about that for a second. “Okay,” I said. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Where?” he said, blinking fast.

“We need to know more about Dashiell’s enemies, and he doesn’t want to talk to us.”

We got in the car, and I began to back out of the dingy Copper Room lot.

“So where are we going, then?” Cruz said.

I glanced over at him. “To see his wife.”

We were on the road to Pasadena before Beatrice even answered the phone. I was hopeful like that. To my relief, she agreed to meet me at an all-night coffee shop a few miles away from the mansion, and she reluctantly consented to my bringing Cruz.

The coffee shop, Kalista’s Koffee, was sparse and low-key, with concrete floors and unfinished ceilings. Paintings by local artists hung on the whitewashed walls, and flashes of color—a teapot here, a bouquet there—saved the place from sterility. Despite the late hour, there were two college students having a heated academic debate near the front windows and a tired-looking man in his forties typing at a laptop near the counter.

Beatrice was already there, sitting in the far back corner with an untouched glass of water in front of her. She was wearing a dress, as always, but this one was a simple burgundy wrap dress that brought out the auburn in her eyes. She watched us walk up with a calm, even friendly, expression on her face—until I got close enough for her to cross the line into my unique personal bubble. She took a couple of short gasping breaths and then straightened up; her composure returned, if somewhat dimmed by humanity.

“Thank you for meeting with us, Beatrice,” I said respectfully. I introduced Cruz, who gave an old-fashioned little bow that somehow worked for him.

Beatrice nodded gracefully and indicated that we should sit. “My husband does not know I’m here, though I will tell him if it becomes necessary,” she warned us. She focused on me. “Scarlett, I agreed to see you because I don’t think that you are capable of participating in that kind of slaughter.”

I have to admit, I was a little surprised she thought so “highly” of me. “Um, thank you.”

Her eyes darkened. “And, of course, I am sorry that his employees were a bit...enthusiastic with you.”

I touched my face, having forgotten about the bruises on my cheek and eye. As soon as I remembered them, they began to ache. Guess I hadn’t been doing much smiling. “It’s nothing.”

She nodded briskly. “Now, I understand you wish to know more of my husband’s enemies.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cruz said politely. “We have spoken to the human servants of the vampires who were killed, and they didn’t know of any other reason that those three would be killed, except to get to Dashiell.”

She looked at him, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. “You have learned so much in only a few days,” she said. “I wonder if it is too much.”

He blushed under her stare, and she turned toward me. “Are you certain that it is not the wolves? The carnage—”

“Pretty certain. Will would know if one of his wolves was that twisted, and I just can’t see him letting it slide. It doesn’t make any sense.”

She nodded. “What about Kirsten? I know little of witch magic, but I am told she is very powerful. Is it possible that a spell could cause the same reaction as a null?”

That idea took me by surprise. I thought it over for a second. I didn’t know of any spells that could subdue the vampires—surely someone would have told me if that were possible?

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I can’t see Kirsten causing a massacre like that, but it’s something to think about.” Unless she’d decided she was tired of the status quo...But Kirsten had sort of established the status quo. I had heard that she was the first to organize the witches, to request an equal share in using a cleaner to keep things under wraps. And she had been very helpful. Before her arrival, there had been too many incidents of witches setting fires or playing with love spells or experimenting with voodoo, of all things. Between my job and hers, there hadn’t been a public witchcraft incident in years. Which meant Dashiell didn’t have to throw money around to cover anything up.

“Is there anyone else who comes to mind, ma’am?” Cruz asked her.

Her long cream-colored fingernails tapped on the water glass. “There is one who wishes to take Dashiell’s place. She has had many names, but she currently calls herself Ariadne.” Beatrice’s long, regal nose wrinkled with distaste. “She and my husband were involved, many years ago. He ended their affair to be with me, and she was...displeased. When Dashiell became the master of Los Angeles, she was very bitter.”

“Can she...?” Cruz began, then paused, looking for words. “Um, can she take him?”

Beatrice smiled benevolently at him, as if he’d just done something adorable. “I do not think so. Definitely not in an even physical match. But a straightforward fight wouldn’t be her style. It would be like her to try to cripple him first, take away his wealth, or churn up animosity with the wolves.” Her gaze turned toward me.