La Vida Vampire (19 page)

“But in my head I heard,
Murder.
”

He gave me the narrowed eyes. “In your head?”

I took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m psychic, okay? I mean when I’m not blocked by the dark of the moon, I can hear thoughts, or I have flashes about people or have the occasional vision. Not constantly, but more if I focus. That night it was close to a new moon, but the energy of the group must’ve been so weird that I picked up the odd thing here and there.”

“Why can’t you do this all the time?”

“Beats me. It’s like a channel with various amounts of static at various times. Something will burst through, then static again.”

“So when you picked up
Murder
, who was thinking it?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know.” I got up to pace around the table. “I thought it was Millie at first, just because she was the one who asked about the dead husband. But the voice sounded more masculine in my head.”

“So Etienne said it was an accident and you, what? Simultaneously heard
Murder
in your head? Heard it afterwards?”

I stopped pacing. “It was more simultaneous.”

“Can you smell lies, Cesca?”

I shook my head. “Not exactly. I can smell a change in body odor when people are under stress. Sometimes that means they’re lying, sometimes it’s just nerves.”

“So you didn’t detect that either of the Fourniers were lying.”

“No, but people lie effortlessly all the time.”

He rubbed his face. “Point taken. What about the guy you call Gomer? Where was he?”

“Watching the Fourniers.” I closed my eyes and tried to picture him. “He was tense, but that’s all I remember.”

“And you didn’t see him at Scarlett’s later?”

“No. I didn’t sense him around at all, but then I didn’t sense the Fourniers or Stony in the restaurant either.”

“Did Gomer seem to know anyone on the tour? Hang around anyone?”

“He stuck close to the wiseguys—the men who sounded like
Sopranos
characters. Gorman stayed close to the Fourniers. The rest of the tourists stayed in the groups they came in.”

“How about Tuesday? Your notes say the Fourniers seemed to have had a fight.”

“They weren’t lovey-dovey like on Monday, and Yolette was in a real snit about something.”

“How did Etienne act?”

“Like he didn’t care. He flirted with me, but I gave him the brush-off. Then he walked with Millie and her ladies, Yolette walked in front of them right behind the writer group. Gomer walked with Gorman.”

“Did you overhear any conversations?”

“Nothing that struck me until Detective March said Gorman had been fishing. Then I remembered hearing Gomer and Gorman talking about deep-sea fishing, and Gorman mentioned a trip.”

“He tell Gomer where or when?”

I shook my head. “Not that I heard. When I tuned in to them, I was listening for trouble, not a vacation report.”

Saber jotted more notes, then tore a fresh sheet of paper from the pad and handed it to me. “Grab a pen and help me summarize this.”

Can you say please?
I thought but snagged a pen from the junk drawer. This all seemed jumbled to me. Maybe writing the key points would crystallize the information.

“Let’s start with Gorman,” Saber said, as I wrote. “Hates vampires. Made overt threats against Cesca and the Fourniers. Confirmed member of the Covenant. Weapons found in his home, two being tested for ballistics match. May have known where victim was staying, but alibi in Key West during times of both the murder and vandalism.”

Saber glanced up from his notes. “Need me to slow down?”

“Nope, I’m fine. Who’s next?”

“Gomer aka Holland Peters. Gave false name to Cesca. Knew Fourniers were staying in a house on the beach, but did he know where? Carries concealed. May have known details of Gorman’s fishing trip. Motive to kill Yolette? Motive to vandalize truck? Why lie about identity?”

Saber paused and shuffled his papers.

“Next we have Millie. Didn’t like Fourniers and seemed to disapprove of Yolette. Yolette insulted her. Any connection to Yolette’s dead husband? Carries concealed. Motive to kill? If related to the dead husband, could be revenge, but for what? Did Millie know where couple was staying? Did she know Yolette would be on honeymoon in St. Augustine? If so, how?”

“It does stretch coincidence to be on the same tour by pure dumb luck,” I said.

“By light-years,” Saber agreed. “Let’s do Mick next.”

“It’s a waste of energy and paper to list him.”

“Cesca.”

“All right. Shoot.”

“Mick. Didn’t seem to like or dislike the Fourniers. Unlikely he knew where they were staying. Has a bad history with vampires but appears friendly with Cesca. Has gun permit but doesn’t appear to carry. Might kill to protect Cesca or Janie.”

Saber paused. “Did you get all that?”

“No, I played tic-tac-toe instead.”

He flashed a grin and tapped my paper. “We’re almost done. Etienne Fournier. Opportunity a given. Means possible, though no weapons found when house searched. Motive? Bears looking into. Yolette ticked with him on Tuesday night. Why? Did he have anything to do with death of first husband? Did she?”

I finished and looked up. “Shouldn’t we list what we know about Yolette herself?”

“Go for it.”

“Yolette,” I wrote as I talked. “Widowed, maybe by accident, maybe by murder. Etienne second husband. Or were there more? How long had she known him? Claims they had sex with vampires. Did she and the now-dead husband also have sex with vampires? Claims Gorman followed them around the city prior to Monday. How long had they been here? Peeved with Etienne on Tuesday. Why? Run-in with Millie. Could Yolette’s dead husband be Millie’s nephew? Yolette said she never met the aunt. Would Millie know who Yolette is? Know that Yolette would be in St. Augustine?”

When I finished the list, I looked at Saber. “So what now?”

“Until we get a lead on Gomer, I talk to March about digging deeper into the Fourniers and Millie.”

“Why not do a little digging ourselves? There are lots of resources online.”

“We can try it.” He cleared his throat. “I want to go back to something else, though.”

“For Pete’s sake, what? I’ve told you everything.”

“You haven’t,” he said steadily, “told me how you became a vampire.”

I went still for a split second, then said lightly, “You mean what was a nice girl like me doing with a nasty bunch of monsters?”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Well, it’s not like I raised my hand and said, ‘Bite me, bite me.’” I flipped a hand as if to bat away the question. “It’s ancient history. Why do you care?”

“Because you’re so damned determined to be an unvampire, and I want to know why.” He caught my hand and tugged me into the chair beside him. “What did the monsters do to you, Cesca?”

THIRTEEN

I didn’t want to go there, to the dark time when I’d lost control of my life and my future. I’d despised being a victim, but I hadn’t been strong enough to end my own half-life in order to escape the demi-hell that had been Normand’s court. Now Saber was asking questions I’d hoped he wouldn’t. Unlike the newspaper reporter who’d written of Maggie’s rescuing me, Saber would pester and probe until I spilled my guts enough to make him happy. Or he thought I’d spilled my guts. But I was in charge, and I went for flippant and light like I always do.

“Other than change my entire life, not much. No beating, no raping.” I paused. “Actually, I was bored stiff most of those three years.”

“You’re dodging me. You were psychic before they caught you, right? Normand —” He pronounced it as the French would. “—knew you. He had his eye on you all along. Am I right?”

“He and an old suitor of mine, yeah,” I admitted. “How did you know?”

He kept his gaze level. “I’ve studied vampires for a long time. Even the modern ones like to have a psychic or witch or sensitive of some kind around. It’s a power thing, and if the person won’t cooperate willingly, the vamps threaten families and friends.” He paused. “That happen in your case?”

I nodded. “I gave a few command performance readings when I was the mortal me, but the king always let me go home. He cooked his own goose when he turned me, though. Being underalive screwed with The Gift.”

His mouth twitched. “Bet he was ticked.”

“And then some,” I agreed. Old Normand had been so angry, he’d turned redder than the blood he drank.

“Who was the old suitor?”

I sighed and considered barricading myself in the bathroom, but I’d have to come out sooner or later—to face myself if not Saber. Maybe it was time to talk. Maybe the dark time wouldn’t seem so bleak if I did. And maybe a cup of peach tea would help.

“We all went to school together,” I said as I got up to put water in the electric teakettle, Saber turning to watch. “In fact, we went to the oldest schoolhouse down on St. George Street. Triton was the adopted son of a Greek fisherman, and Marco was the son of a soldier who came in the second Spanish period. Triton and I had known each other since we were three or so, and we were so close we read each other’s minds.”

“You loved him?” Saber asked.

“Yes, and Marco was jealous. He courted me—he and a few others who weren’t terrified of The Gift. I couldn’t stand any of them. I would’ve married Triton in a heartbeat, but there were, um, obstacles.”

“Family objections? Religious differences?”

“No, our families expected us to marry.”

I set the kettle on its warmer and leaned a hip against the counter, editing the story I’d give Saber as I went along. I wasn’t about to tell him Triton had shape-shifted into a dolphin every new moon. Saber would think I was making it up or completely nutso. Besides, the truth about Triton was none of his business.

“So,” Saber broke into my thoughts with his rumbling voice, “you loved Triton, and the families didn’t object. Why didn’t you marry him?”

“He thought of me as a sister, not a wife,” I answered lightly. “Anyway, my parents didn’t force me to marry, so I turned my suitors down flat. Marco was the last of them, and I was almost twenty then. He swore he’d make me pay, and I blew him off. About a month later, the king sent for me again, and there was Marco. He was one of them.”

“Marco set the trap to capture you?”

“Yes, but not until a month after my twentieth birthday.”

“About the time Normand would consider you mature, but not over the hill.” Saber was quiet a minute, then asked, “Did Normand give you to Marco?”

“No, and it’s one of the few things I can thank him for. The king himself turned me, then kept me darn near cloistered. After a while I realized that I woke up hours before the rest of them. I figured out how to get out of Normand’s house and back in before anyone else was awake, but it took me almost a year to work up the nerve to leave the grounds.”

“Bet you scared the shit out of people.”

I kept looking at Saber but saw my terrified mother and sisters-in-law, the horror in their faces and their screams to spare them and the children. After that, I stuck to contacting Triton to pass him information about the vampires. A few months later, I begged him to get my family out of town.

“The vampires,” Saber continued, “they didn’t figure out you were a day-walker?”

“I was careful and, if I do say so myself, pretty crafty. By the second year, Marco suspected. He was busy working himself up to be Normand’s main enforcer. Which was fitting, since Marco was good at pushing the other people around.”

“Vampires.”

“Huh?”

“They weren’t people anymore.”

“Whatever,” I said as the kettle shut off with a snap.

I plopped tea bags in mugs—peach for me, Earl Grey for Saber since he’d had it Thursday. I poured the water, fuming that Saber didn’t think of me as people. I sure wasn’t chopped liver.

I set napkins and the mugs on the table and settled in my chair. “The point I was making is that Marco finally convinced the king that he should be my mate. His plan was for me to lure soldiers, turn them, and increase the king’s power base.”

“Bet that went over well.”

I remembered the scene. “Oh, yeah. It was the first time I wanted to use my vampire speed and strength and snap Marco’s nasty neck. Normand refused to give me to Marco for months, I think to play with Marco’s head. A power trip thing. Then Marco told him about my daylight escapes.”

“He knew for sure?”

I nodded.

“How’d he find out?”

“Talking to the townspeople. Marco had decided to knock off Normand and take over. He’d been riling up the men in town and the soldiers at the fort. Someone saw me and told him.”

“Did your Gift warn you about this plot?”

“Not until the night the king decided to punish me for my excursions. We were coming off a new moon, but I had a vision. The villagers were coming to slaughter and burn us out. All of us. Marco had betrayed Normand, but the townspeople double crossed Marco. I didn’t tell the king any of it.”

“Why not?” he asked softly.

I took a sip of cooling tea. “Because I hated him for making me a vampire.”

“So you, what?”

“I let him lock me in the casket, let his slaves wrap it in silver chain, and then I waited for the mob.”

“You were raised Catholic, right? You couldn’t kill yourself, but the mob could do it.”

“Except they didn’t find me.”

I heard the screams in my head, the cries for mercy, even the cries for death as bodies burned. The fire roared above the ground, and I’d felt the earth scorch.

“Was Marco destroyed?”

“I guess so. He knew I was buried with Normand’s treasure, and he would’ve wanted that, even if he killed me to get it.” I hesitated. “For a while after Maggie found me, I was terrified Marco would come gunning for me. Since he hasn ’t, I have to think he’s dead.”

Saber was quiet for a full minute—had to be a record—and I let the memories fade.

“Two hundred years without feeding? You should have been insane when Maggie found you. You should ’ve torn her to shreds. How did you survive?”

The question wasn’t snide—well, not much. I thought he was reaching out to understand me. I sighed and reached back.