The Real Werewives of Vampire County (13 page)

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Authors: Jess Tami; Haines Angie; Dane Alexandra; Fox Ivy

BOOK: The Real Werewives of Vampire County
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Darned if the vampire didn’t know what I was thinking. “You’re not about to use your power on me.”
“Of course not,” I snapped.
“Then why are you tilting your chin down?”
“My chin?”
“Back in the crypt, you lowered your chin a fraction right before you began the interrogation.”
Interesting. I’d never been aware I did that. I tried to imagine interrogating someone and realized he was right.
Lucien went cold. “Don’t you ever interrogate me.”
“There’s no need,” I said. “Is there?” I ignored his scowl. “It might not even work on your kind.” Although I believed it would.
“Nevertheless,” he said, “I’ll question the vamps. You question the wives.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Fine.”
I had a feeling I was going to be doing the heavy lifting.
His phone beeped. Lucien eased it out from his back pocket and checked the screen. “After you speak with Tia, I think you should question the vulture. She seems a likely suspect.”
“Agreed. Where will you be tomorrow?” He certainly couldn’t sleep in the bedroom. It had three bay windows.
His expression didn’t give anything away. “The Vampire Council has made certain provisions for me.”
“But you won’t tell me what or where?”
His pointed look said it all.
“Way to go, partner.” I should have known. “You’ll hop into bed with me just so long as I don’t know where you sleep.”
He patted the mattress next to him. “Must you make things difficult?”
“Actually, refusing to sleep with you will make things a lot simpler. And while we’re at it, let’s lay down some ground rules. Number one: no bed sharing.”
Lucien scowled.
“Number two: no kissing.”
“I think you’d like it.”
“That’s beside the point,” I snapped, reddening when I realized what I’d said. “Number three,” I said a little louder, ignoring his smug expression. “No bloodsucking.”
“Those are not very good rules.”
I didn’t ask for his approval, just as he hadn’t asked for mine. “They’re my rules.”
“Agreed,” he said. “Now I have one more.”
“Lay it on me.”
He gave me a long look. “Never use your truth powers on me.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I asked just to tick him off.
He didn’t even have the courtesy to take the bait. “Agreed?” he asked.
“Agreed,” I said, slipping out of the room.
This was going to be a long three days.
CHAPTER 4
I
smelled Vinny before I heard him. “Wake up, cupcake.” He still had that odd mix of old wood and grass going for him. Only now, he had the body of a French maid from the Playboy Mansion.
“You like?” he asked, as I stared at the boobs practically popping out from under the lacy front of the dress. His voice was as gravelly as ever, only now he had cover model features, big doe eyes, and legs that wouldn’t quit. “I’m your housekeeper, Helga.”
“The garters are a bit much,” I remarked, climbing out of bed.
“Right-o. This coming from the fashion queen.”
“Don’t you start.”
He leaned up against the edge of the dresser. “Lucien has it so you’re gonna go over to that gal Tia’s house. Nine o’clock sharp.”
I checked the bedside clock. “Okay. I have a half hour.” Plenty of time.
“I paid her a visit last night.”
No wonder Lucien never went anywhere without Vinny. He was handy to have around. “Let me guess,” I said, “pizza delivery guy?”
“Nah.” He scratched at his ear. “These women don’t eat. Besides, I had to get on the inside.”
“Stranded motorist?”
He grinned. “She has a thing for hurt bunnies.”
Somehow I couldn’t picture Vinny as a fuzzy bunny.
“Anyhow, I checked her out good. She don’t seem to be working for anybody else. You might want to do your woo-woo thing”—he twirled a finger on the side of his head—“just in case.”
“Thanks,” I said. I fully intended to use everything I could on her—and the rest of the werewives.
 
A half hour later, I rang the doorbell at 12 Mysteria Lane. Tia Lovelace lived in a pink two-story flanked by climbing white roses and a generous front porch.
I was wearing a lovely orange pantsuit, perfect for concealing weapons. The pockets were big enough for my stun gun, I had my fixed-blade daggers tucked in the back and two pairs of handcuffs—one in each bra cup.
A dazzling auburn-haired were opened the door. She had the same pouty lips and impeccable skin as the rest, yet she seemed a little fresher than the others, more real.
“You must be Heather,” she said, treating me to an uneven smile.
“That’s Mitzy to you.”
“I didn’t get a chance to say hi last night,” she said shyly.
No kidding. “Lucien said you could help.” I didn’t need to elaborate. We both knew.
“Come in,” she said, standing behind the door while she opened it, as if she could disappear.
“Nice spread,” I said, if you liked peach and white. She led me into the most un-vampirish living room in the universe. It was sleek and clean. In fact, it would be very hard to hide a weapon in this place.
Still, as soon as my butt hit the couch, I leaned forward and drew my power up into my chest. “Tia,” I said as I felt it move through me, “why are you helping me?”
My head throbbed and my ears began to buzz. Her glossed lips parted and I could feel the taut pull of my powers, binding her to me.
“Have you seen yourself in the mirror?” she asked. “That vulture is going to tear you apart.”
“Okay, so I had a few problems last night,” I admitted. We’d work on that later. I needed to know her connection to Lucien.
Tia furrowed her brow. “A few problems? Red stilettos with a yellow peasant dress?”
Oh come on. “Red shoes are sassy.”
“You looked like an eighth-grade hooker.”
My temples ached. “Tell me what you really think,” I said, resenting my power for the first time.
But Tia was on a roll. “Francine is openly asking why a status-seeking vampire would marry you. It’s only a matter of time before you’re discovered.”
I focused on her, ignoring the pounding behind my eyes. “Why are you helping us?”
She pursed her lips. “I started this. I led the council to Marcos the gardener.”
I sat back. Well, that was news.
“Why?” I asked slowly.
“Sunny was my friend. She had her faults, but she was a good person.” She sighed. “I knew I could go to Detective Mead.” She crossed her long legs. “My husband trusts him.”
“Is he going to be able to work with Lucien as well?” It would be nice for Lucien to have an ally among the vampires.
“No.” Tia chewed at her lip. “My husband is asleep.”
“Well, sure,” I said. “It’s daytime.”
“No”—she wrung her hands—“Thomas has been asleep for the last six years.”
“In the ground?” I’d heard of vampires who did that.
“Here at home,” she said. “He’s very tired.”
“Obviously.” I didn’t know what else to say.
Tia gave a small smile. “Thomas would approve of my going to Lucien. He’s a good man.”
“Maybe.” I was the one asking the questions, and fighting a massive headache. It still didn’t explain why she’d called someone like Lucien in. “Do you know anyone who wanted to hurt Sunny?”
“No.”
“Did she have any enemies?”
“No.”
Damn. I couldn’t hold on much longer.
“How well did you know her again?”
“We saw them often. Sunny’s husband, Gaston, is business partners with my Thomas.”
She glanced over at a series of framed photographs crowding the top of a white baby grand piano. “Sunny was part of Francine’s circle. There were four of them. Now there are three.”
I tried to examine the photographs, but couldn’t without breaking contact with Tia. So instead, I asked, “Aren’t you part of the group?”
She folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“I’m the omega.”
I sat back and tried not to imagine what kind of hell it was to be Tia. Omegas were the lowest of the low. They were the ones who ate last, groveled most, and acted as the general whipping boys, and girls. And that was in what shifter society considered a normal functioning pack. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be an omega under a vulture like Francine.
Even though my head was pounding, I held the connection. “You don’t have to be the omega.” Or anywhere near Francine. “You can break out of this.”
She shook her head. “Have you ever tried to break rank in a pack?”
I rubbed at my temples, willing the pain away. I had and I’d failed. I broke contact. She was telling the truth.
“Thank you, Tia,” I said, meaning every word. “I know you can help me.”
“Yes.” She brought a trembling hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry. I feel a little dizzy.”
Join the club. I rooted around in my teeny yellow purse for Advil. My fingers clutched the small bottle and I stopped. “You know, Tia. I’d like to help you, too.”
She flashed an indulgent smile. “First things first.”
“No kidding.” I popped two Advil.
She went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of mineral water. “Here,” she said, handing it to me.
Well, that was nice.
“Heather,” she began, “I think perhaps you may want to look at new eye makeup.”
“I just bought some.” Too bad I didn’t have it with me. I tossed my purse onto the ground. It would never fit. “I have a whole kit full of sparkly blue and red and yellow... .” Her eyes widened as I ticked them off, one by one. “What? No good?”
She faltered for a moment, deciding what to say. I already missed the truthful Tia, but frankly, my head couldn’t take any more. “You may want to consider a more subtle color palette.”
I looked around her living room. “What? Like white?”
She almost cringed. I could tell she wanted to. Good. Maybe I could bring this girl out of her shell. “Look, why don’t you show me? We’ll take a field trip.”
Tia broke out into a shy smile. “Yes.” She lowered her eyes. “If you really want to go with me.”
“Do you have a car?” I asked, because I didn’t. Well, unless I wanted to share this part of the journey with Vinny the chauffeur/ bunny /cross-dressing housekeeper.
“I do,” Tia said, reaching for an immense pink bag that could have easily fit a bowling ball or three.
“That’s in style?” I asked, imagining all the weapons I could stuff into that puppy.
“Sure,” she said, “this is the new Christian Louboutin Sylvia Large Softy Calf Hobo bag.” A flicker of doubt crossed her delicate features before she pressed ahead. “See how it matches my yellow and black round-toe T-strap shoes?”
“No.” I honestly didn’t.
Confidence crept into her tone. “You will.”
“Then lead the way, Kemo Sabe,” I said, whisking her to the door, Finnegan’s American Express card burning a hole in my pocket, “I can be the Eliza Doolittle to your Henry Higgins.”
She opened the passenger door of her white Mercedes convertible before she rushed around to open her own. “If you want, I could even coordinate some outfits for you.”
I popped two more Advil as I slid into the car. “You could match them for me and tell me what to wear: outfits A, B, C... .”
“You don’t need that much help,” Tia protested, settling in next to me.
“Stop lying,” I told her, slamming my own door shut. “You don’t have to do that with me.”
CHAPTER 5
I
stood alone in my room late that afternoon and made two twirls in front of the mirror. And then—just because I had the momentum going—I made a third spin.
Unbelievable. Tia’s stylist had tamed my out-of-control hair into sleek copper layers. I ran it through my fingers. The kicker was I could still tie it away from my face. Only now I didn’t need to.
Tia showed me how to wear makeup without looking like I was wearing makeup. You’d think that would defeat the point, but I stopped debating her on it after she almost jammed a mascara wand up my nose.
Tia was easily flustered.
I rubbed my lips together, tasting a hint of cherry gloss. I looked like me, only better.
Yes, she’d forced me into white pants, which are a really bad idea if you want to wrestle a murderer to the ground. And don’t even get me started on the flimsy emerald top. Tia said it matched my eyes. I wasn’t sure why that was important, but I figured she knew style just like I knew how to slap a pair of handcuffs on a drunken werepoodle.
Speaking of cuffs, I had both pairs in my what-cha-ma-call-it Softy Calf Hobo bag. The silly purse cost more than a case of those fancy cigars Finnegan liked to smoke, but I figured he owed it to me for making me wear mascara.
Tonight would be my big chance. The vulture herself was throwing a luau, complete with a roasted hog, in honor of me and Lucien. Of course, if Francine had her way, I’d be the one tied to the spit.
Let her try. The deep pockets allowed enough room for my mace. I’d sliced a stun gun holder into the lining of my fancy new purse. The cut of the pants was generous enough for my two fixed-blade daggers, and I had my lucky boot knife in my bra.
Gorgeous.
The silk against my skin made me feel almost naked. Sleek. I placed my hands on my hips and studied the image in the mirror. I looked like I could pull this off.
Tia had even suggested a bottle of the vulture’s favorite French perfume as a hostess gift. The contents of the tiny gold bottle smelled like half-dead rabbit. I had to admit it wasn’t bad.
My heels caught every crack in the sidewalk as I hobbled over to Francine’s hacienda-style home. The scent of roast pig lingered in the air, and I could hear voices and laughter coming from the back of the house. A plant-filled courtyard dominated her front lawn, featuring terra-cotta birdbaths, lush floral arrangements, and tasteful sitting areas. I took the stone path through the garden and straight to the looming stucco house, painted in burnt orange. Before I could even knock on the heavy wood door, it opened.
“Hola, missus,” a uniformed housekeeper in her midfifties answered. She led me though the foyer and into a boldly decorated room that led to I didn’t even want to know how many more. This place could have fit half our pack.
A bank of glass at the back of the house opened out to a patio.
“Mitzy!” a voice called from the kitchen as we passed.
I stopped short as an impossibly skinny woman with a broad-brimmed hat poured herself a glass of white wine laced with fruit. She had a helmet of straight black hair that ended stylishly at her prominent collarbone.
“Care for some dinner?” she asked.
“Where?” I asked, not sure what to make of her.
“Here.” She jiggled the pitcher.
“I think I’ll wait,” I said. I wasn’t really into drinking, especially now, when I needed to keep my wits.
“Suit yourself,” she said, leaving the pitcher behind for the maid. “I’m Nina, by the way.”
One of the Predators.
And a wereleopard from the way she smelled. She was impossibly bony, yet sleek, and she moved with a fluid grace.
“Tia told me about your little shopping trip,” she said, a conspiratorial smile tipping her lips.
It was then I noticed she was wearing a silver bikini under an elaborate white silk wrap.
“Don’t worry. It’s not real silver,” she said, as if that’s why I was staring.
A ribbon of dread wound its way through me. “This is a pool party,” I said, stating the obvious.
And I was in pants.
I could have sworn I knew how these things worked. I’d watched
Dynasty
. Alexis Carrington and her pack wore skimpy gowns and jewels to outdoor parties. They even had shoulder pads. I was not overdressed for a society party. I couldn’t be.
“Don’t worry about it,” Nina said, as if she could read my mind. “Nobody swims anyway.”
I was just about to think of a way to escape when one of the glass doors at the back of the house slid open. “Nina!” Francine breezed in wearing a getup that reminded me more of a 1940s pinup outfit than swimwear. “Stop drinking your dinner and get your ass out here.”
“I need to fortify myself before Samuel arrives,” she said, fishing out a cherry and biting it.
“You knew he was a Puritan when you married him.”
“Yeah, but I thought in four hundred years, he would have grown out of it.” Nina glanced at me. “He’s going through a relapse. You know how it is.”
I nodded, not even wanting to think about how these women could marry vampires.
“What are you wearing?” Francine asked, walking a slow circle around me.
“I don’t swim,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Obviously.”
My fingers squeezed the crinkly wrapping of my hostess gift as I endured her scrutiny. At that moment, I wished I’d been holding my lucky boot knife, and it took everything I had not to reach down in my bra and pull it out.
At least then I’d feel capable of defending myself.
Nina breezed past. “Let’s get out to the party.”
The entire patio was filled with women in swimsuits and wraps that were never designed to touch water. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that everything out here was dry-clean only. They clustered around mosaic tables and on padded chaise lounges. A band had set up in the back, playing island-themed music.
My skin crawled with the need to escape. It wasn’t only the fact that a twelve-foot wall surrounded the entire pool area, it was the keen knowledge that I did not belong here—even if I was a guest of honor.
Ha.
More like the main course.
Okay, well, the sooner I questioned Francine, the faster I could make my escape. I knew she was involved in Sunny’s murder the same way I knew she’d taped her boobs into that gravity-defying pinup swimsuit.
“Francine,” I said, as she attempted to glide toward a cluster of polished women. “I have a gift for you.” I dangled Tia’s perfectly wrapped bottle of eau de dead chipmunk.
The vulture assessed me. “Not now, werewolf.”
I gripped her on the arm, knowing her kind didn’t like touch. “I need to talk to you.”
Her eyes were dark with fury as she attempted to shake me off.
I held on tighter. “Don’t think I won’t make a scene.”
“Tsk! You think I care if you make a scene? Hell. It would be the highlight. They’d be talking about my party for the next year.”
“Don’t you want to know why Lucien married me?” I asked, tempting her with information.
“Sure thing, hon. I’m dying to know what you had on him,” she said, shrugging out of my grip, while at the same time smiling to a group of guests. “Over here.”
She led me to the edge of the pool area, where plants spilled from terra-cotta pots and part of the stone wall gave way to a rocky waterfall.
“Now let’s get one thing straight,” she began, as I locked eyes with her and released a surge of power from low in my chest.
She made me jumpy, nervous. I channeled that anxiety and more as I flung my power out at her.
Shadows fell over her face as she backed farther into the palms, wet with water.
That’s it. Back away. Run. There’s nowhere to hide.
My head buzzed with energy and a dry tightness seized the back of my throat. My mind locked with hers. As soon as I felt the connection, I asked, “Did you kill Sunny McCarty?”
“Ouch!” she said a second before my power whipped back and smacked me between the eyes.
“Son of a—” I stamped one well-heeled foot on the pavement so hard I was sure I heard a crack.
I knew better than to jump too far, too fast. I’d let her get to me. I so wanted this to be over.
Francine cringed like I’d raked my nails over a chalkboard.
Join the club. My head was ringing, too. The goal was to slip into someone’s mind, not zap her with a thousand volts.
“Let’s start over,” I croaked, trying to act as if my skull wasn’t ringing.
This time, I eased into her mind. I let the power connect naturally. We’d start with simpler questions.
Francine’s fingers shook as she checked her diamond earrings and smoothed her hair behind her ears.
I could feel the magnetic pull of the connection as I drew closer to her.
“Why are you such a bitch?”
She laughed. “Because I can be.”
Of course. I’d forgotten how straightforward it was for bullies like her.
“What do you know about me?” I asked.
“I know you don’t belong here.” She fixed on me then, as if she could see straight into me. “I don’t think you belong anywhere.”
The truth stung.
“Tell me a secret about Sunny.”
She considered the question. “Nina hated her.”
That surprised me. “Nina?” Sure, I’d only known her for about two minutes, but she didn’t seem like the hateful type. Or maybe she was just drunk.
“Why?” I prodded.
“Sunny was blackmailing her.”
Some friend.
Francine stared out past me, toward her party. “You’d think Bliss would have been the blackmailer. She’s had money problems ever since her dead husband left his money to the dog.”
“What?” I hadn’t met Bliss yet.
Francine glanced at me. “And by dog I don’t mean someone like you. He left their fortune to Chi-Chi the Chihuahua.”
“Poor Bliss.” I didn’t even know her and I felt sorry for her.
Francine shrugged. “She gets by.”
And, if I was reading between the lines right, it also meant Bliss would never eclipse Francine, which seemed to be a requirement for being a Predator.
“Introduce me to Bliss,” I said, scanning the designer crowd, as if I could somehow pick her out.
“No problem. I’ve been dying to show her what a train wreck you are,” Francine said, making me instantly regret my truth powers.
My head throbbed, the pain moving down my neck and into my shoulders and back as I pushed deeper into Francine’s mind.
I didn’t need the vulture’s approval. At least she didn’t know I was investigating.
She smirked down at me and I braced myself. Hopefully my initial questions had gotten me into her head enough, because I needed to know. “Did you kill Sunny McCarty?”
Francine tossed a lock of gleaming hair over her shoulder. “A massive Gothic chandelier killed Sunny.”
She was resisting. It seemed she’d dish out anyone else’s dirt, but there were barriers up when I aimed directly at her.
I regrouped and hit her again. “Were you behind the falling chandelier?”
“That would be impossible.” She pursed her lips. “The chandelier fell from the ceiling.”
Just shoot me now. I was running out of juice and she was playing semantics.
My head pounded. Dang. Most of my subjects would at least elaborate a little. Francine was going to torture me for every sliver she gave me. “Did you rip down the chandelier?” I pressed.
“According to the rumor mill, the chandelier was cut,” she said, her voice breathy with meaning, or perhaps the strain of avoiding my questions. “I’d say it was a planned job. You cut all but one wire and then ... Snip, snap.”
Oh geez. My temples rang and the patio began to spin.
“Did you have
any
thing to do with Sunny’s death?” I shrieked.
She blinked. “No.”
Finally. I wanted to curl up and sleep on the patio. “Then why?” Why had she made this so difficult? “Are you holding anything back?”
She leveled a predatory smile. “Yes.”
“What?” I grimaced. I couldn’t hold the link any longer. I let her go and with a crack, I felt our connection break.
My power shot back into me like a rubber band snapping. “Ow.” I clutched my head and fought a wave of nausea.
I was going to have a massive hangover from this one.
Francine felt it, too. She stared at me, rubbing at the spot above her ear. “What did you do?” she asked, the words coming slowly.
She squared her shoulders, regaining her trademark control. “Never mind.” She brushed past me and back to her party.

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