The Severed Thread (5 page)

“Anyone you can think of who might want to hurt Jason?  A vindictive girlfriend or anything like that?”

“No”

It seemed like the questions went on and on.  Half way through the third recounting of what happened in the driveway, Joshua finally decided that he had had enough.

“I think Ms. Lassiter has already answered these same questions twice, and in some cases three times.  Are there any
new
questions?”  I was mildly surprised he had not held out longer.  He was getting paid by the hour after all.

“Not at the moment, but we may wish to speak with her further.”

“Fine,” he said, rising and straightening his jacket.  “I’m taking her home.  Please contact my office if there is anything else.”  He carefully placed his card on Agent McCabe’s desk.

I was moving slowly as we made our way back to the car, feeling like I had been run over by a bus.  I was completely exhausted, physically and emotionally.  I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for three days. 

I had muted my cell phone it during the interview with the agents and now was shocked to see it was only six-forty according to the display.  What seemed like days turned out to be a little over three hours.  In hindsight, I was thankful that Joshua had come with me to the interview.  Surely, without his presence, I would still be in there answering the same questions for a fourth or fifth time.

True to his word, Joshua took me home, stopping to get himself some decent coffee on the way.  I was mostly a tea drinker, so I decided to hold off until getting back to the house.  I had foolishly accepted a cup of sludge from Agent Smathon during the interview.  I swear they had a special pot brewing for those being questioned, the nasty coffee being a part of the interrogation process.  It was so awful as to be nearly cruel and unusual punishment.  I imagine if I had asked for water instead, they would have given me some nice unfiltered tap water with an extra shot of chlorine just to make it especially tasty.

Joshua offered to see me to my door after we pulled up in front of my two story brick colonial.  “I’ll be fine,” I assured him.  “I just want to go inside and sleep so that I can wake to find this was all a horrible nightmare.”

“Go in and get some rest,” he told me, nodding sympathetically.  “Let me know if the agents try to contact you without me, okay?”

“Alright,” I agreed.  It was probably a bit premature to be informing him that I planned to hire my own attorney.  It was possible that I might need his assistance before I got that sorted out.  Help with divided loyalties was better than no help at all, right?

Chapter 4

It was already dark and none of my exterior lights were on, so Joshua waited at the curb while I carefully picked my way around the perimeter of the crime-scene detritus that littered the driveway.  Once I unlocked the front door and stepped inside, I turned on the outside lights, giving Joshua a little wave to let him know I had arrived without incident.  After his car pulled away, I turned back into the foyer to turn on some interior lights.

I tossed my purse on the hall table before walking into the living room and hitting the wall switch.  The instant the room was bathed in the warm glow of the lamps, I knew I had made a mistake not inviting Joshua in for more coffee.  Leaning against the fireplace watching me was a very tall Asian man with shoulder length jet hair.   Near the doorway to the kitchen was another man.  The second guy was Caucasian, his strawberry-blond hair cut very short.  He had whorls of intricate tattoos that started under his left ear, wending down his neck to disappear under the edge of his fitted dark grey t-shirt.  The unifying characteristic of the two was that they were pale,
very
pale.  I took a quick sniff of the air for confirmation. 
Shit.
 
Why were there vampires in my living room?
  I wondered if this day could get any worse.

Now, forget what you might have heard about vampires and their inability to enter homes without an invitation.  It’s simply not true, and explained how they were able to get into my house when I was quite sure I hadn’t invited them.  The invitation myth was invented by an exceedingly stellar PR person to keep the general populace from freaking out and staking every vampire they met.  It also kept the vampire clan homes from being burnt to the ground while they soundly slept the day away. 

Maintaining this false sense of security in the general populace was a high priority for the clan masters, who made every effort to preserve the myth.   They were concerned that there would be mass genocide if the general public found out that hungry vamps had the ability to waltz into the homes of sleeping citizens any time they wanted a late night nosh.  Wait, can you call re-killing a race of dead people genocide?  Not that they would admit to being dead.  They were just
transformed
, as they liked to call it.  Transformed into a walking, talking tick, by a virus that could be transmitted only at the point when a human was nearing complete exsanguination.  Sounds like fun, right? 

“Good evening Ms. Lassiter,” the man leaning against the fireplace said.  I couldn’t place his accent but his tone was cordial, as if it was perfectly normal that he was standing in my previously dark living room, waiting for me.  He smiled, showing off a lovely set of shiny white teeth and two particularly vicious looking fangs.  If I hadn’t already noted their scent, that smile would have eliminated any remaining doubts that there were vampires in my house.

“Good evening…?” I said giving him an inquiring look and a tight, not quite smile. 

“Ah, forgive me, my friend over there is Seamus and my name is Lok.”  He dipped his head a little when he made his introductions. 

“Doesn’t Lok mean
happiness
in Chinese?” I blurted out doubtfully.

“Why yes, it does,” he said, mocking me.  “Has my presence brought you happiness?” he asked, tilting his head questioningly to the side.  He looked like a curious terrier when he did that.  I suspected he wouldn’t appreciate the comparison, so I kept it to myself.  I spared a quick glance over at my other visitor.  He was watching our exchange with interest but had not moved from his position by the door. 

“Actually no,” I told him honestly.  It was rude but really, why not be honest?  They would know I was lying anyway.  Nobody in their right mind would be happy to see two uninvited vampires in their living room,
ever. 
Let alone after the day I’d had. 

“If you’ve seen the news, you know that it’s been a particularly shitty day for me,” I replied.  “I’m not really in the mood for company.”

“It was the news that brought us, Ms. Lassiter,” answered Seamus as he pushed off the doorjamb and made his way further into the room.  His voice had an Irish lilt, not entirely surprising considering his name.  Somebody had sent out quite the cosmopolitan welcome wagon this evening.  
Lucky me.

“So, I can assume that your being here has something to do with Jason’s death?”  I took several deep breaths in an effort to slow my racing pulse.  Vampires were predators and they could sense fear, in fact like most predators, the fear of prey could be intoxicating.  I did not want to make the situation any more dangerous than it already was. 

“You can,” Seamus confirmed while he walked a circuit around me.  He was scenting me. 
Lovely.
  Not only were there two vamps in my house, this one was hungry. 

“Do you mind?” I said, giving him a disgusted look.  I was reassured to note that even though he appeared hungry, both he and Lok were very trim.  You never wanted to meet an overweight vampire; their excessive girth was a testament to a dangerously overindulged appetite.

“Not at all,” he said, giving me a wicked, toothy smile.  He sauntered back to take up his position near the kitchen doorway.  His t-shirt was so tight that I could see the twin bumps of nipple studs on each of his pecs.  This one was clearly the muscle, and Lok was obviously not, which meant I needed to keep my eye on Lok. 

A person’s normal instinct was to watch the person who presented themselves as a blatant threat, and that could get you killed when dealing with vampires.  They were
all
a threat; the less threatening they appeared the more dangerous they were, because you invariably misjudged them based solely on appearances.  Even the most helpless looking, petite one-hundred pound female vampire could bench press a pick-up truck, completely defying the laws of physics.  Definitely not someone you wanted to physically underestimate.  Yes, these two dichotomous men were sent here as a pair for a reason.   I suspected that it was because their master knew I was an elf, but did not have a good handle on my skill set.  Someone was being careful.

Most elves were immune to glamour, which meant that I was not completely at a vampire’s mercy.  Additionally, everyone was wary of confrontations with elves because our anger could be unpredictable.   While renowned for our moderation and affinity for nature, we were also feared for our tendency to be overcome by our inner berserker when pushed by grief or anger to a place well beyond reason.  Once the berserker was in control, we were unrestrained, mindless really, in our thirst for retribution and justice. 

The lore of the Wild Hunt found its origins with the Elves.  That was when we could still come back from the abyss if the rage took us.  In moments of need our berserker would come to the fore, bringing with it strength and boundless courage to mete out punishment.  Once the thirst for justice was sufficiently sated the berserker would recede, allowing the elf control once more.  But a plague nearly three hundred years ago changed all of that, and it spared no one in the elven community.  The illness caused irrevocable damage to the psyche of our entire species, the virus somehow separating us from the ability to control our alternate selves.  Now, if the berserker was freed – even once – it could never be suppressed again. 

The plague’s origin is unknown, but the resulting devastation was infamous.  It was the start of a dark age in elven history where we were feared and hunted by the other races.  Only our ability to finally contain the rage within the walls of our minds stopped the deaths – on both sides.

I think it was shock alone that had kept my beast at bay earlier today.  I said a little prayer of thanks for that small favor, even though I was worried about how much longer my containment would hold.  I had been working to strengthen the walls around my rage and grief since this morning.  All elves are taught as children how to visualize a barricade around our alternate selves.  We took yoga and meditated to create the quiet minds necessary for the task.  It was effective when one had sufficient time to get a good handle on it.  Unfortunately, I had not really had much opportunity to do more than a patch job today.

I considered my options.  It might have been possible to make a run for it, if Seamus hadn’t been standing in front on the doorway to the kitchen.  A vampire couldn’t outrun me, even without the berserker’s aid.  I assumed that was why Seamus was by the entrance to the kitchen and subsequently, the back door.  His position effectively eliminated that as a viable escape route.   It was highly probable that there was one more fanged lackey around here somewhere, making sure I did not bolt out the front. 

Boxed in like this I knew I wouldn’t stand much of a chance if I tried to make my escape on foot.  I’d never get past them in the confined space.  Besides, they would just be back tomorrow – and again the next day – so it seemed better to just find out now what they wanted.  Since it did not appear they wanted me dead (or I already would be), I opted for cooperation.

“So, what is it that you want exactly?”

“Mr. McCallister would like to discuss a few things with you,” Lok informed me. 

Liam McCallister was the local clan master.  He was officially responsible for all the vampires in the City of Philadelphia and the surrounding region including Wilmington in Delaware, and Camden and Trenton in New Jersey.  His progeny and blood-claimed protected his interests in those satellite cities, reporting directly up to him. 

Despite his high profile position, McCallister was in reality a modern day crime boss who had his fingers into everything, from illegal gambling to drugs.  Paradoxically, since he was also the local clan master, he was received in social circles where no other crime boss could hope to be admitted.  He had even been allowed to adopt a young child, who was rumored to be an orphaned member of his still-human family.  I was not sure I was buying the fatherly bit he portrayed in public but I had to admit he made an intriguing character for the media.

We had attended a few of the same social events on a handful of occasions, and had even met this past Spring at the annual charity gala for the local children’s hospital, if you could believe it.  I assumed that he attended for the same reasons most politicians did – it was good public relations.  ‘Look at the nice vampire, supporting such a wonderful cause!’  His money and position made everyone look the other way when whispers of his connection to drugs and prostitution floated through the media.

“I assume that this isn’t an optional discussion?” I said dryly.

“No,” Lok responded while shaking his head in mock sadness.  “I’m afraid it isn’t.”

“You don’t suppose McCallister would consider doing this tomorrow evening?”  I could not bring myself to call him
Mr.
McCallister.  That implied I was beneath him somehow.  Or owed him respect like a child to an elder.  When we met he had told me to call him Liam, although I doubted he would remember.  I opted for just using his surname, since the situation did not seem to warrant the level of casual familiarity that calling him Liam implied.

Lok just raised his eyebrows at the question, allowing me to draw my own conclusions.

I let out the deep breath I had been holding.  “Well, it doesn’t look like I have much of a choice, then.”

“No,” Lok replied, shaking his head.

I got my purse off the hall table and started to slip my cell phone inside.  I was happy to see it was still in one piece, since I had been gripping it so tightly.