Under Wraps (4 page)

That’s right, I thought to myself, Sophie Lawson: CSI.

Mr. Sampson nodded his head slowly. “She’s right. Miss Lawson very likely will be your best bet. She can move freely in both worlds at any time.”

I stood up slowly. “I can still come in, sir,” I said to Mr. Sampson, “and chain you up. And handle all my paperwork and everything.” I was already thinking about borrowing a pair of Nina’s stiletto knee-high boots and her black leather duster. That’s totally
CSI,
right?

I noticed the muscle jerk along Detective Hayes’s chin again when Mr. Sampson grinned and wagged his head. “Nina can do the honors for a while with me and you’ll still check in.”

Hayes gripped his notebook. “Sir.” His eyes traveled to me and looked me up and down in a less than flattering way. “Miss, with all due respect, the department can’t risk putting a civilian in danger.”

“The department can’t risk the general public finding out that there is a supernatural animal out there, draining people of their blood and ripping out their throats.”

“And eyeballs,” I quipped, certain my usual sallow color has dipped to … more sallow.

“Sophie is going to be your best bet, Detective Hayes. She is one of the only of your kind who can sense a supernatural presence and not be affected by it.”

Detective Hayes frowned. “My kind?”

“Breathers,” I supplied. “Regular folks.”

“The population in general can’t see magic, can’t see demons unless we allow them to. It’s what we call veiling or shielding.”

“Would this veiling work on technology? Like the security cameras not seeing our first victim’s murderer?” Hayes asked.

Mr. Sampson nodded. “Yes. But veiling doesn’t work on Sophie.”

I grinned, feeling a weird mix of pride and shame.

“Occasionally, there are people who can straddle both worlds. It’s rare, but Sophie is one of those people. You need her, Detective Hayes.”

My stomach lurched when Mr. Sampson eyed the detective.

He needed me.

Suddenly all the romance of becoming a super sleuth was replaced by an image of those poor men—actual, dead people—outlined in chalk and crime-scene tape. I gripped the sides of the chair and sat down again. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” Besides, I was really more flannel pajamas and bunny slippers than leather duster and stiletto boots.

“You’ll be fine,” Mr. Sampson said, obviously unconcerned. “I have no doubt that Chief Oliver will keep you safe and Detective Hayes here will teach you everything he knows.”

“Great,” Hayes and I both muttered.

Mr. Sampson smiled, but my stomach was too busy playing the accordion to revel in the warm creases at the sides of his eyes.

“All right then, everything is settled. Sophie will help you with whatever you need. You’ll have access to all of the Underworld files.”

I forced a smile. “I’ll start gathering them up.”

The room fell into silence as we all sat, smiling politely and staring at each other.

“Oh.” I stood up quickly. “Will that be all?”

Detective Hayes stood, reluctantly tucked his notebook in his back pocket. He reached out and shook Mr. Sampson’s hand.

I led Detective Hayes from Mr. Sampson’s office. “So,” I said casually, “I guess we’re going to be working together. How are we going to work this? Should I come up—”

“Like I said, Miss Lawson,” he started, cutting me off smoothly.

“Sophie,” I interjected.

“Sophie.” Detective Hayes seemed to bite out my name, his lips held tight. “I don’t know about this veiling and shielding stuff, but honestly, I don’t know how much help you’re going to be. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate you wanting to help, but I really think you’d be better off staying down here. Nobody wants you to get hurt, and this is police work.”

All that was missing was a lollypop and a placating pat on the head.

I crossed my arms and stopped walking. “Police work? Don’t you mean man’s work?”

“You said it, not me.” Hayes’s eyes scanned me and his big hand cupped my shoulder. “This is dangerous. Whoever is doing this is not playing games, and the last thing I want—or need—is anyone else getting hurt. No one is going to be helped if I have to worry about my ‘partner.’ I appreciate your offer, though.” Hayes turned around, striding down the hall.

My skin bristled. “Do you know how vampires feed, Detective? Or that werewolves have the ability to change every night—not just at the full moon?”

Hayes’s pace slowed, and then he stopped, turning slowly. “Excuse me?”

I jutted out one hip, resting a hand on it. “You don’t know a thing about the Underworld or the people living in it. All the detective training in the world isn’t going to help you against one of them.”

The detective’s cheek pushed up in an amused, gorgeously annoying half smile. “Is that so?”

“Have you ever seen a zombie, a hobgoblin, a troll?”

I could practically see the wheels turning in the detective’s head, working it out.

“No,” he said slowly. “But—” Hayes started and then stopped when I raised both my eyebrows, expectantly.

Hayes’s grin went full. “All right, Lawson, looks like you’ve got yourself a partner. Meet me up top at noon.”

That’s right,
I thought, grinning smugly to myself.
Sophie Lawson, CSI.

Hayes spun on his heel and called over his shoulder. “Just do me a favor and try not to get yourself killed, okay?”

I took a step forward and realized my knees had gone rubbery.

Chapter Three

I returned to my desk, the rapid beat of my heart having slowed to a near normal pace, my revelry in wild, gun-toting crime raids with Parker Hayes almost over. I plopped down on my chair and cracked open a Diet Coke, then dropped my head into my hands.

“Well?” The voice was cool and right next to my ear, and I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Holy crap, Nina, you should wear a bell or something!” I gripped my thundering heart with my hand, and Nina sat down on the edge of my desk, her long, milky-white legs dangling.

Nina is a vampire—a 167-year-old vampire—and my very best friend. She was turned in 1842 and before that was a twenty-nine-year-old foul-tempered Parisian heiress who climbed out her bedroom window one night to meet a dark-eyed stranger. Two months after that, Nina, the newly made vampire, caused the Massacre of Elphinstone’s Army. You could never tell it by looking at her, though. She’s just barely my height but supermodel-skinny with waist-length black hair, a little ski-jump nose, a heart-shaped red mouth … and fangs.

“Tell me everything and don’t leave out a single, juicy detail. He smelled good, didn’t he? Different”—Nina’s dark eyes scanned the ceiling—“not like your standard breather. It was like …”

“Smoke and toasted almonds and cocoa. Not that I really noticed,” I said quickly.

“So spill! You were gone for an age with Mr. Yummy Cop,” Nina said, lacing her fingers together and leaning into me.

“Actually”—I wiggled a file on demons in unincorporated San Mateo County out from under Nina’s butt—“he’s not a cop, he’s a detective.”

Nina licked her lips. “Even better.”

I reached into my desk drawer and shoved a Fiber One bar in her hand. “Eat this. You’re obviously starving.”

Nina glared at the Fiber One bar, fangs bared, and dropped it as though it were holy water. “Gross,” she said, wiping her hands on her dress.

I shrugged. “Sorry. It’s the best I could do. I don’t have any Plasma Pops here.”

Nina’s eyebrow twitched and she pursed her lips. “Stop stalling, start spilling.”

As much as I wanted to brag about my Sampson-Sophie-Hayes manwich, the details of the murder—and the bloodless, eyeless bodies—trumped my lust-o-meter, and I shivered.

“There’s a murderer in town,” I said.

Nina rolled her coal black eyes. “Big deal. There’s a million murderers in this town. Get to the cop.” She grinned. “Did he take off his shirt?”

“Nina! We were with Sampson.”

Her jaw dropped, her pointed incisors glistening. “Did
Sampson
take off his shirt?”

“No one took off their shirt!” I lowered my voice. “Like I said, there’s a murderer in the city and the PD is concerned it’s supernatural.”

Nina looked only slightly interested—although whether it was in my story or her cuticles I couldn’t tell. “You should check with the zombies. They can get so rowdy.”

I began stacking files and shoving them into my shoulder bag. “Nah, zombies are totally adherent.”

“When they’re on their first brain.” Nina jabbed at my files with one perfectly manicured cotton-candy pink fingernail. “What are you doing with those? Aren’t they confidential?”

“The PD wants Sampson to work with them, but he can’t. Too risky to be out after dark, especially if he’s examining crime scenes with that much blood.”

Nina licked her lips, and I pretended not to notice.

“So, I’m working with Detective Hayes on the case. Bringing in some of the files that we have. Thinking maybe we can locate the perp—I mean perpetrator—from some of our adherents. I figured we’d go through the relevant UDA files and see if there are any clues.”

I loved how detectivey I sounded.

Nina pressed her pale hands to her open mouth, her thin black eyebrows shooting up. “You’re kidding me!”

A little twitter of pride slipped through me, and I hid my smile behind a stack of file folders. “Really, Nina, it’s no big deal. The PD needed some help, and frankly, I’m the only one who can do it.”

How totally CSI am I?

“No big deal?” Nina hopped off my desk—her landing didn’t make a sound—and turned to me, her palms pressed against my file folders, pinning them to my desk. “You are going to be nose to nose with that hot cop for, for days, weeks, maybe
months
on end and it’s no big deal?”

I hadn’t thought of that.

Me and Parker Hayes, alone together for days, weeks,
months
on end? I imagined us head to head in his office working on the case, the Styrofoamed remains of our on-the-go dinner spread before us … huddled together in his squad car, rushing off to crime scenes … showering together, first thing in the morning…. My mouth went dry, and I found that I was twirling a long strand of red hair around my index finger—my number-one nervous tic. I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets.

“The detective isn’t that hot close up. And he’s certainly not all that hot about having me tag along, so I doubt we’ll be spending all that much time together anyway.”

So much for our morning shower.

“Still”—Nina’s cold eyes skimmed over me skeptically—“if you’re going to run into him again, you really should change your outfit.”

“I’m not going to change for him!” I said, indignant. “Besides, he’s already seen me once today. And,” I said, standing, “I look fine.”

Nine crossed her arms in front of her own midnight blue vintage Valentino wrap dress—vampires are total fashion whores—and shrugged.

“You do look fine,” she mused, “just so
secretarial.”

I stood up and hauled my shoulder bag over one arm. “I’m an administrative assistant,” I spat.

“Fine,” Nina said, stretching out one long, lean leg and examining her newest pair of Jimmy Choos. “At least—” She dropped her foot and leaned into me, her dark lips ice cold as they skimmed my neck. She unbuttoned the top two buttons on my white blouse. “Show some skin.”

Nina cocked her head and smiled at me, then batted her eyelashes sweetly. I narrowed my eyes. “Now what?”

“Since I helped you, you want to help me?”

“Helped me?” I raised my eyebrows, then blew out a resigned sigh. “What do you need?”

Nina held up her thumb and forefinger. “Eensy weensy favor.”

I set my shoulder bag back on my desk, certain that Nina’s “eensy” was never anywhere near “weensy.”

“Oh, no. Every time you need a favor I end up trapped in a demonic vortex or on a blind date with a Minotaur.”

“The Nordstrom half-yearly sale is
not
a demonic vortex, and besides, you said you liked Keith!”

“He ate my purse!”

Nina held up her hands. “Okay, okay, it’s not a shopping excursion or a date, I swear.”

I narrowed my eyes. “On your undead soul?”

Nina raised a single brow.

“Damn it. Okay.” I sighed. “What do I have to do?”

“My nephew is going to be coming into town—”

“Nina! You have a nephew?” In all the years that Nina and I had been roommates and best friends, she had never spoken of her family. “You never mentioned a nephew!” I furrowed my brow and frowned. “Wait. How do you have a nephew?”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “The same way anyone else has a nephew.”

I blinked at her.

“I have—had—a younger sister, Agnes. Her son is Louis, my nephew.”

“But wouldn’t he be like …”

“One hundred and twelve. But perennially sixteen.”

“He’s a vampire then?”

Nina nodded, a flicker of sadness marring her perfect marble features. “Thanks to me.”

I waited for her to continue. She looked away, avoiding my gaze, and slumped against her desk.

“Agnes knew what had happened to me—what I had become. Right after I was changed, I left home, left my family. I had to. But almost twenty years later Agnes tracked me down. It was weird seeing her. She was my baby sister, but her hair was gray and her skin loose and here I was.” Nina shrugged her small shoulders, gestured to her eternally young facade. “She begged me to come home with her—her son, Louis, was sick. At that time, there was no cure for polio, no vaccines. It was a death sentence, or in the very best of situations, crippling. She begged me to change him.”

“She wanted you to kill her son?”

Nina’s eyes were fierce. “At that time, it was the only way to save him. I didn’t want to, but she was my sister. I had already caused her so much pain. I couldn’t watch her watch him die. It was excruciating to watch a mother—my sister—helplessly standing by while her son withered and just waited to die.”

“So you changed him?”

Nina nodded and smiled wistfully. “The polio was gone. Louis was strong again. He was going to live forever.”