Vampire for Hire (8 page)

 
      
 
“Clever Sam. Anyway, I have news on
Maddie
.”

 
      
 
I sat up. “Talk to me.”

 
      
 
“Three months ago a mother and daughter went missing. Lauren and Madison Monk.”

 
      
 
I exhaled and squeezed the phone tighter. “Go on.”

 
      
 
“The mother was a known user and prostitute and probably not a very good mother, either. The daughter was born into a mess. The mother would often disappear with boyfriends and drug dealers, bringing her daughter along with her. Some seedy shit going on here, Sam. No one reported them missing for many weeks, and she spent so much time with so many different shady characters, that it’s nearly impossible to pinpoint where she was staying or who had seen her last.”

 
      
 
“Someone knows,” I said.

 
      
 
“Sure, but we’re talking about the lowest of the lowlifes, Sam. Folks who break laws every hour on the hour. No one is talking.”

 
      
 
“Who’s working the case?”

 
      
 
“Fullerton P.D. Missing Person Division.”

 
      
 
“The name of the officer?”

 
      
 
He told me and I wrote it down. When finished, I said, “I think the missing person has turned into a murder and kidnapping.”

 
      
 
“You’ll hear no argument from me, Sam.”

 
      
 
“Thank you, Chad.”

 
      
 
“We’re working on something big over here, but I’ll help you when I can.”

 
      
 
“I know; thank you. How’s Cynthia?” I asked, referring to my client of just a few weeks ago. Chad, who had taken over partial bodyguard duties for me, had been smitten by her instantly.

 
      
 
“Beautiful as ever; I love her.”

 
      
 
“Just don’t smother her, for Christ’s sake. Give her space.”

 
      
 
“I’ll give her whatever she wants.”

 
      
 
“Oh, brother.”

 
      
 
We hung up and I considered my options. Without the case file, there was really nothing I could do tonight. Tomorrow I would check in with the Fullerton P.D. For now, though, I quickly scanned my files and notes, doing a global search for the name Lauren Monk. Nothing came up. That didn’t mean I hadn’t come across her at some point, just that the name hadn’t made it to any of my files or notes. Of course, that’s if I had ever worked with her or come into contact with her in the first place.

 
      
 
Well, she had my number somehow.

 
      
 
Or, at least,
someone
had it.

 
      
 
I was sitting back and thinking about little
Maddie
and her little voice when I sensed a presence behind me. I turned and found Anthony standing there and looking miserable. “What’s wrong, booger butt,” I asked, waving him over.

 
      
 
“I don’t feel good, Mommy.”

 
      
 
“Hey, you’re already suspended for a day, honey. You don’t have to fake being sick.” But I knew he wasn’t faking it. My boy looked miserable and I could feel the palpable waves of heat coming off his body.

 
      
 
“But I’m not faking it, Mommy. I swear.”

 
      
 
I put a hand on his forehead. The kid was burning up. He flinched at my icy touch. No surprise there. The dichotomy between hot and cold was probably startling.

 
      
 
He climbed up onto my lap and nuzzled his burning face into my neck, and as he did so, alarm bells went off inside me. They rang loud and clear.

 
      
 
Something was very wrong.

 
      
 
Chapter Eleven

 
      
 
I lay by Anthony’s side for many hours, lightly running my fingers through his fine hair, periodically checking his fever with my palm. His cheek was clammy and frighteningly hot. His breathing was even, although I detected a slight rattle in his chest. Every now and then from his sleep he would cough wetly.

 
      
 
Something’s wrong.

 
      
 
Or maybe I’m just worrying too much. He’s just sick. A fever. Perhaps the flu.

 
      
 
The electrified air around my son was agitated, the glowing streaks buzzing like so many bees around a hive. I held my son closer and listened to his heartbeat; it beat strong and steady. I monitored his breathing, too, and was certain that, as the hours passed, his breathing was growing more ragged.

 
      
 
Hours later, I kissed him on his forehead and headed out into the living room. Tammy was snoring lightly with the TV playing quietly. An infomercial selling an electric wheelchair was on. The old guy cruising on it never looked happier. I doubted it.

 
      
 
I clicked off the TV and bent down. She was ten years old and weighed nearly as much as I did, that didn’t stop me from scooping her up easily and cradling her in my arms like a baby. Her body was warm, but not alarmingly so. Unlike Anthony. I held her close to me and buried my nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. She smelled of strawberries. Again, unlike Anthony, who had smelled of sweat.

 
      
 
I stood there briefly in the living room, holding my daughter effortlessly while she mewed slightly in her sleep.

 
      
 
Somewhere out there was a little girl named
Maddie
who would never feel her mother nuzzle against her again. A little girl who knew only fear and perhaps pain. A little girl with the tiniest voice I had ever heard.

 
      
 
With my face still mostly buried in my daughter’s hair, I carried her into her bedroom and eased her carefully down into bed. I pulled the covers up over her and kissed her warm forehead, and then wiped a tear off her cheek.

 
      
 
It had, of course, been my tear.

 
      
 
Chapter Twelve

 
      
 
You there, Fang?

 
      
 
It was late. Or early. Take your pick. Creatures of the night often get this distinction wrong. Anyway, I knew I would be waking Fang up, but I needed to talk.

 
      
 
I waited in front of my laptop for a few minutes with no response. I checked the time. Nearly 4:30 in the morning. Fang had worked tonight, I knew, which meant he would have gotten off at two-
ish
.

 
      
 
You’re sleeping, I’m sure,
I wrote in the IM screen. Years ago, Fang and I had met online in a community vampire room. I had been curious and lonely. Fang had not only landed a friend, but the real deal. A true blood sucker.

 
      
 
Fang had entered my life when I needed him the most. Funny how life is like that. He was my outlet. My source of information, too, since he was knowledgeable in all things
vampiric
. We had bonded in ways I never thought possible, and I had revealed my deepest secrets. Fang knew everything.

 
      
 
And now I knew a lot more about him, too.

 
      
 
Fang was a killer. By my count, he had murdered three people. How many more after his jailbreak, I didn’t know. I hoped none.

 
      
 
He had stalked me these past few years. Writing down clues. Saving our IM entries. That means he had confession after confession of my vampirism on record. Stored somewhere. I trusted Fang, but I wasn’t sure what to think about this. He was certainly in a position to blackmail me, if he so chose, but I knew he wouldn’t. I knew, and yes,
sensed
, that his interest in me stemmed from two sources: his love for vampires...and his love for me.

 
      
 
A strange day today,
I wrote.
I thought of you often, I’ll admit. And the most prevalent thought was: I kissed Fang! Do you mind if I still call you Fang? I kind of like it when you call me Moon Dance. Coming from you. it just feels right. It feels secretive, too, like spies, and these are our code names. I like that. I think everyone in life should have a code name. I won’t mention your real name here, but I definitely don’t see you as an Eli, either. You are Fang to me. Always Fang.

 
      
 
I paused and reached for a pack of cigarettes sitting next to my computer. Recently I’d discovered that I could smoke. I don’t recommend this to anyone but vampires, since smokes can’t kill us. There are precious few things that I can ingest into my body without cramping up in pain, and smoking is one of them.

 
      
 
I’ll take what I can get.

 
      
 
I lit up and exhaled a long plume of roiling gray smoke. The smoke cloud hovered briefly in front of me, then dissipated, and with the cigarette hanging from the corner of my mouth, I continued typing:

 
      
 
I’m not sure about the kiss. I’m not sure about anything, really. You know that I’m kind of involved with the attorney. He and I had a moment last week that I will never forget, although I won’t go into it in any detail here. Let’s just say it’s hard for a woman to forget an experience like that (sorry if that hurts your feelings). But it’s also hard for me to forget our kiss last night. So, tell me, what was it like to kiss a vampire? I’m sure my lips were cold. I’m sure my breath was cold, too. Isn’t that a turn-off?