The gang leader’s name turned out to be Bernard, an unimaginative label that Ari silently shortened to Bernie. Wussy for a vampire. Maybe that was why he acted so tough. He even tried to stare down Ryan, which almost made Ari laugh.
But even the steely-eyed cop didn’t get far with questioning him. Bernie was surly, uncooperative, admitting nothing, except that he knew Patricia.
Ryan finally leaned forward, his voice clipped. “We know you talked to her about dating a human. I want to know exactly what you said.”
Bernie leaned back in his chair, tipping it onto its two back legs. His gaze lay insolently on Ryan’s face. “Why? What’s it to you?”
The chair suddenly fell backward, crashed on the floor and dumped Bernie onto the painted concrete. Without sparing a glance for the fallen vampire, Andreas drew his leg back under the table. Ari struggled to suppress a laugh; Ryan quickly wiped a grin off his face. Andreas remained as cool and distant as she’d seen him in a long time. Except for what might have been a glint of humor in his eye.
Bernie scrambled to his feet, glowering at Andreas, but he wasn’t quite bold enough to say anything. Andreas waved him to his seat with a careless hand. He sat and pulled his chair to the table.
Andreas finally looked at him, a long look. “Enough.”
Bernie broke eye contact and muttered to Ryan. “Patricia shouldn’t have been dating outside her own people. That’s what we told her. That’s all.”
“Who do you mean by ‘we’?” Ryan asked, acting as if the conversation hadn’t been interrupted.
“Me, Richard, Bario. But we never hurt nobody. ’Specially Patricia.”
“Why do you say it that way? ‘Especially Patricia.’”
“No reason. She was a good kid.”
Uh-huh. He’d been attracted to Patricia, Ari thought. Maybe he’d been harassing her out of a socially awkward bid for attention or simple jealousy.
“I guess you didn’t like her boyfriend, Carl,” Ryan said.
“Didn’t know him, but he’s a full blooded human.”
“And that’s a problem for you?”
Bernard snorted. “Duh. Of course. Not that I’d expect you to understand. We’re the chosen, see? Patricia had gone slumming. We were just trying to straighten her out. But nobody in the Pure Bloods would have hurt a sister.”
“Just who are the Pure Bloods?” Ari asked. “What does your group stand for?”
Bernie gave her a cheeky look. “How’s that any of your business, honey?”
Andreas cleared his throat.
Bernie scowled at the table. “We’re friends who like to hang together. We understand and acknowledge the superiority of vampires.”
“Superior to who?” she asked. “Humans or everyone?”
“Everyone. In every way. Wouldn’t mind giving you a demonstration, honey.” He leered at her, licking his lips.
“Ok, Bernie, I’m not interested in playing games or flirting with you. You’re here to answer questions. And you’ll sit in that chair until you do.”
His smug face said he wasn’t impressed yet.
Ari hardened her voice. Playing the bitch was an easy role, especially tonight. “Your attitude makes me think you’re guilty of something. I could hold you for further questioning on that alone. If I decide to do that, whether you spend your jail time at the Otherworld center or in a human cell, with its sunny windows and no blood bank, would be up to me.” She leaned across the table. “And my name’s not ‘honey.’ Got it?”
Bernie’s nostrils flared. The human jail was a death trap for vamps. His focus slid to Andreas and Ryan before returning to Ari. “Yeah, I get it.”
“Good. How many Pure Bloods are there?”
“About twenty. It varies.”
“Can you account for any of them at the time Patricia was killed? And for yourself? That would be last night between six and ten.”
“I told you, none of us would do that.”
“Humor me.”
His mouth hardened. “We were together. Here and there.”
“Try again. Who and where?”
“We don’t take attendance. Don’t pay much attention to time either.” His face was flat, the tone careless. “Can’t exactly say where we were at any particular moment.”
Ari clenched her jaw. Now, he was playing dumb. “Then begin when you crawled out of your coffin. Or wherever in hell cockroaches like you sleep. Relate everything you did, and I’ll tell you when you can stop.” He’d gotten under her skin, and her witch blood began to stir.
Bernie grinned. “Now, honey, you sure are cute when you’re mad.”
He had such a short freaking memory.
He leaned toward her, broadening the grin, smug, showing full fangs.
At the first hint of fang, a flash of blue fire erupted from Ari’s fingers. The stun sent Bernie flying backward and planted his butt firmly on the floor for the second time that evening.
Ryan leaped to his feet. He eyed the uninjured vampire and then Andreas, who hadn’t moved a muscle. “Why don’t we take a break?” he said. “I could use some coffee. Anyone else?”
Ari cocked her head at Ryan and stood. What he really thought was she needed a break. He was right on that one. If she didn’t get her temper under control, the next one might not be a stunner.
“I will wait with Bernard,” Andreas said. “It will give us an opportunity to chat.” The corners of his mouth twitched as he looked up at Ari.
Poor Bernie. Ari hoped his ego was sliced and diced during their absence.
When they were outside the room, Ryan turned to Ari with a cautious grin. “I’ve never seen you in action before. Feel better?”
“Yeah, I think I do. Rather therapeutic.”
Ten minutes later, they resumed the interview. Bernie was subdued. Whether it was Andreas’s chat or Ari’s witch fire, the badass vamp was ready to cooperate. The result was anti-climactic. If he was telling the truth, the gang members could alibi each other for the time of Patricia’s death. Other than a lot of bragging and self-serving rhetoric, Bernie had little more to add that was even remotely related to the investigation.
When they’d run out of questions, Andreas shoved a paper and pen toward Bernie and demanded the name of every Pure Blood member. “When you leave here, collect your friends and stay available. You will be hearing from me.”
The other two interviews failed to produce anything incriminating. Bario was especially offensive. Crude. Maybe it was for Ari’s benefit, since she was female and looked human, but his gutter talk about humanity was enough to make a longshoreman blush. By the time they were done, Ari wanted a cleansing shower. Ryan looked equally disgusted. Andreas was unreadable, but since Ari could barely feel his energy, she knew he was blocking. With a brusque, “good night,” he pushed to his feet, gathered the vampires, and hustled them out the door.
Ryan watched them go. “What was the rush? What’s he going to do with them?”
Ari lifted a casual shoulder. Vampire business. For once, she wasn’t sure she cared.
Ari was almost relieved when the weekend arrived. While she chafed at the lack of progress on the murder investigations, her dealings with Mrs. West and then the Pure Bloods had left her depressed, unsettled. She needed down time, a little perspective. On Saturday, she went shopping with Claris for the entire afternoon, while Brando watched the shop. They didn’t buy much: a pair of sandals for Claris, three t-shirts for Ari. That evening Ari reciprocated by working in the shop through closing time and spending time with Hernando the cat while Brando took Claris to the movies.
Ari enjoyed Hernando’s company. Sometimes she wished she’d adopted the snow-colored Siamese when she’d had the chance. A year ago, when he’d been homeless, Ari’d thought it was impractical; she was home so seldom. Now she wasn’t sure. Cats didn’t seem to need a lot of social interaction, just quality. But since he was now well settled in Claris’s home and shop, it was too late to make the switch.
Three times during the evening, Hernando strolled to the greenhouse windows and peered outside. Claris had joked that he was having girlfriend problems. The grey tabby with the black tips, who’d courted him for months while he remained aloof, had disappeared. Now, of course, Hernando was interested and missed her. In fact, his girlfriend had become a fixture around the shop, and Ari hoped the cat was all right.
Most of Sunday was a low-key catch up day. Ari met Steffan for a brisk run through Goshen Park. Afterwards, he lounged around, beer in hand, providing witty and sometimes instructive critique as Ari trained with her silver dagger. Mostly she worked on her throwing stance and forward lunges for hand-to-hand combat. The dagger was her favorite hands-on weapon.
After Steffan left her apartment, Ari brewed potions and restocked the smaller, handier jars she kept in the kitchen with ingredients from the large stone containers in the closet. Mixing and cooking potions was the only kitchen-type work she did. Unless you counted nuking hotdogs. She had wound down for the day, relaxed, rather sleepy after the earlier workout, and was thinking about one of those hotdogs, when her phone rang. Ryan’s ID popped into view.
“Hey, Ryan, what’s up?”
“Shots fire outside Club Dintero. Could be our shooter again. I’ll pick you up in two minutes.” He paused, and his voice went flat. “Dispatch said the victim was the club’s owner.”
Her gut clenched. “What—”
“That’s all I know. Honest.” He hung up.
Chapter Eight
Ari flew out her apartment door. It had to be a mistake. Not Andreas. He was a master level vampire. They lived forever. Besides, she would know—her magic would know. Where the hell was this magical link when she actually needed it? She paced back and forth at the curb, once, twice. Her thoughts jumbled, her imagination forming gruesome images. She didn’t stop to assess why she was reacting this way.