“That’s the official version, but I think he had been working for Nicolas Chevalier—the Magister’s son—all along. That detective, and others like him, are why Nicolas is able to squirm his way out of charges. If he’s infiltrated the local police so effectively, I have to assume that he also has eyes in the agency.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. Then moving precisely and slowly, he walked to the couch and sat across from me. His eyes caught mine, and I couldn’t look away.
It wasn’t just the ice-blue pureness of his irises—although they were striking—it was something else that held me. And for a brief moment, memory flooded back. His strong arms around me. His nimble hands sliding down my body. His wet mouth against my neck.
“I know that if I take this through the normal channels, he’ll find out I have the brand. He’ll bury this—whatever this is. His latest scheme. And he’s got something big going—all the hints and bits of evidence I can find point to something going down soon. Very soon.
“Most of the big things I’ve connected him to—circumstantially—that he’s done lately have occurred while I’ve been out of town on vampire business. And I’m scheduled again next week on business for Luc. This time for a few weeks, longer than I’ve been gone for years. Very convenient timing for him. He’ll strike then.”
I shook myself, and looked away. “You’re talking about the son of one of the most powerful vampires in the country.”
“Yes. I’m aware of that. But Beatrice, if he pulls off whatever he’s working on, it’s going to be bad. Something that’ll hurt a lot of people. And I don’t see him succeeding without taking out some key people first. Like his father.”
“What do you think his endgame is?”
“Knowing Nic? Power. He covets his father’s position. He might be making a move to take over.” He frowned. “But to take over as a local Magister, he’d need local otherworlder support. Leaders of various factions. And he’d have to deal with any challengers among Luc’s clan.”
“I take it the current Magister would have to have moved on for this plan to work?” Damn. If there was even the slightest chance of a huge upheaval in the local vampire world, it was big. Too big for the two of us to handle. But what were the odds he was right, and that no one had picked up on this big plot except for him?
“Yes. Luc would have to be dead—or have agreed to step down, which isn’t likely.” His tone took on a fervent quality. “Nic would have to take out his father either in a challenge fight, which will never happen because Luc would wipe the floor with him one-on-one. Or, he’d have to take out Luc without being connected to it.”
“Have you ever taken this to the Magister? Sounds like something he’d be equipped to deal with.”
Claude’s expression turned grim. “I’ve taken many things concerning Nic to Luc, but he cannot bring himself to admit Nic’s nature. For me to prove this to him, the evidence must be ironclad. Undeniable.”
“I’ll be honest, you sound a little off-kilter. And this is all just a story right now. You said yourself the evidence seems thin.” My assessment was too honest. Uncomfortable, I shifted in my seat, keeping my eyes purposefully away from his, though the desire to look into that light blue ocean gripped me. Was this some kind of strange vampire power I’d never heard of? Or was it just leftover attraction—simple fascination?
Or was I lonely?
Okay, sure, our past might have pushed me to get on that plane to Chicago—but getting more information about the vampire from my dream was the main reason. Any residual feelings were just that—leftover from our past with no bearing on our present.
“This could get you into a lot of trouble,” I pointed out.
“It won’t.”
“You think that you’re not breaking any laws by investigating this on your own, off the books?” I couldn’t help the derision in my tone.
He turned to face me. My gaze locked with his, and raw emotion flashed in his eyes. What emotion, I couldn’t be certain. It was gone before I could get a read on it.
“I’m not breaking any laws. There aren’t any bodies that can be tied to this brand—not yet. Once I get that tie, I’ll have enough to make a case.” His expression turned grim. “But I think that’s going to be especially difficult. The brand must have been spelled, somehow, to affect your power.”
“Excuse me?” If I’d been a cat, my fur would have bristled. The idea of something affecting my power was ridiculous. “That’s impossible. Why the hell would you think that?”
“Because the face you drew—it’s not possible he was involved.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because he’s a friend.”
My pride flared at the insinuation that my powers could be corrupted. “Maybe you know him, but I’ll bet you anything that you’re wrong.”
“Anything?” He quirked an eyebrow at me and I felt my face flush. As if my reaction invited him, he leaned into my space. My stomach tensed, but I didn’t move back. Not even when he reached up and tucked a bit of hair behind my ear. “Now that’s a bet I’d like to lose.”
Chapter Three
A couple of hours later, Claude was showing me to his guest room.
We’d just returned from delivering the brand to Natalie, a Covenant witch, who seemed more like a friend than a colleague to Claude. She thought his theory that the brand was spelled to give an inaccurate vision to be far-fetched. But she had promised to look into it—for a fee, of course. Friend of Claude’s or no, she was still a Covenant witch.
The vampire guided me down the corridor, confident and a little distracted, as if my staying with him wasn’t a big deal. As if he lent the room often. For all I knew, he did.
Staying here made more sense than going to a hotel. And the part of my mind that disagreed could kindly shut the hell up.
But he had a point. If this vampire Nicolas had gone after cops on his trail before, he’d be likely to do it again. I would rest just a little easier with a powerful vampire down the hall. A hotel might not be safe.
“Do you get a lot of visitors?” I asked, once I’d freshened up and met him back in the kitchen. Takeout Indian food lined the countertop, and I climbed onto a bar stool and reached for my Styrofoam container.
“Loads. It’s a regular hotel-motel around here,” he said from the other side of the breakfast bar. I raised an eyebrow at that and he laughed. “Occasionally. Vampires have friends, you know.”
Heat flushed my cheeks. Of course vampires had friends, and after working in the OWEA with all sorts of different otherworlders, I had to admit that most were very similar to humans in how they acted—at least on the surface. But behind closed doors…
Well, I’d seen a lot of weird shit on the job, too.
“So let’s talk about it,” I said. No point in avoiding the topic any longer. I needed to know who the man in that picture was. That was why I was still here, after all. Helping Claude was purely secondary. And if I continued to repeat that, eventually I’d believe it.
He sipped a dark red wine that lingered on the glass in such a way that it made me wonder. But Claude was private, and didn’t strike me as brazen enough to drink blood in front of me without asking.
“Talk about what? The Indian food? Because it smells divine—”
“Drop the bullshit, Claude. Who is the man in the picture?”
“Why is he so important to you?”
Because my vision of the vampire was real, whether Claude believed it or not. More than that, it confirmed the vision I’d had during my childhood—when I should have been too young to have a psychometric vision—had been real, despite everyone’s insistence.
And that meant Claude’s friend had been involved in more than one murder.
Suddenly the air around me disappeared, and the world twisted. Of course. Few events were traumatic enough to psychically imprint an event on an object.
The same bit of logic followed for that piece of my brother’s coat.
My older brother, Eddie—nine years my senior—had almost definitely died before they found part of his jacket. Before I’d touched it. Before the police officer had brought it by for my parents to identify.
The officer had been careless while he comforted my parents and had left it on the table where I, a curious ten-year-old, happened upon it. But how could he have known it would spur a vision that would influence my entire life?
“I’m the one who’s taking time out of my life to help you on an investigation that could lead to misconduct charges. I deserve to know what you know,” I said.
“Oh, I hardly think your job is at risk—you are far too valuable.” He leaned toward me. The breakfast bar kept a safe distance between us, but the slight smell of him—spicy and clean—drifted to me, present even with the Indian food permeating the air. A grin touched his lips, as if he could see my mental squirming and he resumed his perfectly straight posture. “Your powers as a psychometrist are quite important to them.”
That I’d been thinking almost the exact same thing irritated me. That I wanted to lean toward him to see if the intoxicating smell of him was real or imagined irritated me even more. “Not the point.”
“And what would you be doing if you weren’t here, helping? Not working a case, that’s for sure.” He took a sip of his hopefully-wine as I processed what he’d said. “Not until psych signs off on you.”
Embarrassment warred with anger, and they mixed to run through me in a sickening wave. He knew. He knew that I’d been put on a leave of absence. Sure, it was something that happened to psychometrists, and most went back to work afterward for another year or two, until the pressure built back up and they had to decompress again.
Until the dreams and dark thoughts pushed them to a point where they couldn’t function in their jobs anymore.