Nocturnal Part 18

"All right. Come by The Underground tomorrow night around ten and I'll give you the details."

I nodded, though I was uncomfortable about the idea of skipping my scheduled date with my boyfriend, Mark, to go to the vampire's nightclub. Not to mention how off balance I was from Royce's mixture of solicitousness and extortion. Arnold's pitying looks weren't helping. Mark wouldn't be happy, though as a cop he'd understand better than most when I told him I'd have to reschedule due to work. Though I was still left wondering what on earth the vampire had to gain by hiring me.

"Hey, Sara, good to see you."

Shiarra's weak voice penetrated the dull haze of worry. I rushed over to Shiarra's wheelchair being nudged along by a nurse; Arnold and Royce followed at a more sedate pace. I reached out to take the hand not wrapped in bandages as Chaz and Carol, Shiarra's mom, shifted aside and made room for me. Arnold's grip was warm and comforting on my shoulder as he leaned over me to ruffle Shiarra's fire enginered curls.

"Good to see you up and about, Speed Racer. I take it you're feeling better?"

"Not well enough to kick your a.s.s yet, but give me a few days." Weak as her voice was, I was glad to see she hadn't lost her sense of humor or boisterous att.i.tude. She and Arnold shared grins while her mom tsked at their banter.

Royce followed at a respectful distance, unnoticed by Shiarra and unperturbed by the vicious glare Robert Waynest gave him for daring to approach his daughter. Carol made the sign of the cross and kept her eyes carefully averted from the vampire. Shiarra's brothers, Mikey and Damien, and Chaz, her boyfriend, barely paid him a glance.

"Easy now, guys, give her some breathing room," the nurse scolded. "That's it, just back up a bit."

"What's he doing here?" Shiarra asked, her voice a dry whisper after her bloodshot amber eyes spotted Royce.

"Don't you mind him, honey," Carol said, her mouth thinning to a hard white line.

Shiarra didn't say anything else, though her fingers tightened in mine when Royce afforded her a nod. He stayed behind when everyone else piled into the elevator, shaking his head when the nurse paused in the door to see if he was coming.

I couldn't suppress a shiver when the doors closed, cutting off the sight of those knowing black eyes staring past everyone else-straight at me.

Chapter 2.

The next night, I was staring unhappily at the black-painted ceiling of one of the quieter lounges in The Underground, cradling a drink I hadn't touched to avoid letting anyone see how badly my hands were trembling. I was doing my best to keep my eyes off the show on the stage across the room. The S&M theme gave me the w.i.l.l.i.e.s.

It wasn't crowded and I wasn't dressed for the club, and yet, even in my relatively conservative blue jeans and black long-sleeved top, I'd racked up three propositions and five free drinks while waiting. I hadn't accepted any, because G.o.d only knew what kind of offers were attached to drinks in a place like this. Royce was ten minutes late. I was strongly considering leaving.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing all alone?" trilled a smooth voice. I shifted on the barstool to examine the latest freak to accost me.

He was thin and wiry, with sandy brown hair that he'd slicked back in an attempt to reduce the boyishness of his features. It didn't work very well. His brown eyes were too sharp and probing to match the carefully casual stance or easy smile he affected, showing a glint of tiny, sharp canines. He looked more overdone than menacing in his black leather pants and billowy white shirt, which created the illusion of broader arms and shoulders. The shirt combined with the bluish tint of the bar lights washed out his already pallid features. He was like a guy from one of those boy bands; he had the potential to be cute if he didn't try so hard to be cool and suave.

Judging by the look he was going for, I was willing to bet he was some teenager posing as a vampire for the night to pick up girls. Shaking my head in disgust, I pushed back from the bar and picked up my purse. This was the last straw. It was time to leave.

"Ah, I didn't send the little bird into flight, did I? At least give me a chance. Let me get you a drink," he offered, rising to follow. Exasperated by his persistence and off balance by the creep-tacular number of pa.s.ses that had already been made at me tonight, I turned on my heel, folded my arms, and did my level best not to glare at him.

"Look, I'm not here to get picked up. Back off, okay?"

"Ah, is this place making you nervous? I could take you somewhere else. Perhaps you'd prefer the atmosphere at La Pet.i.te Boisson? La Pet.i.te Boisson?"

If I had been, well, pretty much anyone else, I might have been flattered-okay, floored-by the offer. La Pet.i.te Boisson La Pet.i.te Boisson was another of Royce's properties; a ridiculously pricey, upper-crusty restaurant. I'd heard somewhere the waiting list to get a table was up to four months-for A-list celebrities. Not my kind of place. As Shiarra could attest, I may have come from old money but I was doing my best to stay out of that world. Who the h.e.l.l was this guy that he could get a table there so quickly? was another of Royce's properties; a ridiculously pricey, upper-crusty restaurant. I'd heard somewhere the waiting list to get a table was up to four months-for A-list celebrities. Not my kind of place. As Shiarra could attest, I may have come from old money but I was doing my best to stay out of that world. Who the h.e.l.l was this guy that he could get a table there so quickly?

Well, whoever he was, it didn't matter. If he was hanging around a place like The Underground, he was bad news. Plus, I'd had my fill of rich, good-looking, sn.o.bbish a.s.sholes before I graduated college. It put me in mind of a T-shirt Shiarra once bought me as a gag gift, which perfectly described my tempestuous and occasionally disastrous love life: "Princess, having had sufficient experience with princes, seeks frog."

"I'm sorry, no. I'm not interested."

He opened his mouth to reply-man, this guy didn't know the meaning of "no"-but before he could get any more cheesy pickup lines out, his eyes widened and he ducked his head deferentially. Wow, did he finally get the message?

"Not leaving, are you?" Royce asked from behind me, touching my shoulder.

I jumped and gasped in shock. I whirled to face him, withdrawing until my lower back dug into the bar.

Like the guy who couldn't take no for an answer, Royce was wearing leather pants, though there was nothing ridiculous about his getup. His toned upper body was on display in a matching vest, leaving his corded arms bare. His dark hair was left loose to brush his shoulders and occasionally mask his eyes. It was a shocking contrast to the business suits and conservative attire I'd always seen him wearing in the magazines and on the news. Bloodsuckers aren't my type but my, was he easy on the eyes.

It only made me more determined to hold my ground. If Janine laid eyes on a vampire like this, she'd never find the willpower to resist him.

"I do hope my a.s.sociate didn't scare you off."

The smile on the other guy's features rapidly fell into a scowl, interest sliding into disappointment. I didn't know whether to be relieved or horrified.

"She was here to meet you? Sorry, sir."

"Not to worry. I wasn't going to bother you with the details of my calendar on your night off. John, this is Sara Halloway, Ms. Waynest's business partner. She's the PI I hired to find out about that person who's been nosing around the clubs. Sara, meet John Torrance. He's my second-in-command. He may end up working with you some nights if I am not available."

That seemed to perk John right up. I did my best to suppress a grimace, schooling my features into a carefully blank expression before extending my hand. John took it in both his own, bowing theatrically to place a kiss on my knuckles. His fingers were cold, his grip carrying an unpleasant undertone of possessiveness.

"A pleasure, Ms. Halloway. I look forward to working with you."

"Likewise," I gritted through my teeth.

"If you'll follow me," Royce interjected, saving me from further come-ons, "I'll introduce you to my head of security and give you the file on what we've compiled so far. John, you can come along, too."

I did as Royce asked, shaking my head when his a.s.sistant gallantly offered his arm. I'd felt how chill the guy's touch was, cold enough to make my skin crawl, and I was sure Royce wouldn't employ a human as his second. Ridiculous as he looked and acted, John was clearly a vampire. He radiated teenage awkwardness instead of the mystique I a.s.sociated with his kind, but that could be his hunting method, designed to make him appear charming and harmless. Whatever it was, I wasn't interested.

A few minutes later, we arrived at a tiny office tucked away in the back of the first floor. It was filled with papers, security monitors, and a very large, very hairy man sitting behind, and dwarfing, a cluttered desk. The redheaded giant rose to greet us, a few stray strands and unruly curls sticking up from his ponytail. He looked like he should've been wearing a kilt and swinging around a claymore, not wearing a navy business suit and shuffling papers.

"Angus," Royce said, ushering me to stand beside him. My hand was completely engulfed by the big man's own as he reached across the desk. "This is Sara from H&W Investigations, the firm I told you about. She'll need the file."

"A pleasure, la.s.s." The thick Scottish accent was distracting. More so was the chill to his grip; another vampire. His bushy beard bristled when he smiled at me, revealing frighteningly long fangs. Hard to believe he was a vamp and not a Were, what with the thick, coppery tufts sticking out of his shirt collar and on the backs of his hands.

It took every ounce of willpower I could muster not to flinch away upon realizing what he was. He might be friendly, but being the lone human in a tiny room with three leeches wasn't a situation I was comfortable with. As long as I didn't take any chances and kept my eyes off their own, I should be okay. Even though Royce and his people followed the rules, my experiences with them had me wary of any further blackmail or traps. Royce's promise they'd keep me and my sister safe was about as good as a pack of wolves promising to guard spring lambs.

Not trusting my voice, all I did was nod in response, praying they hadn't taken note of my sudden surge of fear and accelerated heartbeat.

The security chief and his boss shared a bemused look. Once Angus released my hand, he picked up a manila folder from his desk and pa.s.sed it to me. Glad to have an excuse not to meet anyone's eyes, I flipped it open and skimmed through the papers inside.

At first, I had a hard time concentrating enough to focus on the photographs. Once the initial burst of fear from being in a room full of predators faded, I frowned and pulled the file closer to squint at some of the grainy pictures. They were all printouts from security monitors. It was a trifle difficult to make out the man's face until I flipped to one where the cameras had caught him at an angle, looking up. That startled some shaky laughter out of me, as much relieved by figuring out who the shady man was as to have an excuse not to stick around much longer. I snapped the folder shut and tossed it back down on the desk.

"You're not in any danger. That's Joe Finnegan from Pro-Detection in Levittown. He's H&W's compet.i.tion."

Nonplussed, John picked up the folder, flipping it back open. "Your compet.i.tion?"

"Yeah. Finnegan's a braggart, slick as a used car salesman, but he does what we do at H&W-skip tracing, surveillance, that sort of thing. He was probably hired to watch somebody or look for something. He's as skeezy as they come, but he's not dangerous. Most likely one of your people is late paying a bill and he's tracking them down for a collection agency."

"Well then, half your job is done." Royce smiled winningly, and my good spirits faded. I'd hoped Royce would take care of the rest of his problems himself once I identified the creep. The idea of talking to Joe was about as enticing as working for the vampire. "If you can find out exactly what it is he's looking for-better yet, who he's working for-I'll see that it's made very much worth your time."

"We've run across each other a couple of times at business functions. He might remember me. I'll give him a call and see if I can get him to tell me what's up."

Though it wasn't a call I was looking forward to making, I was fairly confident I could get Joe to tell me what he was after. He wouldn't divulge who his client was, but he might be willing to tell me what he was looking for. If I was lucky and this really was nothing more than a simple skip tracing a.s.signment, H&W might even get a cut of the profits for finding the wayward debtor.

"If ye find out what he wants or run into any trouble, tell me at once," Angus said in a deep rumble, thrusting a business card at me. "That's my business line and my cell number. If anything goes wrong, don't wait. Just call."

I took the card, eyeing it dubiously. "What if something comes up during the day?"

"Call the business line," Angus advised, unperturbed. "We have agents we can send to a.s.sist you no matter the hour."

Okay, that that was creepy. Suppressing a shiver, I stuffed the card in the pocket of my jeans. was creepy. Suppressing a shiver, I stuffed the card in the pocket of my jeans.

"I'll show you out," John said.

Royce frowned at his second but didn't say anything more. Rather than come off as b.i.t.c.hy, I decided it wouldn't hurt to take John's arm when he offered this time, doing my best to hide my misgivings. The youthful vampire smiled at me in what I imagine was supposed to be a rea.s.suring manner, placing his other hand lightly over mine once I settled it on his arm.

"I'll be in touch," Royce called after us, staying behind to speak to Angus.

John didn't ply me with questions or come-ons this time, leading me to the dance floor we'd have to cross to reach the exit. Aside from the somewhat possessive way he took my hand, he was polite and cordial. However, once we reached the edge of the dance floor he did ask rather hopefully if I'd be staying a little longer.

"Sorry. I'm going to go home and get some sleep."

He nodded, clearly disappointed but not pushing the issue. I was grateful for that. His attention, while flattering, was also giving me a good case of the heebie-jeebies.

I knew he couldn't bespell me unless I signed papers giving up my legal rights to recourse against any form of physical, mental, or spiritual damage he might cause. But that didn't allay my misgivings about dealing with him, or Others in general.

After the fall of the Twin Towers, werewolves and vampires and other such dangerous creatures had revealed their existence to the world at large. These creatures of fairy tales were citizens now, with all the rights and privileges that entailed, save that their feeding habits were carefully regulated. The new laws were our way of thanking the Others for all they'd done: the werewolves' searches for survivors in the rubble of Ground Zero; the impressive spellwork done by magi to improve our defenses around major cities and airports; and the vampires' much-needed economic boosts in the days following the terrorist attacks.

Congress hadn't quite finished tweaking all the laws involving our new, daylight-impaired, citizens, but the contracts had been hurriedly made into a requirement by federal law within a couple of months of the Others' appearance. The contracts meant Others had to go the more traditional route of courtship and seduction instead of simply taking what they wanted. If one didn't go the legal route and the victim filed a complaint, after a short, low-ha.s.sle trial the offender would be hunted down and killed.

There were enough people out there desperately hoping to be some vamp's Renfield that finding fresh blood and willing victims wasn't a problem-for most. Though I am certainly not as phobic as Shiarra, I had zero interest in being some vamp's plaything. I presumed John's attention was because he'd recently lost a donor or something; nothing I was going to concern myself with.

When we reached the exit, he insisted on waiting with me, intent on seeing me to my car. It was charming, if pushy. Once the valet brought my car around, he released my arm, but not before bowing low over my hand to brush his lips over the backs of my knuckles.

"'Til we meet again, my little bird."

"Yeah. 'Til then," I said, vowing to wash my hands ten times with antibacterial soap as soon as I got home. Dead man's lips on my skin? Ugh!

As I pulled away from the curb, I glanced in the side mirror. John still stood under the flickering red sign for The Underground, watching me go. His eyes glittered strangely and his face held an emotion I could not place. I quickly looked away, driving off as rapidly as I dared.

Chapter 3.

On the way to the office the next morning, I put in a call to my boyfriend. Mark picked up after a couple of rings.

"What's up, sweetie? How come you couldn't make it last night? You didn't say much in your message."

"Sorry," I replied, tapping my nails on the steering wheel while I waited for the light to shift. "Business kept me later than I expected. Are you at work?"

"No. I've got a couple of hours before the next shift. I'm off at eight, though. What about you? Want to catch a movie?"

"I can't. Duty calls," I said, trying to think of a kosher way to ask him if he'd heard any rumors about someone gunning for Royce. The incessant worrying about Royce, that creep John, and Janine's dubious safety were making it hard to concentrate.

"Again? What is it this time?"

"You know I can't talk about that."

"Yeah, yeah. So when can I see you?"

"Not sure. Tomorrow afternoon, maybe? By the way, do you know Joe Finnegan, that guy who runs Pro-Detection?"

"Heard of him. Not in my precinct, though." Mark paused, suspicious. "Why? This have something to do with last night?"

Much as I didn't want to start up an old argument, I couldn't skirt around it. Mark would get even angrier at me for avoiding the subject. His cop instincts flared up at the strangest things. Bracing myself for the inevitable, I resignedly told him as much as I safely could.

"Alec Royce hired me to find out why Finnegan is digging into his affairs."

"What?!"

"Yeah. It's not a big deal. Finnegan is small fry. I doubt it's anything dangerous. Like I told Royce last night, he's probably just hunting down someone who skipped out paying a bill. No big deal."

"Sara," Mark started, his voice gone dangerously low, "we've discussed this before. I don't want you hanging around those things. You could get hurt."

"The 'thing' you're referring to is a person. Who is paying me good money to find out what Joe is after. Will you relax and let me do my job?"

"Dealing with the Others isn't your job, Sara, it's mine. Look what happened to Shiarra."

"d.a.m.n it, Mark, don't start that again! It's my job. My choice."

"You stay away from those things, you hear me? I absolutely forbid-"

"Oh, grow up!" Angry and upset, I hung up on him-just in time to swerve out of the way of an oncoming truck. The sting of something in my eyes must have made me lose track of the road.

Yeah, that was it.

My eyes were dry by the time I got to the office. A familiar face greeted me in our tiny reception area.

"Arnold!" I exclaimed. Considering my mood, I found it surprisingly easy to return his smile, though I took a quick step back when he rose and reached out to me. At his puzzled look, I shook my head and inwardly berated myself for the lapse in manners, belatedly taking his hand and tensing against the tingling, electric jolt I felt at his touch. "What are you doing here?"

The mage didn't come around to visit very often these days. He hadn't been hurt in the battle, but he'd taken a lot of time off from work to try to help speed up Shiarra's healing process. His magical capabilities leaned more toward defensive shielding and wards, but he'd done everything he could to help her recover. After he saved my life, and seeing him at Shiarra's bedside in the hospital every day for two weeks, my nervousness around him had lessened quite a bit. He was also the only Other I'd ever considered a friend-though, most of the time, being near him still gave me the jitters.