High Stakes (22 page)

‘You’re not my boss,’ I mutter.  A ghost of a smile crosses his face.

There’s a tentative knock on the door and a worried-looking Connor appears.

‘Drink,’ Michael tells me again. ‘Then sleep.’

I nod dutifully. This much I can do.

Chapter Seventeen: Victims

Bless the darkness. I’d never fully appreciated how wonderful night time is before. I stretch out, promising myself that I will never venture out in daylight again while I remain a fledgling vampire.

I sit up and prod my face carefully. Most of the blisters have already subsided and new skin is forming. I’m aware I’ve been bloody lucky. I seek out some clean clothes and pad into the bathroom. It’s spotless. I wonder if Michael grabbed a pair of Marigolds and scrubbed all the crap away. Marigolds and boxer shorts and nothing else… Maybe not the boxer shorts…

I slap myself round the face. ‘No!’ I mutter. ‘Bad Bo.’ Friends don’t have sexual fantasies about other friends. Maybe if I keep telling myself that, sooner or later it’ll be true.

I stare into the mirror. The effect of falling asleep with wet hair makes me wince. I tie it up, ignore my blotchy skin and head down to the office. Distasteful as it was, I’m glad I drank from Connor before crashing. I wouldn’t say I feel invigorated but I’m not at death’s door.

Arzo is waiting for me. He squeezes my arm. ‘You did good,’ he says quietly.

‘Medici’s boys got to Miller.’

‘True. But the important thing is that he’s not going to destroy any more lives.’

I nod. He’s right. It’s not about me versus Lord Medici, it’s about Corinne Matheson – and countless others – sleeping more easily tonight.

Arzo’s jaw tightens. ‘Did you…?’ He looks away. ‘When you were in the Medici house, did you see Dahlia?’

‘No. I’m sorry.’

‘That’s okay. It’s good. It means that Medici is still trying to keep her hidden. He doesn’t know that we know that he has her.’

I’m not sure whether he’s trying to convince me or himself.

‘Good grief, Bo,’ my grandfather says, appearing in the doorway. ‘You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards. Appearances are vital in our line of work. People trust what they see and when they see you, they’ll think we’re running a den of heroin abusers.’

I suppose it’s a good thing that he didn’t see me curled up inside a freezer and covered in sewage. He frowns and I sigh, stepping forward to kiss his cheek. ‘Good evening to you too,’ I murmur.

‘You’re damn lucky,’ he whispers in my ear. ‘Don’t you dare put yourself in that kind of danger again.’ From behind him, his cat meows. I peer round his shoulder and it glares at me. The bloody thing starts purring before starting to wash its face.

‘So,’ my grandfather says, returning to his normal voice, ‘I think it’s safe to say we’ve been successful. The streets are safe and vampires solved the problem. I’ve already released a statement to that effect. Whether Medici or you will be credited remains to be seen, but we can assume that the tabloids will reflect the sentiment that the bloodguzzlers saved the day. I hope we will also see a rise in clients.’

At that moment, the phone rings. My grandfather smiles in satisfaction, as if to say that this is no doubt one of our many new customers. Peter answers it and looks in my direction. ‘It’s for you. Some lawyer.’

I take it from him, puzzled. ‘D’Argneau? Either you’re calling to congratulate me or the results are back on the ear.’

‘Neither, I’m afraid,’ he says grimly.

I don’t like the tone of his voice. ‘What is it?’

‘It appears that one of the barristers in my firm had your Terence Miller as a client.’

‘He was not my Terence Miller,’ I snap. ‘He was a vicious killer.’

‘Just so,’ D’Argneau agrees. ‘That’s why this is rather unfortunate.’

Tentacles of icy dread lick at my veins. ‘What?’

‘Mr Miller apparently left strict instructions to be carried out in the event of his untimely death. In point of fact, a statement. Shall I read it out?’

I sit down heavily. ‘Go on.’

D’Argneau clears his throat. ‘“I, Terence Timothy Miller, being of sound mind, make this final testament. Public opinion will no doubt place me on trial for my actions in participating in the deaths of several women. The truth is more complicated. I petitioned the Medici Family, asking to be recruited into their midst as a vampire. A condition of their acceptance was that I prove myself worthy by making a sacrifice. If I severed twenty souls, I would gain admittance. I am not proud of my actions but I was coerced into them. May God have mercy on my soul.”’

I don’t say anything.

‘Bo? Are you there?’

‘I’m here.’ My voice is barely audible. ‘D’Argneau, you can’t release this.’

‘We don’t have any choice. We act for the deceased.’

‘He’s a fucking rapist and serial killer! You can’t trust anything he says! You know this is bullshit, right? Even Medici wouldn’t do this.’ As soon as I say it, I know I’m right. The vampire Lord I confronted yesterday may have made an illegal move against Dahlia, but he’d never put his Family in jeopardy by asking a potential recruit to kill people. He wouldn’t be so stupid, even if he were that bloodthirsty.

‘It’s not for us to say,’ D’Argneau says. ‘But, yes, you are probably correct.’

‘You can’t do this. Please, Harry.’

‘I’m sorry, I can’t prevent the statement being released. I shouldn’t even tell you about it in advance. I thought it might help if you knew though.’ There’s a muffled sound from his end of the line. ‘Look, I have to go. Nisha Patel is here to talk to me. I’m sorry, Bo.’ He hangs up.

My shoulders slump. Arzo gazes at me with concern. ‘What is it?’

Everyone is watching me. I give them the gist of Miller’s statement. Matt’s eyes widen. ‘Would Medici really have done that?’

Arzo shakes his head. ‘No. I’ve never heard of such a condition. We should send someone to speak to him to make sure but it’s incredibly unlikely.’ I open my mouth to speak but I don’t get the chance. ‘I don’t think it would be a good idea if it were you, Bo.’

‘I’ll do it,’ my grandfather says, surprising all of us. ‘I want to meet him face to face. You can’t get the true measure of a man until you look him in the eye. And he’s not likely to try and manipulate me.’

As much as I hate to admit it, he’s probably right. ‘Terence Miller is somewhere in hell, laughing his bloody head off,’ I say. ‘He had no reason to do this other than to make life more difficult for the Families. Medici wouldn’t take him in and he’s getting his revenge.’

‘Or it’s an insurance policy he never had the chance to cash in,’ Peter suggests.

‘Either way, he’s completely screwing us. We need to do something to mitigate the effects.’ I think, then say, ‘Nick.’

‘Who?’

‘He’s the Bancroft bloodguzzler who was castrated when he was turned. We need him to tell his story to the press.’

Peter nods. ‘I’ll contact Lord Bancroft immediately.’

‘Make sure he’s coached first,’ I warn. ‘He has a big mouth and he likes to show off. He needs to be serious and make it clear that what happened to him was because he was a rapist when he was human. That behaviour like that isn’t acceptable to any of the Families. If we can get his statement out ahead of Miller’s, we might sway public opinion in our favour.’

Arzo raises his eyebrows. ‘Our? That’s the first time you’ve used that pronoun, Bo.’

I meet his gaze. ‘I’m a vampire too.’ To avoid further discussion on the subject, I stand up.

‘Where are going?’

‘Back to Miller’s house,’ I say grimly. ‘I want to see what the police found and if there’s anything we can use.’

‘Are you sure you’re up to it?’

I set my mouth into a thin line. ‘Cooling on a slab or not, Terence Miller won’t get the better of us.’

*

Arriving at Miller’s place, I have a strange sense of déjà vu. The house is cordoned off and I recognise a few of the faces from the crime scene at Jubilee Park. This time, however, I don’t hide my presence. I walk up to the outer cordon and duck underneath the tape.

‘Hey! What do you think you’re doing?’ A young policewoman strides up to me.

‘Is Foxworthy here?’

‘You’re a bloodguzzler,’ she sneers.

Suddenly I’m tired of being treated like a second-class citizen. ‘Yeah? What of it?’

‘Let her in.’ I look up and spot Nicholls hovering a few feet away.

‘Thank you.’

Her face twists. ‘Don’t think we’re best buds now or anything.’ She jerks her thumb towards the house. ‘Foxworthy’s in there.’ She throws a white suit and a pair of bootees at me. ‘Put those on first.’

I bite back a reply at her supercilious tone and do as I’m told. The suit is about three sizes too large and, with the wind blowing behind me, I resemble the Michelin Man. I pad forward and go inside.

There are other white-suited people milling around. It’s difficult to tell which one is Foxworthy because they all look exactly the same. I wander round, peering into faces. It’s not until someone gestures at me from the door leading to the garden that I finally spot the inspector.

‘I thought you’d show up sooner or later,’ he grunts. ‘Your bike is outside.’ I’m surprised; I’d assumed I’d have to go through the rigmarole of paperwork and fines to release it from where it was impounded. ‘Least I could do,’ he grunts.

‘Have you found anything?’ I ask him.

The answering look in his eyes is enough. I glance beyond him to the garden and the large pit that now extends across what was the lawn. I step forward to take a look and gag. There are ten bodies lying next to one another with their hands clasped together. It reminds me sickeningly of the strings of paper cut-out dolls I used to make when I was a child. The corpses are in varying degrees of decomposition and the smell is horrific.

‘Are they…?’

‘Yes. All the missing women.’

I swallow hard and look away. I’ve never been confronted before with violent death on such a scale. It’s not like it is on television.

‘If you want to throw up, there’s a bucket over there,’ Foxworthy tells me. ‘You won’t be the first.’

At least he appreciates that just because I’m a bloodguzzler, I’m not immune to gore. I only just manage to keep hold of the contents of my stomach.

‘We haven’t found their clothes. There’s no diary or notes or anything that suggests his motive. He was just a sick bastard who took pleasure in the suffering of others.’

I agree wholeheartedly but I can’t help thinking that Miller remains one step ahead of us. He didn’t fake the surprise in his face when I showed up at his door and he definitely wasn’t expecting to be shot dead on his own porch. With what I now know about the statement he left with his lawyers, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to come. There’s not a shred of evidence to support my uneasiness, though, so I don’t share it.

‘We’re starting to inform the victims’ families,’ Foxworthy says. ‘Although a lot of them probably already have a good idea. The press are all over this.’

What a horrible way to discover that your loved one has been brutally killed.

‘Would you like to come with me?’ he asks suddenly.

God, no. I can’t think of anything worse but I also feel I should take some of the responsibility. And I might learn something. ‘Okay,’ I tell him.

‘We’ve sent liaison officers to speak to the triber factions. They’ll inform those families.’

‘So you’re doing the humans? Will they be happy about a vampire being there too?’

‘If it wasn’t for you, we’d still be chasing our tails on this one. They’ll understand that.’

‘He’s left a statement with a lawyer. Miller, I mean. He must have done it ages ago. It says that the Medici Family forced him into it.’

Foxworthy snorts. ‘Forced him into abduction, rape and murder? As if.’

Given the degree to which he despises the Families, I’m glad he dismisses the theory so easily. Maybe everyone else will do the same. Then he throws me a doubtful glance. ‘Did they?’ he asks.

Shit. ‘No. We’re double-checking just to be sure but it’s unlikely.’ I’m keen to change the subject. ‘Have you found out much about Miller?’

‘Very little. Both his parents are dead. He was bounced around foster families then had a string of dead end jobs. He doesn’t seem to have many friends.’

‘His neighbours?’

‘Said he was polite and courteous but kept to himself.’

Many people do these days. ‘Have you found any magic residue?’ I ask as we make our way back out through the house.

‘You’re referring to the fact that he was able to attack the women in such public places?’ I nod. ‘No. We’ve not found a damn thing.’

I find it hard to believe that no one noticed what he was doing. ‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ I say, frustrated.

‘It often happens with cases like this. Sometimes there are questions that never get answered. By the way, the man we questioned at Marsh Prison – O’Connell?’ I know what he’s going to say. ‘He was found dead this morning. His heart is missing.’

My stomach turns. I suppose I should be grateful that X didn’t dispose of the entire body and force the police into a pointless manhunt. Then I wonder when I became so callous that I can shrug off an execution so easily.

‘You don’t seem surprised,’ Foxworthy comments. ‘Even though the mode of killing would suggest Kakos daemon, which makes no sense at all.’

I’m saved from answering by Nicholls. ‘You’re going?’ she asks. ‘And you’re taking her with you?’

‘If you have a problem with that, just say.’

‘Nah.’ She gives me a hard look. ‘It’s about time you bloodguzzlers realised how much the relatives of vanished victims suffer.’

Aware of what she’s referring to, I mirror her stance. ‘Anyone who chooses to turn does so of their own volition.’ I think of Dahlia and myself and realise that’s not entirely true. I’m also not sure why I’m suddenly defending the process.

‘Your motorbike’s there.’ Foxworthy points, looking for a way to avoid further conflict between Nicholls and me.

There’s a long scratch down the bodywork which definitely wasn’t there before. If that’s the worst of it, I suppose I got lucky. ‘I’ll follow you,’ I tell him.