Retribution (18 page)
“What did he look like?”
“He was short. Maybe five feet five. Stubby. Had cold eyes.”
“How did he find you?”
She looks down and away. “On the street.” She points to the blonde. “He found her in a shelter. And her. He was a talker. When he first brought a girl in, he’d talk to her like she was awake and make fun of how easy it had been to fool her.”
Runaways. Easy pickings for a predator. “How many died before I found you?”
“Six.”
The bodies that Williams told me about in Beso de la Muerte. He was right. Someone had been killing vampires.
Rebecca rubs her eyes with the palms of her hands as if rubbing away the nightmare. “I thought I was so lucky when Loren—when Jason—found me. He promised me freedom and money and eternal life. I should have listened to my instincts. I knew it was too good to be true. And I was right. First he made me have sex with him, then he bit me. I didn’t feel any different. He said that would change after I fed from a human. He sent me to a vacant building that stunk of piss and shit and was overrun with rats.” She shudders. “I hate rats. I think he expected me to eat them.”
Rose is back, listening from the doorway. She reaches out.
Have they given you anything you can use to track these monsters down?
Have they given you anything you can use to track these monsters down?
I can’t answer. Rebecca’s words have sparked a flash of—what? My brain wrestles with an image. It’s blurred, like a picture through an unfocused camera lens. I concentrate harder.
An abandoned building.
Rats.
A man with something in his hand.
“Rebecca, how did Jason drug you?”
She shakes her head. “He shot me with something. It looked like a crossbow but it was smaller.”
My heart begins to race.
I saw it.
I saw it all.
In a dream.
CHAPTER 32
A
DREAM. HOW IS SUCH A THING POSSIBLE?
DREAM. HOW IS SUCH A THING POSSIBLE?
Rose is watching me.
What’s wrong?
What’s wrong?
I can’t answer. I don’t know what to say. It’s crazy. How could I have dreamed what Rebecca just described? I try to dredge up images from the dream but all that’s left are impressions. Fear. Confusion.
I bury what I’m thinking deep in my subconscious.
To Rose
, I think I’d better go
.
I’ll start a search for this Jason character. He’s the only real connection I have right now to the one who did this.
, I think I’d better go
.
I’ll start a search for this Jason character. He’s the only real connection I have right now to the one who did this.
I face the girls. “You’re safe here. Rose will take care of you. I’ll be back when I have news.”
Rebecca’s eyes burn with questions I can’t answer. Yet. I hurry out before she can give voice to them. There are four new human hosts standing just outside the bedroom and Rose calls them in. At least I can leave knowing the girls are in good hands.
Williams is still at Brooke’s when I call. I tell him I may have a lead. He agrees to meet me at the cottage in two hours. I head straight there.
A shower. Cold this time, to clear away the cobwebs and try to make sense of a senseless notion. I saw what happened to Rebecca in a dream? Crazy. There’s another explanation. There has to be.
I can’t think of any. I’m as confused when I step out of the shower as when I stepped in. The only thing that’s changed is that my skin is puckered and blue-tinged from the cold. I wrap myself in a robe.
Coffee. I head downstairs. I’m filling the pot when I realize what I really want is a good stiff drink.
Fortified with a tumbler of good scotch and my laptop, I begin the search for Loren aka Jason Shelton. I google his name. The only thing that comes up is a reference to a company. Nelson Security Services.
That name was on the logo on the car in the warehouse parking lot. I click my way to their website.
Company policies, guidelines, testimonials from satisfied customers.
Pictures. A group shot in front of the company office. One of the guards in particular catches my eye.
A flash of recognition.
Clear now. But disturbing in its implication.
The guard with the dog at the warehouse was the man in my dream.
And that man was Jason.
But a vampire?
I got no such vibe from him. I got nothing except an impression of hostility and ugliness—that he was a mean son of a bitch. But a human one.
When Williams arrives, my head is swimming with confusion and fuzzy from the scotch. I keep both to myself, preferring to adopt a matter-of-fact attitude as I fill him in on the condition of the vampires at the safe house and what they told me. That Burke’s bodyguard was the one who tortured them. That I have no doubt that the security guard, Jason, was the one who set the explosives that blew the place up. Since he’s an employee of a company listed in the Yellow Pages, I figure that would be the logical place to start looking for him.
I don’t mention that he’s a vampire or that he was the one who found the girls and turned them.
Or the dream.
I don’t know why I don’t tell him. Maybe the thought of another lecture on my ignorance is more than I can stand tonight.
I take another gulp of scotch. It burns in a good way, and a comforting burst of warmth radiates from the pit of my stomach. I cradle the glass against my cheek. Scotch was a much better choice than coffee. I’m not feeling nearly as anxious.
Williams reaches over and takes the glass out of my hand.
“Hey. I need that.”
“Tomorrow,” he says in reply.
“Tomorrow?”
“You’ll start looking for Jason tomorrow.” He takes the glass to the sink and empties it. “You look beat. Making love to a bottle of scotch isn’t going to help. Sleep is going to help. Go to bed. I’ll work on finding Jason. And in the morning, we should have the analysis of that face cream.”
He lets his voice drop off, but I pick up a feeling that he’s guarding something from me much the same way I’m guarding my uncertainty from him. What comes through is Ortiz, his sorrow at his loss. The sensation is gone in a heartbeat but it sobers me.
“What do you think Burke was doing with the blood she was collecting from the ampires? ” I ask after a minute.
“If I was to guess? The blood is an ingredient in her cream.”
I close my eyes for a minute, processing the idea, repulsed by it. “How? For what purpose?”
“It’s an antiaging cream.” His tone is abrupt, accusa tory. “Women will go to any lengths to recapture youth. Burke found a way to capitalize on that compulsion.”
His indictment of all females should spark an argument. Tonight it only sparks a weary sigh.
“How would it work? Have you ever heard of vampire blood being used to enhance a human product?”
“No. I’ve never heard of a topical application of vampire blood having any power. That’s not to say it doesn’t.” He stands up. “We’ll know tomorrow. Now get some sleep. I’ve arranged for one of our security patrols to—”
“Security patrol? What for?”
He casts a glance toward the bottle. “To make sure you have a tomorrow. Burke may be having you watched. If she is, she’ll know how you spent your afternoon. She’s bound to be pissed you got those girls out of that warehouse. I would have suggested you sleep somewhere else tonight, but you’re never inclined to take my suggestions. I did the next best thing.”
For once, I don’t argue, object or balk at what he’s saying. Truth is, I never gave a thought that Burke might come after me directly. She seemed to be having too much fun watching me dance. But saving those girls may have ratch eted the stakes up a notch.
“Culebra.”
It’s all I say. Williams shakes his head. “I’ll check in with Sandra. If there’s any change, I’ll let you know.”
I walk him to the door, close it, lock it and trudge upstairs.
Now drinking all that scotch doesn’t seem like the good idea it was earlier. My brain is fuzzy, my limbs heavy. I eye the bed, still unmade. The scotch and lack of sleep make that detail as unimportant as the fear I should be feeling that any minute Burke might strike.
For once I hope Williams was telling the truth about assigning a security patrol. Idly, I wonder if will be composed of vampires or some other supernatural member of the Watchers. The one thing I am sure of is it will be no ordinary security patrol.
I shed my clothes, grab up a blanket and pillow and fall across the bare mattress. My last thought before I drift off is how my conversation with Williams tonight is the only one in a long time that hasn’t ended with our threatening to kill each other.
CHAPTER 33
I
T’S RAINING WHEN I WAKE UP WEDNESDAY MORNING. I’m in bed listening to it beat against the windows and the deck and wishing I could pull the covers up over my head and go back to sleep.
T’S RAINING WHEN I WAKE UP WEDNESDAY MORNING. I’m in bed listening to it beat against the windows and the deck and wishing I could pull the covers up over my head and go back to sleep.
Then I think about Culebra and those girls and I roll out of my blanket cocoon and propel myself up.
The newspaper is on the front porch next to its plastic sleeve. The exposed half of the paper is soggy and drips all over the floor when I carry it in.
Shit.
I get it over to the kitchen counter and spread it out. Page one headlines blare “Police Officer Killed. Fire at Cosmetics Company Warehouse Claims Life.” Piecing together the story from rain-soaked newsprint, there isn’t much to learn that I don’t already know. The article says the warehouse was destroyed along with all the product being prepared for next week’s gala launch of Eternal Youth, the heralded new antiaging cream. An unidentified spokesperson for the company issued a statement saying how devastated they are about the fate of policeman Mario Ortiz, who died a hero when he entered the building to make sure no one was inside. Their condolences go to his family. Second Chance management plans to have the factory back up and running in the next few months.
Not happening.
Simone Tremaine, president and CEO of Second Chance, was not available for comment.
I’ll bet. Burke has gone to ground.
I tap a fingernail against the paper. The article claims all the product was destroyed in the fire. I saw
something
being loaded into trucks when I arrived at the warehouse on Monday. And there was nothing at all on the conveyor belts just before the fire broke out. Burke stockpiled her precious cream before she had the place torched.
something
being loaded into trucks when I arrived at the warehouse on Monday. And there was nothing at all on the conveyor belts just before the fire broke out. Burke stockpiled her precious cream before she had the place torched.
Not that she’s going to have a chance to sell it. I’ll make sure of that.
Williams calls just as I’m about to step into the shower. “I got the product analysis back,” he says.
“And?”
“A lot of stuff with chemical names I can’t pronounce along with one I can. Animal glycoprotein.”
“Animal glycoprotein? What the hell is that?”
“Vampire blood.”
“
Animal
glycoprotein? How can that be
vampire
blood?”
Animal
glycoprotein? How can that be
vampire
blood?”
Williams pauses a long moment before he says, “You seem unable or unwilling to accept the fact that we are no longer human, Anna.”
His words send a tremor through me. “I am not an animal.”
He waits even longer this time to respond. “And you are not human, either,” he says at last. “But this is not the time for debate. The point is, she was using vampire blood in her cream.”
“Where would she get an idea like that? Didn’t you say you’d never heard of vampire blood having any topical application?”
“I also remember saying just because I hadn’t heard of it didn’t mean it might not be possible. We now know it is. The extraordinary results she was getting must have been due to the infusion of vampire blood. It has to be. The remaining ingredients in the cream are found in every commercial product on the market.”
I get another shiver of disgust. Explains the smell I detected—raw meat.
Williams continues, “I also found out from an associate that Burke seems to have disappeared. He said
Simone Tremaine
has disappeared and I didn’t correct him. The PR rep for Second Chance has no idea where she is. The fire is being investigated as suspicious, possibly an insurance scam, though the same rep swears the cream is legit. They claim they lost everything in the fire, including formulas and the names of test subjects.”
Simone Tremaine
has disappeared and I didn’t correct him. The PR rep for Second Chance has no idea where she is. The fire is being investigated as suspicious, possibly an insurance scam, though the same rep swears the cream is legit. They claim they lost everything in the fire, including formulas and the names of test subjects.”
Not everything. I saw those trucks. To Williams, I reply, “Convenient, that. What about the security guard?”
“No record. He’s an employee of Nelson, has been for several years.”
“Then I’ll be paying them a visit.”
Williams releases a breath. “I wish I could go with you, but my place is with Brooke.”
Certainly out of character for Williams, placing concern for a human over his own desires, but I’m not going to argue the point. I don’t want to spark more animosity between us.
A bit of the conversation I had with Gloria flashes into my head. “Is it true cosmetics are not regulated by the DA? ” I ask.
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