Shrouds of Darkness (10 page)

I lean back in my chair with my hands behind my head and mull over what Angel told me last night. Tracking down a werewolf means I will have to go and talk to other weres. Not an appealing prospect. It’s a good thing I’m such a likeable sort or getting information out of them could really be difficult.

I am still formulating my plan of attack when the phone rings.

“Malone,” I say into the receiver.

“Leo, It’s Raj, from the coroner’s office.”

“I’m glad you clarified that. I thought maybe it was Raj from my Hindu prayer group,” I reply sarcastically.

“Always a pleasure talking to you, Leo. Anyway, I have some—things down here I need you to take a look at.”

Raj is this borough’s chief medical examiner and the only other human that knows what I am. We crossed paths years back while I was a Sheriff hunting down a rogue that was leaving the bodies of his victims around for the normals to find.

Normally this isn’t too big of a problem, but Raj was far too smart and far too curious for his own good. He began doing some investigating of his own and asking questions that were going to get him killed real fast. I thought it was better to have someone in his position in on our little secret society than to simply quiet him—permanently. So I told him everything.

He impressed me with the calm in which he took this disclosure. Most people would be in a panic to find out that their species was not at the top of the food chain. They are especially put off when informed that having that simple knowledge marked them for immediate extermination.

Raj, on the other hand, found the entire thing fascinating. And after assuring me that he knew the consequences that if he so much as breathed a word of our existence to another living being, including vampires—especially vampires—he would likely be killed on the spot.

He is an unofficial informant, and if the Council ever finds out he knows, and that I told him, we will both be in a lot of trouble. Now I have someone that contacts me anytime he gets a body with the telltale signs of a supernatural cause of death.

Raj continues the explanation for his call. “I have three bodies down here in various stages of disassembly that I really think you should take a look at.”

“Let me guess. Three toughs, made extra tender around 123
^rd
?”

“How did you know that?”

“Angel mentioned it last night after Castillo grilled me and took some my office supplies.”

The coroner replies, “Ah, yes. I just got your latest handiwork in a couple hours ago. I haven’t really had a chance to examine them. They seem fairly routine as far as gunshots go.”

“The big furry one is a mongrel,” I inform him.

Raj’s voice lowers in concern. “Is this going to create problems for you? Or worse, me?”

I shrug my shoulders, completely unconcerned. “It shouldn’t, but you can never tell with weres. I doubt it. Purebreds aren’t too concerned with mongrels and he brought it upon himself, but you can never really be sure with their kind.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure of what I have here, but I thought you may want to take a look at it and that it might interest your kind,” Raj continues.

“Yeah. In fact I was just thinking that I might stop by and take a look at them,” I tell him.

I don’t see any need to let him know that it is a case that makes me want to pay him a visit. Let him assume that I am interested because I care about the goings on of werewolves and vampires. I tell Raj I will come by later in the day and have to cut him off as my cell begins to chirp with another call.

I look at the caller ID and think to myself
well, aren’t I just the pretty princess at the ball,
when I see it is Yuri.

“Malone.”

“Mr. Malone, I hope you are well. I know that taking a bullet, even wearing a vest, takes its toll on a man but I have urgent need of you once more.”

“Hm, what is the job?” I ask with obvious trepidation.

“I need you to find a man for me. It is very important.”

I can’t help but smirk as I reply, “Yuri, I’m not really the matchmaking type. Have you tried eHarmony?”

Yuri seems to ignore my little joke. “I need you to find my accountant. He is missing and he is the only one that knows how to do my taxes—properly.”

Now he has my attention. “What’s his name?”

“Martin Goldstein.”

Now I am
very
interested. “I’m really sorry, Yuri, but I just took on a big case that’s really going to take all my time.”

“I pay you double, triple, your usual fee. Mr. Malone, I need this man found immediately and you are the only one I trust to do that.”

I try to make the inflection of my voice sound as though I am reluctantly doing him a favor. It’s not easy when you want to start dancing like an old prospector that just struck gold.

“Alright, Yuri, but only because I consider you a friend.” I cock an ear towards the door. “I hear someone coming up the stairs. I’ll call you back for more info later.”

“Good. Mr. Malone, I consider you many things. Funny is not one of them,” Yuri growls in reply to my earlier attempt at humor then hangs up.

I flip my phone shut, toss it on my desk, and lean back in my chair. Now things are looking up. Do I feel guilty being paid twice for the same job? Not at all. I figure this will be an easy case and the double dip just makes it sweeter. Yep, this should provide me with some quick, easy cash.

I wish vampirism provided some sort of psychic ability because I would really get a good laugh at how incredibly wrong I am. It’s been a long time since I had a good laugh.

Half a dozen darkly dressed figures stride purposefully into my small office and suck every bit of feel good right out of me. Sheriffs never bring good news, and I’m not nearly enough of a fool to think this is a social call.

Wyatt, captain of the Sheriffs for this region, steps in front of my desk, hand gripping the handle of a weapon beneath his duster.

“Leo, we need you to come with us.”

Yeah, this was definitely not a social call. My good fortune never does seem last very long. Story of my life.

CHAPTER FOUR

Wyatt stands with his hand gripping the hilt of his undrawn blade waiting to see whether I am going to accept his invitation. Behind him, mimicking his posture and preparing to jump at the slightest hint of a threat, stands his posse.

I strum my fingers on my desk as I ponder my options. I drag out my response in part because part of me really wants to see what these clowns are made of, but mostly I just like to screw with them. I have a rather dark reputation that makes a lot of people very nervous and I’ve earned every bit of it.

Besides, the fifteen pounds of plastic explosives and fifty pounds of steel ball bearings backed by a half-inch steel plate that make up the entire front of my desk ensures that any attempt at force will end up much worse for them than for me. Yeah, I’d have a killer headache and my ears would probably ring for a week but I am coming out on top—on top of a bunch of dead vamps.

Wyatt’s face is typically easy to read. He does not like being here anymore than I do. Guilt is in a three-way battle with duty and fear.

The other clowns are also readable to varying degrees. Five in all. I pick out the second in command. He is tall, athletic, and has a smug, self-assured look on his face that makes me dislike him immediately. I find that there are a finite number of arrogant pricks allowed in one enclosed space and I like to call dibs.

Next, I look for the weak link. There’s always one in every group and it isn’t hard to find him. Lean and twitchy, he stands nearest the door with an appropriate amount of fear on his face. I assume he has heard of me. I like it when young vamps are afraid of me. It shows they are capable of respect and smart enough to know when to be afraid.

The other three are equally young and their respect to fear ratio varies. They try their best to keep up the poker faces, but I’ve been reading expressions a long time. When you have been where I have been and done what I have done, reading faces properly can mean the difference between a good evening and a bullet in the head. I prefer it to be my bullet and someone else’s head so I became a quick learner.

“To what do I owe this unexpected visit, Wyatt?” I ask as nonchalantly as guy can with six highly-lethal killers ready to cut him down if he so much as twitches unexpectedly.

Wyatt’s response is interrupted by the smug little shit obviously aching for a fight. “Shut your mouth and do what you’re told. We’ll ask the questions.”

Wyatt knows me well enough to know that the smile that spreads across my face is not a sign of amusement but a prelude to a level of violence rarely seen outside of the Old Testament.

The Sheriff Captain spins about with a speed I haven’t seen from him in a very long time. The weary sag of his shoulders vanishes as his hand flies away from the hilt of the sword hidden under his black duster.

He points a quavering finger at his upstart lieutenant and barks, “Shut the fuck up, Quinn! He used to be one us and you’ll treat him with respect!”

Quinn glares past his leader and our eyes practically shoot lasers of pure hatred at each other. We both know in that instant that someday we will cross blades and no quarter will be given. I don’t know what reason I seem to have given him that’s makes him want to fight me. I certainly don’t need one.

My smile does not slip a bit as I reply, “Yeah, Quinn, play nice.”

The hostile young vampire lunges forward, blade half drawn before Wyatt intercepts him.

“Quinn, enough! Are you so stupid you can’t see he’s baiting you?”

Quinn glares at his leader as if trying very hard to keep from turning his blade on him instead of me. The kid is so full of rage he is actually trembling.

Where did Wyatt find this guy?
I wonder to myself.

When I was a Sheriff, this kid’s attitude and lack of control would have kept him from even passing the initial interview. I realize that I do not recognize any of the faces in the room other than Wyatt’s. All are new and I don’t mean just unfamiliar. None have been vampires for more than a decade if my intuition is correct.

The kid is still venting. “We outnumber him six to one! We don’t have to pander to his ego!”

“And if I thought I was going to have to use force I would have brought another six if I had them!” Wyatt argues back.

Through an amazing force of will or divine intervention, the kid clamps his mouth shut. Taking advantage of Quinn’s momentary control, the Sheriff Captain turns back towards me.

“Leo, will you come with us—peacefully?”

I give him a small shake of my head. “Sorry, Wyatt, but I can’t do that.”

My former friend lets out a sigh of exasperation and trepidation. “Why is that, Leo?”