Strange Brew (26 page)

“I want them all dead. That’s what I have in mind.”

“Oh, dear.”

Clifford popped out of nowhere to take Kathy’s order and to bring Dahlia another wineglass full of TrueBlood. Dahlia stared at it resentfully. It looked real, it tasted real—but there was no substitute for blood straight from the source. Nights like this, she just wanted to grab someone and chomp. Her fangs ran out at the thought.

“Would you tell me how his death came about?” Kathy asked very respectfully.

Dahlia had to wait for a moment to get her fangs under control. She looked at the witch with great attention, but now Kathy didn’t seem to be uneasy at all. “Here in Rhodes,” Dahlia said, “there are two main werewolf packs, as you may know. The Swiftfoot pack is fairly large, thirty or forty strong, and its members live mostly in the humbler neighborhoods of the older part of the city. Swiftfoot pack members tend to be manual laborers or low-level professionals: motorcyclists, cops, city workers of all kinds. My husband Todd was a Swiftfoot, of course. We have… had been married a year.”

Though the legislation was being debated in the House, it was not yet legal for vampires to marry humans, and since werewolves had not yet revealed themselves to the populace at large the way the vamps had, they were counted as human. Dahlia and Todd’s marriage hadn’t been legal any more than Don’s and Taffy’s, but Dahlia didn’t care for human law.

“I understand,” Kathy murmured.

Dahlia was skeptical about that, but she continued, “The other pack is the Ripper pack from the western suburbs. The Ripper pack is growing in numbers. It’s composed mostly of professionals—dentists, nurses, architects. Psychologists. Schoolteachers,” Dahlia added, her upper lip curling in a snarl that would have done credit to any Were.

“I understand,” Kathy said again. “Different social strata, but they’re all the same animal under the skin, right?” She spread her hands in an all-inclusive gesture.

Dahlia could see the telltale signs of someone who’d taken counseling courses: the wise nod, the intent eye focus, the effort to draw the talk out more. Dahlia shuddered, very delicately. But she needed this woman, and she laced her fingers together so her little fists wouldn’t bury themselves in the witch’s abdomen. Dahlia waited while Clifford placed Kathy’s salad in front of her. Behind the witch’s back, he gave her a questioning look, and she nodded. After making sure Kathy had everything she needed, he wheeled off to the kitchen to make a phone call.

“The Rippers opposed two of the Swiftfoot pack marrying vampires,” Dahlia said. “They feared such marriages would pull them into the spotlight before they were ready to be seen.” Her mouth folded in a tight line. “Quite disregarding the fact that the wolves have been considering that very course of action. They’d been talking it to death, months before I’d even met Todd.”

“So you feel partially responsible for what happened to your husband,” Kathy said, stabbing into her salad with her fork, her voice as full of sympathy as a beehive is of honey. Yep, counseling courses.

“On the contrary,” Dahlia said in a truly chilling voice. “I blame the Rippers entirely and completely, and I want their heads on a platter.”

Kathy jumped, but then she concentrated on her plate for a few minutes to give Dahlia some composure time. Kathy was exhibiting a bit more intelligence than Dahlia had given her credit for possessing. “How many Rippers do you estimate there are?” Kathy asked when a glance informed her that Dahlia was no longer rigid with fury.

“That would be over fifty. My friend Taffy has counted them when the Ripper and Swiftfoot packs hold their rare joint pack meetings. She’s a vampire, like me. She’s very good at evading attention. Taffy’s married to Don Swiftfoot, the packleader.”

“What is the attitude of the Swiftfoot pack to Todd’s death?”

“According to their standards, it was a legal death.”

“Legal?”

“Yes, so they decided. Werewolves,” Dahlia said in a tone of deepest disgust. She’d lost her self-control, but closed her eyes, took a moment, regained her hold on herself. She’d known this would be a delicate interview; she hadn’t realized quite how difficult she’d find it. “My husband was the best of them, and they will not avenge his death. But I will. Will you help me?” Her glowing eyes skewered the witch across the table—this witch who taught little children, this Circe whose ancestor had turned visitors to her island home into pigs because she’d damn well felt like it.

“The figure we discussed over the phone…”

“Stands,” Dahlia said, nodding solemnly, sure now she’d been talking to the right person.

“I’ll consider it. It sounds risky,” Kathy said. “My many-times great-grandmother was all about vengeance, especially against men. I’m partial to men when they’re only as tall as my waist and have trouble tying their shoes.” She laughed, and took off her glasses to polish them on her napkin. “Then, I figure I have a chance to set them straight. By the time they’re grown up, it’s too late.”

That was the Circe’s party line, Dahlia could tell by the ease with which Kathy spouted the words. Dahlia had been a very successful predator for more years than she could count, and a successful predator knows her prey. She thought Kathy wasn’t exactly being honest. She thought Kathy liked men very much. “So it’s true about the pigs?” Dahlia asked.

“Yes, absolutely.” Kathy smiled proudly. “The original Circe fed Odysseus’s men drugs, which made them hallucinate they were pigs, but since then we’ve learned how to do it better.”

Clifford removed the salad plate and told Kathy that her steak would be ready in just a moment. Kathy waved a hand at him rather than looking at Clifford directly.

“Was Odysseus really so good in bed?” Dahlia asked. She’d heard it personally from a vampire who’d lived on a neighboring island, but it was always interesting to hear stories from an inside source. “Circe kept him for a year… the legend says.” Actually, “the legend” was Dahlia’s buddy Thalia, who was even older than Dahlia. Thalia, during her nighttime hunting, had come across Odysseus a time or two.

“Not only entertaining, but…” Kathy held her hands apart about nine inches, glanced at Dahlia to make sure she’d registered the gesture, then made an incomplete circle with her thumb and pointer finger to indicate girth. Dahlia’s eyes widened. She was genuinely impressed. “And he knew how to use it,” the witch said. “That’s what she said in her spellbook.”

Clifford placed the steak and baked potato in front of the Circe as if they had been ambrosia made by the gods. From the price on the menu, they might as well have been. He inquired discreetly if Kathy needed anything else, and upon hearing she was fine, he left.

“You say the original Circe left a record.” Dahlia looked approving. “The grimoire you spoke of. Is that the same thing as a spellbook?”

“Yes, it is. And it’s also a record of a witch’s life and deeds. All hereditary witch lines keep one, though of course, ours is several books now,” Kathy said proudly. “If you don’t mind me changing the subject, and maybe getting into something painful, how did your husband’s death come about?”

Dahlia wanted to end the meeting right there, on the spot, at that moment. But she had to show the woman she trusted her. Dahlia braced herself and said, “Todd was second in command of the Swiftfoot pack. Whoever wanted to become packmaster had to go through Todd first. Of course, you wouldn’t know this, but the Swiftfoot pack hangs out at the Full Moon Bar.”

Kathy, who was chewing steadily, nodded to show she’d absorbed that information.

“A wolf from the Ripper pack came to the Full Moon one night when Todd and Don were both there. There was no open enmity between the two packs up until then, so this wasn’t so very unusual. According to a friend of mine, Todd was surprised when the Were challenged Todd after they’d had a couple of beers together. I believe that the wolf put something in Todd’s beer.”

Kathy lay down her fork and stared over at Dahlia. She looked horrified.

“Todd fought, but Don said he staggered a couple of times and seemed to have trouble focusing. Eventually, it became clear that Todd couldn’t win. But he wouldn’t concede. Don told Taffy that Todd didn’t even seem to know where he was. And after a time, the Ripper dealt the killing blow.”

“Don couldn’t stop it?”

Dahlia looked down at her hands to keep her face private. “He kept urging Todd to say the right words of surrender, and Todd wouldn’t or couldn’t. Since he didn’t speak, Bart Ripper was technically within his rights to kill him.”

Kathy looked rather ill. “I’m so sorry. I’m gathering that you weren’t there?” she said, her voice faltering.

“No. I didn’t like to spend evenings at the Full Moon. I’m not very popular with most of the pack.” Dahlia shrugged with supreme indifference.

“Was your friend Taffy there?”

“No, though Taffy is far more popular with the Weres than I.” Dahlia’s lack of worry about this was apparent. “But she’s very concerned. Now her husband has a Ripper second, who’ll certainly challenge him at the next full moon in two nights, or the one after that. Who knows what tricks Bart has in store?”

Kathy seemed to relax a bit. “Okay, I got the picture now,” she said with a reassuring half smile. “Have you figured out a way to do this, and what you want done?”

“Yes, I have,” Dahlia said. “Are you willing?”

“I’m enthusiastic about trying,” Kathy said, though she didn’t sound enthusiastic. “But, of course… I’m doing this as a professional. When we agreed on a price, I didn’t realize there would be up to fifty people to take care of; and let me tell you, schoolteachers are always short of money…”

So for the next five minutes, they revisited the topic of price.

Dahlia’s friend Taffy was waiting at the vampire nest. In the city of Rhodes, the largest vampire nest was owned by the sheriff, or local vampire leader, a rather lazy and indolent vamp named Cedric, who had excellent connections. Dahlia and Taffy had both lived in the nest before their marriages, and Dahlia had returned to live in her former room after Todd’s death.

At this hour of the night, the rest of the resident vampires were out amusing themselves. The big mansion seemed pleasantly empty.

“What was the Circe like?” Taffy asked. Her blond hair was piled up high on her head, and she wore the slut clothes Don favored—leather pants that fit like a glove, and a red halter top studded with silver circles. Her earrings were ancient Sumerian, though, and Dahlia smiled when she noticed them. Taffy hadn’t totally gone over to the dark side.

Dahlia described her meeting with Kathy Aenidis… in detail. “We need to find out if she’s really as good as she says she is,” Dahlia said. “No matter how many stories Cedric has heard about her, there’s nothing like firsthand evidence. So we’ll need to ask a breather. I think Clifford wouldn’t mind doing some more research for us.”

Taffy swatted her friend on the shoulder. “Dahlia, you know that’s just rude! Can’t you say ‘human’? Clifford’s already brought us the tape from the bar. No one’s seen it but us.”

“Clifford seems pleased to help. He was very fond of Todd,” Dahlia said. “I think he actually enjoyed an evening at his old job. He said he was making sure the Circe didn’t poison me at the restaurant. I don’t think she ever realized that I knew more than I told her.”

“If it hadn’t been for the tape, we would never have known what happened.”

“My Todd was poisoned. And I believe Kathy Aenidis prepared that poison. My research shows she’s probably the only witch in Rhodes with the knowledge to make a potion that would cause Todd to do what Don described.”

“The tape clearly shows Bart putting something into Todd’s beer,” Taffy said.

“I think we know the truth now,” Dahlia said. Her pretty face was hard and unyielding as a rock. “But we need to ask Clifford to visit us. I want to be absolutely sure she’s the one we need. Cedric did some wonderful research, and to my mind she gave herself away, but I have to be certain she understood what she was doing.” The two vampires looked at each other. Though outwardly so different, they’d shared a nest for years, and they understood each other very well.

Clifford was there within the hour. Though visibly uneasy at being in a vampire nest, he did his best to be jaunty and nonchalant. Dahlia thought he might be more relaxed in her own small room on the bedroom floor, and the young Were did seem to find Dahlia’s personal domain more homey.

Clifford had been an invaluable accomplice, and Dahlia was already worried about how she could reward him for his service. Though he said he was helping because he’d been devoted to the older Todd, Dahlia knew very well that Clifford also found Todd’s widow intriguing and attractive.

He’d come to Dahlia after Todd’s death when he’d reviewed the security tapes of the events at Full Moon Bar the night Todd died. Clifford, who was in training to become pack shaman, was in charge of all the security tapes at all the Swiftfoot businesses in Rhodes, and he attended film classes at Rhodes University whenever he could fit them in to his shaman training schedule. Like most of the Swiftfoot males, he was tall and had light brown hair. Though he hadn’t grown into his full strength, he was formidable enough to humans.

“Dahlia,” he said, and bent to kiss her on the cheek.

Dahlia hugged him, taking care to be gentle. It was so easy to break their bones.

Clifford was blissfully unaware of her restraint. He turned from Dahlia to Taffy. “Wife of my packmaster,” he saluted her formally. He bowed his head, and Taffy sniffed his neck, as she was supposed to do. She rolled her eyes at Dahlia while Clifford couldn’t see her. Then Taffy gave the young Were a little lick, and he straightened. “What do you beautiful ladies want me to do for you?” He spoke to both of them, but his gaze was on Dahlia.

“We need you to film a third-grade classroom,” Taffy said.

“We need to know if there’s anything suspicions, or simply different, about the way the teacher treats the children. The teacher will be the young woman you saw tonight in the restaurant. Just in case, we need some leverage.”

Clifford flinched. “You think she’s, like, abusing the kids or something?”