Zen and the Art of Vampires (38 page)

“You are free to go.”

“What?” I roused myself out of the stupor that had claimed me several hours before, focusing on the square face of the policeman who sat opposite me. “I'm what?”

“Free to go. Unless there's something else you wish to tell us?” A blond eyebrow rose in question.

“No.” I blinked a couple of times, looking around at the police station. It hadn't been busy at all when the vampires arrived with Denise, but that quickly changed.

“You mean you don't want me to tell you about Anniki and Denise anymore?”

The policeman, whose name I vaguely remembered was Jan, shook his head, gesturing toward a stack of paper. “Not unless you have something new to add. The woman you helped to catch has confessed to the murder of the Frenchwoman.”

The woman I helped to catch. I rubbed my head, trying to process everything that had happened in the last few hours.

“Your friend is here, if you wish to leave.” He turned to a computer terminal and began to tap on a keyboard.

I gathered together what wits I still had, and staggered out of the room to a reception area, where Magda was chatting with a familiar man.

“I didn't really think you would turn Denise over to the police,” I told him.

Christian turned to face me. “I hadn't intended to at first, but then . . . well, let's just say that I felt a gesture was needed to thank you.”

“For not killing Kristoff?” I shook my head. “I told you I wouldn't kill anyone.”

“I realize now that I was mistaken in attributing motives to you that are not necessarily appropriate,” he admitted. “It was not, I admit, an easy thing to do to give up a Zenith to the mortal police, but I trust that your name is now sufficiently cleared.”

“Yes. I'm officially released and no longer a suspect.”

“That is a good thing, yes?” he asked with a smile.

“Definitely,” Magda answered for me, stretching. “You ready to go, Pia? There's a sweet policewoman outside who said she'd take us to our hotel.”

“Yes, I will be in a minute.” I bit my lip and eyed Christian.

Magda murmured something about visiting the bathroom, moving off to the hallway.

“She is a good friend,” Christian said, nodding toward her. “She understands that you have something you wish to say to me.”

I nodded, worrying the light material of my blouse as I tried to figure out how to ask what I wanted to know.

His hands stopped mine. “Perhaps I can save you a little grief and tell you that both Alec and Kristoff have left Iceland.”

“They did?” My shoulders slumped. I knew they were going to leave now that everything with the Brotherhood group was over, but to leave without saying anything to me . . . that hurt.

Christian's black gaze was oddly compassionate. “It would seem that in addition to being wrong about you, I was incorrect in assuming you were Alec's Beloved. I understand now that it is to Kristoff you are bound.”

I turned away and looked out the window. It was early evening. I'd been in the police station for almost twelve hours, and I was just about dropping. “So it would seem.”

He was silent for a moment. “It is not my business to interfere, but if there is a message you would like to pass along to either man, I would see that it reached them.”

“Thanks, but I don't have anything to say.”

“Pia . . .” I turned around to face him again, too tired to feel much of anything anymore. He took my hand. “I have a Beloved. She is very dear to me. No, that is an understatement—she is everything to me. I would lay down my life for her in a heartbeat. I cannot conceive of it being any other way. I realize that our ways are new to you, but I believe that you would make Kristoff an excellent Beloved.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling as I gently pulled my hand back. “I just don't think it was meant to be, that's all.”

He said nothing, just bowed, and started to leave when Rowan threw open the doors and rushed in, looking around wildly. “Is he here?”

“Who?” Christian asked.

“The French reaper.” Rowan turned to the side. The entire left side of his face and arm were bloodred, covered in blisters. “We were taking all the reapers to the plane when that bastard Frederic tripped me up, and got away while I was trying to get out of the sunlight. I chased him here. He got my gun.”

Christian muttered something and bolted out of the door.

A horrible presentiment shook me. I turned on my heel, pausing to tell the woman at the desk, “I left something on Detective Jan's desk,” before I hurried back toward the detective's room. By the time I reached it, I was running, skidding to a stop as before me, a drama opened in seeming slow motion.

From a side room, Denise was being escorted, handcuffed and manacled, a policewoman keeping a firm grip on her. To my left, out of a connecting hall, a voice called out, and Frederic appeared, sliding to a stop as he raised a gun.

“No!” I heard myself scream out, but it was too late. Shots reverberated loudly through the station. Denise stared at Frederic for a moment before throwing back her head and laughing, even as her body crumpled to the ground.

“No!” I cried again, clutching the wall for support.

Frederic let the gun drop from his hand as the police swarmed him. His gaze met mine for an instant, and I knew without any doubt that he had sought his own form of justice.

Justice for Anniki.

 

“What are those steps again?”

I looked out of the window of the hotel to the bright, glittering sea. It was almost, but not quite, the color of Kristoff's eyes.

“Does it matter?”

“Well, I'm kind of curious how you could think you were doing the steps with one guy, but really have done them with another. I know you had sex with both, but didn't you say there was something about a blood exchange?

“Yes. Kristoff bit his tongue during one of our more passionate moments. I assume that and the fact that he drank my blood satisfied the exchange requirement.” I turned away from the window and summoned up a little smile for my friend. “The steps are unimportant. Christian said that he knew the second I threw myself on top of Kristoff that I was a Beloved. Evidently we smell different, or something. That's why Alec was so taken aback—I didn't smell the same, and he knew something must have happened, and guessed it was Kristoff.”

Magda watched me as I fussed with a flower arrangement that sat on a round glass table. “This is going to sound harsh, but I really don't see what you're moping about. Yeah, you didn't get the guy you were interested in, but come on, Pia! Kristoff is gorgeous! He's got those blue eyes, and that chin, and I bet you could talk him into some manly stubble—every man looks better with a smidgen of stubble; it makes them look all ruthless and dangerous—and yet you're walking around looking like life has just kicked you in the gut.”

I slumped down onto the couch next to her. “Oh, I'd be doing backflips of joy but for one thing—Kristoff is in love with his girlfriend. His dead girlfriend. And as nice as our couple of romps in the sack were, sooner or later that's going to pale. I want a man in my life, Magda, not someone who swings by every month or so to get his jollies off and scoop up that month's batch of blood, and then leaves without a backward glance.”

I was past tears, but the pain remained.

“So he got his soul back, but he doesn't want you?” Magda look thoughtful for a few minutes, then shook her head. “No. I don't believe that. I think you've got the wrong end of the stick here.”

“You don't have to take my word for it,” I said with a shaky laugh. I waved my hand around the room. “Do you see any vampire here, pledging his undying love to me in gratitude for redemption?”

She couldn't argue with that. In the end, she said simply, “He's a man. Sometimes they need some time to think things through. If he wasn't expecting you to be his Beloved any more than you were, the whole thing probably left him questioning everything in his life.” She patted my knee and got up to pour another cup of coffee. “Be patient, Pia. I think with time you guys will work things out. I mean, he can't live without you, can he?”

“We'll see,” I said, too heartsick to think about it anymore. I made an effort to pull myself out of a pit of self-pity. “So are you going ahead with the tour?”

“I think I will. We've lost a couple of days in Holland, but now everything is over, the tour is free to go. You . . . er . . . didn't want to come with us, did you? I know that sounds horrible said like that, but I don't think Audrey—”

“Don't worry, I'm going back home. I've had enough of romantic Europe.” If there was bitterness in my voice, she ignored it.

“I don't blame you. I still can't believe that Denise was behind it all. I mean, I know it's wrong to speak ill of the dead, but she was just completely wacked out. A total nutter, as Ray says. I just wish I knew why she chose our tour to come on.”

I frowned at the cup of coffee that she held out to me.

She watched me for a minute before setting down her cup. “What is it? What's bothering you? Other than the whole business with Kristoff and Alec, that is.”

“I don't know for certain. It's just something that keeps nagging at me, something that doesn't feel . . . right.” I looked up at her. “Do you really think Denise was nuts?”

Her eyebrows rose in delicate arches. “Are you implying she wasn't?”

“I think . . . yes, I think that's just what I mean,” I said slowly. “Detective Jan told me Denise claimed she was on the tour because she wanted a perfect cover for being here without members of her religious group knowing she was checking up on them, and that as a tourist she could nose around without anyone thinking anything of it. But honestly, Magda, doesn't that seem a little thin to you?”

“Maybe,” she said, her nose wrinkling as she thought. “I suppose so. But it could just as easily be true.”

“And then there's the lies she told at the ruins,” I said, blindly staring at the coffee cup. “She was lying through her teeth, I know she was. And Frederic knew it as well—that's why he shot her.”

“I don't understand what you're trying to say. So she lied about why she killed Anniki. If she was nuts, maybe she believed her own little fantasy.”

“But she didn't. That's how I knew she wasn't telling the truth—she
knew
she was lying, and that's what I picked up on.”

“OK.” Magda shrugged and set down her empty cup. “So she lied about why she killed Anniki. What does that prove? The only reason she'd lie like that is if she . . .” Magda's gaze jumped to mine.

I nodded. “If she was covering up for someone else, someone for whom she was willing to be convicted of a murder she didn't commit.”

“Frederic?” she asked.

“I don't know. Possibly. I don't know if we'll ever really know the truth. Frederic evidently refuses to say anything, and so far as the police are concerned, it's all just part of a weird religious cult filled with wackos.”

“Well, I don't see that there's anything to worry about, then. Denise is dead.”

I said nothing. Magda hadn't been at Anniki's side when she lay dying in her own blood.

“Change of subject. Have you heard from either of your vampires?”

I made a face. “They're not mine, and no. Alec left Iceland before the police were done talking to me.”

“That's a weaselly thing to do,” she pronounced.

I smiled, amused despite my glum mood. “Evidently Kristoff did the same.”

“That's different. He's tortured and tormented and suddenly found himself in possession of a bodacious babe, and hasn't quite come to his senses yet.”

“You like him,” I said, suddenly realizing the truth.

“Yeah.” She grinned. “He's got that bad-boy thing going for him that I love. And his voice—dear god. That Italian accent is so sexy it makes me want to rip off my clothes and throw myself on him.”

“He
killed
a man in front of me,” I reminded her, my smile fading.

“He
saved
your life,” she countered.

“He's a vampire.”

“And you're his soul mate. Cheer up, Eeyore. The vamps who wanted you dead a day ago have cleared your name. You got all the ghosts but one to heaven. You cleared out a nest of Brotherhood fanatics, and saw that Anniki had the justice you promised her.”

I fingered the moonstone hanging from the chain looped around my wrist.

“And there's one hell of a sexy man out there who I guarantee is thinking about you right this very minute. From where I stand, life is looking pretty good for you.”

I wondered if Kristoff was thinking about me. I hadn't seen Alec or him since I'd gone off with Christian to the police, and although I was tempted once or twice to try to mind talk to Kristoff, in the end, I hadn't. It was clear he was upset. I didn't need to make things worse.

“Speaking of ghosts, what are you going to do about this?” Magda touched the moonstone.

“Nothing. I did what Anniki asked of me, and now I'm finished. I'd turn the stone over to one of the Brotherhood people, but they're either in jail or the vampires have them, so I'll just hang on to it until I can find someone to take it off my hands.”

Her lips pursed. “You're giving up being a Zorya altogether? Why? I mean, obviously you're not going to go around offing any vampires, but there is the other part of the job that I thought you liked—helping the dead people.”