Dead on Delivery (16 page)

“No. He’s, uh, sort of dead. It makes conversation tricky.” It does not make it impossible. I have run across a ghost or two in my time. I didn’t get any kind of feeling that Kurt Rawley’s spirit still inhabited the area around his house and even if it had, ghosts generally don’t make the best conversationalists. They tend to have unfinished business and finishing whatever that business is ends up being the only track that they want to run on. If the information you want happens to be on that track, then everybody ends up happy. If not, you tend to be out of luck.

Ted swept my standing leg from beneath me. “How did he die?” Ted asked, his voice a little too calm.

“I was hoping you could look into that for me. It had something to do with a fire, possibly arson. I’m sure there’s a police report. I don’t really want to waltz into the Elmville station and ask for one, though. I thought you might be able to do it without anyone noticing.” I asked from the floor. I thought it might be a good position from which to ask a favor.

“So you made two deliveries to Elmville and both the recipients are now dead and you were going to tell me about this when?” He danced away from me, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Pretty much now.” I stayed still.

“Anything else you might want to let me know? Anything else besides you connecting the two cases, for instance?” He danced a little closer now.

I didn’t move a muscle. “Funny you should mention that.”

“No, Melina, not funny.” He danced a step closer now.

I was a still pool of water on a canyon floor. “Okay. Not funny, but interesting.”

“What is it?” He took the next step closer.

“I found another voodoo doll at Kurt Rawley’s house. Well, part of one, anyway. Most of it was burned up. Plus, I found two
descansos
. One at Rawley’s house and one at the spot where Bossard died. Their deaths are linked, Ted, and not just by me. Something’s going on here and I feel like I’m being played.” I twisted my legs through his and brought him down next to me.

“Not so fun when the manipulation is on the other foot, now is it?” What was I hearing in my boyfriend’s voice?

“Excuse me, but I believe that unnecessary sarcasm is my specialty. You’re on my turf, man.” I turned on one elbow and looked at him.

“Get used to it,” he said, still sounding gruff but with a hint of a chuckle in there somewhere. “You bring it out in people.”

“Touché.”

“So riddle me this, bat cat, if you don’t like getting involved with whoever’s dropping off the delivery or whomever you’re making the delivery to, why are you getting involved in this? They can’t play you if you don’t play, Melina.” Now he turned on his side so we were facing each other.

I thought about how to explain what I was feeling. “I don’t like getting involved. I don’t need any more responsibilities. But if I make a delivery that brings about someone’s death, I feel . . .” I trailed off.

“Guilty?” he suggested.

“I guess so. Something like that, anyway.”

“You didn’t kill those two boys, Melina.” He tucked a tendril of hair that had come loose from my braid behind my ear.

I ducked my head. “I know that. I just want to know who did.”

“It looks like Bossard pretty much killed himself.” His voice was so reasonable now, so reassuring. I wanted to accept what he said, but I couldn’t.

“With pretty heavy prompting from whoever sent him that doll!”

“Prompting is just that—prompting. It’s not anything you could take into a court of law.” His hand skimmed down my body, from my shoulder to my hip.

“As if anything I’m involved with here could ever make it into a court of law. Can you imagine what kind of jury they’d have to pick for a case like this?” I looked back up at him.

He smiled. “No. I can’t. I also can’t imagine what it would do to me if you got yourself hurt poking around in this. I get why you’re doing it. I just want to help.”

“Then find out what happened to Kurt Rawley, okay? Maybe it’s not as related as they look. Maybe it’s a total coincidence that they both died right after I made deliveries to them.”

“You know how I feel about coincidences, Melina. I don’t like them.” He kissed me, softly, his lips barely brushing mine.

I kissed him back. Harder. “I’m not crazy about them either, but I’m rooting for them this time.” My breath was coming faster and way more uneven than it had when we were sparring.

“I don’t think you’re really cut out to be a cheerleader. Although I can kind of picture you in a short skirt.” He trailed his fingers along my collarbone.

I hooked my leg around his waist and pulled myself closer to him. “You want a big set of pom-poms to go with that?”

“Nah. Your pom-poms are perfect the way they are.” He smiled and kissed me again.

“You know I think you’re pretty perfect, too,” I said.

Ted’s face went to a careful blank. “Thanks.”

“You remember that thing you said to me the other night? The thing you said right before the cadejo attacked us?” I asked, hardly able to breathe and not knowing if I was going to be able to say what I wanted to say without shaking apart.

“You mean when I told you that I loved you?” He drew a finger along my jawline and I shivered a little.

“Yeah, well, me, too. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” And then he got down to some serious kissing.

I STILL HAD TO WORK MY SHIFT AT THE HOSPITAL THAT NIGHT. I tried to remember when my life had turned into a rat race. Then I remembered. The night that Mae died. That was when the bottom fell out of everything.

I sat for a moment in the Buick in the parking garage. I’d pulled all the way up to the top. It was nice to see the stars, even if it was a pain to spiral down when it was time to go home. I glanced at my watch. I was, miracle of miracles, a few minutes early. I got out and perched on the hood, leaning back against the windshield. The air was a little cold, but it felt good against my face. I could pick out the scent of drying leaves with only a touch of their eventual disintegration underneath.

I lay back and closed my eyes, letting the night air wash over me. I felt the first prickle of awareness seconds after I’d closed them.

Someone—something—was up on the roof with me. I stayed still. Often one of the few things I had going for me was the element of surprise. I wasn’t about to give that up without knowing a little more about what I was getting into.

The prickle got stronger. Definitely vampire. I could taste the coppery tang on the back of my tongue. Something was off with it, though. It wasn’t as strong as it should be.

“Come here often?” he said from right next to me.

I let out my breath. Alex. Who else, really?

“That’s a pretty weak pickup line. If that’s what you were using at McClannigan’s, it’s no wonder you had to move on.” I still didn’t open my eyes.

“Ah, Melina, you’ve always known just how to build a man’s ego.” He sighed.

“You’re not a man, and in my experience, your ego hasn’t needed much building.” I opened my eyes now. He didn’t look quite right to me. He seemed a little too thin.

“You’ve got me on the first. The second, well, things change, don’t they?” He propped one hip onto the car, next to me.

My skin tingled. I pulled my jacket closer around me. I trusted Alex way more than I trusted any other vampire. He was different. I still didn’t exactly want to be alone with him in a deserted parking garage close to midnight. “Things don’t change much, in my opinion, and if they do, they don’t change for the better.”

He glanced over at me. I avoided looking into his eyes. “That’s awfully cynical for someone so young.”

“I may be young in people years. In Messenger years, I’m getting older by the second.” We didn’t always have long life expectancies. It’s not like there’s a database or anything that tracks Messengers, but we end up in too many questionable situations to be around forever.

He stretched and shoved that thick black hair off his forehead. “I remember that. I remember aging. Don’t knock it. The alternative is not so fabulous.”

I sat up and looked at him, really looked. “Do you regret it? Do you wish you’d never become . . . what you are?” It was more than tacky to use the
V
word in public with Alex. I kept who I was in the shadows for the sake of self-preservation and I wasn’t even dangerous.

It’s easy to teach someone to hate someone else. It takes almost nothing to turn one group against another. Logic and rational thinking have very little to do with it. Creating a sense of “other” is really all it takes. There’ve been studies. Teachers can get little blue-eyed children to hate little brown-eyed children in a few days, and vice versa, with nothing more than a few carefully chosen words and actions. Neighbors slaughter neighbors because of radio broadcasts. Hate seems to run in people’s bloodstreams, just waiting for opportunities to be brought to a boil.

I don’t know how people would treat me if they found out how “other” I really was. I don’t have a good feeling about it, though.

Alex was beyond “other.” Human beings generally consider themselves to be at the top of the food chain. They don’t much like the idea of anything that might use them for food. It’s the stuff of nightmares and horror movies. Soylent green, anyone? They are also generally smart enough and skilled enough to figure out how to get rid of anything that’s too dangerous to them. Things like Alex, for instance.

His continued existence depended on him keeping a low profile. Hence, the not wanting to bandy about words like
vampire
in public.

“Do I regret it?” He shook his head. “You’re assuming I made an informed choice, Melina.”

I leaned toward him, realizing how very little I really knew about him. I didn’t know how old he was, where he came from or how he’d become a vampire. “Were you turned against your will, Alex?”

He turned toward me now as well and braced his arms on either side of me on the car. It was an odd sensation, not totally because of what I felt, although the tingle and buzz in my flesh from him being so close was near deafening at the moment. The more disconcerting part was what I didn’t feel. His mouth was inches from mine, but I didn’t feel his breath on my cheek. Why would I? He didn’t breathe. His body, so tantalizing close, didn’t warm mine. There was no scent from him, no masculine musk, just the faint perfume of his laundry detergent.

“Not everything is about will and choice, Melina.” His voice had dropped very low. “Some things are about need, about passion. They’re about desire. They don’t make sense. They just are.”

I swallowed hard. He was so close to me now, I could feel the slight chill coming off him. I drew my knees up to my chest to force him back away from me, but made the mistake of looking into his eyes. They weren’t their usual deep pools of melted chocolate. They’d turned golden and had the slightest touch of red at the pupil. I shrunk back from him and he smiled. The very tips of his fangs had started to protrude.

“Stop it.” This wasn’t funny. I trusted him. I let my guard down around him. I didn’t like this little vampire game he was playing.

“Stop what, Melina? Being who I am? Being what I am? You of all people should know the toll it takes to constantly pretend to be something you’re not.” He pressed forward, forcing me back against the car, arching my chest toward him.

His gaze traveled the column of my throat and he ran his tongue over the tips of his fangs. I stayed as still as I could, not sure whether to scream or run, but instinctively feeling that any movement at all on my part could send him over the edge.

After what felt like an eternity, he backed away. “Go to work, Melina. You’re going to be late for your shift. Again.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I slid off the hood of the Buick and ran down the stairs.

 

 

WHEN I GOT HOME, I VERY CLEVERLY DID NOT BRING THE LEGS of Kurt Rawley’s voodoo doll into the apartment with me. It had the same little malevolent witchy buzz to it as the intact voodoo doll, and I didn’t want it sneaking into my dreams or messing with my head.

I hoped it wasn’t strong enough to mess too much with the people walking past the car, but I figured their exposure would be quick enough to not cause permanent damage.

I dragged myself up the stairs to the apartment and let myself in. It took me a few seconds after I was already inside to realize that the chain hadn’t been on. I looked behind me. Something white and gritty was scattered on the floor. I looked over at Norah, who was drinking coffee in the kitchen.

“What’s on the floor?” I asked.

“Salt.” She barely looked up from her newspaper. “It’s on the windowsills, too.”

I looked over at the windows. Sure enough, there was white gritty stuff there, too, plus a few red candles. “Any particular reason? Or did you just feel like the woodwork needed more seasoning?”

“It’s supposed to keep evil spirits out. I did a whole ceremony last night. Coffee?” She offered the last as if everything she’d said before it had been perfectly normal. She actually sounded pretty normal. Well, except for the part where she was offering me coffee. That still wasn’t normal for Norah.

I shook my head. “No. I’m sorry I missed the ceremony. How’d it go?”

Her lips pressed tighter together. “I don’t think it worked.”

“An evil spirit came in during the night?” That was not good news. An evil spirit coming into the apartment was bad news. An evil spirit obvious enough for Norah to see it or sense it was even worse news.

“Close enough. I’m trying to get him to cut it out.” She looked pissed.

The only “him” in our apartment lately had been Ted. What had she been trying to get him to cut out with her ceremony? Had he been leaving the toilet seat up? Drinking the last of the milk? Not leaving enough hot water for the next person to shower? That didn’t sound like him. Who else would she be talking about, though? “Tell who to cut what out?”