Fire Song (City of Dragons) (28 page)

I ran out of his apartment as fast as I could.

In the car, I adjusted the rear-view mirror so that I could look at my neck. There were two neat little holes there, and they were already scabbing up. They didn’t hurt, but they were so… conspicuous.

Damn it.

I went back to the hotel, but I didn’t go inside. Instead, I ran to the beach and threw off my clothes. I dove into the water and shifted.

So that I would heal. So that I could hide. So that no one would know what I’d let him do.

Someone was banging on the door to my apartment.

I felt like I had just gotten to sleep only minutes ago. I groaned. I threw aside the covers, yanked a robe over my pajamas, and went out to open the door. I wished Felicity was here. She could have answered the door. But she had spent the night at Jensen’s, so I was out of luck.

I opened the door.

Lachlan was standing there wearing his sunglasses. He had on a suit and button-up shirt, but no tie.

“Um, hi,” I said.

He pushed the door open and grasped my robe, pulling it away from my neck.

I slapped his hands off, backing away. “What are you doing?”

“Did I fucking dream it? Did you come to my house last night?”

I put my hand over my neck. “I shifted. I needed to… erase it.”

He let out a low, nasty chuckle. “Well, that’s convenient. Can you erase my memory of the taste of your blood? Can you?”

I folded my arms over my chest. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

He shut the door to my apartment and leaned against it. “’I’m sorry.” He looked up at the ceiling. “God damn it, Penny, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“You kissed me,” I said. “More than once.”

“I was drunk.”

“So, that’s an excuse?”

He took off his sunglasses. His eyes were bloodshot.

We looked at each other.

“I’m sorry,” I said in a small voice.

He folded up his sunglasses and stared at them. “No, I’m sorry. I was… I was out of line.”

“What was out of line? What are you apologizing for? For yelling at me now? Or for last night? And which part of last night?”

“Everything,” he said.

I swallowed. “I didn’t know it was bad to drink my blood. I thought you liked it.”

“I don’t want to like it.” He shoved his sunglasses inside his suit jacket. “I don’t want to think about it every time I’m near you. I don’t want to smell you and remember—”

“You can smell my blood?”

“No, it’s just that you have a smell. Like everyone has a smell. And you smell like something flowery—”

“It’s probably my deodorant.”

“Whatever.” He glared at me. “When I smell it, I think about how your blood tastes.”

“Is it like strawberries?” I said, thinking of Ace Gonzales.

“No,” he said. “It’s not like anything. It’s like blood. It’s just…” He crossed the room and went over to my window. He pulled aside the curtain. “When you become a vampire, nothing tastes the same after. Everything’s a little bit bland. Except blood. That has these nuances of coppery flavors, little accents and sparks…” He sighed. “Your blood is the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Ever.” He let the curtain drop.

“Oh,” I said.

“Oh?”

I shrugged. I didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t ever let me drink it again,” he said.

“But…” I bit down on my bottom lip.

“But nothing,” he said.

“It’s only that I like it too, you know, and that’s the only reason that I let you—” I swallowed. “But you’re right. It’s weird, and it’s gross, and I should never have ever let you do it in the first place, and from now on, we’ll keep our distance from each other. Don’t kiss me anymore.”

“Of course not,” he said. “I was drunk is all.” He looked at his shoes.

I squared my shoulders. “Okay, then. Well, let’s not talk about this anymore, because it’s… awkward and embarrassing.”

“Good.” He looked up at me. “Good, we’ll forget about it.”

I nodded.

He nodded.

It was quiet.

I fingered the edge of my robe.

He got his sunglasses back out of his suit jacket.

I pointed back the hall. “I should, um, get dressed?”

“Oh.” He looked me over, seeming to register the fact that I was in a robe. He blushed, looking down at the floor. “Uh, I’m going in to the office now. If you want to, um, meet me there after you’re, you know, dressed, that would be, uh…”

“Should I bring coffee?” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Good.” He crossed the room to the door. “That would be good.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay,” he said. He put his hand on the doorknob.

We were still staring at each other.

“Well,” I said, gesturing behind me. “I’m just going to go and, um, put on some clothes.”

“Yeah,” he said. He looked at the door. “I’m going to…” He pointed.

“Yeah,” I said.

“So, I’ll see you.” He turned the knob and the door opened. He was halfway inside the doorway and halfway out. “I’m going to go.”

“Bye,” I said.

His head bobbed. “Bye.”

We were frozen there for several more agonizing seconds.

And then he flung himself out of the door and shut it behind himself.

He was gone.

I stood in the middle of my living room, feeling confused.

“Forget about it, Penny,” I muttered to myself. “He said we should forget about it.”

Right.

I headed back the hall.

*

Raymond Pascal was back inside the interrogation room and Lachlan was sitting across from him.

“I just want to go over some details,” said Lachlan. “I want to know more about how you murdered those girls.”

“I didn’t do it,” said Raymond. “Otis did.”

“Right,” said Lachlan, shrugging.

“Hey, you aren’t trying to pin this on me, are you?”

“I need details, Raymond,” said Lachlan. “Can I call you Raymond?”

Raymond made a face. “What do you need to know?”

“Well, about the drowning,” said Lachlan. “That’s all that happened to the girls?”

“Should something else have happened?”

“You tell me. You were there.”

“Uh, well, I have no idea,” said Raymond. “I told you everything that I saw.”

“Uh huh,” said Lachlan. “Well, I’ll tell you something Raymond. There were wounds on the victims, things we kept from the press, and if you actually saw them murdered, then you would know what they were.”

“You don’t believe me still?” Raymond was incredulous. “But you said you realized I wasn’t some guy with nothing to lose, ready to say anything for publicity.”

“Exactly,” said Lachlan. “Now you think you can leverage your accusation of Otis for a lesser sentence or something. So, you’re even more likely to lie. The wounds.”

Raymond narrowed his eyes.

“What kind of weapon was used on the girls?”

“Well, a, um, a knife.”

“To do what?”

“Stab them.”

“Where?”

Raymond was quiet. Then his eyes gleamed. “All over.”

Lachlan didn’t say anything. He just waited.

“Yeah, all over,” said Raymond. “After he drowned them, Otis took a knife and just started stabbing those girls. Stabbed them up and down and in and out and every which way. It was like he lost his head.”

Lachlan still waited.

“He stabbed their stomachs and their legs and their chests and their arms and—”

Lachlan stood up. “Thank you, very much, Raymond.”

“What?” said Raymond.

“It’s only that it’s obvious that you didn’t see the murders after all.”

“Oh,” said Raymond. “That was wrong, huh?”

“That was wrong,” said Lachlan.

“Did they even have wounds?”

Lachlan turned and walked out of the room.

“Maybe I could try again,” Raymond called after him. “It’s kind of fuzzy, on account of it being so traumatic and all. Maybe if I thought it through, I’d remember it better.”

Lachlan left the room and shut the door.

I smiled at him. “That was good. You were good. You really are good at that.”

He furrowed his brow. “That was nothing. I should have sniffed that out yesterday.”

“I thought it was good,” I said. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

He jammed his hands into his pockets.

“Well,” I said. “Now what?”

“Feel like paying a visit to Killian Henderson’s house?”

“Sure,” I said.

“All right,” he said.

Then we just stared at each other.

Yeah. Still awkward.

*

“Killian’s not here,” said the woman at the door to his McMansion. It wasn’t exactly remote, since it was set in a housing development of other huge houses, so if Killian was murdering girls out here, it might be likely that other people would hear them scream. On the other hand, they might simply mind their own business.

The woman at the door was a drake. Her nose had been swallowed up in purple scales. It was flat, nothing more than two nose holes. Her eyes were purple too, with reptilian-looking irises. Her lips were human, though they looked as if they’d been surgically modified, because they were too big for her face. Overall, somehow she still managed to look alluring, not monstrous.

“You Killian’s wife?” said Lachlan.

That was right. Killian had said his wife was a drake.

The woman smiled. “That’s right. My name’s Lucy. But like I said, Killian’s not here, so—”

Lachlan took out his badge.

“Oh,” said Lucy in a different voice. “What’s going on? Is Killian in trouble? Is he okay? Oh, God, don’t tell me he’s dead or something.”

“No, nothing like that,” said Lachlan. “Maybe we could come in? We’d like to look over your house.”

“My house?” she said.

“Look,” I said, “when your husband is home, how much time do the two of you spend together?”

“A lot,” she said. “We eat together, and then I watch TV and he plays games on his laptop while he’s sitting on the couch with me, and that’s what we do every evening.”

“He doesn’t work at the club in the evenings?” said Lachlan.

“No, I put a stop to that,” said Lucy. “He met me while I was dancing there, what’s to stop him from meeting some other girl? I told him he can only be there in the mornings and the afternoons when all the fugly chicks are working.”

Lachlan and I exchanged a glance.

“Well, okay,” said Lachlan. “So, you spend a lot of time together.”

“We do,” she said. “What is this about?”

“Are there parts of the house that are considered his?” I said. “Parts that you are expected not to enter?”

“Well, he does have a little man cave,” she said. “But I can go in if I want. You want to see it?”

“Definitely,” said Lachlan.

Lucy opened the door and let us inside. She shut the door behind us. “Honestly, I don’t know what it is that you want to know.”

“It’s probably nothing, ma’am,” said Lachlan. “The more I hear about this, the less I’m convinced that your husband is involved.”

“Involved in what?” said Lucy.

“Well, we’re looking into the Dragon Slasher killings,” said Lachlan.

“What? But Killian doesn’t even know those people.” She was incredulous. She stalked through the hallways of the house.

We had to walk quickly to keep up. Strangely, though the house seemed large from the outside, it seemed to have the same number of rooms as any typical house. It was only that all the rooms were three times larger.

We went through an enormous living room, a gigantic kitchen, and down a set of wide stairs.

We emerged in one big room, a wide screen TV on the wall, a sectional couch in front of it complete with built-in cup holders and snack trays.

“Well,” said Lucy. “This is it. His man cave.”

Lachlan turned around in a circle.

I looked around too. This didn’t look like a place a man could keep three women in succession, let alone a place that he’d killed them.

The television screen had a screen saver on it. It seemed to be shuffling a bunch of personal photographs of Killian. Mostly, it was him with his arms around topless drakes and gargoyles, all of them grinning at the camera.

So, it was okay for her husband to pose with half-naked women, then?

Because Lucy wasn’t batting an eyelash at that.

Lachlan shook his head. “I don’t think he did it here.”

“He didn’t do it at all,” said Lucy. “He wouldn’t.”

Lachlan nodded at her.