The Care and Feeding of Stray Vampires (6 page)

BOOK: The Care and Feeding of Stray Vampires
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“Charming,” he muttered. But my off-putting foot-to-rear threats might have been some sort of stimulant, because he seemed to focus more clearly on what I was saying. I would analyze that disturbing development later.

“There have been a dozen attacks over the course of the last two weeks. The first few were written off as random acts of violence by vampires who were too young to control themselves. But then the violence began affecting older vampires. Vampires with no history of harming humans. We went through the trash left at their homes. They all consumed Faux Type O, which in itself wasn’t unusual. It’s the most popular brand of synthetic blood on the market. But in each attack, the affected vampire
had consumed Faux Type O that was part of an experimental batch made by Nocturne Beverages. The newer version was supposed to appeal to younger vampire palates, using a new botanical flavoring agent. The flavoring agent was mixed into a batch of product for test marketing, but rather than being set aside, as was intended, the modified batch was distributed along with the original product.”

“I guess they didn’t learn anything from New Coke.” I snorted.

Cal’s lips twitched, but he continued, all business. “I traced the supplier that produced the flavoring agent, Blue Moon Additives. Blue Moon submitted preview samples to Nocturne for testing, and they received positive responses from company taste-testers. I reviewed the manufacturer’s safety-testing records. Everything seemed to be in order, until I tried to contact Blue Moon after the attacks. The company simply doesn’t exist outside of paperwork. The address listed in Louisville is a vacant office park.”

“What was the flavoring agent supposed to taste like?” I asked, curious about what vampires could find appetizing. Cal opened his mouth to answer. I held up a hand like a shield against the potentially icky information. “Never mind. Some things can never be unheard.”

“Blue Moon is a front, registered by a cleverly constructed dummy corporation. The whole mess has been infuriatingly difficult to sort out.”

Releasing that torrent of information seemed to exhaust him. He slumped back against the couch and
closed his eyes. The slight ruddiness of cheek that the donor blood had given him was fading, leaving a waxy, nearly gray pallor.

“So why come to the Hollow?” I asked.

One brown eye popped open, staring balefully at me. “Because the first attack was here. It was written off as newborn blooklust. The Council managed to cover it up quickly and quietly. I suspect it was an initial test case, so to speak. It seemed a reasonable place to start.”

“Why wouldn’t you let the Council staff know you’d been poisoned?”

“Because of the circumstances of my own poisoning, I believe it’s possible someone within the Council hierarchy is assisting in this effort. Only someone within the Council office would know why I am here. And only someone within the Council office would have access to the donor blood that was included in my welcome basket. It would be easy to tempt a younger vampire with money. As you know, the lower-level Council bureaucrats are pitifully underpaid.”

“Shouldn’t people know about this?” I demanded. “Shouldn’t you warn the human authorities, at least?” He opened both eyes, just so he could roll them. I nodded, blushing a little. “Right, discretion, sorry.”

“We don’t know if the person responsible has plans for poisonings on a broader scale. Since we would like to get through this crisis without the human government instituting an extermination program for my kind, we’re trying to handle this quietly,” he said in a wry tone.
“All but a few of the affected bottles of blood have been tracked and recalled.”

“Which plants were used in the flavoring agent?” I asked, thinking of the botany textbooks I had upstairs. If Cal had access to them, he might be able to—

He chuckled derisively. “Why would I share that information with you?”

Arching my eyebrow, I mentally nixed my impulse to offer to let him go through my bookshelves. Act like a jerk, get cut off from my treasure trove of information on plant life. I had to have some standards. Cletus the slack-jawed vampire could just deal with the consequences.

“Who among the local Council members knows why you’re here?” I asked.

“All of them.”

“Which doesn’t help us narrow the pool of potential suspects for poisoning your blood,” I conceded. “Is it unusual that the Council left blood in your fridge in the first place? I mean, wasn’t that why you were hiring me?”

“No, I was hiring you to be polite. Ophelia was quite insistent that your services were essential. I was afraid I would offend her if I sent you away. To be honest, I thought your contract was a cover for her monitoring my activities.”

“By that logic, wouldn’t it make sense that I might be the person who tampered with your blood?” I asked. His eyes narrowed at me. “I really have to learn to shut up.”

“I know it wasn’t you,” he said grimly. “The blood was delivered as part of a welcome gift basket from the
Council yesterday. You haven’t used the access code for my door before today.”

“My friend Jane says you shouldn’t trust gift baskets around here,” I told him.

“That would have been helpful to know a few days ago,” he mumbled.

“So you’re sort of a vampire PI?” I asked. “Without the office in a semidisreputable part of town or the cheesy mustache?”

The aforementioned unmustachioed lips quirked in response. “In a manner of speaking. You might say my gift is problem solving. If I stay fixed on a problem or a question long enough, I will eventually find a solution. It started in my early days as a human. I’d always been clever with puzzles, games of strategy, battle plans. And now I’m used in investigations into financial indiscretions between vampires and the human business world, finding vampires who have disappeared or died under mysterious circumstances, tracking the human descendants of vampires interested in getting reacquainted with their human families since the Great Coming Out, that sort of thing.”

He was sprawled back on the couch now, exhausted and drained by my questions. I helped him to his feet and walked him to the cellar door. “So if you’re the problem solver, why can’t you figure out who’s poisoning the vampires?”

He frowned at me, as if I was touching a tender subject. “It’s not an instant-gratification sort of talent. It’s more of an instinct that leads me in the right direction.
This time, the problem has a few more twists and turns than I’m used to,” he said, his voice worn and as thin as paper as I helped him downstairs and into the tent. He barely glanced at his “room.” If he was less than thrilled with my less-than-four-star accommodations, he didn’t say anything. I suspected that he found conversation with me to be circuitous and pointless.

Mainly because he told me that he found conversation with me to be circuitous and pointless. To my face.

3

Your family will not understand your decision to take in a vampire. To avoid awkward conversations, think of excuses to avoid their visiting beforehand. Solid suggestions include: Your house is being fumigated. You have a contagious rash. You are trying to read the
North and South
trilogy from beginning to end.


The Care and Feeding of Stray Vampires

I
stayed up a good portion of the night, sitting on the couch, clutching my mother’s heirloom silver pie server. Much like with sunlight, vampires are allergic to silver. For them, it’s like touching every caustic, irritating substance in the world all at once, combined with the annoyance of listening to actress-slash-models talk about their “craft.” It can actually burn the flesh from their bones if they’re exposed to enough of it, which is why the vampire pepper spray I carried was mostly very pure colloidal silver.

For all I knew, Cal’s impotent-kitten routine could have been an act. And I wasn’t exactly pinning my hopes for personal safety on my houseguest’s inability to climb the cellar stairs unassisted.

I used my insomnia time wisely. I finished a historical romance I’d started-and-stopped so many times I’d forgotten the names of the main characters. I reported the loss of my darling BlackBerry to my cell provider’s online insurance site and was slightly mollified by the promise that a replacement phone would be shipped to my house overnight. My business landline rang several times. There were calls from clients asking for various deliveries, pickups, and errands … And asking why I wasn’t picking up my cell phone, which had me grumbling and cursing Cal’s very existence. Ophelia called at around two
A.M
. and was surprised that I’d answered the phone instead of letting it go to voicemail. It was interesting to hear any emotion in her voice beyond smug boredom.

“Aren’t you normally asleep at this hour, Iris?”

Pressing the phone to my ear, I blew a cooling breath over a cup of valerian root tea. I needed my special “It’s two
A.M
., and the infomercials are starting to make sense” blend to counteract the bag of espresso jelly beans I’d found in my desk drawer.

I am a constant contradiction.

I yawned for effect. “Yes, Gigi has a school project due. Nothing like last-minute extra credit in hopes of saving a biology grade.”

“What an exciting life you lead,” she said dryly.

“What can I do for you, Ophelia?”

“I was curious. The Council arranged for a new contract with a Mr. Calix, one of our freelance employees. Did you happen to drop by his house today?”

This was it. This was my opening to alert Ophelia to Cal’s problems and wash my hands of the situation. It would be so easy to let someone else handle this situation. And it wasn’t as if I didn’t have enough on my plate. I had a complicated, high-maintenance business to run. I had Gigi to lead on the precarious path to functional adulthood.

But …

I breathed steadily through my nose. I could deny being there, but I’d left Cal’s contracts on the counter. Besides, I was pretty sure that I’d left trace evidence all over that house. I didn’t know if the Council had fingerprint analysts, but they did have psychic interrogators, and I wouldn’t put using a few forensics geeks past them. Lying would only make Ophelia suspicious.

“Um, yeah, I got there just before sunset,” I said. “I was running late. Mr. Rychek had some special issues for me to attend to, and it took me longer than expected.”

“Diandra is making her triumphant return?” Ophelia asked. Through the phone, I could practically hear her eyes rolling.

“Yes. It took forever to work out her ‘special dietary requests.’ I had just enough time to drop the contracts off at Mr. Calix’s and get out of there before the sun went down. You know I don’t like getting caught in clients’ homes after dark.”

“And you didn’t see anything unusual, out of place?” she asked.

Say, a six-foot-two Greek god of a vampire with a
pouty mouth and an acid tongue? He looked pretty out of place, sprawled unconscious on the kitchen tile.

“A couple of packing boxes. The house was pretty empty.”

Notice that I hadn’t actually lied. I just wasn’t answering questions directly. I was raising a teenager and therefore familiar with the distinct difference.

“Is there a problem, Ophelia?”

“No, no,” she assured me. “But I’m afraid Mr. Calix is going to have to cancel his contract. You will, of course, keep your retainer deposit, out of respect for your continued services to our local vampires. You should know that the access codes to Mr. Calix’s house have been changed. You should not enter the house again. He is no longer your client.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. My tone was a careful balance of detached, but sincere, regret. I would regret losing any client, but Ophelia knew that I wouldn’t get hysterical over it.

“I’m sure you’ll have another client to fill up his spot on your roster soon,” she said in a tone that might have been considered reassuring from anyone else. “Speaking of which, have you managed to find the item I requested?”

“Yes, I found the doll,” I said. “A pristine turn-of-the-last-century Clarenbault, with the original dress and bonnet. I only had to shamelessly flatter-slash-threaten the administrators of several obscure antique auction Web sites to obtain it. You owe my PayPal account a considerable sum.”

“Send me an invoice,” she said, her tone lifting. “I’m happy to pay any price.”

I made a note about the invoice on my to-do list for the next day. And I knew better than to ask why a centuries-old vampire would want an antique porcelain doll. Ophelia frequently requested childish items such as bears, dolls, Mary Jane shoes, and sweet little dresses. Not to mention the obscene number of video-game controllers she went through every month. I was convinced that she was supplementing her income by posing for questionable Internet sites. But I didn’t know how the video-game controllers came into play. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to.

“If you happen to run into Mr. Calix, please let me know,” she said. “We’d like to speak to him, but we seem to be unable to reach him by phone.”

“Well, I doubt I’ll see him,” I said, keeping my voice deliberately casual as I tossed Cal’s soiled shirt toward the laundry hamper. “You know me, I avoid face time whenever possible. But if I do, I’ll give you a call.”

BOOK: The Care and Feeding of Stray Vampires
3.57Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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