Page 7 of Angel: Private Eye Book One

  Chapter 7

  It didn’t take long to devour three packets of the biscuits Sarah brought back from the store. Though I really didn’t want to admit it, they were working; they were taking the edge off my fatigue and making me feel less like I’d just been on the wrong end of a blood vacuum cleaner.

  I tugged the collar of my shirt down a few times to notice the puncture marks on my neck were even healing.

  I told Sarah just as much as I could to make my story believable. I decided it was a seriously bad idea to admit to her what I’d done to that vampire. It wasn’t just shame and guilt talking. Benson had already shown up at my house. Sarah didn’t need to be dragged further into this world.

  She was strangely okay with me moving into the otherworld section of town, probably because it would give her a legitimate reason to visit more. Heck, I’d need her as a guide. She knew so much more about this world than I did.

  Sarah helped me pack up my things and even offered to drive them over later tonight, meaning I managed to get back to Mr. Marvelous’ shop in time for our 2 o’clock appointment.

  I was dutiful enough to dress in my trench coat, even going so far as to shine my pin with my sleeve.

  Though it shouldn’t work – the trench coat honestly made me feel like a private investigator. There was something strong about it, hardy, gritty. You could get a heck of a lot done in a trench coat, from slumming through the dirtiest sections of town to crawling through the sewers. Not that I hoped that would happen on my watch. But as Mr. Marvelous stood behind his desk with a certain kind of smile peeling back his lips, I realized I had little idea what this job would entail.

  “You did good last night, rookie. Way better than I thought you would. You found that wall spell, and you did a heck of a good job putting Cortez in his shoes. Which is something,” Mr. Marvelous pointed at me with a strong, stiff finger, “I expect you to do at every opportunity you get. Don’t let the police think they’re better than us. Especially the ones in Benson’s pocket.”

  I unavoidably stiffened at the mention of Benson’s name.

  Marvelous obviously saw it. “I made a promise to help you figure out why Benson is so interested in you. And then whatever it is,” Marvelous drew up a hand and crumpled his pudgy fingers, “We’ll use it against him.”

  My brow knotted in concentration. “Permission to speak freely, sir,” I asked.

  Marvelous chuckled. “You’re not in the army, kid. But having said that, I kind of like your deference. Permission to speak.” He nodded as he tucked his thumbs behind his suspenders.

  “Um, I’ve never heard anyone speak about Benson with such disdain.”

  Mr. Marvelous smiled. “Most of this town is terrified of him. And with good reason.”

  My gaze flashed up at that. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he’s the top-of-the-pack, the vampire king. Heck, he has unprecedented power over most of the other clans, too.”

  “So aren’t you a little worried about talking to him like that?” I chose my words carefully.

  Mr. Marvelous chuckled so outrageously I thought he’d pop a lung. “I’ve been around the block enough times, kid. I’ve seen the darkest sections of this city and the lightest, too. I won’t say I’m not scared of anything, but I do know when to cower and when to fight. Yes, Benson is a kingpin. But he’s mostly bark. He’s got his fingers in too many human pies. I ain’t saying he’s not a vampire underneath those fancy Italian wool suits. All I’m saying is he has more than enough reasons to act like a gentleman these days.”

  I didn’t like that answer. I didn’t like anything that made Benson seem more like a human and less like the monster I’m sure he was.

  “But that doesn’t matter. We’re likely to run into Benson again, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to deal with him.” Mr. Marvelous flashed me a toothy grin. “Our first priority has to be figuring out what kind of a woman Susan Smith was. What connections she had, whether she was a vampire groupie or whether she belonged to any of the other clans.”

  “Was she magical?” I asked. Maybe it was an innocent question. Maybe I should have done my homework and read the file on Mr. Marvelous’ desk – if I’d been able to find it. While his storage room had been a complete shambles, it was absolutely nothing whatsoever compared to the main office. I’d heard of hoarders before, but the number of archive boxes in here was staggering. They lined every wall and were stacked up as if he were trying his hand at office Jenga.

  The ceiling fan above Mr. Marvelous’ desk seemed to be on permanently. It left a low hum issuing through the room and scattered the dust that seemed to cover everything, and the cobwebs, too. God, there were so many cobwebs. I swore Indiana Jones would mistake this place for an ancient crypt.

  Mr. Marvelous clearly had a pair of those cleaning gloves, and it wouldn’t take too long to dust and tidy this office up. But it was clear that was never going to happen.

  “She’s a halfie,” he finally said as he brought a hand up and scratched at his stomach distractedly.

  “And what’s that?”

  He made a face. “You really know nothing whatsoever about this world, do you? Where exactly have you been keeping yourself for the past five years?”

  I pressed my lips together and swallowed almost primly. “I’ve been keeping myself on the other side of town in a library at a university. It was a quiet, easy job, and God knows it didn’t involve any murder,” my voice became fragile on that word.

  Marvelous shrugged. “That’s great, kid, but now you work for me. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he pointed toward the window behind him, shrugging at what looked like a small fight that had broken out between some vampires and some seriously shaggy, rugged-looking werewolves. “You’re on the wrong side of town now. For God’s sake, stop being so innocent. Get a head in some books. Walk the streets. Learn about the otherworld.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from gritting my teeth and wincing as if Marvelous had suggested I take a bath in acid.

  He snorted. There was a certain hard edge to his look. “What, got a problem with us otherworlders?” he locked his arms over his potbelly and shot me a steely, challenging look.

  “I just… I just wish everything would go back to normal. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

  He let out a hard, rattling snort. “Guess what, Lizzie? You can’t stick your head in the sand. You work for me now, and I demand you start learning about every magical race. Spells. Charms. Hexes. You name it. Because we’ll be covering it all. And don’t make me regret employing you.”

  I felt sick but forced a nod.

  “Right, back to work. Miss Smith was a halfie. That means she was spliced.”

  “Spliced?” my brow crumpled.

  “Keep up.” He clicked his fingers as he reached a hand into his desk and pulled out an enormous folder that looked as deep as an archive box. He chucked it at me casually.

  I made the mistake of catching it and almost fell to my knees. “Bloody hell this is heavy.” I staggered, propped it on the edge of the table, and panted. Which was a mistake, as I inadvertently sucked in a lungful of dust.

  It felt as if I just swallowed half of the Sahara.

  Clutching at my throat and patting my face, I looked up to see Marvelous chuckling.

  “Remind me again how you killed a cold-blooded vampire?”

  It was a harsh thing to say, and I made no effort to hide my stony expression.

  Marvelous dropped my gaze then pointed at the massive folder. “In there is everything you need to learn. I want you to read it by tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” my voice went up like a kazoo.

  “You have a problem with that? You gotta earn your $11 an hour and board here.”

  “Doesn’t board mean that you’ll feed me?” I said hesitantly, realizing I’d actually had nothing but chocolate biscuits all day.

  “Sure does. You can have the excess from the spells grown in the basement.”

>   “Spells grown in the basement?” I made a face.

  “Poisonous mushrooms, lizards, worms, frogs—”

  I brought a hand up and almost gagged.

  Marvelous laughed. “Christ, you really do know nothing about magic, don’t you? Do you honestly think spells are made out of lizard entrails and a bit of hocus-pocus? They’re made out of chemicals, dearie, just like drugs. Except us magicians can make chemicals do some fantastic things.”

  “Hold on, are you suggesting I subsist on jumped up drugs?!”

  “No, I’m suggesting you can have the surplus from some of the plants I use for distillation. A couple are edible.”

  I continued to make a face. “I think I’ll fare for myself.”

  “Suit yourself. Anyway, get to work. Read that folder. But for now, I need you to go out and canvas the streets around Susan Smith’s apartment. Use that magical sniffing nose of yours to figure out if there are any more wall spells.”

  I immediately shook my head. “That was an accident last night. I just—”

  “You just specifically walked into the room and were drawn to the wall, breaking the spell with merely a touch. Sure, that was an accident, and I’m a 10-foot pink mole. You’ve got a magical nose.” He brought a hand up and tapped his rather prominent proboscis. It almost twanged like a plucked guitar string. “It’s time for you to learn how to use it. Don’t do anything dangerous, stay to the main roads, and for God’s sake, come back before it gets dark.”

  “That’s it? That’s all I have to do? Just walk around the streets and see if I feel anything? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re deep in the otherworld side of town. Surely there’s magic everywhere.”

  Mr. Marvelous tapped his fingers on his elbows. “Yes, I have noticed. I’m just trusting the fact that you’ll be able to separate the dark from the good. Sure, there’s vampires and werewolves and banshees screeching about on their motorbikes and zooming around in their flashy cars, but you ignore them.” He brought a hand up again and tapped his nose with another twang. “You follow this, and you follow this.” He brought a hand down and slapped his belly. It practically rippled like a massive brick thrown in a pond. “You work with your instincts. There will be clues out there. Nobody can murder someone like that – drain them of their blood and a fragment of their soul – without leaving a trail.”

  I suddenly stopped, froze almost as if somebody had tipped my head back and poured ice cold water down my throat. “Taken a fragment of her soul?”

  He frowned, deep grooves etching down his lips. “Didn’t I mention that last night? That’s why she was gray. That’s why the police had such trouble finding the body. It wasn’t just masked by a wall spell – they took part of her everafter.”

  “A part of her everafter?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Just read the folder.” He leaned over and tapped it.

  Another enormous cloud of dust billowed and zeroed in on my lungs. I violently patted it away as I jerked backward.

  Then almost immediately my mind locked on what he’d said. A slice of her soul? A slice of her everafter?

  I shook, and I had no idea why.

  That seemed wrong. Not just on a moral level, on a personal level. I felt this strange spark of anger ignite somewhere in my gut and fly violently to my heart. It was small, small enough that I shook it off as I shivered. “Ah, what are you going to do while I’m out there canvassing the streets?”

  “I’m going to go and annoy Cortez, make sure he gives us everything he gets on this case.” Marvelous brought up two hands and slammed one fist into his palm, using it to crack his knuckles. “Now get to work, missy. I expect you back in three hours.”

  I bit my lip. “It’s gonna take me ages to walk there. And the public transport around these areas isn’t exactly…” I trailed off. What I wanted to say was not something Mr. Marvelous would want to hear. Safe, nice, on time – these were not words you could associate with the public transport of the otherworld section of town.

  “You can take the beast.” Marvelous twanged back one of his suspenders, grabbed a set of keys from somewhere, and chucked them at me.

  I tried to catch them, but they fell from my hands and clanged onto the floor.

  He rolled his eyes. “You’d better get smart real fast, Lizzie, because this world is unforgiving.” With that, he stretched his shoulders, grabbed the jacket from off the back of his chair, nodded firmly, and walked through the door. Not the door that led back into the corridor, but the door that shouldn’t lead anywhere. The one that looked as if it led to the sheer side of the building outside.

  Though I tried to shift to the left and peer intently at the door, hoping to see where it led, I wasn’t quick enough. Mr. Marvelous left in a flash.

  I trotted over to the window, pressing a hand into it and angling my head down to see if he’d fallen down the side of the building and landed on the street below.

  Nope. Nothing. He just disappeared.

  Though I wanted to deny it, I felt a crackle of magic in the air. As I crushed my bottom lip between my teeth, I walked over to the door and ran my palm down it. It was warm. What was more, there was a certain amount of potential in the air, if you could measure potential, that was.

  It was like the door existed in a different realm of probability, one where anything really could happen.

  Shaking my head and still crushing my lip between my teeth, I turned.

  Reluctantly I picked up the folder, having to shore up my shoulders and set my weight into my hips lest I fall over and be crushed by the darn thing.

  Walking in a strange, straddling, duck-like waddle, I managed to lug the folder back to my room.

  I’d done an okay job cleaning it, and when Sarah brought my stuff tonight, I guess it would start to feel a lot more like home.

  I cleaned the folder as best as I could, finally depositing it on my bed.

  The mattress now sagged like a banana.

  Leaning forward, I opened the folder and grabbed the first chapter, pulling it out of the spring-bound mechanism, folding up the pages, and tucking them into the voluminous pocket of my jacket.

  I did up my belt and patted the trench flat.

  I frowned.

  I could feel the wad of paper next to my chest, but as I patted the outside of the jacket, it was as if it wasn’t there. Continuing to frown, I undid my belt and cast my gaze around the room.

  I found a rather large candle stump about the size of a fist that had been half burnt and had a collection of strange looking imprints in the wax.

  I made a face as I brought the candle up and shoved it in my inside pocket.

  I closed my jacket, and I couldn’t see it anymore. There was no bump, just the smooth, tailored line of the camel-colored coat.

  Though it made sense that Mr. Marvelous would have access to magical clothing like this, it blew my mind. It made the fact that I was now a real magical private detective all the realer.

  Though I would have loved to shove massive objects in my pocket all day, I knew I didn’t have the time.

  Swallowing my gumption, I grabbed the keys to the beast.

  Then I drove that overpowered, roaring monster of a car to Susan Smith’s apartment.

  This was crazy. Christ, was this crazy. Before I knew it, I was standing out on the city street, hand crammed in my jacket pockets, canvassing the city. Like a bona fides private eye.

  I began yesterday as a jobless, hopeless bum. Now I was tracking down a vicious murderer.

  I kept cramming my thumb into my mouth, chewing one nail and then focusing on the next like an assembly line of jittery nerves.

  If the perp had come back to check out his handiwork, he’d take one look at the nervous out-of-place woman in her overly large jacket, and run a mile.

  And heck, there was a worse prospect than the perp coming back – Detective Cortez. While I’d been able to deal with him last night, that had been nerves and the overwhelming, crushing experience of seeing my
first dead body.

  If he came back and growled at me in that by-now-familiar guttural tone that made you feel as if he was standing on a rumbling engine, I doubted I’d be able to tell him to sod off.

  The reason I wouldn’t be able to tell him to take a hike was that he was right. 150% totally right. I shouldn’t be here. This world was not for me. And yes, in reality, I had exactly zero chance of solving this crime without a) throwing up over everything, b) ruining the case, or c) getting myself killed.

  Just thinking about that horrible possibility forced me to bring up a hand and cram it over my stomach, wriggling my fingers under the buttons of my coat.

  The weather was going crazy. It was meant to be early autumn, but you wouldn’t be able to tell that from the onslaught of storms we’d had over the past week. A ferocious gale kept ripping through the streets as if it were trying to denude the trees and push the cars over. It was the perfect creepy accompaniment to the solitary sound of my footfall as I wended my way around the apartment block.

  I expected to see police tape, the whole area cordoned off like it had been last night. But it wasn’t. The tape was gone, there weren’t even any uniformed officers on patrol, and the only evidence that there’d been a murder here last night was the softly trodden grass outside the main entrance.

  Oh, yeah, and the vibe.

  Like I keep saying, I’m not magical. This world is so new to me it’s like I’ve been transported to an alien planet. But I could feel it. Christ, could I feel it. This horrible sense that hung in the air, that charged up my back with cloying, clammy hands. It felt like ghosts swarming over my skin, like demonic worms wriggling over my back.

  I kept bringing a hand up and distractedly pinching my shoulders, thumping my arms, balling my hands into fists and striking them into my legs – anything to push away that fiendish feeling.

  Before I knew it, my teeth began jittering in my skull as if they were tectonic plates being thrown around in an earthquake.

  “Get a grip on yourself,” I commanded myself under my breath.

  Easier said than done. At that exact moment, a car backfired along the main road. It was clearly not an explosion, a gunshot, or the first volley of a magical attack. You couldn’t tell my hindbrain that, though. It sent such a pulse of adrenaline shooting down my spine I jolted forward with the force to spit my teeth out.

  I spun on the spot, eyes wide, heart pulsing so hard I swore my collarbones were shaking.

  I saw the car shift off from the mouth of the laneway, a suitably dense and ominous cloud of exhaust fumes billowing out from behind it.

  I went to turn back, to continue heading down the laneway that ran around one side of the apartment block.

  But that’s when I saw it.

  Just to my left.

  A spark.

  Small, tiny, practically indiscernible from the haze of lights and noise and the general sensory onslaught that was Hope City.

  A rush of tingles exploded down my spine, cascading down my back, and making every inch of skin feel as if it had been struck by lightning.

  That tiny little, apparently insignificant spark was just hanging in the air several meters to my left.

  There was no one else down the laneway with me, though a couple of pedestrians had been walking around the apartment earlier. So there was no one else to confirm what I was looking at. Nobody to point to and say “Do you see that random spark just hovering there in mid-air?”

  Occasionally in this new magical world, I’d have the same reaction I did five years ago – when the world formally found out about the otherworlders. I say formally – because most of the world had known about magic and magical creatures for eons. All the important people who’d made all the important decisions – like politicians and bankers and presidents and royalty – they’d known for centuries. In fact, their judicious use of magic and their ties to prominent otherworlders was usually what gave them the edge.

  Us – the simple ordinary people like me – five years ago we had the shock of our lives. Because five years ago, simplicity, innocence, and the illusion of human progress had been turned on their heads. Every history book had to be rewritten and every memory re-evaluated.

  So even though it had been five years, occasionally I still had that same reaction – that magic was new, impossible, incredible. This flight of nerves that flew down my back like a swell of birds rushing up into the sky.

  Taking a very cautious, wary step forward, I stopped about a meter in front of the spark, half hoping it would disappear or turn out to be a speck of dust on my eye.

  It didn’t.

  Instead, it appeared to grow at my presence.

  “Oh, that’s not good,” I had time to say.

  Then the thing exploded.

  Fortunately, the explosion wasn’t big enough to tear me apart or throw me backward, but it was enough to terrify me.

  I shrieked and doubled back just as the spark popped with all the force of a party popper.

  It could hardly be classed as deafening or particularly powerful, but that didn’t stop me from cramming my hand over my ears and shuddering like somebody was trying to remove my spine.

  “What the hell?” I stuttered as something began to ooze from the spark.

  There was no crack, no split in space. Nothing for anything to leak from. But that didn’t stop the oozing substance from trickling down and sloshing on the ground by my feet.

  Instantly I jerked backward, desperate not to get any on my skin, let alone my shoes. I brought a shaking hand up, crammed it on my chest, and stared on in horror as that oozing substance became thicker and thicker. It now looked as if somebody had chucked a bucket of goo down a wall.

  Except there was no bucket, and there was no wall.

  I kept swiveling my head from left to right, trying to find a fellow human being – anyone to share the impossibility of the situation with.

  I was alone.

  I was also a budding private eye, and I’d just found a clue.

  When Mr. Marvelous had employed me last night, he’d promised to give me training. You know, some help before he threw me in the deep end, chucked me onto the streets, and told me to solve a violent magical crime.

  Right now, I sure could use some training.

  I kept taking several steps back, hoping for the crack to heal itself and that godawful green, sticky, almost blood-like goo to stop dribbling over the pavement.

  When it hit the trim of grass that rimmed the pavement, it began to hiss. This nasty sulfur like smell filled the air as if somebody had just cracked a case on 1000 bad eggs.

  I gagged, balling my sleeves over my mouth and coughing into them in great splutters. “God, what’s that?”

  I got my answer.

  A man was walking past, a pensive look on his face as he considered that green goo bleeding from the very air.

  Though I was just starting to wrap my head around the various magical creatures, I got the distinct impression the guy was a warlock. Though he was neatly dressed with a pair of neat glasses on his face – and didn’t look anything at all like Mr. Marvelous – his hands were dappled white and pink from compromised circulation – so definitely a warlock. Their magic, apparently, required fine control of their circulatory system. Used up chi, or personal energy, or whatever it was called. Point was, I was dead certain this guy was a warlock.

  He stopped beside me, bottom lip drawn in. “Not every day you see a magical bleed,” he commented.

  I snapped my head toward him. “You know what that is?” I hesitantly pointed at the green goo, not wanting to get too close in case some splashed on my hand.

  He settled his gaze on me, that frown still pressed over his bottom lip, crinkling his chin, and folding his neck. “It’s a magical bleed. Happens when a powerful spell is cast but isn’t employed properly. Magic tends to unbalance the natural order of things. If you don’t have an earthed spell, excess magic has to discharge somewhere. It’s a little like electricity.”
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  I nodded, even though I barely understood. “So… it means a powerful magical spell was cast around here recently?”

  “It could have been any time within the past 24 hours. It takes a while for a bleed like this to happen. Judging by the amount of discharge,” he shrugged toward it, “That was a pretty significant spell. And it wasn’t all used up.”

  “All used up?” I crumpled my nose in confusion.

  “When you’re casting a spell in advance, or maybe you are using it to hide something, or you’re not expecting an immediate effect, you have to allot a portion of magic toward it. You kind of have to guess how much it needs. Well, I’d say that whoever cast that spell got interrupted.” He shrugged toward the goo again, which was now marching across the grass and singeing everything in its path. It came across a Styrofoam cup, and the poor piece of trash was completely crumpled before it burst into a tiny spurt of blue flame and disappeared completely. “That’s a lot of discharge. Which means that a powerful spell was cut short.”

  “Is there any way to tell what kind of spell was cast?”

  “Sure – you just need some kind of forensic magic unit. Like they have at the police. For an ordinary practitioner,” he shoved his hand into his pockets and shifted his shoulders around, clearly thinking, “There are a few ways. But you’d want to be careful,” he settled his gaze on me.

  “Careful?” This guy had my full, undiluted, absolute attention. He was the first magical creature I’d met who was actually answering my questions. Answering me without belittling me, offering me a job, or cramming an unwanted vampire contract under my nose.

  “You’ve got to have real balls to go sniffing around in somebody else’s spell. If you don’t know what you’re doing, you could accidentally restart it.”

  I winced.

  “Anyway, you probably don’t want to stand there,” he finally got around to saying.

  I yelped, jerking backward, thinking that the goo was about to rush up and swallow me. “Why?” I said once I was standing in the middle of the street. Right now I would rather be run down by a car than run down by discharging magical goo.

  “You breathe in too much of that stuff,” he shook his head in disgust, “And you’ll start seeing fairies.”

  “Fairies?”

  He chuckled, and there was a real edge of mirth to it. “Believe you me, they can be distracting, but the little pests rarely shut up.”

  My head was swimming. Literally. Not only was I learning too much information in one big blast, but I didn’t know how to separate fact from euphemism. Was this guy for real? If I stood around this weird green goo for long enough, would fairies appear and start talking my ear off?

  Again reality struck me with a bone-shaking punch right to my jaw. God, I did not know enough to be here. In fact, I knew just enough to know that I was in a world full of danger.

  I wrapped my sweaty hand over my collar, digging the fingers in until my nails almost perforated my blouse.

  “Anyway, nice talking to you,” the warlock said as he shrugged and turned away.

  “I’m sorry, Mister, but is there anything I should do? Is there anyone I should call?”

  He was already out of earshot.

  I rolled my bottom lip through my teeth as I jerked my head back to the green goo.

  It was still spilling out of that invisible hole in the air, the sludge only traveling faster and faster, thicker and thicker as wet globs sloshed along the pavement like slops thrown from a kitchen bucket.

  I stood there for about five more minutes, just staring at it, alternating between chewing my nail and ensuring I was well enough away from the smell that I didn’t start seeing any fairies.

  I was so absorbed by staring at it and trying to figure out what to do that I didn’t hear footsteps behind me until it was too late.

  “That’s it. That’s exactly what you should do. There’s our only clue as it disappears down a storm drain.”

  I jolted, twisting so hard and quickly to the side, I momentarily lost balance on my heel.

  I lurched, managing to grab a service poll just in time before I could dive head first into the path of a sedan.

  Detective Cortez. He was standing behind me, one hand loosely pushed into his pocket, the other scratching distractedly at his chin.

  He was staring at me with the exact same barely contained frustration he’d worn last night.

  He shrugged toward the goo. “When exactly were you planning on calling us? I take it Mr. Marvelous has pointed out that you have a legal obligation to share every clue you find with the police? And that,” he extended a white, stiff finger toward that ever-growing puddle of what looked like iridescent radioactive waste, “Is probably the only evidence we’re going to get.”

  “Evidence?” I should have tried to control my voice, but couldn’t. It went up with an excited kink as I swiveled my gaze to stare at the puddle once more.

  “Was evidence,” he growled. “As soon as it hits the sewers, it’s impossible to separate from the rest of the gunk down there. Now our only clue is gone, because you had no idea what you were staring at.” He ground his teeth as he looked at me. “You shouldn’t be out here, Lizzie, and you know that. You have absolutely no training and no clue.”

  I shrank back from his tone and the angry look blazing in his gaze.

  Just as I foolishly opened my lips to defend myself, there was a weird noise from further down the laneway.

  It was little more than a pop, as if somebody had stepped on an insect, recorded the noise, and played it back over a set of loudspeakers.

  Then… then I heard it again.

  The muttering.

  The same low, eerie muttering I’d heard caught along the wind last night.

  My eyes must have drawn real wide, because Cortez jerked his head toward me. “What’s the matter?” he demanded.

  “Can’t you hear that?” I asked as my brow receded behind my hairline.

  “What?” he began.

  Then he stopped.

  He stopped, because there was the low mumbling of a far-off engine. Probably some motorbike, probably driving in the opposite direction down the main road.

  The effect the noise had on Cortez was undeniable.

  “Shit, that’s the Gortix Gang,” he hissed through his teeth.

  “What? How can you tell that? It’s just an engine—”

  “I’d know the rev of their bikes anywhere. Stay here,” he growled. He sprinted forward, pulling the gun from the leather holster slung over his shoulder.

  Cortez darted out of sight along the alleyway before I could even catch my breath.

  He left me alone.

  I didn’t want to be alone right now. Not when my head was spinning, and my life was tumbling out of control.

  Worse, I couldn’t exactly walk away and head back to the shop. Cortez had pretty much ordered me to stay right here.

  Which was going to prove to be a tough ask.

  Because, was it just me, or was the goo coming thicker now? Heck, those sparks crackling around the hole in the air were growing brighter, too.

  “What’s happening?” I asked nervously.

  Again, I heard the muttering. Growing louder, coming from the left. Right up along the grass toward the back of the apartment block.

  I was not a courageous, enterprising girl. I was exactly not the kind of girl who heard an eerie magical muttering that nobody else could perceive and followed it to its source.

  So why exactly was I now walking around the puddle of grot and heading out over the grass?

  The muttering grew louder and louder the closer I neared a small old metal vent sunk into the concrete.

  I got down on my knee, a few old spiky twigs and stones plucking at my already ruined nylons.

  The metal vent looked innocuous enough, so I hesitantly reached out a hand, running my fingers over it.

  … And there it was. A few charges of magic. Practically indiscernible. Maybe they wouldn’t be for a
proper practitioner like Mr. Marvelous or William Benson. But for me, I had to cram out every other thought threatening to overcome my mind as I concentrated on them.

  Driving my teeth into my bottom lip, I realized I needed to pry back the vent.

  Which shouldn’t prove to be too tough a task, considering the thing was warped with age.

  Locking a hand in the grass, I picked up a smattering of mud along the cuff of my jacket as I angled my foot back. And kicked. At a vent, inside an apartment building. An apartment building I didn’t own, and hardly had any right to go around kicking. But did that stop me? Nope.

  Because little by little, clearly Lizzie Luck was losing her mind.

  Blame it on the left-over adrenaline from last night, but I didn’t stop kicking until I dented the vent enough to rest back, pry my fingers into the gap, and pull it off.

  I really had no idea what I expected to find.

  But one thing was for sure – as I kicked open the vent, that muttering grew louder, and so too did that hint of magic. It was darting over my tongue now, tasting a heck of a lot like sugar mixed with salt.

  “Oh God, Lizzie, what the hell are you doing?” I chided myself as I let the vent fall on the grass beside me.

  I went to shove a finger in my mouth to nervously chew my nail. Fortunately, I stopped in time when I smelt a nasty musty smell caught along my nails from where I’d touched the drain.

  Scrunching up my nose, I tried to pull myself away.

  I should have left. A smart, intelligent girl who wanted to live into the night, would have turned, tucked her tail between her legs, and run all the way home.

  I was rapidly starting to learn I was anything but smart.

  The vent was large enough, and I was more than small enough, to fit through.

  There were 1 trillion reasons why I shouldn’t crawl into the vent space, but did that stop me? Nope.

  Before I really appreciated the stupidity of what I was doing, I pushed down on all fours and started to shuffle forward.

  My back absolutely prickled with nerves. Except they weren’t just nerves. They were this undeniable sense that strong magic was in the air. Magic strong enough to send my teeth chattering in my skull and my eyes practically rolling back into my head.

  If I paid attention, I would have realized the muttering had stopped.

  Because the muttering had done what it had set out to do – get me in here.

  I heard the scattering of claws on metal and caught the unmistakable whiff of vermin. I saw plenty of roaches, too, evidencing just how clean this apartment wasn’t.

  Before my stomach could churn like butter, I… heard something.

  The strangest, faintest hissing sound I’d ever perceived.

  It was right on the edge of hearing. It was as if my ears suddenly became as perceptive as a dog’s. I started to hear in a range I shouldn’t be able to pick up. And just there – right on the edge of my perception – I heard someone breathing.

  Wheezing, taking their last breath.

  Fear crumpled through my gut and I froze on the spot. My hair stood on end as an electric charge of shock vaulted down my spine.

  I finally caught hold of my reason, realized I was a fricking nutter to have come down here alone, and turned.

  Not in time.

  I felt an ethereal hand push out from some realm that existed between time and space.

  The hand – made out of nothing more than pure, crackling energy – rested on my elbow and locked me in place.

  Instantly my teeth jittered in my skull as if I’d swallowed a jackhammer.

  A ghost started to appear before me.

  A real ghost.

  I’d seen plenty of things since the world had woken up to otherworlders. I’d never seen a ghost. I was smart enough to stay away from their usual haunts. No pun intended.

  But this ghost, it formed right in front of my face.

  Its appearance wasn’t static. It shifted in and out, blinking or flickering like a candle being assaulted by a violent wind.

  It was trying to speak to me. In the snapped occasions I could see its mouth, I watched its pressured, white lips open wide and desperately try to communicate with me.

  It was that desperation alone that could cut through my fear.

  Though my body told me to run, my heart locked me in place.

  I… I reached out a hand and tried to lock it on the ghost’s elbow.

  Maybe it was my gesture – maybe it was something more – but my move seemed to lock the ghost in place.

  Her shifting, vibrating form solidified.

  And I saw the gaunt, obviously dead, grave features of Susan Smith.

  Mr. Marvelous had shown me a picture of her before I’d left that morning.

  I froze.

  Maybe I’d felt locked in my body before. Ground to the spot by fear.

  It was nothing, nothing at all compared to this.

  It was as if every vital process suddenly shut down, and I was cast out of stone.

  The ghost gradually gained more and more form, until I saw a dead body. Honestly, I could see the exact same sickly gray hue of her skin as if a corpse had come to life.

  I would have jerked back, repulsed, were it not for one thing. The fear in her eyes. It was palpable. Undeniable. It reached right inside me and wrapped itself around my heart as if it were looking for a warm place to die.

  “They stole my everafter,” the ghost finally spoke.

  Her voice was almost indescribable.

  The voice was human, recognizable, yet at the same time, it sounded extended. As if somebody had grasped hold of the notes and smeared them across space and time.

  It set the fine bones along my jaw and up into my ears on edge.

  “They stole a part of my everafter. Took it. Now I am all alone,” the ghost said in a haunting, far off tone like a lonely, melancholy wind chasing across some barren plain.

  A part of me realized I had to pull myself together, push back my fear, cram it out of the way and ask the woman what had happened. Because here she was. Susan Smith. Not entirely in the flesh, but close enough.

  Grabbing hold of some unknown source of courage, I shifted further forward, knees grating against the metal floor of the vent shaft. “Who killed you? What happened?”

  A pulse of pure fear shot through the woman’s dead eyes.

  Though the rest of her body was unmistakably gray and rotting, her eyes hadn’t glazed over yet. They were eerily human as they darted around, searching for something.

  Though I doubted she needed to breathe in her current form, she kept panting and gasping for air. She kept trying to clutch at her back, too, as if something were there.

  I turned over her shoulder, coming closer to a ghost than I ever thought I’d be capable of. My hair stood on end, and pulses and waves of nerves crippled my body like continuous electric shocks.

  But I still shifted past far enough to see red glowing writing visible through the torn scraps of her ghost-like clothes.

  I jerked back. “What’s that?” I hissed.

  At first, my touch had been enough to anchor the ghost, make her real, pull her disheveled form out from the wriggling smoke that surrounded her and threatened, at any moment, to drag her back into the realm of unreality. Now the effect of my touch seemed to be waning.

  I knew instinctively that I had seconds, maybe a minute to find out everything I could from Susan Smith before she disappeared entirely.

  I jolted forward, now bringing both hands up and wrapping them around her hands.

  It was easily the most ghastly experience I’d ever had. At the same time, I could feel her stiff fingers and her rotting flesh. And yet, just beyond that, I caught an impression of warmth, of the way she’d been before she’d been brutally murdered.

  “Susan Smith, who killed you. What happened?”

  “I… don’t remember. Vampires, vampires,” she stuttered in a far off tone. She brought a hand up and tried to grab at her neck. It w
as an impossible task. Her neck kept appearing and disappearing, and her prying fingers slipped right through.

  I shifted even further forward on my knees, my nylons well and truly torn.

  I gripped her rapidly-disappearing form with all my might. And, though, I wasn’t aware of it at the time, all my magic, too. “Susan, please, just hold on. You have to tell me who killed you. I promise to bring them to justice,” my voice rang on the word promise. Heck, it did more than ring; it hit a note that shouldn’t be possible for a weak little mouse like me. In that moment, I spoke with an almost divine sense of justice dwelling in my heart.

  That – that was enough to see her solidify for just a few seconds longer.

  She looked earnestly into my gaze. “He’ll know. It was one of his clans. I went home with a vampire last night. I can’t remember who it was. But he’ll know. He’ll know,” she promised as she began to fade.

  True, gut-wrenching nerves gouged through my stomach with such force it felt as if they would drive me backward. I thought only of one man. Benson. Could Benson be responsible for the murder after all? Was his promise of helping nothing more than another ploy?

  I shouldn’t feel sick at that prospect. Shouldn’t feel betrayed. But goddammit, I did.

  “I’ll find him,” I said through bared teeth. “I’ll find Benson and make him pay for what he did to you.”

  She shook her head. “No. Not William Benson. Theodore Van Edgerton. He… will know.” With that, Susan Smith disappeared. For good.

  I screamed, thrust toward her, tried to catch her again, tried to use whatever little mysterious magic I had to hold her in place, if only for a few more seconds of life.

  It didn’t work.

  Susan Smith died. Finally.

  And I broke down, a sobbing, blubbering mess.

  Eventually, I pushed myself out of the vent.

  I half expected to see Cortez marching meanly along the street, ready to snap at me for disappearing when he’d explicitly told me to stay put.

  He wasn’t there.

  The street was empty.

  Maybe sense dictated that I should wait around for Cortez so I could tell him what had happened.

  I couldn’t.

  I walked back to the beast, crawled inside, and drove back to Mr. Marvelous’ shop in a haze.

  Then I crawled into bed. And slept. God knows I needed to sleep.

  I did not, however, need to dream.

  The first few hours, my body was so weary with fatigue I was out like a log, but as I resurfaced around 6 o’clock in the evening, I slipped back into the strangest slumber.

  Something was chasing me. Not someone. Not some monster. Some force. Some powerful force. And it was glowing. The brightest light you’d ever seen. The most powerful illumination in all the universe.

  I pushed myself along, desperate body winding through some indistinct corridor.

  Fear pulsed through me, rocketed through my heart, felt like a catapult shooting me forward as fast as I could go. There was nothing. Nothing that could stop the light from reaching me.

  It backed me into a corner, and—

  I woke with a scream. An extremely pathetic, rattling scream. The kind of scream you give at finding a spider jump on your face.

  It took me far, far too long to calm down, suck in a breath, and realize I was alive.

  It would take me much, much longer to chase away the eerie effects of that dream. The light had done something to me when it had reached me in my nightmare. Filled me up with a power I’d felt before. The same power, specifically, that had charged through my body when the vampire had bitten me.

  This, perhaps, was exactly the kind of experience I should share with Benson. Who knew, maybe it would turn out to be some important clue.

  But the very thought of sharing this experience with anyone made my toes curl.

  There was, however, something else I needed to ask Benson. Though the experience of seeing Susan Smith’s ghost was a truly harrowing one, and one I would never forget for as long as I lived, it had also left me with a certain feeling of determination.

  I’d promised her I would find her killer. And as I rocked back and forth on my bowed bed, springs of the crappy mattress creaking like some old gnarled tree, I knew I had to do it. Everything I could to find her killer. Which meant finding one Theodore Van Edgerton.

  I vaguely recognized his name, and when I looked him up on the Internet, I realized he had a stake in most of the gambling enterprises in Hope City. He owned all the primary casinos and had a controlling interest in most of the poker machines, too. In other words, a real nice guy. If the Internet was to be trusted, he’d only bought those controlling shares recently. He’d moved into Hope City a few months ago.

  My mind instantly locked on what Benson had told me this morning. After he’d demanded I give him a vial of my blood, he’d casually mentioned that I could come to see him if I needed any information on the vampires of Hope City. I kind of hated the prospect of willingly going to see Benson, but couldn’t see any way around it. I really doubted Theodore would meet with me if I showed up at one of his casinos. Plus, I was starting to learn enough about this world to appreciate that would be a very stupid idea. If Benson arranged a meeting, and hopefully stuck around to ensure Theodore didn’t bleed me dry, I’d have a much better chance of solving this case.

  Though it was already 7 o’clock, and I was extremely hungry and still pretty tired, I resigned myself to going to see Benson tonight.

  This case was personal now. Personal, because Susan Smith was no longer just a dead body on a bed to me. I’d held her and seen her fade away. So no more dallying.

  I washed my face, brushed my hair, changed into a top and jeans, and walked out the door into the magical alleyway between our buildings.

  Mr. Marvelous wasn’t back yet, but I still had the keys to the beast. Though maybe I should have texted him and asked his permission to drive the car, I didn’t want to waste any more time.

  I messaged Sarah and let her know not to come around till later. Then I hauled my ass into the beast and found myself smiling as the engine roared into life. “Lizzie Luck, you are not a speed freak,” I reminded myself in a pointed tone as I nonetheless giggled at the deafening roar the engine made as I pulled out of the car park and onto the road.

  I should probably have called Benson first, emailed, attempted to notify his offices that I was coming. I didn’t.

  The further I drove through town, the more the haunting memory of Susan’s ghost played in my mind. A nervous, jittery feeling collected in my hands, and I kept tapping them against the steering wheel as I changed gears.

  At exactly 8 o’clock sharp, I arrived at Benson’s primary tower.

  I ticked my head back and looked at it as I parked across the street.

  Christ almighty, it was a sight.

  I knew that I was rich, but there was rich, and then there was living in what looked like the modern equivalent of Buckingham Palace.

  It was the tallest skyscraper in the city, made of gleaming glass and metal. It had what should have been an impossible curve to it, giving it the feeling of a wave. But if you dipped your head to one side, it looked instead like a hand. Maybe it was just my overactive imagination, but it kind of looked like a hand ready to lurch out and grab you.

  “Not now,” I told my nerves sharply as I finally got out of the car.

  There was quite a lot of traffic, and I noted with an interested frown as I saw a crowd of people walking toward Benson’s tower. Each and every one of them was dressed like 1 million bucks. Me? I was dressed like precisely 20 bucks. My jeans were hand-me-downs, I’d scored my top on sale, my shoes were ballet flats from the drug store, and the jacket belonged to Mr. Marvelous.

  I crossed the pavement and paused just outside of the building. Though I’d come here in a blaze of determination, now I kind of realized one important fact. There was clearly a function going on, and I clearly wasn’t invited. There were also security
guards checking people’s invitations at the massive front doors.

  The old Lizzie Luck would have chosen this point to turn around, defeated. The old Lizzie Luck wouldn’t have bothered walking up the front steps, notifying the guards who she was, and seeing if that would be enough to get in.

  But the old Lizzie Luck hadn’t been tasked with solving a murder.

  Ignoring how uncomfortable I felt, I cleared my throat, crammed my hands further into the pockets of my trench coat, and even took half a second to straighten Mr. Marvelous’ pin.

  I cleared my throat and walked forward.

  I honestly expected the security guards at the door to growl at me and tell me to shove off. They didn’t. In fact, the larger of the two, the guy who looked like he was in charge, waved me forward. “Miss Luck. This way.” He pointed to the doors.

  I frowned. “Ah, sorry? I don’t have an invite,” I clarified stupidly.

  “Mr. Benson has extended an open invitation to you. You can have access to his buildings any time. If you would just like to wait in the atrium, I’ll make a call and he’ll see you in a moment.”

  Flabbergasted, I pushed past the extremely wealthy-looking guests and stood by myself in a little corner of the atrium. I said little, but the atrium was massive. It looked like a ballroom. As I cast my gaze around, I saw some extremely expensive artwork on display along the walls and arranged in tasteful display cases, giving the room a museum-like feel.

  A few guests shot me confused, wary looks, mostly women, mostly dressed up to the T. They were probably legitimately questioning how a woman in five dollar ballet flats from the drug store could get William Benson’s attention so quickly.

  I found myself curling in, hunching my shoulders, trying to make myself a smaller target. As I was already pretty petite, it should have worked. It didn’t. I kept catching judgmental gazes until somebody cleared their throat from beside me.

  Benson.

  I had absolutely no idea how he’d gotten there. To walk up beside me, either he’d sidled along the walls, or he’d walked right through my field of vision, and I’d just blanked him.

  I squeaked like a mouse.

  And he smiled. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” I could practically feel him itching to reach into his pocket and pluck out that goddamn work contract.

  I cleared my throat. “I need your help.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Help? Have you finally decided to—”

  I shook my head, interrupting him quickly. “Earlier today, you offered your assistance if I needed to contact any of the vampires in the city regarding the case. I now need that help.” I surprised myself by sounding professional.

  I clearly surprised Benson, too, because he shot me a long sideways glance as he pushed one hand into his pocket and gestured forward with the other. “I have some time now. I’ll take you to my office.”

  I looked around. “You sure you’re free? It looks like you’re having some kind of party or something.”

  “I was. But it’s irrelevant now. You’re here.” He gave a very gentlemanly nod then led me forward.

  Were he not a vampire, and were I not indebted to him, I would have given a giddy smile at the charm oozing off him.

  As it was, I straightened and reminded myself why I was here.

  Benson led me to one of the lifts on the opposite side of the room. Though there were plenty of guests milling around, waiting for one of the lifts to arrive, no one joined us as Benson strode forward, pushed past several people and pressed the door button.

  Instantly a lift arrived. We walked in alone, Benson clearing his throat when an older gentleman and his wife threatened to walk inside with us.

  The man laughed it off, bowed, and scuttled out.

  The door closed with a ping.

  My heart – oh, that old thing started to race faster and faster the higher we climbed.

  He didn’t say a word to me and appeared to keep to himself.

  Appearances, however, are always misleading when it comes to vampires. He was watching me out of the corner of his eye. Intently.

  Though it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two, the ride up in the lift felt like an eternity. I became exquisitely aware of how close he was. While I sure as heck wasn’t as subtle as he was, I was watching him out of the corner of my eye, too.

  He smiled.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to get this done and get out of here as quickly as I could. I cleared my throat. “I need your help organizing a meeting with a vampire—”

  He brought up a finger to silence me. Though it hovered close to my lips, it never quite touched me. “Not here, Miss Luck,” he said as the doors opened with a ping, revealing a long corridor, “For decency’s sake, we should wait until we’re in my office.”

  I went pink at that prospect, the kind of iridescent pink you wouldn’t be able to hide with a coat of paint.

  He waved me forward through the longest, widest, neatest corridor I’d ever seen. Though there were windows along one side, it felt like a tunnel leading you down to something.

  I got a taste of what that something was as we approached a massive set of imposing doors and I shivered uncontrollably.

  Immediately, Benson darted his keen gaze over to me. “Are you cold?” he asked in that almost languorous voice he used sometimes. The kind of voice that was just begging to help you drift off to sleep.

  I shook my head, yet at the same time I brought my hands up and rubbed my shoulders feverishly.

  Cold I wasn’t. Tickled, I was. And no, I didn’t find the sight of Benson’s imposing office doors hilarious. It just felt like something was crawling along my skin.

  I shifted around uncomfortably as if I were trying to wriggle out of my jacket.

  “It’ll be better once we get inside,” he suddenly said, still inspecting me with a watchful eye.

  “Sorry?”

  “Your reaction to the built up magic in this corridor, Miss Luck – it will get better once we’re inside. I’m always very careful to ensure my office is cleaned – both of physical and magical residue – daily.”

  “I… I’m not having a reaction to magic,” I said with a slight huff.

  Benson’s lips folded into a smile. “Oh, you’re just cold then, are you? Perhaps you’d like my jacket.” He moved to take it off, one hand locking on the button above his waist.

  I shook my head so quickly it could have spun off and shattered the window to my side.

  He let out a light chuckle. “Sensing magic is nothing to be ashamed of, Miss Luck.”

  “Could you just stop calling me that? My name’s Lizzie. And I certainly can’t sense magic. I’m just… tired, that’s all.”

  “Well then, there’s a rather comfortable antique chaise longue in my office, I’m sure I won’t mind if you lie down on it for a while.”

  Oh, deary, my skin went all pink again. Heck, at this rate, I’d turn into a giant raspberry shuffling around in a trench coat.

  I cleared my throat. “I’m not that tired,” I said meekly.

  “Ah, I see. Well, in the very unlikely event that you are having a reaction to built-up magic, I can suggest a few simple mental tricks to help defend yourself against it.”

  I deliberately didn’t look at him.

  “Chapter 48 of the book you’re reading would suffice.”

  “What?” I blinked.

  He gestured to my pocket. “Chapter 48 of that book lists all you need to know to keep yourself guarded against unwanted magic.”

  “I—” I brought a hand up and patted my flat pocket. “… How do you know what’s in my pocket?”

  He smiled.

  “Don’t – don’t tell me I still have so much to learn about this magical world. Just tell me how you knew,” I demanded.

  He reached his doors and waved them open.

  I expected them to groan, grate on their massive hinges, considering their size.

  They didn’t.

  They opened silentl
y like a hushed breath of air shifting gently past your cheek.

  “We vampires have a very keen sense of smell. And the book you’re reading just happens to be one of the most famous in the magical world. It has been around eons and is constantly updated as changes happen within the otherworld realm. As such, it has a very strong scent of magic. Unmistakable, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh,” I managed, feeling glum at the prospect vampires could actually smell how stupid I was now. I was walking around with the equivalent of a scented instructional manual in my pocket.

  He led me into his office.

  And oh what a sight it was. With windows along two sides, it offered categorically the best view of the city I’d ever seen, and that included the view from my room in Mr. Marvelous’ shop.

  I didn’t go in for modern style, usually – it was all drab colors and flat lines, to me. But this room looked incredible. Every element was specifically crafted, every detail allowing the eye to slip around the office in a seamless, uninterrupted curve.

  More than anything, though, it was the lack of magic that caught my attention. As horrible as it was to admit, I felt completely normal and at-home in a vampire king’s haunt.

  Benson caught me gawking at his office, dipped his head to the side, and locked me in another of those charming smiles. “Does it meet with your approval, Miss—”

  “Lizzie,” I corrected as I tugged my gaze off his office and finally faced him.

  I could have paused, asked him to show me around a bit, even asked for something to eat, considering how famished I was.

  I didn’t. I surprised myself by jumping straight in. “You offered earlier today to help me find out more about the vampires of this city. I need you to arrange a meeting between me and Theodore van Edgerton.”

  Benson stiffened. As he stood there in the middle of his office, body outlined by the gorgeous glow of the city below, I watched his shoulders shift out and his jaw tuck down. “What?”

  Now, I may have only known William Benson for a couple of days. So far, he’d only ever spoken to me like the charming, suave, in-control vampire he was.

  Right now, I couldn’t deny the tension tightening his tone and locking his jaw in place.

  I blinked quickly. “Theodore—”

  “I heard what you said, but the answer’s no.”

  “What? I thought—” Before I could accuse him of going back on his deal, his phone rang.

  He didn’t jump – even though I jolted at the interruption.

  “Very well, I’ll be right there.” He ended the call, slipped his phone back into his pocket, and looked at me. “Stay here. I’ll be back shortly.”

  “Ah, are you sure? This is your office—” I had no idea what I was saying.

  Benson slowly tugged an eyebrow up. “I trust you, Elizabeth. Now please feel free to take a rest.” He motioned to the chaise longue.

  I sat down on it and blinked up at him as he gave a single courteous nod, then smoothly turned on his foot, striding out of the room and leaving me alone.

  What a hell of a day today had been.

  From waking up this morning in my new bed, to sitting here in William Benson’s own office.

  I dearly wanted to wriggle up off the couch and investigate, maybe pull back some of the drawers on his cherrywood desk and see exactly how dark the secrets were within.

  I wasn’t stupid, though. Do that, and I’d probably trip some kind of alarm. Demons would probably spurt from the cracks in the walls and drag me back to Hell before I could as much as scream.

  Still, this was weird. Weird and kind of… exciting.

  His office wasn’t anything like I’d imagined.

  Where were all the broken crosses, the warnings about garlic, the sunglasses and sunscreen?

  Okay, those were facetious observations. Seriously, though, it just looked… normal. Extremely expensive, and just the kind of opulent office you would expect to find on the penthouse floor of the most expensive skyscraper in the city. What it wasn’t, was creepy. No vibes. Nothing. Zip.

  He was right – I couldn’t feel a scrap of magic anywhere in here. What was more, though, it wasn’t dark, dangerous, or nasty.

  I certainly didn’t get the impression as I stared around the place with an open mouth that Benson had taken the opportunity just that morning to kill his secretary, murder any puppies, or generally act like a devilish vampire.

  The minutes started to tick past.

  Benson certainly didn’t come back in a jiffy.

  He was obviously halfway through some kind of expensive, fancy soirée. Maybe he’d just forgotten about me completely, and I’d be forced to curl up on his couch, waking the next morning to the sight of him shooting me a belittling look over his cup of coffee.

  I sneered at the thought of it.

  I also got to my feet. Goddamn did it require a lot of courage, but for the weirdest, strangest reason, courage was something I had around Benson. Around Cortez, around the vampires, around this entire situation – nope.

  Benson, yes. Don’t ask me to quote myself, but I didn’t feel particularly threatened by him.

  That was probably the most stupid thing I’d ever said, but I couldn’t deny my heart.

  Yes, Benson was a vampire, and he was a bit of a dick, but somehow I knew he would keep his end of the bargain. He’d look for a way to figure out what I was without concurrently looking for a way to bleed me dry.

  “You better not be wrong about this, Lizzie Luck,” I muttered as I clamped my hands behind my back and began to walk around his office.

  Several minutes passed, then almost 10, and he still didn’t return.

  I was starting to get bored, which was surprisingly possible in the office of a vampire king.

  Once I finished looking at the expensive art hung over the walls and the few stylish antiques arranged in the display cabinets, I stuck my thumb in my mouth and started to chew it.

  Purely on a whim. On a stupid whim, I walked toward the door and tried the handle.

  Every ounce of sense I had told me that the door would be locked. Mr. Benson was not the kind of idiot to leave me access to the rest of his building.

  … Except the door wasn’t locked. The handle yielded easily under my firm grip.

  I let out a little, suitably stupid squeak as the well-oiled mechanism of the door swung open to reveal the clear, long, completely empty hallway beyond.

  I stood there, frozen on the spot, expecting Benson to sweep down and punish me for leaving the office.… Nope. Nothing. No one. Not even a security guard.

  I… I started to hear something. Far off on the edge of hearing.

  That muttering.

  I frowned at it, tried to turn away, tried to walk back into Benson’s office.

  I couldn’t.

  The muttering grew almost imperceptibly louder as I took a hesitant step forward and then another.

  Just as had happened with the vent this afternoon, I started to feel compelled.

  As I paid more and more attention to the muttering, it dragged me forward.

  Before I realized what I was doing, I found a set of fire escape stairs.

  I took them. Down to one floor, then down to another.

  There was no method to my madness. I had no idea where I was going. If I valued my life, I knew full well that I should turn around, head back to his office, and pretend nothing had ever happened.

  Did that stop me?

  No.

  I found myself reaching out a hand and opening the fire escape door onto one of the levels.

  As far as I knew, it was just a random floor.

  And yet… I don’t know, my gut started to churn. And something started to churn it.

  I shifted forward, head swiveling from side-to-side as I wondered what the hell was down here.

  It looked like simple, innocuous offices branching off the long, wide hallway. Simple and innocuous, that was, until I reached one. A door.

  And stopped.

 
I stopped, because every magical sense I shouldn’t have, suddenly exploded and pointed toward the door like a massive neon-lit arrow.

  That compulsion was back, springing through my limbs, sinking into my hands, and seeing my fingers tingle with so much energy there was only one thing I could do to chase it away – open the door.

  I suddenly became exquisitely aware of my heartbeat as it roared in my ears.

  I reached the door. I brought a hand up and rested it on the handle. Immediately, a zing of power rippled through my fingers, feeling as if I’d gathered a handful of sparks from a fire.

  I went to open the door, feeling the smooth, cool metal of the handle start to twist in my suddenly sweaty palm.

  Out of nowhere, a hand suddenly grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back. It had such force that I spun around on the ball of my foot, my ballet shoes squeaking over the polished floor.

  I stared up into Benson’s face. It was hooded with shadow, despite the fact this floor was perfectly lit.

  My heart ground to a stop and my lungs felt as if they shut down completely.

  He didn’t keep a hand latched on my shoulder, and rather stepped back. With his gaze riveted on me, it still felt like his fingers were pressing into the soft flesh between my shoulder blade and collar bone.

  I swallowed wildly. “What are you doing here?”

  “I should ask you the same. Miss Luck, please don’t bother telling me you were searching for the bathrooms and got lost. I made sure my staff made very clear signs.”

  I was flustered. Hell, my heart was shuddering so quickly it was like a wet dog trying to shake itself dry.

  … And yet, the fear of being found out by Benson wasn’t anywhere near the fear I’d experienced last night when I’d faced that vampire in the alley.

  Whether I liked it or not, I was starting to realize William Benson III was a gentleman. And if not a gentleman, then at least a vampire who knew how to control himself.

  He took another step from me to either reinstate his personal space or that invisible barrier he always respected whenever he was in my presence.

  I watched him swallow hard enough that his taught neck pushed against the tight white collar of his shirt.

  “Come with me.” He motioned me forward with a snapped word and an even more snapped wave.

  I… stood exactly where I was. “What? You’re not going to grab my wrist and drag me forward? I thought you vampires never respected personal space?”

  Wait… hold on. What the hell had I just asked Benson? Did I have a death wish?!

  Though I wanted to blame my irrational question on the latent effects of my attack last night, that would be denying one important fact – I always seemed to lose my mind around this man. The mere cut of his shadow across the corridor or the caress of his gaze was enough for me to drop my marbles and to start dribbling on the floor. I’d switch between defiance and saying the first stupid thing I could think of.

  Benson made a soft indiscernible noise. “You don’t strike me as the type to like being led around by their wrist, Miss Luck.”

  Wow, his voice was smooth. Move over whiskey on the rocks, it was more like wriggling between a set of satin sheets after a long hot soak in the tub.

  … As that particular image flashed through my mind, I flushed and cleared my throat. “You’re right. I don’t want to be led around. So I’m going in here, if you don’t mind.” I twisted back to the door and reached for the handle.

  What. The. Hell. Was. I. Doing? He was right there behind me. This was his office block. He had every legal right to kick me out and press charges for snooping around.

  I managed to latch my hand over the smooth brass before I felt a rush of air beside me.

  This time he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back. Though grabbed wasn’t the right word. His touch was firm and yet hesitant all at the same time.

  He pulled me around until I was right next to him. Slowly, feeling every minute move of every minute muscle in my neck, I tipped my head back and stared into his cold blue gaze.

  Except it wasn’t so much cold anymore – it was burning hot with some emotion I’d never seen the smooth, suave William Benson show.

  “Be very careful, Miss Luck. I can only protect you so far. You know nothing about this world, so don’t walk into someone else’s web.” His penetrating gaze flicked off me and locked on the door.

  He was still holding my wrist. He hadn’t dropped it like a hot coal and darted backward yet.

  “W…what’s behind the door?” I asked.

  This was the bit where I should retreat, blubber my sorrys, and get the hell away from this guy.

  So why was I staring up into his eyes defiantly? And why the hell was I asking more bloody questions?

  “Something you don’t need to see. Now come with me.” With his hand still around my wrist, he pulled me forward.

  His grip was just as careful as a jeweler cradling the biggest diamond he’d ever seen. He was holding onto me as if he was scared he’d break me. Or, perhaps, he was scared he’d break himself.

  He pulled me forward, never letting go of my wrist.

  I became almost obsessed with the strangely light yet hard feel of his hand wrapped around mine. So obsessed that I barely noticed when we reached one of the main corridors beyond.

  Benson noticed, though.

  I felt him stiffen. While he only had hold of my wrist, I was somehow connected to his whole body, connected enough that I felt the tension snap through every muscle like a coiled spring.

  I heard footsteps and tugged my head back just in time to see an exceptionally well-dressed man walk toward us. He had one hand pressed into the hip pocket of his expensive, tailored jacket. His head was tilted to the side, one striking green eye visible as the other was hidden by a slice of his ice-white hair.

  I kept waiting for Benson to drop my wrist, kept waiting for him to reinstate the personal space he only ever demanded while he was around me.

  He didn’t.

  Instead, I watched as he swallowed. Watched as his gaze became almost predatory as it locked on the well-kempt man.

  “William,” the man said in a rolling tone. It was nowhere near as smooth as Benson’s. It was harsh. Sharp. If Benson was the equivalent of whiskey over ice, then this guy was like having methyl alcohol poured up your nose.

  I took a step away, and before I realized what I was doing, I pressed hard against Benson’s chest.

  I felt one of his hands lock on my shoulder and push me away, though only slightly. Not completely. He still had a firm grasp of my wrist, after all.

  The man now looked at me curiously, gaze hesitant as it swept between Benson’s grip on my wrist to the uncomfortable distance he was keeping between us.

  “And who do you have here?” the man asked in what he probably thought was a smooth tone.

  “That is not your business. Why aren’t you upstairs enjoying the party?” Benson asked. His tone and expression were blank. His body, however, was locked with tension.

  I still felt connected to him, connected enough that I felt just how much rigidity was trapped in every muscle and tendon. It was almost as if he was getting ready to take over from Atlas and hold up the world. That, or fight a cold-blooded vampire in the corridor.

  Once that thought struck my mind, I could hardly push it away, and began to notice even more signs of Benson’s stress. The usually sonorous hum of his breath had turned into raspy, uneven pants. And the skin around his eyes was so pulled and crumpled it looked like tangled string someone had scrunched between their fingers.

  The man flicked his hard gaze on me. It was exactly like he was trying to tie me up in ropes with his eyes.

  I took another shuddering step back, but this time had the presence of mind not to slam into Benson’s hard, sculpted chest. Instead, I swallowed and darted my gaze between the two men.

  Both of them were watching me out of the corner of their eyes. Though it appeared as if their gazes were locked on each
other, they were also locked on me.

  I felt exactly like the proverbial rabbit who’d wandered in front of the lions.

  I found myself clearing my throat uneasily. “I– I think I can make my way back to the function room from here,” I said.

  Benson didn’t even react. Benson kept his hand on my wrist and the majority of his gaze locked on Theodore. “Are you enjoying the party, Mr. Van Edgerton?”

  My attention suddenly snapped on him. Van Edgerton? This was Theodore Vann Edgerton?

  Theodore chuckled lightly, but his gaze was anything but light. It was like he was trying to wrap his hands around Benson’s throat and drag him through the center of the earth.

  Theodore tilted his head to the side, brought a hand up, flicked his hair from his eyes, and gave a cold and dismissive shrug. “It’s about as scintillating as your usual parties. Though I must admit, there does appear to be the occasional distraction.” Theodore’s gaze cut to mine with all the speed and biting strength of a blizzard slicing into your face.

  I instantly felt the skin along my cheeks and down my neck prickle. Now I’d met my fair share of vampires, I realized the quality of their stares was different. If being locked in Benson’s direct gaze was like having his hands resting gently around your jaw, then being stared at by Theodore Van Edgerton was like having a knife pressed hard into your back.

  Still, I surprised myself when I didn’t shudder back. Instead, I cut my edgy gaze toward Benson, wondering what he would do next.

  He cleared his throat. “This is my secretary,” Benson said in a smooth lie.

  On any other day, I would have pulled him up on that. Pointed out to anyone who would listen that I would never make a deal with Benson.

  Today, I let the lie slide, hoping Theodore would accept it and stop looking at me like some new piece of meat that had been slung up in the butcher’s window.

  He didn’t. Instead, he let all the force of his gaze slide up and down my body, a truly awful smile pressing over his lips. “Secretary?” he asked pointedly. “She doesn’t look like your usual secretaries, Benson. In fact, she doesn’t look like the kind of woman you would waste your time with. So who is she really?”

  I should have been insulted by that. Though I didn’t want to be a leggy, dumb vampire broad, I could tell men like Theodore didn’t think women like me should bother getting out of bed in the morning. Let alone showing their faces.

  Still, my indignation at his comment could not rival my fear at the look in his eye.

  Suddenly, Theodore took a slow step to the side, then another, almost as if he intended to circle us.

  If Benson had tensed before, it was nothing compared to how stiff his muscles became. It was as if he’d been carved out of ice and thrown into space where no warmth would ever touch him again. “I think it’s time you head back to the function, don’t you, Theodore?”

  “What exactly do you intend to do with your secretary while I go back to that disappointing party?” Theodore flashed me a smile.

  Instantly I felt sick and scrunched my lips into a crumpled line. Though I’d met some truly reprehensible vampires, Theodore Van Edgerton was by far the worst of a bad lot. He was the reason the humans had passed those work laws, the reason smart people wanted to stay the hell away from the otherworlder half of town.

  I didn’t have that opportunity. I had to find out what Theodore knew about Susan Smith’s death. Though bravery was the last thing I was feeling in his presence, somehow I managed to stiffen my back and tip my head to the side. “Mr. van Edgerton, I need to talk to you—” I began.

  Benson cleared his throat and smoothly stepped in front of me. “Head back to the party now, Theodore,” he said in an unmistakably belittling tone that nonetheless brimmed with authority.

  I watched Theodore react to it, watched him pare back his lips and stiffen them into a grimace. At the same time, he locked his full attention on me. “What were you saying, miss?” he let the word hiss out of his lips. “What’s your name, dear?”

  Benson dipped his head forward in an obviously fake bow. “Head back to the party now. I’m afraid I’ll be busy for some time.” He turned around, still holding me in his grip, and he began to pull me forward, away from Theodore.

  I couldn’t help but turn over my shoulder and stare at the man.

  He flashed a wicked smile my way. “Have fun there, Benson. Don’t hurry on my account.” With that, he turned, one hand still in his pocket, and walked away.

  I heard the resonating thump of every one of his steps until he was finally out of earshot.

  Benson didn’t stop pulling me along until we reached an imposing silver door. I didn’t recognize it until he opened it with one swipe of his hand and strode quickly inside.

  It was somehow an alternative entrance to his office, an entrance that somehow ported us up three floors to the right level.

  That megalithic sprawling room now stretched before me. The picture windows along the wall gave an unrivaled view of the sparkling city beyond. It was lit up like stars scattered over the land.

  It couldn’t hold my attention, despite its wonder.

  Finally, Benson let me go. He seemed to hesitate as if he had to pry his fingers back from my wrist, but couldn’t quite find the strength.

  With a tight breath, he let me go and took several jerked steps back.

  He locked his hands behind him, turned, and marched into the center of the room.

  For a few seconds, I thought that was it. That he was going to ignore me, but then he turned slowly, carefully over his shoulder, and locked me in a look I’d never seen anyone use. It was at once as cautious as it was deadly. “Do you plan on getting yourself killed, Miss Luck?”

  I shuddered at his tone. Though it was unquestionably hard, it didn’t have the menacing quality Theodore had used on me moments before.

  I shook my head. “I don’t plan on getting myself killed,” I said in a stuttering voice that couldn’t convince a child.

  “Then stay away from Theodore Van Edgerton.”

  From outside, from far off beyond the city limits, there was a clap of thunder. It made me shake so violently it was as if it had rung out right by my ear.

  “Are you… are you worried I will inadvertently kill him?” I hissed through my teeth.

  Benson half turned from me and let out a slow, frustrated chuckle. “No, I am not worried you will inadvertently kill him. I am worried he will deliberately kill you.”

  “I can look after myself,” I said. It was a knee-jerk reaction. The kind of thing you are meant to say in a situation like this.

  Benson unhurriedly arched one eyebrow. “When exactly have you ever been able to look after yourself? You told me yourself, you don’t belong in this world. So take it from a man who does,” his voice slipped down low, echoing hard through the room, harder than the strike of thunder that had shaken through me seconds before, “Stay away from Theodore.”

  I grit my teeth. “I don’t have that luxury. He’s the next clue in my case.”

  Benson half closed his eyes and laughed. It was truly dismissive, and it alone ignited the anger that was beginning to flare in my gut.

  Before I knew what I was doing, I took several steps forward. I was close enough that I started to invade Benson’s personal space.

  Though he glared at me for half a second, it didn’t last, and he took a large step backward. Tipping his head to the side, he shook it as he placed one hand firmly in his pocket and pulled his lips just a touch back from his teeth. “You may not have come across many vampires, Miss Luck, but trust me when I say that Theodore Van Edgerton is a true predator of old. He won’t be cowed by the fact you work for Mr. Marvelous. The only thing that will interest him is my interest in you.”

  It was such a direct statement, it almost floored me. It also sent a shuddering wave of nausea pushing hard through my gut. “Your… interest in me?”

  “Don’t read too much into my comment. Theodore understands that you’re
not my secretary. He’s correct; I would not hire a woman like you.”

  Despite the fact I didn’t want to react to that comment – I mean, I really didn’t want to react to that comment – I couldn’t stop my cheeks from palling as if I’d just been slapped. I also couldn’t stop myself from swallowing so hard it sounded as if I was trying to gulp down a squirming fish.

  Benson didn’t retract his comment and instead kept an even hold of my gaze. “I suggest you don’t let a man like Theodore understand what you can do. Though I have agreed to help you find out what you are, Theodore will use you in every way he can. Though he won’t be able to bleed you dry with his own mouth, he’ll find some other way.”

  I suddenly felt so sick I could barely stand. I couldn’t stop myself from bringing up a hand and cramming it under the buttons of my top to flatten it against my stomach.

  Benson didn’t drop my gaze and didn’t blink. “I suggest you go home, Miss Luck. Find some other case for Mr. Marvelous.”

  “This is the only case going at the moment, and I need money,” I made the mistake of saying. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I gasped and crammed a hand over my lips.

  Benson ticked his head to the side, that by-now-familiar smile spreading across his lips and denting his powerful jaw. Rather than say anything, he simply slipped a hand into the slim pocket of his shirt and plucked something out. From the exact hue of the cream parchment, there was only one thing it could be.

  The contract.

  He held it out to me, grabbing a pen from his pocket and nodding my way. “If you need money, you know where to come. And if you need help, I’m always here,” his voice dropped to a husky note.

  It was my turn to take several steps back to reinstate my personal space. I also crammed my arms around my middle, holding them so tightly it was like I was trying to keep myself back from him. “I don’t need your charity, Mr. Benson.”

  “Who said it was charity?” he said, lips pushing hard around his teeth. You rarely saw Benson’s prominent fangs. Right now I swore they glistened in the reflected light from the glowing city beyond.

  I shuddered involuntarily and took several steps back, shaking my head. “If you’re done here, I’m going to go check out your party,” I said firmly, and was surprised when my words didn’t shake in my throat.

  Benson held the contract and pen out for several more seconds until he let a heavy sigh shift down his shoulders. He folded the contract up neatly and pushed it into his pocket. The thing disappeared almost immediately. Then he unclicked his pen and pressed it into his jacket. “I’m afraid you won’t be going to the party, Miss Luck. You’ll be escorted off the premises. I was wrong – I can’t trust you, you see. You keep poking in places you shouldn’t. You’re like an innocent mouse dancing in front of the lion. So, Miss Luck, I must ask you to leave.”

  My shoulders deflated but I still managed to hold my head up. “Fine, I’ll leave. But I have no intention of dropping this case. I’m going to prove to you and everybody that I can do this.” I don’t know where the burst of confidence came from, but suddenly it sparked through my heart like a powerful torch thrown into a dark basement. It reminded me almost exactly of that spark of something that had charged through my heart when the vampire bit me in the alleyway.

  For just a second Benson’s gaze unfocused. He tilted his head to the side, and a crumpled, confused look compressed across his brow. It was almost as if he were trying to look through me at something beyond.

  I broke the moment when I cleared my throat and turned hard on my foot. I stalked toward the door on the far side of the room. Just as I reached a hand out to grab the imposing silver handle, I heard him swoop in beside me.

  He had hold of my sleeve before I could even dart my gaze to the left.

  I stiffened, but not out of fear. “You don’t have to personally throw me out of your building – I know where the door is,” I hissed through my teeth, incapable of unlocking my jaw. It was almost as if I didn’t trust my mouth right now.

  “I have no intention of personally throwing you out of the building. I have every intention of personally warning you. Remember our contract, Miss Luck.”

  I frowned and reluctantly turned to face him. He didn’t drop his grip on my sleeve, and as I shifted, my arm almost came in contact with his.

  Naturally, he shifted back so I couldn’t touch him.

  “I haven’t broken our contract. I haven’t killed any vampires. I haven’t threatened them with my blood—” I began.

  He cleared his throat, dipped his head down, and stared at me almost like a man looking down the barrel of a gun. “I promised to place no charges against you as long as you allowed me to find out what race you belong to.”

  I frowned even harder now, shifting fully around to face him again. My arm almost brushed his, but he was quicker, darting out of the way just in time and yet keeping a firm grasp on my sleeve.

  He was like a shadow I couldn’t touch. “I haven’t broken the contract.”

  “You will break it if you fail to live, Miss Luck.”

  I shivered.

  “This is the last time I’m going to warn you off Theodore Van Edgerton. Now, be a good girl, and see yourself out of the building.” He reached past me, grasped the handle from under my hand, and opened the door.

  He shifted past, only to offer me a smooth, clearly victorious look.

  I stalked after him, even though I was hardly the kind of girl who stalked after anything. “Not so fast, Mr. Benson.”

  He appeared to ignore me as he continued down the hallway, one hand still locked in the pocket of his tailored black pants.

  “I said not so fast.” I shifted forward and hurried after him.

  He stopped suddenly and turned over his shoulder. So suddenly, in fact, that I had to slam on the brakes as I almost skidded into him. “You better not forget your end of the bargain, either. You said you’d find out what I am, are you any closer?” I challenged.

  This was when he would lock me in one of those smoldering looks and look me up and down from head to toe. Or at least that’s what he’d done in the past.

  Instead, he shrugged as he turned over his shoulder. “I get closer every minute, Miss Luck. Now, I have to attend to my party.”

  “Really? That’s your answer?” I called after him.

  But this time he didn’t stop. He walked until he reached a set of lifts at the opposite side of the hallway. I hurried to take the lift with him, not ready to end the conversation yet.

  I didn’t reach it in time. The doors pinged and opened with a swish. He walked inside and turned hard on his foot, the soles of his shoes squeaking over the metal base of the elevator.

  He locked me in his gaze just as the doors closed in front of him.

  “How about I go back and snoop around your office?” I called before the doors could completely close.

  “It’s time for you to leave,” he said. The doors closed, and the rest of what he said was cut off.

  I didn’t need any more explanation, though. For at that exact moment, every open door along the hallway suddenly slammed shut and a great blowing wind rushed down, catching the hem of my jacket and blowing it hard against my knees. It even grasped at my hair, making it fly around my face until I gasped and had to bring up both hands to protect myself.

  A few seconds later the wind abated, but not entirely. It still played and grasped around my ankles like a yapping dog ready to corral me out the door.

  Gritting my teeth and grinding my hands into fists, I reluctantly walked out of Benson’s tower.

  For the first time since I’d moved into the cemetery side of town, I didn’t feel edgy as I stalked my way back to the car. Instead, all my attention was locked on that infuriating Benson. I reminded myself that vampires were meant to be smooth, so confident that you were meant to fall like putty into their hands.

  I would have been okay if that’s all Benson was. What was infuriating, what made me second-guess ever
ything I said around him and everything he said around me, was his hesitancy. The few meters he always kept between us. And more than anything, that look right in the center of his deep penetrating gaze. The look that told me he could be just as scared of me as I was of him.

  Suddenly, I shivered and looked up just in time to see the low clouds slung over the city open up. A few splatters of rain landed on the window.

  A second later, the heavens opened up with a clap of thunder and a blast of lightning that lit the city streets and illuminated every nook and cranny. And considering this was the graveyard side of town, every nook and cranny held some dark stuff indeed.

  I saw a few shady werewolves flitting off quickly down an alleyway, saw a couple of body witches working on the corner. And just out of the corner of my eye, I swore I saw a man staring at me from the car across the road. He was dressed in leather, with a gaze like two ice picks. He was a vampire.

  A second later, the car roared around a corner and was out of sight. But the effect it had on me was unmistakable. I wasted no more time. I hurried home, locking the doors firmly behind me.

  I relaxed once I was inside Mr. Marvelous’ shop. I wouldn’t say I was starting to like this place – it was still full of dust and cobwebs and as cramped as a sardine can. But it was indisputably safe. It was kind of like a grown-up version of being able to run home and shove your head under the covers.

  Mr. Marvelous’ shop was built like a veritable magical strong box. Not only were the walls thick enough to survive a nuclear blast, but the more attention I paid, the more magical charms and enchantments I saw. What I thought was just water damage dripping down the side of the wall in the hallway turned out to be a permanent drain charm that ensured no tiny magical creatures would be able to crawl their way through the pipes and jump out of your toilet seat.

  As I ran my hand along the wall and my nails accidentally peeled back a few flecks of paint, I saw some hastily scribbled spells beneath. Though at first glance you could easily mistake them for building measurements, as I squinted, I saw the unmistakable curve and curl of ancient Aramaic text. No doubt it was there to help keep demons from pushing their ethereal hands through the plaster and wood.

  Drawing my bottom lip hard through my teeth, I quickly made my way to my storage room. As soon as I shoved open the door, I actually let my eyes half roll into the back of my head as I sighed in relief at the mere sight of my bed.

  Instantly my gaze locked on the view, and kicking my shoes off and letting them bang hard against the wall, I padded over to it. Securing both hands on the chipped, water-damaged windowsill, I pressed my face as close as I could to the glass, and I stared down at the city.

  Mr. Marvelous had been right about one thing: this really was the best view in Hope City. You could see an army coming a mile off. And if not an army, a soul-sucking vampire. Because that’s exactly what I saw.

  As my gaze swept off that stunning city and jerked down to the street corner opposite the shop, I gasped. Tightness swelled in my chest as I saw a man dressed in leather with one hand tucked in his pocket.

  He was staring right at the building.

  “Crap,” I spluttered as I jerked back, terrified that he’d seen me.

  When I gathered the courage to creep back to the window, practically looming up on it as if I were trying to startle the glass, he hadn’t shifted.

  Mr. Marvelous had told me that while this window offered the best view in the city, no one would be able to see inside.

  Gritting my teeth, I brought my hand up and began to wave violently. The man down on the street corner didn’t move, didn’t react.

  Though he was far enough away that I had no idea what his expression was, his body remained just as stiff as it had been before.

  “Stay right there,” I muttered under my breath as I turned hard on my stockings, the nylons snagging against a few splintered chunks of the floorboards. I threw myself out of the room, using the doorframe for support as I swung around it and shot down the hallway.

  I dived into the storage cupboard, falling down to my knees and grasping at the drawer where Mr. Marvelous kept the magical binoculars.

  I snatched them up in a shaking hand and sprinted back to my room. I flung myself inside and skidded to a halt in front of the windows.

  I jerked the magical binoculars up, twiddled the bright red and blue tiles just how Mr. Marvelous had shown me, and looked out at the city street.

  The guy in leather was still there, and as I stared at him through the binoculars, I realized he was the vampire from the car on the street. The same creepy guy who’d sent fear marching through my gut.

  I hissed through my teeth. “Oh God, this is bad. This is bad. This is bad. Isn’t it?” I asked the room in a trembling tone.

  He was handsome, whoever he was. Hardly a surprise considering he was an undead vampire.

  Now I was starting to learn more about the otherworlders, I was becoming less and less impressed by the drop-dead gorgeous vampires you saw swanning around the city. Not only had they had hundreds of years to perfect their style, they were all body change junkies – the magical equivalent of plastic surgery. They layered their face with special magical formulas that were kind of the equivalent of skin putty. They could use it to carve any feature they wanted. But get up and close enough, and it would be like thick foundation. You’d see it caking at the corners of their necks and around their eyes.

  Except for William Benson, my mind suddenly told me. I’d been more than close enough to him to see that his skin and face were perfect.

  “Not the time,” I told myself around clenched teeth. As I jerked the binoculars back up to my eyes, I also crammed a thumb into my lips and started chewing on the nail industriously.

  I stood there for God knows how long, just staring at the guy as he stared at the building.

  Should I call Mr. Marvelous? He told me on pain of death not to bother him when he went home. He was very much the kind of guy who did not take his work home with him, wherever the heck he lived. Which meant I was on my own.

  Though some people may be able to tear themselves away from the window and try to get some sleep, trusting in the magical enchantments protecting this building, I was not one of those people.

  I knew myself all too well. I would stand here, one sweaty hand pressed up against the glass, the magical binoculars locked over my eyes for the rest of the night. By the morning I’d be a nervous wreck.

  I didn’t have to wait till morning. About five minutes later, the man casually pulled back his leather jacket and reached into a pocket. He pulled out several placards, even though they couldn’t possibly have fit in the space allotted to his pocket.

  He tilted them forward and up, obviously intending to catch the attention of anyone in this building.

  Jerking my thumb from my mouth, I shoved the binoculars so hard against my eyes it was as if I was trying to core them out.

  Magical writing began to appear over the placards, curling itself in a neat calligraphic hand.

  “Miss Luck,” it began. The vampire tossed a placard over his shoulder, and it struck the rain-slicked pavement, instantly hissing and disappearing in black wisps of smoke.

  Another placard appeared in his hands, and that same, neat calligraphic writing appeared over it. “You have a meeting with Mr. Theodore Van Edgerton tomorrow. Wear a dress.”

  With that, the vampire tossed the remaining placards over his shoulder, threw me a mock salute, turned on his foot, and sauntered off, easily disappearing into the lines of streaking rain.

  I dropped the magical binoculars. They tumbled over the floor by my feet.

  I crammed my hand into my mouth and screamed around my sweaty fingers. “What the hell? What the hell?” my voice echoed around the cramped confines of my room. “I have a meeting with Theodore van Edgerton. Wear a dress? What does that mean? Where a dress?!”

  My heart was pounding in my chest, reverberating up my neck, and shifting into my jaw with bone-b
reaking force.

  It took a heckuva long time to pull myself away from the window. Then I crumpled on my bed and wriggled under my covers, unashamedly bringing them up over my head.

  When I felt the cable of my jacket eating hard into my back, I shrugged out of it and threw it out from under my blanket. Then I nestled my face as hard as I could into my pillow as I practically sealed my eyes shut like a crypt you never intended to open again.

  Not only did Theodore Van Edgerton know where I lived and what my name was, but he wanted to see me in a dress, apparently.

  He hadn’t left a time or place, but I was dealing with vampires here. It would be some secluded fancy rooftop restaurant or the recently excavated remains of some historic building. Hell, maybe he expected me to show up at his veritable castle of a mansion just beyond the city limits.

  “Oh God, this is not happening to me,” I said as I ran a sweaty hand down my brow, smoothing the knotted strands of my fringe away from my eyes.

  Though I was thoroughly content to shiver under my blankets, some part of me appreciated this could be a good thing. He was really the only person who’d be able to help me figure out what had happened to Miss Smith.

  But ever since Benson’s warning, let alone my own visceral reaction to Theodore, I now appreciated how awful this plan was. Sure, maybe Theodore would be able to tell me what happened to Miss Smith, but God knows what price he’d exact for that information.

  Briefly, for just the smallest fraction of a microsecond, I almost thought of calling Benson.

  Okay, I didn’t have his number, I wasn’t exactly his best bud. I could haul ass back to his building and beg to be let in. He’d know what to do, right? He had contacts in the vampire world, he’d be able to tell Theodore to stay the hell away from me. But that, of course, would mean Miss Smith’s murder would never be solved.

  Even though it wasn’t dignified and wasn’t exactly going to help anyone, I began to whine as I chewed hard on my nails. It, of course, didn’t help, but eventually I found myself calming down enough to pull the covers back from my mouth so I didn’t choke.

  I managed to slip into an uneasy sleep. I dreamt again. Of course I dreamt. And of course that light followed me. More aggressively this time. I ran through dreamlike corridor after dreamlike corridor, my frantic footfall a pounding drum beat in my heart.

  And that light – it was everywhere. Chasing me. Pushing me forward. Hounding me toward the dark.

  By the time I woke, I was drenched in sweat, about as bedraggled as the city streets beyond. Today, I was sure was going to make or break me. And considering my luck, it would be the latter.