Hannah shook her head. “She was going to get a taxi. If we go charging out into the night, she’ll probably show up here the moment we leave. Just hang tight. She probably just had trouble finding a cab.”
Hannah’s words made sense, though Gray hated to admit it. He ran his hands through his hair, combing out some of the worst of the tangles. His feet were still bare, his shirt only half buttoned, when he heard the sound of a card-key sliding into the lock. Hannah heard it too and quickly ran to the door to take off the deadbolt.
Gray’s heart lurched with relief when Carolyn stepped into the room. Then it almost came to a stop when Jules stepped in behind her. Carolyn was chewing her lip furiously, a pinched, strained look on her face. Jules wore his habitual smirk as he stepped around her and took off his hat and coat. He left the cashmere scarf draped around his neck, and Gray had visions of grabbing both ends and pulling tight.
Jules plopped down in one of the chairs and folded his hands over his belly, making himself quite at home. At least he hadn’t gone straight for Gray’s jugular.
“Sorry, Gray,” Carolyn said sheepishly. “Apparently, he’s up and around before sunset. I didn’t know.”
Gray blinked and took another good look at his nemesis. “I didn’t know that either.”
The smug smile on Jules’s face made Gray want to punch him, but of course he knew better.
“He’s not the Banger, Gray,” Carolyn said, drawing his attention away from Jules.
“How did you determine that?”
“I checked his fingerprints, and they don’t match the print on the envelope.”
“But we don’t know for sure the print on the envelope is the Banger’s.”
“Well I found one that looks suspiciously close to a match on the door to your basement. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”
Gray sat on the edge of his rumpled bed, wondering how close Carolyn was to solving the case. Could it really be so simple as checking fingerprints?
“Of course,” Jules said, “we know that Drake touched that door also, so we have to make certain the mysterious print isn’t his.”
“Did he make it out all right last night?” Gray asked, figuring Jules would know all the details.
“Yeah. He’s at Eli’s, and will be for the foreseeable future. Things are kind of going to hell. But I’m sure I can get you his fingerprints so we can officially eliminate him as a suspect.” He turned his gaze to Hannah. “Hannah, my dear, I suggest you rent yourself a room in this lovely establishment. I’m not the only one who can connect you to Carolyn and from her to Gray. I don’t think it’s safe for you to go home.”
“Oh, peachy!”
“My apologies,” he said, and to Gray’s shock he sounded almost sincere. “I’ve shared too much information with the masses, but I never expected …”
“Never expected what?” Gray prompted.
Jules sighed. “Never expected things to get so out of hand.” He met Gray’s eyes, and his lips pursed like he was eating a lemon. A very bitter one. “Now that I see others acting like I did, leaping to conclusions without proof or consideration …” He shrugged and let the words trail off.
“This reconciliation thing is very touching,” Hannah said, “but I think I’m going to go reserve a room so I can barf in the privacy of my own bathroom.” She hopped off the bed and headed for the door. “Don’t anyone do anything important until I get back,” she called over her shoulder.
For a moment, all three of them stared at the closed door. As far as Gray was concerned, Hannah was a loose cannon. How much did she fiate him? Enough to go to her house and wait for the Guardians to find her?
Carolyn seemed to read his thoughts. “She didn’t have to stand guard over you all day,” she said. “She talks big, but she’s really a pussycat.”
Gray snorted and Jules laughed. “More like a battle-scarred alley cat,” Gray said, earning him a dirty look from Carolyn.
The mood in the room shifted subtly. Gray’s shoulders tensed in anticipation as he asked the question that burned in his chest. “So,” he said, turning to Jules. “Are you here to take me in or kill me or what?”
“Pick the right answer, Jules,” Carolyn said, drawing her gun and aiming it squarely at his chest. As soon as she took aim, she cast her eyes downward.
Jules laughed, a sound that once again grated against Gray’s nerves. “You would need perfect aim to kill me with a shot to the chest,” he said. “You’d have a greater chance of success if you aimed at my head.”
Gray could almost hear Carolyn grinding her teeth at the condescending mockery in the prick’s voice. “Your head’s a mighty small target,” she snapped. “Maybe a shot to the chest wouldn’t kill you immediately, but I’m betting it would still hurt. And I’m betting the pain would be distracting enough that I could get off a kill shot.” Jules no longer looked so amused. “If I feel any hint that you’re using glamour against me, or if I see any hint that you’re using it against Gray, I will shoot you.”
Jules sucked in a quick, startled breath, then looked at Gray with fear in his eyes. For the space of one heartbeat, Gray thought about doing just what Jules feared he would—pretend to be affected by glamour. But much as he despised the prick, he wasn’t going to stoop to what amounted to murder, and he certainly wasn’t going to put Carolyn in the position of pulling the trigger.
Feeling for the first time like he was in control of a situation involving Jules, Gray smiled. “Checkmate.”
“Enculé,” Jules snarled, but the pallor of his face weakened his venom.
“Gray, this is no time to gloat,” Carolyn chided.
“Sorry,” he said, not meaning it.
Jules leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles. Tension still tightened his jaw, but from the calculating look on his face Gray guessed he’d regained some of his composure.
“Your loyalty is admirable, Carolyn, but do you have any idea what you’re protecting with such ferocity?” Jules asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
Gray’s stomach dipped as he realized what a dreadful mistake it had been to gloat. “Shut up, Jules!”
“What’s the matter, Gray? Afraid of what I might say? Afraid I might tell her the whole, ugly truth about you?”
Gray’s throat tightened with panic, and though he wanted to tell Jules to shut up again, he couldn’t get a sound out. He must have looked as panicked as he was, for Jules laughed his mocking laugh again. Then he turned to Carolyn.
“You may put down your weapon. I’m not here to kill anyone. You’ve raised sufficient doubt in my mind that he’s the Banger and I won’t act unless I’m sure. As I’ve told you before.”
Her laughter held no hint of amusement. “Yes, but before you were trying to talk me into bringing you here, so your claims were highly suspect. I’m not going to lie to you, Jules: I still don’t trust you.” The gun still pointed unwaveringly at his chest.
“And I still don’t trust Gray, so I suppose we’re at an impasse. However, I would really like to know whose print was on that envelope, so with your permission I would like to track down Drake and confirm it isn’t his.”
“You don’t believe it is,” Gray said.
Jules shook his head. “No. I don’t trust him any more than I trust you, but even I have to admit last night’s tableau was too contrived. Someone worked very hard to make the two of you look bad. Even if you’re both as bad as I think you are, there’s another party at work here.”
“All right,” Carolyn said. “Go get me Drake’s fingerprints. Then we’ll figure out where we go from there. But move slowly.”
Jules raised his hands and splayed his fingers as he rose carefully from his chair. “I would suggest none of you leave this hotel tonight. You should be safe here, but I very much doubt that would be true if you ventured out into the streets.” He picked up his coat and hat, moving slowly as ordered. Carolyn was watching him through her peripheral vision, the gun following his movement. He paused with
his hand on the door, turning to look over his shoulder with an evil grin.
“Make sure you convince Gray to tell you what he’s been hiding from you. Maybe then you’ll understand why I hold him in such contempt.” He slipped out the door before Gray or Carolyn could respond.
Slowly, Carolyn lowered the gun, then reholstered it. She let out a deep breath and shook her head. “Sorry about that, Gray,” she said. “I had no idea he could be out and about before sunset. He ambushed me at my place, and I had no choice but to bring him here.”
Gray rubbed his face, though the last remnants of sleep had left him long ago. “It’s not your fault,” he assured her, dreading what was going to come next.
A tense, waiting silence filled the room. Gray rubbed his palms up and down his pants legs, betraying his nerves. Carolyn slipped her shoes off and crossed her legs under her on the bed.
“Don’t leave it hanging over your head, Gray,” she said, her voice soft and full of sympathy he didn’t deserve. “Just tell me whatever it is Jules says I should know. No doubt he’ll tell me himself if you don’t, and he’ll put the worst possible spin on it.”
Gray nodded, knowing that was true. That didn’t make it any easier for him to tell her. He sprang to his feet, too agitated to hold still. Pacing the length of the small room, he forced the words out of his mouth.
“The woman who transformed me, Kate Henshaw. She was a very old vampire. Very powerful. She’d managed to live in Philly for a century or more without the Guardians ever guessing she was here. I guess she got arrogant, thinking she could outwit them forever, so she decided to make a fledgling. Me.” He licked his lips nervously and continued to pace.
“I think her idea was to create an army of fledglings, all loyal to her, who could take down the Guardians and make Philly a safe place for Killers to live and hunt. I was her first project.
“Of course, for me to be of any use to her, I had to become a Killer myself. She knew perfectly well when she took me that it wasn’t something that would come naturally to me.” He heard the bitterness that had crept into his voice but saw no reason to try to hide it. “She could have taken some gang-banger or hardcore criminal who would have been perfectly happy to kill over and over again so he could be immortal. Instead, she chose me.
“She locked me in the basement and left me there as the hunger built and built in me. I fought it as best I could, but …” He shuddered, remembering those terrible days, when he could feel the beast growing stronger within him, threatening to overwhelm him. Worst of all, he remembered his moments of weakness, when the siren call of the beast had tempted him to give in voluntarily.
His life before then had been a monument to control, to civilization, to conformity. The beast whispered that he could throw it all away, drop all the restraints society forced upon him, live in a state of total selfishness, denying himself nothing that he wanted, repressing none of his feelings or desires.
“I lost track of time down there, but I must have been there at least a week, starving, when Kate brought a mortal to the house. He was a street person, stinking drunk and probably clinically insane on top of that. She locked him in the basement with me.”
The torment had been like nothing he’d ever experienced in his life. The hunger was unbearable, and the guy was such a pathetic specimen of humanity. His clothes stank of alcohol and urine and body odor. He mumbled incessantly, words that made no sense, and when Gray tried to talk to him, he got no response. The stink and the constant mumbling grated on Gray’s nerves, adding to the pressure of the hunger.
He watched his feet as he paced, unable to face Carolyn as he told her the rest. “She left him there with me for days as the hunger continued to build. Until one day—” His voice choked off, and for a moment he wasn’t sure he could finish. He cleared his throat. “I killed him. I couldn’t help myself.”
And try as he might, he would never forget how heavenly the blood had tasted to him, nor could he forget the ecstasy he’d experienced as the wino’s life force had slowly weakened, then died.
“The kill is addictive,” he continued, still not looking at Carolyn. “Stronger than the strongest drug known to mankind. Some vampires are lost to it after the very first kill. Some can hold out longer. But the addiction is incurable. I think I’m very vulnerable. If I had killed one more time … .” He swallowed thickly.
“After the kill, Kate still kept me locked in the basement. She knew I wasn’t addicted yet, so she kept me there and starved me some more. When she thought I was ready to break again, she brought me another mortal, a prostitute this time. A crack addict, with the most grating, offensive personality you could imagine. Kate knew I’d have a harder time restraining myself if she trapped me with the most distasteful mortals she could find.
“But she made a terrible mistake when she grabbed this prostitute. The Guardians were finally on to her, and they saw her grab the woman. They followed her back to the house. They killed her and freed me.”
“And the prostitute?” Carolyn asked softly, her voice betraying nothing of how she was reacting to his confession.
“I bit her. I would have killed her, if Jules hadn’t intervened.” A grim smile stretched his lips. “I bit him too, so crazed I couldn’t recognize a rescue attempt when it slapped me in the face. He wanted to kill me then and there, but the rest of the Guardians thought it was best to take me to Eli, their founder and leader. And Eli, as you can see, decided to let me live.”
The story over, he sat back down in his chair, his breath whooshing out. He felt exhausted, body and soul. And he didn’t dare raise his head from his hands to see how Carolyn was reacting to his tale.
16
THE SITUATION WAS EVEN worse than he’d originally thought, Jules realized when he stepped into Eli’s meeting hall, a few minutes late as usual. Eli had called a meeting of all Guardians tonight, meaning to do his best to restore order. Many had come as requested, but there were some notable absences. Fletcher, for one. And the three Guardians who’d accompanied Michael Freeman on his witch hunt last night. Plus two more of the younger Guardians. Almost a third of their number missing. Drake wasn’t there either, but Jules could sense another vampire presence lurking in the next room over. No doubt Eli had thought it best not to stir the pot.
Shaking his head, he took his seat and shared a look with Eli.
“Lest anyone worry that our missing brethren have come to harm,” Eli said, “I’ve been informed that they cannot possibly take time out from their duties to attend a meeting when this Broad Street Banger is still out and about.” That started a murmur amongst the gathered Guardians.
“Maybe they’re right,” Michael Freeman said, and many a head nodded in agreement.
Eli’s eyes narrowed. “If you truly believe that scattered packs of blood-crazed vigilantes are more useful against this threat than an organized, controlled investigation, then feel free to leave at any time.”
The temperature in the room seemed to dip, the murmuring voices quieting. An angry Eli was an intimidating sight, no doubt about it.
“Sorry,” Michael said, hanging his head and looking terribly young. He’d only been twenty-two when he’d been transformed, and although he’d lived many years since then, his face remained a picture of boyish innocence.
Eli’s shoulders relaxed, and the pall that had settled over the room lifted. For the moment. “We’re all angry. We’re all upset. And we all want to stop whoever’s behind this. But the more fragmented we become, the more easily the killer will elude us.”
“And the easier it will be for the killer to pick us off, if that’s what he intends,” Deirdre added, causing another stir.
Jules wished she’d kept that thought to herself, and from the look on Eli’s face, the Founder did too.
Kelly Hammond, the oldest of the female Guardians, raised her hand like she thought she was in school. Then she proceeded to speak without awaiting an invitation. “But if we think the killer might be one of us, when w
e get together like this and share information, we’re telling him everything he needs to know about how to avoid us!”
Jules wondered if the fingerprint Carolyn had found might not be the perfect way to exonerate the Guardians who were present and thereby heal the rift that was still widening. He opened his mouth to speak, then swallowed his words. Given the atmosphere of suspicion, he feared that by seeking to get the Guardians’ fingerprints, he might draw suspicion upon himself. He could just hear one of the young hotheads accusing him of falsifying the fingerprints. No, before he made any move, he needed to discuss what he’d learned with Eli.
“I understand your objection,” Eli said soothingly, “but I don’t think our other options are terribly appealing. There’s no evidence that the killer is one of us—just that the killer knows who we are. That could have happened any number of ways.”
“So what do you suggest?” Kelly asked.
“I suggest we work on the assumption that the killer is not one of us and we start looking into others who have reason to know of our existence. Take a close look at any mortals you’ve befriended. They could have learned things you never intended them to learn, and they could have shared with the killer unknowingly. Remember, mortals have no way of knowing that they’re talking to a vampire. Perhaps the killer hired a private investigator to help him figure out our identities.”
Jules bit back a curse and hoped his thoughts weren’t showing on his face. A private investigator. Like Carolyn Mathers? She’d been following Gray, supposedly, after that little incident with the mugger. Had she really been gathering intelligence, finding out the identities of the Guardians who were watching Gray? After all, Gray didn’t know all of their identities, only the ones who’d interacted with him. If he was really the Banger, then he would have needed to identify as many Guardians as possible. Love made people do crazy things—like cover up for a cold-blooded killer.
Heart suddenly pounding, Jules held his tongue. He’d gone off half-cocked enough times lately. He wasn’t going to do it again. So he’d wait until the gathering of Guardians broke up, and he’d get Drake’s fingerprints. But once again, Gray James had jumped to the top of his suspect list, with Carolyn Mathers as his willing accomplice.