Blood Trouble Page 3

  "Or the painting elves or the tile elves," Hank agreed. "Would you rather clean walls before we spackle and prime, or scrape up old tiles?"

  "What do you want to do?" I asked. "I can do the other. It doesn't matter to me."

  "I'll scrape tile."

  "Then I'll clean walls."

  "Sore shoulders?" Hank asked when we broke for lunch. I did have sore shoulders from reaching high and low to clean walls. I'd have to get a short ladder and go around the main space a second time, to get what I couldn't reach on the first pass. "We need to replace about half the baseboards, too," I sighed. "I think they had some kind of water damage in the past. The bottom is rotted out on some of the wood."

  "Damn," Hank swore softly.

  "I'll get it. It can't be much, can it? Do you have a table saw?"

  "I can borrow one," he said. "I know somebody who lives across the bay who has a lot of power tools."

  "Then you handle the borrowing and I'll see about getting baseboards."

  "After we eat," he said, pointing a finger in my direction.

  "Sure. What are we eating, again?"

  "Sub sandwiches?"

  "Yeah. The sub shop makes a good veggie sub," I nodded. "I want extra olives and cheddar and Swiss."

  "Okay. If I get the subs, you want to order baseboards while I'm gone?"

  "Yeah."

  I ended up ordering a synthetic version that couldn't be damaged by water, and arranged to have it delivered before Hank got back.

  "That's more expensive," Hank said when I told him what I'd bought.

  "I don't care. It'll last longer and you won't have to worry about water damage again."

  "Look, you've already invested more than either of us expected. Let's keep this as inexpensive as possible."

  "Fine."

  "Fine."

  "Fine."

  Hank grinned. I was coming to love that smile, and I had no right to. And, for probably the hundredth time, I wondered at my willingness to just jump in and help him. It didn't make sense and most other women, even if they'd fallen for the face and physique, would have approached such an investment warily.

  I watched Hank take off his shirt to work that afternoon; he was lifting a section of stubborn tiles. Ashamed of myself, I watched as muscles rippled and averted my eyes from abs that any bodybuilder would be proud of.

  "Dinner?" Hank asked when we stopped working at nine.

  "I have something to do," I sighed, attempting to work the kinks out of my shoulders.

  "What's that?"

  "Personal stuff."

  "All right, but you have to come to dinner tomorrow night. It's fajita Monday at Bogey's."

  "Can they do veggie fajitas?"

  "I believe one of the options is Portobello fajitas."

  "That sounds really good," I said. It did. I almost wished it were Monday instead of Sunday.

  "Okay. See you in the morning at seven-thirty?"

  "Yeah."

  * * *

  Lissa's Journal

  "Where do you think she might be?" I said.

  "My love, I wish you'd stop worrying," Rigo murmured. "It is my hope she'll show up—I have left instructions with trusted spies in both Alliances."

  "But what if she doesn't show up or come back? Granted, Belen was able to clear Gavin, Gavril and Cheedas of the mind cloud, but she may never forgive them." I held my head in my hands as I huddled against my Hraedan vampire mate. "What if she's terrified that we'll force her to spend the rest of those five years with Gavin? I sure wouldn't want to come back to that."

  "Can Adam Chessman not locate her as well? He is her half-sire, and should there be any lessons left, he can perform that duty."

  "I'd like to work with her, Rigo—as the Vhanaraszh, she could help me figure out what's causing these freak sandstorms on the Dark Worlds we're trying to repopulate." I didn't add that what else she was might ensure that she'd be able to help. That secret needed to stay with me as long as possible.

  "Tiessa, I realize you wish to get to know her, too. You don't say it to spare Gavin's feelings in this but in truth, he, his son and Cheedas have managed to rob you of something precious. Even if they are not fully to blame."

  "Rigo." I pressed against his side and brushed tears away.

  "Hush. All shall go as it will. We cannot change these things, my love."

  "I know." I sniffled, despite my best efforts.

  * * *

  Ashe's Journal

  Trajan often seems distant, since Breanne disappeared from Le-Ath Veronis. Somehow, she'd managed to save Lissa when she was stabbed by one of her comesuli, and Renegar and I are still discussing that. Information on the incident is very sketchy, and I hesitate to ask Gavin about it, as he has become nearly unapproachable since learning he'd been infected by a mind cloud. I am at a loss, too, as to how Belen was able to clear it from him, his son and another vampire, but I have not studied it thoroughly—I'm just glad it was possible to destroy it. Kay still wanders around as if she's in a daze, eats only because Bill coaxes her and shies away from my (or anyone else's) touch.

  Rabis and I have discussed this, but he has seen no possible way to repair the damage done, and the information escapes me as well. Regardless, Bill has placed secure locks on all knife drawers and anything else in the house that might tempt Kay to take her life.

  Kay hasn't shown further indications of suicide, but Kevis can't get through to her, either. She resides somewhere in the recesses of her mind and none of us have been able to draw her back. It is more than frustrating; my love is with me but abhors my touch, and walks away whenever anyone attempts to speak with her.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  I walked a community college campus, where two freshmen girls had disappeared the day before. Lissa's nose was better than mine, but any vampire's nose is pretty good. Did I mention that crime rates have declined in the area since I took up residence? They have. I didn't bother to investigate burglaries or the occasional, random murder, but two missing girls sort of riled me up, as they say in Texas.

  Campus security had been increased and I saw several guards patrolling the grounds, but I was shielding myself and they never knew I was there. It didn't matter—I found no evidence of those girls where a witness claimed he'd seen them last, so I misted back to my apartment, scrambled two eggs with shredded cheese, ate, brushed my teeth and went to bed.

  * * *

  I decided not to run Monday morning, since opening my eyes turned out to be harder than expected. I slept the extra hour instead, before hauling my aching shoulders out of bed, downing a protein shake for breakfast and wandering downstairs to meet Hank at seven-thirty. Spackling and sanding were on my agenda for the day, while Hank scraped up tile in the back room and bathroom.

  He intended to knock out the bathroom wall, too, enlarge it, put in three stalls and make it a unisex bathroom. I just shook my head when he'd said it would be unisex. Even though I never needed a bathroom for the usual purposes, I sure didn't want to be looking at my hair in the mirror while some guy did his business in a stall nearby. Hank laughed at me when I said that to him, too. I didn't bring it up again.

  "Shoulders sore?" I attempted to rub the ache away while he unlocked the outside door and walked into the building.

  "A little." I dropped my hand.

  "You're not used to this much physical labor," he pointed out.

  "Tell me something I haven't already discovered for myself," I huffed and followed him inside.

  "I'm in a redundant sort of mood, today," he smirked.

  "Redundant? Wow, fancy word," I muttered before searching out the tub of spackle and a putty knife.

  After cleaning up at the end of a seemingly endless day filled with white, pasty spackle, intermingled with wiping off the excess goo with a rag so it wouldn't dry on the putty knife, I had all the holes and gouges filled. I got no sanding done—I'd found too many spots that needed spackling. Sanding would have to wait until the next d
ay. My shoulders were screaming by the time I showered and walked toward Bogey's for the promised Portobello fajitas.

  * * *

  "Damn," I muttered, my fork halfway to my mouth when the nightly news announced that another girl—a college sophomore, this time, had gone missing from a nearby college. A different campus had been hit this time, and there were no witnesses to the abduction—only the girl's roommate, who said the victim left their shared dorm room around four to study at the library. Somewhere between the dorm room and library, the girl had disappeared.

  "Another one?" Hank looked up from his plate of beef and chicken fajitas.

  "Yeah. Nobody seems to know anything," I added.

  "Not good," Hank stabbed a strip of beef with his fork, lifted it to his mouth and chewed.

  "Yeah."

  "Nothing we can do," he mumbled around his food.

  "Yeah."

  * * *

  A week later, we were deep into painting and working on the ceiling, which had cracks. Two more college girls had disappeared and the local news stations pointed out that all the victims were from different campuses. Nobody ever saw anything, which worried and aggravated me.

  My shoulder aches were improving, but I was still tired at the end of every day. Hank didn't seem to understand the concept of a day off—he was like a machine when he worked. The inadvertent break in the disappearing college girls mystery and an earthquake happened two weeks later, but that was after a total of nine girls had gone missing.

  Hank was taking down an old light fixture, intending to cover up the hole for the wiring before placing several discreet pendant lights over the bar area instead, when the earthquake hit. The quake was reported to be a six-point-two later and caused several problems, including cracking the foundation beneath our feet. It also damaged a city sewer. That's where city maintenance workers found the decomposing bodies of nine girls, whose throats had been cut.

  * * *

  "Hank, calm down," I soothed as best I could. He was cursing when the building inspector left, after telling us the cracks would have to be repaired before we could open Hank's nightclub for business.

  "How much?" I asked, when Hank muttered a few more expletives before falling silent.

  "At least forty grand," he sighed, raking fingers through dark hair. The cracks ran from one end of the space to the other, and were spread out. Unsurprisingly, the businesses on either side had cracks, too.

  That was the day I learned, too, that Hank was my landlord. He owned the space for the club and what was above it—which turned out to be my apartment and the apartments on either side of mine. As an investor, I suppose I owned a portion of my apartment as well—twenty-five percent, according to the contract. I'd paid my rent for a year in advance, and a rental company handled all that. It made sense, I just hadn't thought about it before.

  Hank argued with me at first, but after making calls and working on getting estimates, he finally breathed a sigh, accepted my personal check for forty thousand and asked my attorney to revise our agreement, giving me half the club. Terry said he'd have the papers ready the following afternoon, which worked out great—I had things to do during my night hours, and part of that included a misting trip through a broken sewer to see if I could determine who'd killed nine young women.

  * * *

  "Bree, you need to eat," Hank said later as he locked the gate outside the bar.

  "I'll eat. I have eggs and cheese, bagels, canned vegetable soup—I won't starve," I said. "I just have a couple of personal matters to take care of."

  Hank wanted to argue or say something else; I watched his jaw work for a few seconds before he shrugged. "Okay. But dinner tomorrow night is on me—at Bogey's."

  "That's fine," I agreed, hauling the apartment key from a pocket of my jeans and offering a forced smile. Working with Hank was great in some ways and horrible in others. I watched him paint, stain, lay flooring and a multitude of other tasks, continuously wondering what made him tick and (if I were honest) inwardly weeping because he'd shown absolutely no interest in me. No, he wasn't gay—his eyes would occasionally follow an attractive woman as she walked past, but he never glanced at a male more than once, unless it was our waiter at Bogey's. Even then, it was only polite not to ignore your server.

  Hank waited until I'd shut the lower door and walked up the steps to my apartment before he left, hands in pockets, for dinner at his favorite restaurant and bar. Once I was inside my apartment, I spent ten minutes wiping off most of the grime from working, changed clothes and misted toward the broken sewer.

  * * *

  Kay's Journal

  I was beginning to work through the fear, but Kalia's terror was so overwhelming that it was much like attempting to swim through thick mud to get to the surface of consciousness. I'd be there for perhaps a few hours, until someone reached out toward me, attempted to touch or said something that frightened Kalia so badly that I'd be thrown right back to the mud pit's bottom again. At times, the struggle wasn't worth the effort, and I allowed her fears to dictate everything. Only time might tell if we'd ever reach any sort of equilibrium again.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  Vampire. Even with the stench around me, I could smell the vampire and the lingering scents of nine bodies. The smell of blood, too, rose around me. Most of the victims' blood had washed away, but the vampire drank from all of them—I was certain of that—before slitting their throats. I wondered, too, how he'd dealt with the stench in the sewer—most vampires wouldn't have chosen that as a location to drink from and then dispose of victim's bodies.

  More than thankful that most vampires slept through the day, I waited after hearing the noise down the way—the sewer was taller than I was where I stood and the vampire's scent reached me before he did. Turning to mist, I waited for him to arrive.

  He did, carrying another girl in his arms. She was already dead, unfortunately, from a snapped neck. She'd struggled, at least, before she'd died, but she'd died all the same—no human could fight off a vampire's strength.

  I didn't see it, either, until he came closer, but it was there and unmistakable. He carried an obsession, along with his latest victim. Granted it was an old obsession, but an obsession just the same. A Sirenali had visited Earth. I had no idea whether the Sirenali remained on the planet, but one had come. That in itself was frightening.

  I waited, hovering as mist while the vampire lowered his victim to the rounded floor of the sewer. Blinking at his surroundings for a moment, he worked to puzzle out the differences in his location. Yes, he'd finally figured out that his other victims were missing.

  Police had the aboveground entrances watched—they'd searched the sewer earlier in the day and found nothing besides the bodies. The vampire had his own secret entrance, apparently, but that was about to be a moot point. Before he could register his surprise at my sudden appearance, I materialized before him and relieved him of his head.

  * * *

  "Investigators still have no leads on how the killer managed to get the latest victim past local police, but another body was discovered in the sewer early this morning," the news anchor announced as Hank and I ate at Bogey's the following evening. Hank was working on his third old fashioned while I sipped a second glass of white wine. Both of us turned to the television hanging over the bar.

  "That bastard needs to be stopped," Hank muttered, chewing on his drink straws.

  "Well, nothing we can do about it, huh?" I shrugged and dropped my gaze to the remains of my meal.

  "Yeah. Bree, will you answer a question for me?" Hank changed the subject. I looked up from my plate to find him staring at me.

  "I guess," I hedged. What was he about to ask? I hadn't read him. Thought about it several times, especially when he never treated our relationship as anything other than friends or worse—a business partnership.

  "Who was your best lover?" A glint appeared in Hank's eyes and he grinned at me from across the table. He chewed on the s
hort straws from his old fashioned as he asked the question. I stared—this was certainly a change in verbal scenery, and a fast one at that.

  "What?" I sputtered. The conversation had suddenly turned very personal and it threw me.

  "Come on, somebody musta stood out. Man, I remember my best one. I was half drunk and got propositioned by an Asian girl in a Singapore bar. She let me do things to her that nobody has offered since."

  "Damn, your eyes just glazed over," I said, hoping he'd laugh and go past the question. He did laugh. He didn't let go of the question, though.

  "Come on, Bree. Fess up. Who was your best fuck?"

  I continued to stare at him. Likely, my mouth worked silently while my brain struggled vainly to find an appropriate gear. I still have no idea why I blurted the truth. No idea at all. "I've never fucked anybody," I said. Yeah, it should have been a snappy comeback. It wasn't. It sounded much more like a strangled, helpless whisper.

  "No way you're a virgin," he accused, staring at me.

  "The hymen's gone, a doctor saw to that when I was fourteen," I stared at my hands, ashamed of the way my face heated. "He wanted to know why I hadn't had a period. He just stuck a speculum right in with no warning. It hurt like hell, I screamed, his assistant came running and I was sent home. I've never had a period, before or since, so no kids for me." My face was still hot as I looked up at him again.

  "Damn, baby. You're virgin in the way that counts. And trust me, he was a prick to do that to you. Sex is a good thing. Maybe the best thing. You really never tried it?" Hank studied my face, attempting, perhaps, to read an answer there.

  "I've thought about it now and then, but the ones I considered, well, they sort of got removed from the short list." I blew out a sigh and turned my head to stare at the bar. As usual, Hank and I were closing down the place. The bar was empty, except for one old drunk sitting at the end.

  "Have you ever thought about a fuck buddy?" I turned back to Hank as he asked the question. His dark eyes were serious as he searched my face for an answer. I had a difficult time keeping my shield up and a shiver from becoming obvious. I'd promised myself that I wouldn't do any readings, but this was trying my resolve.