Page 36

“Enjoying the show?” I called to the empty air, forcing the shake out of my voice.

Only silence answered, but the prickling feeling followed me all the way back to my car.

That was just one night in a series of dead ends. Every single vampire I interrogated either knew nothing or was too scared to speak. Some attacked the moment I mentioned Wyatt or Murray, but I couldn’t shake the thought that they were the least of my problems.

More and more, it seemed like Solace was the one vampire powerful enough to have sensed anything unusual going off. And eventually, after six nights of the same pointless routine, a whole lot more bruises and a torn suede jacket, I gave up asking. It was all very well taking out my frustrations on any unwitting vamp that crossed my path, but it was killing my autumn wardrobe options.

By the time the calendar showed a week after Maggie’s funeral, hope had started to creep in. My nightly routine and Tom’s research might have gone absolutely nowhere, but there was one lonely ray of sunshine – there’d been no more murders. Wyatt, Murray, someone else entirely… it didn’t matter. Whoever was behind it was either bored and done or waiting for something. I couldn’t begin to think what, but I was desperate to believe they’d tired of their gruesome game.

It was hard to hold on to that positivity, though, when the feeling of being watched never quite went away. At Jolt, I had a bit of a mad moment and ripped through every cupboard and corner looking for something – anything – to prove there were eyes on me. I didn’t achieve anything other than creating a massive clean-up job for myself, but Iknew. Someone was following me. Yet each time I became aware of the presence, it disappeared. It was peculiar, to say the least. Until, of course, it wasn’t.

???

Iwas locking up the café after hours when the familiar sensation of vampire eyes on me made me pause, key still in the door. Feigning ignorance, I went through the motions, keeping my eyes on the play of the sun’s last rays on the window as I made a show of zipping up my backpack – and slipped my favourite dagger up my sleeve. In the violet-tinged reflection of the glass, there was movement under the trees across the road. I turned slowly, knowing who I would see before she came into focus.

She stood in the gloaming with no outward appearance of distress, at ease in the half-light that was not quite the day but not quite the night. I’d read about older vamps with a stronger tolerance for sunlight, but I’d fiercely hoped it was a rumour. Unfortunately, it seemed Isabel Wyatt was determined to dampen that optimism and presumably impress upon me exactly how strong she was.

Though dressed from head to toe in black, she was still less dramatic in appearance than I’d expected. At Maggie’s, my main impression had been the icy terror she’d evoked, and I’d begun to think of her as I’d seen her in her portrait – posed, formal, dressed in the clothes of a different era. I had to admit, the dark cigarette trousers and smart jacket ensemble she wore now were classy as hell, but it was the way she held herself that marked her as a woman of another time. She was much thinner than in the images I’d seen though, almost hauntingly so – some time must have passed between the painting and her siring.

We assessed each other for a long minute, neither of us moving in the empty street. Without any visible prompt, shegestured imperiously with one leather-gloved hand for me to cross the road. Without thinking, I obeyed, careful to remain in the last of the sunlight.

“Good evening, Erin.” She didn’t smile as I’d expected. She didn’t seem to be trying to intimidate me at all, actually. I breathed deeply, controlling each breath and feeling slightly better prepared for her this time – but she didn’t need to try to terrify me. I was ready to run. Though lovely in every visible way, a raw animalistic strength rolled from her in waves.

“Izzie Misery.”

“Please, do not call me that,” she sighed. “It was never a particularly inventive name to begin with.” Her accent had an odd flair to it. Definitely southern, definitely well-spoken. But odd. Old.

“You can’t deny it’s apt.” My voice was much calmer than I’d expected. “Misery’s a mild word for the things you’ve done.”

She raised her chin a little. “True.”

I took another deep breath. “What do you want?”

“Adam informs me you dismissed him from your home. I wanted to make my stance as clear as possible, since you did not allow him to. I assumed you might feel safer if I approached you here, in the open.” A breeze blew her hair softly around her face, carrying her scent with it. Lilacs and ice.

I adjusted my feet, my fingertips caressing the blade in my sleeve. “You’ve made yourself clear enough,” I replied. “You deny killing my friends. But I’ve seen no proof.”

“What cause would I have to lie to you, Erin? And I would have no qualms about ensuring you knew the truth if Iwereresponsible.” She gazed at me, her dark eyes large – open in every sense of the word. “However, I believe these cases are the handiwork of my old friend, Nicholas.”

“Murray?” I resisted rolling my eyes. “That’s what Adam said, yeah.”

“Murray. Yes.” She smirked at some unknown joke. “He and I spent time together, some years ago. We… collaborated, for lack of a better word, and eventually became friends. But I had hoped we’d both grown since.”

I wasn’t certain, but she seemed unsure.

“The recent deaths are similar to those he committed to draw my initial attention, once upon a time,” she continued. “Many of those deaths were falsely attributed to me, though the more recent killings here and in Edinburgh have been somewhat more erratic, I’ll admit.”

I swallowed. How could anyone set up something so depraved just to impress someone? Shit, what sort of person would be impressed?

“We’ve barely spoken since the war,” Wyatt continued, oblivious to disgust and anger raging through me, mere feet away. “I know he resents me for being so distant – which is why I’ve come to suspect that this—” she gestured vaguely, “might be his attempt to get my attention once more.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to piss her off and provoke a fight, so I couldn’t say what was really on my mind. But at least she’d confirmed that the conclusions Tom and I had drawn about the link between Wyatt and Murray were spot on. The problem was the reality of those conclusions – how couldanyone stand there so boldly, and admit to working with another vamp to help them become a more efficient, vicious killer? I mean, what the actual fuck?

“So he’s trying to get you to talk to him again,” I said, finally. “Are you going to? Has he impressed you, killing my friends?” The words were clipped, my temper rising above my fear. You’d think a text would have done the trick.

She shrugged, the movement elegant on her. “I am not the vampire I once was, Erin. I am not so angry as I was in my youth. And this revisiting of the past that Nicholas seems intent upon… it holds little appeal.”

I didn’t want to believe her. But she was right – she had no reason to lie. I wasn’t anywhere close to being a threat to her. The waves of power rolling from her told me as much. Despite my pounding heart and the hot, metallic taste in my mouth that had my body prepping for war… I knew my reaction was based onwhatshe was, not who she was. So yes, I believed her – and there was only one thing to do about it.