Page 16 of Bite Back

She wasn’t exactly forthcoming about why she wanted her ex-boyfriend dead. But I read the file. My stomach churns. I don’t know what this man did to her. But I can guess.

She sighs, breaking my train of thought. I glance at the monitor. No hits.

On to the next. And the next and the next and the next.

My fist tightens as search after search comes up empty.

Most of the guys aren’t in the system. And that worries me.

To leave such a sparse digital footprint suggests a deliberate effort to stay offline by Luka and his friends, and that often correlates to involvement in shady shit.

Finally, on the penultimate name, a result pops up.

I lean in, clicking on the result, brushing Delilah’s arm as I do so, and I’m hyperaware of the small intake of breath when our skin meets.

Every hair on my arm stands on end. Images flood me of the last time we touched.

Of all the places on her body I have touched…

And all the ones I haven’t yet. And will never get to.

But I have to focus. Because this is it. This is what we’ve got.

I examine the entry in front of me. It’s brief, but it’s something at least.

Rod Putnam. Thirty-years years old. Works at Rossellini’s Circus.

No home address. But a workplace is a good start.

I scribble down the details on a scrap of paper.

The last lead turns up empty again, so it looks like Rod’s it. Our best bet. Before we leave the library, I input the circus name into the system. Bingo. An address. I pump a fist in the air in triumph.

I turn to Delilah, a grin spreading across my face that’s echoed on hers, and it strikes me there’s something almost animal-like about it.

A predator closing in on their prey. I should be frightened.

But instead, I love it. Thinking of her as a hunter too.

Pretending for a moment that maybe we’re more alike than different.

A thrill runs through me. I draw closer to the screen as I scroll through the information. There’s a show a couple weeks from now. It’s not a perfect lead. I’d prefer something sooner. But it’s still something. “Looks like we’ve got a date.”

“Two weeks from now.” The impatience is palpable in her tone. The implied question: what do we do in the meantime?

But that’s a question for her, really. “Anyone else you can think of? Anyone else I should look into?”

Her fang worries her lip. “I mean there’s my old boss. Luka gets invited to his poker games sometimes. I don’t know when the next one is though. And he told me his mom lives in Connecticut.”

I’m not optimistic about the mother. In my experience, vampires’ families aren’t eager to help slayers. Still, I scribble down poker game and Connecticut in my notebook. “Okay, perfect, what’s his name? Your old boss?”

She grimaces. “He’s not like Luka, okay? I don’t want to hurt him in all this.”

I nod. My line of work and my history may make me cautious, but I know most vampires aren’t like the ones I deal with.

“I understand. What’s his name?”

Her eyes dart around the room and she leans in. “Vladimir Alekseev.”

My eyebrows raise. “The councilman?” One of the most prominent vampires in New York City, if not the country as a whole, and one of the first and only vampires to seek any sort of public office.

“Look,” she whispers fiercely, “he’s a good person, okay? He wants a better future for all of us—” She cuts off her sentence.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles. Two large shadows fall over Delilah and me. My fingers reach out and twine with hers. I take a deep breath and spin around.

Robert and Jeremy.

Sneers paint across their faces. The feeling’s mutual. We were in the same Academy class. I finished first, Claude second. Robert and Jeremy were third and fourth. They’re good hunters. But not as good as us, and they never got over it.

They hate that I’m better. Hate that I never failed. And they love that the last part isn’t true anymore. Love spreading rumors, claiming what happened to Claude wasn’t an accident.

I shove that thought down and smooth my face into my careful mask. Delilah shifts, moving slightly closer to me, and Robert’s nostrils flare as his gaze falls on the narrow space between us.

“What’s this?” Once upon a time, he feigned politeness. Now, he’s apparently decided that’s no longer necessary.

I bristle. “This a source for my latest case, Delilah.”

“Delilah?” Jeremy draws it out, like a child on a playground.

Robert raises his eyebrows but extends his hand with an unnecessary flourish.

Delilah seizes it and pumps it, a saccharine smile plastered across her features.

Squeezes it a little too hard. Robert’s fingers blossom red under her touch, and a wince briefly crosses his face.

“A vampire?” Robert stumbles a step or two back, voice several notches too loud. He’s turning this into a spectacle, a show.

“Your source is a vampire? And you brought her here?” God, he’s really laying it on thick. Lots of sources are vampires. That comes with the territory. Admittedly, he’s not wrong that it’s unusual to bring vampires onto Academy grounds.

We’ve got an audience now, heads swiveled towards us and eyes devouring the drama Robert and Jeremy are concocting.

Delilah moves a hair closer to me, her arm barely brushing against mine. Those wide blue eyes trail from Robert and Jeremy and then back to me.

My face remains stony. This is my new normal.

It’s every reason why I should and shouldn’t risk this deal with Delilah.

On the one hand, I need a win. Need to prove to myself that I’m better than the doubts and the rumors.

On the other hand, I can’t afford to fuck up again.

If I get caught bending or breaking rules, I’m out.

Agreeing to let Delilah kill Luka is already a gray area.

And if I follow through on that promise and get caught?

I allow myself one glance at Delilah. Her lips are parted, like she’s about to give Robert a piece of her mind. Or, like in the club last night, right before she kissed me.

Someone coughs and my attention snaps back. I train my gaze square on Robert. “Yes, and?”

He steps back, almost imperceptibly. He’s scared of me. Scared of us. His eyes bore into mine, and whatever he sees there must tell him exactly how regrettable his actions are.

“And nothing.” He turns away. I don’t miss the flock of slayers who welcome these two clowns into their fold. Nor how many, trainees and slayers alike, lower their eyes.

Delilah’s standing next to me. But the message is clear, among the slayers, among my peers, I’m alone now.