Page 30 of Immortal by Morning (Argeneau #37)
Crispin could again feel annoyance at the fact that he was so easily readable now, Lucian spoke, the irritation in his voice
capturing everyone’s attention again.
“So once again we have no idea what is going on.”
“Well, at least we know who the target is this time,” Anders pointed out. “We have had several cases in the past where we were not even certain of that.”
“True,” Lucian agreed as Crispin and Cassius reclaimed the seats they’d occupied during lunch.
When silence fell over the room then, Crispin found himself surveying the men all standing or sitting around the island. Lucian
was the oldest having survived the fall of Atlantis. He himself was the second oldest having been born in 900 BC. Born in
600 BC, Cassius was next, then Anders who was six hundred and sixty some years old, while Decker was two hundred and seventy
something and Bricker... Crispin knew Bricker was over a century old, but not by much. Most of the men here had found their
life mates. They had claimed and turned them, so now knew the bliss immortals were said to experience once they were mated.
It was only he and Cassius in the group who were not. Although, Crispin was on the verge of claiming his. He wished he could
say he felt confident that he would be able to convince Abril to accept him as a partner in life, but he wasn’t. The possibility
was better than it would have been one hundred years ago though.
Sadly, ever since Dracula had reached the market, introducing “vampires” to society, it had caused nothing but trouble for his kind.
While vampires were a fictional creation—well, really a bastardization of immortals—where vampires were dead and soulless and feeding off the blood of the living, in reality, immortals were neither dead nor soulless.
They were as alive as any other human being.
They simply needed to take in blood on a semiregular basis to survive.
However, it didn’t matter how you described it to mor tals.
As a rule, they simply decided immortals were vampires, and something to be feared.
Although, the movement over the last couple of decades in books, TV shows, and movies to present vampires as sympathetic,
and even romantic figures, may have helped somewhat with their reputation. At least that was what he’d been told. That made
him wonder if Abril happened to be a fan of one of the TV series, movies, or books that portrayed vampires that way. If so,
it would greatly increase his chances of being able to claim her.
Unfortunately, Abril was a very sensible, practical woman. She didn’t strike him as someone who would fantasize about vampire
lovers and being one herself. In fact, she might be one who would be repulsed at the very idea, which was his greatest concern.
“How are we going to get to the bottom of this?” Lucian asked, his gaze flickering between Roberts and Crispin in question.
“From what you have learned so far, the person behind the bodies in the garden has to either be a member or members of the
family who lived here when Abril’s boss purchased the house—”
“The Bransons,” Crispin supplied.
Lucian continued as if he had never spoken, “—or the couple who built and lived here for three or four years before them.”
“The Foleys,” Roberts offered the second name they’d managed to learn while going door to door, questioning the neighbors.
“But you have not yet had the opportunity to talk to either couple?” Lucian finished in question.
“No,” Crispin admitted. “We only found out the name of the original owners of this house from the last neighbors we spoke to. Most of the neighbors are newer, having moved onto the street in the last ten years or less. But the older couple who live in the first house on the street, the Jamisons, were one of the originals, who built their home at the same time as the Foleys. They knew the history of the house. Who had lived here, why and when they left, and so on.”
“Which is?” Lucian questioned.
“The Foleys were a young couple with one child, a boy,” Roberts explained. “They were hit by a drunk driver while driving
home from a day out with their son. The young son was killed in the accident and the wife was paralyzed from the waist down
and needed a wheelchair to get around. She and the husband remained here for about a year after the accident. The Jamisons
said the wife had become a shut-in, and they thought the memories here were just too much for her to bear, so she and her
husband sold and moved away. They had no idea where to though.”
“We intended to do some research today, to find contact information for the Foleys and Bransons and to speak to them,” Crispin
added. “But then Abril was attacked, and our plans went to hell.”
Lucian nodded. “Then perhaps someone should do that now.”
“I can handle that,” Roberts said, getting to his feet.
“Anders, go with him,” Lucian ordered. “One of the couples is most likely responsible for the bodies and undoubtedly connected
to an immortal. He should not go alone.”
“I can go with him,” Crispin protested as Anders got to his feet. “It is my job.”
“Your job now is Abril,” Lucian countered. “I suspect she would be terribly uncomfortable to wake up and find herself alone with five men she has only just met. Besides, the first thing you are going to do when she wakes up is have that talk with her.”
Crispin’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t comment as Anders and Roberts left the kitchen. Once they were gone, he stood and
moved to get a glass from the cupboard, then got himself some water. When he then turned and leaned against the counter to
drink it, his attention moved to the sliding glass doors. He paused abruptly before the glass had reached his lips.
“What is happening?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he peered out at the empty tent outside. “Where did the forensics team
go?”
“Their memories—along with Officer Peters’s—were wiped and they were sent back to police headquarters,” Lucian told him.
“What?” Crispin asked with outrage.
“We are dealing with a rogue here,” Lucian pointed out. “When dealing with rogues, we always make sure it is not on the mortal
radar. This is no different.”
“But what about the identities of the people buried here and the bones themselves?” Crispin asked sharply. “If the forensics
team does not do the work, we will not be able to ID the skeletons. The victims and their families will never have closure.”
“We shall gather the bones ourselves and take them back to Toronto where they will be put on a plane and flown to Bastian in New York. He can have his scientist do whatever tests are necessary, make a DNA match, and hopefully gain their identities. The mortals do not need to know about it for us to get the answers we desire.”
Crispin wanted to protest further, but didn’t really have a reason to. Lucian was right, mortal scientists weren’t necessary
to find out who the victims were. Immortals had the technology as well as the facilities to do that themselves. And it was
better not to involve mortals in Enforcer business.
Still, it kind of chafed his ass that he and Roberts finally had a murder, even a multiple murder to solve, and would never
get credit for it in their jobs among the mortals. He supposed he would just have to resign himself to the fact that his job
was pretty much useless. Working on only four murders a year and spending the rest of the time on other, less important cases,
just was not satisfying. He didn’t feel like he was making much of a contribution.
“That is utter nonsense,” Lucian said suddenly. “The reason we have immortals sprinkled among as many mortal police forces
as we can is for situations just like this. To handle cases and situations where rogue activities have splashed over into
the mortal world. The most important job Enforcers do is keep our existence off the radar. Certainly, we have a duty to make
sure that our bad seeds do not hurt mortals, which we also do as Enforcers. But for our own people, keeping their presence
on the planet a secret is very necessary for our preservation. And that is what you and Roberts have done in this situation.
The two of you have definitely made a difference.”
Crispin stared at him, a little surprised at the speech. From what he knew, Lucian Argeneau was not the type to give speeches
and encouragement.
“Now stop whinging and show me how to work this Keurig thing since the pot on the proper coffee machine is empty,” Lucian growled irritably, getting to his feet.
That was more like the Uncle Lucian he knew, Crispin thought with amusement and walked over to show him where the coffee pods
were and how to work the Keurig.