Page 11 of The Mermaid’s Bubble Lounge (Sam Quinn #8)

ELEVEN

Have You Met Me?

“I mean, technically, almost half of the Guild is already here investigating,” I reminded them. “You guys are on top of it.”

Vlad stayed on the floor with me but leaned back against the chair he’d been sitting in. “The problem is that it doesn’t make us look terribly competent. How is it there’s a vampire—or group of vampires—killing in this city but we have no clues?”

“Oh. You’re either dumb or in on it. Is that it?” I asked.

Vlad nodded.

Unfortunately, he’s right. We’ll need to discuss this with the rest of the Guild, but given what we know, we won’t come off well in the report.

“Okay, but Vlad said the same thing has been happening in a bunch of major cities and that other Counselors were involved in those investigations. They didn’t figure it out either. How does this make you guys look bad?”

“They did, though,” Vlad replied. “Remember? They said a contingent of vampires who want to come out to the world are staging these killings as a first step. So either this is a completely isolated incident that coincidentally bears a striking resemblance to other murders, or those other Counselors were wrong.”

“Geez, you guys aren’t infallible. Are they really going to get their knickers in a twist that their theory proved to be incorrect?” Vampires were ridiculous.

“Have you met us?” Vlad asked, his eyebrows raised. “My question is this: has the killer glamoured himself to look like me for all the killings or did he change his look tonight after we visited the first crime scene?”

“Oh.” I grimaced. “Have you pissed someone off recently?”

He gave me a long look. “Again, have you met me?”

“Okay, well, I have to go get ready for work. I think you guys need to stake out the Bubble Lounge tonight, though.” I paused. “Wait. Those killings in Romania that you investigated—did they all take place in the same spot?”

Vlad considered. “No. They were in the same neighborhood, though. There probably wasn’t more than a few blocks between them all.”

I nodded. “Like Jack the Ripper.” I got up and moved across the room. “They never identified that guy either. Maybe he’s still out there, killing people.”

“He was named the Ripper for a reason. He didn’t drain them of blood; he sliced them up and removed organs,” Vlad reminded me.

“Yeah, but the bodies were still drained of their blood. It ran out on the streets instead of being consumed. Maybe he’s got some kind of blood fetish,” I suggested.

“Now that does sound like us.” Vlad took my laptop and moved back to the chair.

I shrugged. “It’d just be cool to solve that one.”

“Clive knows. You should ask him.”

“What!” I ran across the house and up the stairs, Fergus on my heels. Bursting through the bedroom door, I dove on the bed and rolled into Clive.

Do you really know who Jack the Ripper was?

If I tell you, what will we have to talk about in twenty years?

I kissed his cheek. Come on. Please!

Clive chuckled in my head. Vlad was having you on. I was nowhere near Whitechapel in 1888. Sorry, darling.

Bummer. I took a shower and got ready. By the time I was headed back downstairs, Fergus shot out of his bed and raced past me.

Vlad was no longer in the den. He must have gone back to the apartment through the folly.

The dragons were almost done building it and they didn’t seem as angry as they initially were about working for a vampire.

They didn’t even seem to mind that Cadmael was living in the section of the folly that appeared to be a tropical island.

Clive said Cadmael, a vampire who was over two thousand years old, spent all his time lounging under the stone ceiling that had been magicked to look like bright sunshine in a clear blue sky.

Clive and Vlad also loved the folly for much the same reason: experiencing what felt like the sun after ages in the dark.

I wanted to finish processing the new books before we opened, but the mayhem of the morning meant I wasn’t as early as I’d intended. Still, I got a fair amount done before I heard Owen coming down the steps.

“Hey, boss.” He went to the book cart to peruse the new titles, looking well-rested and content.

“You look good,” I told him.

He glanced up, ready to make a joke, and then stopped himself. “Thanks. I’m really happy.” He reached for my hand and squeezed it. “Sometimes it feels unreal. I love him so much, Sam. I didn’t know I could have this. I just”—he shook his head in wonder—“how did we get so lucky?”

“Your parents must be proud. You snagged yourself a rich doctor.” I moved the stack of books I’d finished to the shelving cart. “I bet your mom brags about you every chance she gets.”

Owen laughed. “You know her well. My cousins tell me she often lets drop how spectacular our house is or some wonderful thing George did for me.”

His mate George was a very kind and extremely good-looking dragon shifter.

There weren’t many dragons left in the world, but those still around were loaded.

Dragons and their treasures. George was a veterinarian working with large exotic animals at the San Francisco Zoo.

He bought a mansion for Owen and himself in Sea Cliff, an enclave of the extraordinarily wealthy.

Their house was right on the water, with a view of the ocean and the Golden Gate Bridge.

“Which reminds me,” Owen began. “I’m supposed to invite you and Clive for dinner Saturday night.”

“We’d love that, but we can’t make it this Saturday. What’s left of the vampire Guild is coming to town for meetings in—wait. Am I allowed to tell you that?” Shit.

“I didn’t hear a thing,” Owen said.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. When I took it out, I saw a text.

Vlad: No. You’re not.

I shouted, “Quit eavesdropping, you creep!”

Owen paled, whispering, “Is Vlad listening to us?”

“It appears so. Anyway, Clive and I are busy, unfortunately. Can we get a raincheck on dinner?”

Owen nodded, glancing over his shoulder warily. “Sure. No problem. I’ll get to work now.”

“I’ll go with you. I need to ask you about a couple of killings.” I followed him behind the bar and started cutting lemons and limes while he prepped the espresso machine and checked the beer taps.

By the time I finished explaining the whole situation, he was sitting on the stool I kept behind the bar, shaking his head.

“No scent at all?” he asked. “I mean, a wicche could clean a scene, covering over all the smells, but to leave everything but the scent of the killer?” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t know how to do that. Let me ask my mom. She might know if it can be done.”

I added cherries to the cocktail garnish cups. “If Hepsibah or Lilith or any of the crones are in today, I’ll ask them too.”

Owen nodded. “Check with Dave. Maybe it’s a demon thing.”

“Maybe.” I went back to the bookstore and before too long I heard Grim’s distinctive step coming down the stairs. We were open.

Thirty minutes later, I walked back into the bar to see if I had any powerful wicches in yet and instead saw Meri skipping down the stairs.

“Owen, did Sam tell you? I got a new car!” She held up her keys.

He high-fived her. “What kind did you get?”

“I only wanted electric,” she told him. “So I wasn’t sure if I could afford anything.

” The salesman we had last night had kept trying to steer her toward sporty, sexy cars.

It turned out I didn’t need to worry about her being taken advantage of.

She firmly told him what her requirements were, and he tripped over himself trying to make her happy.

“She ended up negotiating an excellent deal for herself,” I told him.

Meri beamed. “I bought a brand-new Leaf. It was the least expensive of the EVs. I was annoyed it didn’t come in green, though.

It’s a leaf.” She rolled her eyes. “I got blue, so it’s like the ocean.

Mom met us at the dealership so she could co-sign the registration and stuff.

And she called this morning and got me put on her insurance, so I drove it to work. No more begging for rides.”

She was grinning ear to ear, and the bar somehow felt brighter.

“Oh, and Sam, I haven’t seen that guy again.

I was working in the front garden, and I didn’t see him creeping around.

Thank you!” She looked out the window, spotted her dad, and pointed to the ocean entrance in the far corner of the bar.

While Meri told her dad all about her new car—I assumed, since I didn’t speak mermish—I headed to the table near the stairs where Hepsibah, Lilith, and Rose were sitting with their cups of tea.

All three women had to be in their eighties, at least. When I sat at their table, Rose stopped mid-sentence, and they all turned to me as one. “Yes, dear?”

“Ladies, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I had a wicche question and knew you three were the ones to ask.”

Rose sat a little straighter, but both Hepsibah and Lilith just raised their eyebrows and waited.

They weren’t falling for flattery. I told them about the killings.

Lilith and Rose looked horrified, but Hepsibah nodded as though she already knew.

When I was done, I asked them the question I’d asked Owen about covering the scent of one individual.

Rose shook her head, but Lilith and Hepsibah shared a look and then Hepsibah said, “White wicches, no. If you’re dealing with a sorcerer, it’s possible.”

Dave’s heavy boots began to pound down the stairs.

Hepsibah pointed to the staircase. “That’s who you should ask. If it’s a wicche, it’s done with demon power. My guess is that it’s a demon.”

“What’s a demon?” Dave asked as he walked around the back of the bar and poured himself a tumbler full of cinnamon Schnapps.

I thanked the women and followed Dave into the kitchen, hopping up on the counter, ready to launch into the story again.

He held up a hand to stop me while downing his Schnapps. He put the empty glass in the dishwasher and said, “I already know. Russell called me last night and I went to the Bubble Lounge. There was no demon involved.”

My shoulders slumped. “Are you sure? Maybe it was a sorcerer using a demon’s power to mask his scent.”

He leaned against the counter and crossed his beefy arms across his chest. “Could a demon do it? Yes. Did a demon do it? No. It’s not about scent for me.

My nose is almost as sensitive as yours, but that’s not what I needed for this.

Demons leave a metaphysical trace around anything they touch. It wasn’t there.”

Well, shit.

I pulled out my phone. “He killed again in the middle of the night.” I pulled up my text app and hit play on Nerissa’s video before handing him my phone.

“Clive, Vlad, and Cadmael went to see if they could pick up a scent to identify the vampire. The killing took place after the three of them visited the nightclub.”

Unlike Vlad, Dave had no reaction. I only knew the video had ended when he handed my phone back to me.

“It wasn’t Vlad,” I told him.

“I know.” He rubbed his hand over his bald head. “The hair is too long and the ear is wrong. It’s damn close, though. Vampires can’t glamour their appearance. Are we sure it’s not fae?”

“We’re not sure of anything, other than you saying it definitely isn’t a demon. I went over the crime scene early this morning before I called the cops and didn’t catch any fae scent other than the merpeople who work at the club.”

He blew out a breath. “I’ll go back and check again after work. There’s no point going now. The cops are probably still there and I’ll have too many tourists with cameras to avoid. I want to get up on that roof.”