Page 6 of The Mermaid’s Bubble Lounge (Sam Quinn #8)

SIX

Let the Investigation Begin

“Remind me the next time I say I’m bored that spending time with the two of you is not the solution.” Vlad stopped to scratch under Fergus’ chin as he walked in the front door of our house.

“No one invited you,” I reminded him.

“Nonsense,” he said. “I’m welcomed wherever I go.”

Clive closed the door with a huff of amusement.

“If you recall, I did warn you that shopping for a teen’s first vehicle would hardly be interesting.

” Dressed in charcoal slacks and a snowy white linen shirt—the man had a million white dress shirts—he looked too formal for an evening of wandering around car dealerships.

That was my husband, though. He was a heartstopper, with dark blond hair, stormy gray eyes, and a face and body chiseled to perfection.

He was also a thousand-year-old vampire who wore suits like a second skin. Vampires were a strangely formal lot.

Vlad leaned into his reputation and wore only black, all day, every day. He had dark shoulder-length hair that was perpetually tied at the nape of his neck and an oversized, rather ridiculous, mustache that somehow worked on him. Black eyes completed his Nosferatu look.

I let Fergus out into the back garden, and the men followed. It was a soft night. “Can I get anyone anything?”

Clive sat on the love seat and shook his head. When I glanced at Vlad, Clive chuckled. “Did you miss that, darling? Vlad kept wandering off to get himself a snack. He’s fine.”

I gave Vlad my squinty suspicious look. “I thought you and Cadmael promised to be good while you visited.”

Vlad, sitting in a chair to the side, brushed dog hair off his trousers.

“Don’t be ridiculous. No one was harmed in the making of my meal.

And they were as bored as I was, shuffling around with their tired, bloodshot eyes, staring at sticker prices they couldn’t afford, lost in thoughts of mounting bills. ”

“He didn’t take much from any donor,” Clive said, “and he even slipped some cash in their pockets.” He grinned at Vlad. “That was almost kind. Very unlike you, old man.”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to.” Vlad glanced around at the outside wall around our backyard. “And you’re certain our voices don’t carry?”

“Yup. We’ve tested it a few times.” I went back in to get myself a soda. When I came out and sat beside Clive, he was explaining to Vlad about all the warding the house had.

“And I happen to know that when Garyn was in the city, she sent people to break in. They couldn’t. Even she—”

Clive, who had his arm around me, squeezed my shoulder to shut me up.

I turned to him. “He knows what I can do.”

“Yes,” Vlad said, “but he doesn’t like it when you remind me.

” Fergus dropped his head in Vlad’s lap and Vlad almost smiled as he began stroking the top of my dog’s head.

“I’ve told you before. I would never hurt your wife.

” Lifting his head to stare at Clive, he finally said, “It was my suggestion to kill everyone in Budapest who could have put her at risk. Surely that affords me a modicum of trust.”

Clive’s hand had gentled on my shoulder, his thumb brushing back and forth. I felt his gaze on me a moment before he said, “I trust no one where Sam is concerned.”

I opened my mouth to argue such an over-the-top comment, but Vlad cut me off. “No. He’s right. We’ve both lived long enough—though he much longer than me—to know how common it is to be betrayed by those we trust.”

“And trusting someone with my own life,” Clive murmured as he leaned in to kiss my temple, “is very different from trusting someone with yours. It’s your decision, though. I shouldn’t have tried to silence you.”

I kissed his jaw. I don’t have to tell him if it worries you.

His hand moved from my shoulder to the back of my head, his fingers digging in and massaging my scalp under my braid. I turned to mush when he did stuff like that. Tell him whatever you’d like, darling.

I turned back to Vlad and then pointed over our back wall.

“Garyn was on the roof of the house next door. Fergus and I were sitting back here. I felt her near and went looking. What she saw when she looked into our garden was—I don’t know—like an oil slick in moonlight.

And it was up there.” I pointed into the sky.

“Like we have a dome over our property, keeping eyes and ears out. Multiple of her vamps tried to jump over our walls. All of them were thrown back. We’re safe,” I ended on a smile.

“That’s good.” Cadmael’s solemn voice behind me made me flinch.

Vlad raised an eyebrow at me, a smirk hiding beneath his oversized mustache. “You have these gifts and yet you don’t use them. You may not have been able to hear him engage the elevator in the garage, but you should have heard him leaving it and walking into your home.”

Clive rubbed my shoulder in comfort, but he didn’t argue the point. They were right. I had to be more aware of my surroundings, even at home.

“Oh, good,” I said, my voice bereft of joy.

“Cadmael’s here.” When I saw out of the corner of my eye Clive’s cheek lifting, I figured no one begrudged me my dislike of Cadmael.

The man did try to kill me a few times. Granted, he’d been possessed by a psychotic fae at the time, but still.

He’d also announced to a room filled with powerful vamps that my enhanced gifts made me a threat to all vampires, causing Clive and Vlad to kill everyone in the room before the information got out.

So, yeah. Cadmael wasn’t a favorite of mine.

In fairness, he’d been tracking me, a werewolf-wicche hybrid, since I was born, hoping I might be the one with a unique combination of gifts that could mean final death to him.

Cadmael had been a Mayan warrior in life.

He was very, very old and wanted his interminable undeath to finally end.

We’d struck an agreement. He’d work with Clive and Vlad to rebuild the Guild, the ruling body overseeing vampires around the world, but if he ever decided he’d had enough and wanted an exit, I’d provide one for him.

We had a truce, tentative and uncomfortable as it was. Neither cared for the other, but we’d suck it up—if for no other reason than because we knew if either broke it, it would hurt the people we cared about.

Cadmael walked out to the edge of the patio and looked up into the night sky.

It had been overcast most of the day, but it was clear now.

Stars sparkled above us. Fergus approached the big man.

Cadmael looked down, staring at my dog. Fergus’ tail hung still as he took in the man whose stoic countenance appeared to be carved from wood.

Finally, Cadmael’s hand stroked the top of Fergus’ head, causing the pup’s tail to whip back and forth.

I turned to Vlad. “Did you tell them about this morning?”

He shook his head. “I thought it would be better for you to tell us all at once.”

I did. They listened intently but no one said a word until I finished. Cadmael, who had taken the chair beside Vlad, tipped his head back, studying the night sky again. “This has happened before.”

Vlad nodded. “There were a series of these kinds of obvious vampire attacks in Paris, Prague, Bucharest.”

“Rio de Janeiro,” Cadmael continued. “Mexico City, Chicago. We discussed it in the Guild. The Masters in each of those cities investigated, often with the help of the Counselor. None of them could find even one of the killers.”

“I would say the Counselors were in on it,” Vlad said, “had I not been the one to investigate the killings in Bucharest. There were five victims—all human—though a mix of genders, ages, and ethnicities. There were no clues and no scents, other than the dead humans and their pets.”

“They all had pets?” I asked, sitting forward.

Vlad nodded. “Yes, but that wasn’t the case in Paris or Prague. A few did, but not all.”

“That could be correlated rather than causal,” Clive said. “People walk alone at night when they’re walking their dogs. They feel safe doing so, not realizing how many predators there are in the world.”

“Humans walking alone at night are the perfect target for my kind,” Vlad added.

Cadmael nodded. “Does this group have a wicche working with them? How are they hiding their scent?”

“Maybe a sorcerer?” I suggested. “Do the fae have the ability to disguise scent markers?”

Clive shrugged one shoulder. “I have no idea, though the fae seem capable of doing whatever they want.”

Cadmael shook his head. “The fae are sickened by us. I can’t imagine one wanting to help us kill undetected.”

“There are only a few really powerful wicche families left in the world,” Vlad volunteered. “We can get the Historians tracking family trees and looking for ones vulnerable to bribery or manipulation.”

I raised my hand. “I know one of the families.” I thought about it a moment. “Actually, I know a million wicches. Is it okay if I ask around, or am I not allowed to talk about these killings?”

Clive scratched his cheek. “I’d normally ask you not to say anything, but the wicches in this town love you and would share information with you that they’d never tell any of us.” He looked at Cadmael and Vlad. “Opinions?”

Cadmael shook his head, but Vlad said, “She found the body. It would be natural, even expected, for her to discuss it with her friends in her own place of business.” He turned to me.

“You might even mention that you didn’t scent a vampire, even though it looked like a vampire attack.

Someone may explain to you how that could be. ”

“I don’t like it,” Cadmael grumbled.

“So what else is new?” I muttered. “Okay, so tomorrow while you all are sleeping—I mean while two of you are sleeping—I’ll call Arwyn again to ask about Coreys who might be in league with rogue vampires, and I’ll talk about that poor dead woman.

Maybe I can find out about hiding scent trails.

Oh, by the way, I left a message for Russell earlier today to see if he could get any additional news about our victim or the way in which she was killed. ”

“Hmm.” Clive took his phone out of his pocket, swiped through screens, and tapped on Godfrey.

A moment later, we heard, “Good evening, former liege.”

“Godfrey, my wife tells me she called Russell about a murder this morning. Have you learned anything yet?”

“Well, I’m not sure I’m at liberty to discuss this with you. Let me check with the Master of the City.”

We heard an annoyed, Godfrey, in the background.

“It seems my current liege has given me permission to speak with you,” Godfrey said.

“Hi!” I chimed in. “By the way, Cadmael and Vlad are with us right now.”

“Ooh, clandestine meetings, eh? And we weren’t invited? Maybe next time. How are you, Missus? Is our former lord and master treating you well?”

Clive rolled his eyes, but I laughed. “I’m fine and he’s good. I’ve missed you, though.”

“Of course you have. What’s not to miss?”

At another grumbled, Godfrey, we heard a sigh. “Yes, sorry. The Master will speak with you now.”

“Hi, Russell,” I interjected. “I’ve missed you too.”

“Thank you.” Russell’s deep voice made me smile. “And I you.” It was almost like old times.

“Too bad we’re not all together in your office right now. Is my bench still up against the wall?” When Clive was the Master, I sat to the side, not wanting to sit in the position of one of his underlings. After Clive stepped down, he shared my bench with me.

I could hear the smile in Russell’s voice when he answered, “It is. And as I told you when you moved out, you will always be welcome here.”

I sat back, grinning, as Clive rubbed my arm.

“Gentlemen and lady,” Russell began, “I should let you know that the San Francisco nocturne will serve as host for the Guild’s gathering.

The Counselors are scheduled to appear in a night or two.

When they arrive depends on the position of the sun when the plane lands.

The Asian Counselor has yet to check in with us—she’s more hesitant than the others.

The South American and African Counselors have confirmed that they will be attending. ”

“Thank you, Russell,” Clive said. “I know they’ll be in good hands. We need to begin the process of rebuilding the Guild.”

“Have they agreed to stay in the nocturne?” Cadmael asked.

“Again, all but the Asian Counselor have confirmed staying with us during their time in town.”

“Hardly surprising she’s hesitating,” Vlad said. “Her partners were killed in Budapest.”

“That was our take as well,” Russell replied.

“Now, as to the murder this morning, we’ve only begun to get reports.

The autopsy was supposed to be performed tomorrow but we were able to get it moved up.

What we know right now is that the woman, Emily Lake, was running with her blue Staffordshire Bull Terrier a little after two this morning. ”

“So late?” I murmured.

“That was our question as well, my lady,” Russell said.

“Apparently, she suffers from insomnia and on nights she can’t sleep, she often goes for a run.

She specifically adopted the Staffordshire so strange men wouldn’t approach her.

Friends reported that she and the dog were a great team and after she adopted him, she no longer had to worry about being accosted on a run.

“Miss Lake had apparently just returned from a work trip. She texted a friend she was jetlagged, which probably accounted for her run early this morning. I had two of my people go to the Bubble Lounge to investigate—”

“That would be Audrey and myself,” Godfrey said.

“By all means,” Russell replied. “Tell them what you found.”

“Bugger all, that’s what. Too many people had trampled over the spot,” Godfrey explained. “It was impossible to pull apart all the different scent trails. I can tell you there was no bleeding vampire there—before us, that is.”