Page 50 of Vampire so Virtuous

Another hour passed before her cell door opened, and a tray was handed to her by an indifferent female officer.

Cheap bread, a boiled egg, a small bowl of cereal with a portion of milk, and coffee in a Styrofoam cup.

She set the tray down, took the coffee and left the rest, leaning against the wall while she reflected.

Cally hadn’t enacted her right to a phone call the previous night, but inthe cold light of day, the situation hadn’t changed. Who would she call? Her dad? He’d freak out, and the last thing she wanted was to drag him into this nightmare. Eve? Nothing she could do other than worry, and Cally didn’t want to burden her further. There was no need to call work; between projects, they wouldn’t notice her absence. The booking officer had told her she didn’t qualify for a public defender, and she didn’t have a lawyer yet.

She knew she should get one, but sooner or later her dad would find out and insist on paying for it. She couldn’t let him do that. Her dad wasn’t wealthy, but he had enough to get by. He’d worked hard for everything he had, and the idea of him draining his savings because of the mess she was in made her stomach twist. The costs would be staggering. Questioning, pre-trial, court, appeals. Tens of thousands? More? He’d argue, insist he could handle it, but Cally couldn’t put it on him. Not after all he’d sacrificed.

She didn’t want to burden him with worry. She couldn’t do that to him.

Her eyes prickled with the tears that had refused to come the night before.

How thehellwas she to persuade anyone she hadn’t killed those men?

Get a grip, Cally. Think it through.

She was certain of one thing: she couldn’t use the word ‘vampire’ in her defense. They’d never believe her. Hell, she could barely believe it herself.

Just the facts, then. Stick to what happened.

A man bit the neck of another man, and drank his blood.

Oh yeah, she could imagine how that conversation would go.

All right, stick tomostof the facts.

Whatwerethe facts? What had happened? Who were those men?

Minh had called them ‘thralls.’

She tried to remember his face, the sharpness of his features, but all she could see were those red eyes. The way they’d burned into her, sizing her up, like she was the next meal.Did they really glow?Had she imagined them? Or was that something her brain had tacked on after the fact, like the fangs?

How could she persuade anyone when she couldn’t persuadeherself?

And if Minh existed—of no known address or last name—if hewasa vampire, would he really let the police rock up and ask him what he was doing in a parking lot in Allston between the hours of nine and ten the night before?

Still, she didn’t have a better defense, and the bastard was guilty.

Cally closed her eyes, recalling everything she could about him, painting a picture in her mind—his straight, shoulder-length black hair, expensive suit, sharp features. His red eyes.

The blood trickling down his neck, into his crisp white collar.

The way he looked at her, like she was nothing more than food.

How she had been unable to move, even though she’d tried.

Fuck, maybe jail was the safest place to be.

*

Her cell was so uncomfortable and bleak that it was almost a relief when they finally came for her.

She still had no idea what time it was, the passage of hours marked only by the serving of another meal, as unappealing and tasteless as the last.

Now, sitting in the interview room, things weren’t much better. No window—not counting the one-way glass. Was anyone watching?

Two unsmiling cops sat across from her, the table between them small and drab. The chairs had been uncomfortable from the start, and after hours of interrogation, they dug into her no matter how she shifted.