Vampire's Shade Discounted Box Set

Chapter 11-2

I looked at her carefully. She hadmouse-brown hair pulled back into a low bun and glasses with bigframes that covered half of her face. She had sharp features, almostpixie-like. She was wearing a green dress suit that did nothing forher skin tone, and her eyes were a dark brown. Her clothes dated froma time period that suggested she was in her forties, but her smoothskin and lack of smile wrinkles told me otherwise. She couldn’thave been much older than thirty. There was something familiar abouther. Something I couldn’t put my finger on.

“I appreciate you making the time tomeet with me,” she said to Ruben in a sweet voice. Her wordslilted, and again there was something familiar about them. Almostlike there was a veil between me and her, and if I could just removeit I would know I’d seen her before, and where.

“Of course, Ms. Clemens,” Rubenanswered, equally charming.

“Celia, please,” she said, and tooka small notepad out of her briefcase. “I just have a couple ofquestions for you.” She never made eye contact with me. I didn’tknow if I should feel insulted or flattered.

“Go on,” Ruben said, and Celiastarted her questioning.

It was standard stuff. What kind ofbusiness Ruben ran, how long he’d been doing it, how many employeeshe had, that sort of thing. I had no idea why she was bothering.

“Word has it that you operate atnight, as well,” Celia said, and Ruben’s face closed.

“We have a team that works overtimepretty often,” he said. His voice was guarded. “It’s commonknowledge that we employ vampires.”

“You are pro-vampire, then, Iassume?”

Ruben was anything but pro-vampire.

“I do what’s necessary to keep mycompany active in the right circles. There are laws about everythingthese days, and who am I to keep someone out of business just becausethey’re…” He looked at me. “Different.”

I could feel the tension building likean approaching storm. Ruben’s face was expressionless, but I couldsmell his panic. Celia wasn’t throwing off any kind of emotion atall, and that had me on alert. People always threw off some kind ofscent that clued me in to their emotions. Excitement, fear, sadness –even something as simple as interest had a smell and a feel to it.Celia should have been giving off at least that. And she wasn’t.

“There are rumors that you’re theperson to come to when someone has a problem,” she said.

“We’ve always helped people withtheir finances. Our main goal is to help our clients make ends meet.”That would have been relatively smooth if he hadn’t looked sopanicked.

“Now, Mr. Cross, we both know thatwasn’t what I was talking about.”

“Do we?” he answered.

Good for Ruben. He was starting to playthis game the right way.

“And what do you do?”

She suddenly turned to me, and her eyessent a shock through my body that I couldn’t place, but it wasn’taltogether unfamiliar. It made my fingertips tingle, and my legs feltwarm. This was not natural, coming from a human.

“I’m an accountant with CrossLedger,” I answered without missing a beat.

Ruben might have been panicking, but Iwas ready for her. Ms. Clemens was trying to hide who she really was.I did it all the time; I recognized the signs. The only question nowwas, who was she really?

Celia had a glint in her eye. She satback in her chair like she didn’t have a care in the world, one legcrossed over the other. Her skirt rode up a little, and on the skinjust above her knee was a burn mark. A couple of days old, a scarnow. It wasn’t red and burning anymore.

I knew right away that that burn wasout of place. Household accidents didn’t leave a scar like that. Itwas about three inches long and slightly off-kilter.

“Ms. Clemens,” I said, interruptingher questioning.

Ruben looked relieved, but she wasannoyed. She wanted to be the one in control of this conversation.Too bad. When I looked into her eyes, I noticed that the black of herpupils had grown to cover her irises. The realization knocked meoff-balance, and I fought to maintain composure.

“That looks like a painful burn markon your leg,” I said.

She looked down at her leg and tuggedher skirt down to hide it. “Cooking accident,” she said. “I’mclumsy in the kitchen.”

Sure. Straight burn marks, the lengthof a blade. What had she been doing, kitchen gymnastics?

Her eyes settled on mine again, and herwords suddenly seemed believable. Kitchen accidents happen all thetime. Burns are common in the kitchen.

Stop it! my mind shouted at her,and I forced her out of there.

I’d nailed her. There was only oneperson I’d run into who could play mind games like that.

“I’ll bet you are,” I said.

My voice was calm, but the atmospherearound us had changed. It was thick now, laced with warning andthreat. I suddenly smelled her emotions: a powerful stench likeflowers, the perfume-like smell that came after they’d beenparched. I’d smelled that scent before.

“Where was I?” she asked Ruben, butshe was still looking at me.

“You were talking about hiddenidentities and double lives,” I said without missing a beat.

That wasn’t what she’d been talkingabout at all. I was calling her out. Ruben looked from me to Celiaand back. He was starting to realize he’d missed something.

I couldn’t be sure this was her.After all, this woman had brown hair, and the other woman had hadwhite hair. But I had started running into creatures that coulddisguise themselves, and the only time I would believe what I wasseeing was never.

“I think that’s enough for today,”she said. Her voice was confident. I didn’t think she was leavingbecause she’d been exposed. Her reaction wasn’t panicked. She wasleaving because she’d found what she was looking for.

Me.

“Thank you for coming,” Ruben said,but Celia stood up and walked away just as the waitress arrived.

“Can I take your order?” thewaitress asked with a bright smile.

Ruben shook his head and waved heraway. “What was that all about?”

“A hundred bucks says Celia Clemensis only an alias,” I said as we both watched her walk away. “Maybenot the name, but the job, definitely.” An alias, or she had a damngood cover. Better than mine, if she could throw her name around inpublic. “You’d better get some sort of insurance, Ruben. I have afeeling you’re not going to last very long.”

“I’ll get right on it,” he said.

He was taking my word for it. That wasa first. Maybe he’d realized somewhere along the line that he wasin over his head, and that I knew more about this ugly world than hedid.

“I need to go,” I said to Ruben.

“I want you in the office atmidnight,” he said when I turned to leave.

“Why?”

Midnight was the witching hour. Thatwas when supernatural creatures were most alive, the time I eitherwanted to be out with my guns, or locked up safely at home.

“My clients want answers about whythe job isn’t done yet, and I’m not going to make excuses for youagain. I’m not facing them alone. You can come in and deal withthem with me.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“It’s the only time slot they haveavailable.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but insteadI closed it again and nodded. I would be there. Why not? I neededsome action, and maybe if I knew why these clients wanted Connordead, it would give me enough motivation to push my patheticattraction aside and finish the job.

“I’ll be there,” I said.

A midnight meeting over the weekendsounded like a lot of fun… not. I was sure I’d run into somecreatures that didn’t show their faces during the day, but I wasn’tsure I wanted to. But if Ruben was involved, I had to be there. Hewas just a human, and even though I strongly disliked him, this jobwas my responsibility. His increasing anxiety over the kill had me onguard, too. Ruben didn’t ordinarily get upset when I didn’t makea kill right away.

First, though, I had to get toJennifer. She’d texted me her address, and I had half an hour toget to her.

I took the bus, and it dropped me offhalfway up Westham Hills. Jennifer lived on Tambuca Crescent, onestreet up from Caldwell. I was starting to get to know this area.When I reached number 21, I pushed the button on the intercom and awoman with an accent answered.

“Adele Griffin for Jennifer Lawson,please,” I said.

The intercom clicked and the massivegates swung open, revealing a curling driveway that led up to aTuscan style house with arches over the balconies and a lot ofhanging plants.

The door opened, and a dark-skinnedwoman wearing a maid’s outfit answered the door. I’dhalf-expected a butler.

“Please follow me,” she said, andtook me to a formal sitting room just off the entrance hall. It wasmostly white, with splashes of mahogany and red here and there. Shepointed me toward a chair. “Ms. Lawson will be with you shortly.”

When Jennifer arrived, she was wearinga flowing green dress the color of her eyes. She glided to thearmchair opposite mine. Her hair was impossibly straight, and hermakeup was flawless. If this was how she dressed on a Saturday, Iwondered how she dressed for a big event.

“Thank you for taking the time tomeet with me,” she said as the maid brought in a tray with a teapotand cups sitting upside down on their saucers. They were accompaniedby a glass bowl filled with sugar cookies. “You look nice.”

“Business meeting,” I said, wishingI didn’t look like a mannequin in a window display.

Jennifer turned the cups over andpoured the tea. I took a cookie and nibbled on it. I felt out ofplace here, surrounded by things that had never mattered to me.

“You lied to me,” I said, gettingright down to business.

Jennifer’s hands trembled slightly,but other than that she was composed and her voice was steady whenshe answered me. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t tell me about thetrafficking. The fact that Connor was wanted by the police.”

Her green eyes were bright, likeemeralds. “You found out.”

“Did you think this was something youcould keep secret from me?” I asked.

“I just thought, when I first foundout you didn’t know, that I could ask you to do this for me and youwouldn’t be influenced by what people were saying about him.”

“And about you,” I said. Becausethat was what it was really about.

She didn’t answer. Her lips werepursed and slightly pouted, and she was paying particular attentionto the second cup of tea she had poured, which she offered to me. Itook it to be polite. I hated tea.

“You’re going to have to be honestwith me. You came to me because of Connor, saying you needed me tofind him. But you knew he wasn’t human anymore, didn’t you?”

She seemed to understand that I wouldknow if she was lying. She couldn’t know that I could actuallysmell a lie, but honesty was a smart move.

“I’ve been to hell and back since Itook this job, and I’m not going to get beaten up for nothing,” Isaid.

“She found you, then?” Jenniferasked.

The cat lady. Celia.

“Are you involved with this?” Iasked.

Direct was usually the best way to go.When you embroider a picture around the facts, dance around thetruth, the chances are that the person you’re talking to will dothe same. A straightforward question is difficult to avoid withoutbeing obvious.

“I’m not,” she said. “I don’tcondone things like that.”

“But you don’t condone vampirism,either,” I said. That was a guess, but seemed to be an accurateone. Her face turned to stone, and when she looked at me, a lot ofthe color had drained from her skin. “Why did you come to me?” Iasked.

“I hoped that if you found Connorbefore they did—”

“You knew what it would mean for meto get into this, and you still sent me in there without the facts.That’s like going into battle unarmed, Jennifer. Do you have anyidea what that’s like?”

She took a sip of her tea, looking atme with big green eyes over the edge of the cup. She shuddered.

“I needed him to stay alive. I neededthem not to be able to find him. I can’t love a vampire, Adele.Surely you of all people can understand?”

A million different emotions ranthrough me. Yes, I could understand. I killed vampires. My mother hadloved one, and look where that had ended up. I’d met Connor, andeverything about him, even in his vampire state, had drawn me to him.He was irresistible. I could love that vampire.

“Did you know about the traffickingbefore Connor did?” I asked. She nodded slowly. “They asked me tohelp them, and to keep it a secret so he wouldn’t find out. Theyneeded his money.”

“And you agreed?”

She sighed. “I don’t know how tomake this sound like it’s not wrong. I was only looking out for hisbest interests. We were going to get married. I couldn’t let ascandal like that ruin everything.”

“Because you love him so much?”

Her eyes started to fill with tears. Ifought the urge to roll my own eyes. I was being the epitome ofpoliteness.

“Can’t you understand that?” sheasked.

“Actually I can’t, no,” I said. Icouldn’t imagine loving someone so much that something liketrafficking couldn’t ruin it. I often argued that I didn’t haveany morals. Maybe I was wrong. “Besides, I think you did it for themoney.”

“They weren’t paying me for mysilence!” she said, her cheeks ashen.