The Nefarious Necklace

2. A Different Sort of Vampire

2

A Different Sort of Vampire

It turned out that Bitsy Jenkins might be missing. Or she could have done a runner. Or taken a vacay.

After Alex briefed me, I figured it was the uncertainty of the existence of a crime that got it assigned to me rather than the emergency response team’s caseload. But I refused to let my enthusiasm wane.

As I drove to Gladys’s house in the ’burbs, I considered the information I had.

Bitsy lived alone in an apartment in South Austin, not too far from both my house and the Society’s headquarters. She worked as a waitress at a popular café and hadn’t been to work the last three days. She was single and had no surviving family that she acknowledged. She was a newish vampire—whatever that meant. Being familiar with Alex’s perception of time, that could mean she’d been transformed last month or a few years ago. Although Alex didn’t have a timeline for her transformation, he did know that Gladys and Bitsy had met at a Society orientation. Since orientation was for the newly turned and the new to Austin, Bitsy was one or both of those.

I really needed to make one of those orientations. I’d missed the last one when the Society’s CEO had shown up inconveniently dead in Gladys’s bed. She was my life-coaching client at the time and, in her mind, I was the natural person to turn to in a crisis.

Attend orientation…or save Gladys from being executed for a crime I’d been pretty certain she hadn’t committed? Unlike some vamps, I hadn’t lost my moral compass when I’d been turned, so I’d opted for saving Gladys.

Since becoming a vampire, my life had acquired some unusual complications, and I hated to say that digging up the former CEO from Gladys’s newly planted herb garden—where she’d “temporarily” stashed him—hadn’t been the weirdest thing I’d ever done.

I pulled into Gladys’s drive and couldn’t help but admire the picture-perfect yard. Unlike many of her neighbors, Gladys did most of her own gardening. Whether it was the heat or just Texas culture, in my experience, most yardwork in the ’burbs seemed to be done by teenage children or yard services—not by women like Gladys.

Gladys’s glorious head of bright red hair poked up above her well-groomed shrubs.

I waved as I climbed out of my Jeep.

Gladys gave me a brilliant smile. By the time I reached her, she’d removed her gardening gloves and extended a beautifully manicured hand. “Mallory, I’m so glad to see you. I can’t believe the Society assigned you to the case.” A brief flash of consternation passed across her face. “I thought Anton was going to chuck me out on my rear when I insisted on seeing his boss. And Cornelius, well, he didn’t seem to take my concerns seriously.” Her expression brightened. “It was Alex, wasn’t it? He put in a good word for me, I’ll bet.”

Anton, or mean Mr. Clean, as I thought of him, was hardly a welcoming sort of guy, and he’d been a royal pain in my tush since day one of my vamp life. He put “killer” into the emergency response job description, literally. He was an assassin by magical classification. It wouldn’t shock me if Anton had recommended quietly disappearing Gladys. If there was no Gladys, then there was no complaint and therefore no problem.

I really didn’t like that guy.

“I’m not sure on the particulars, but I’m here now.” I let go of her hand after a quick squeeze. I was developing the same dislike of shaking hands that permeated the enhanced crowd in Austin. “Do you have a few minutes to answer some questions?”

“Absolutely. Come inside.” She gathered up her gloves and a huge pair of hedge trimmers. When she saw me eyeing the monster blades, she said, “Isn’t being a vamp fabulous? I can work in the yard all day without getting burned. Or maybe I am getting a sunburn, and it’s healing right away? Either way, it’s heavenly.”

I bit my tongue, nodded, and smiled. It didn’t seem polite to comment that spending one’s afterlife doing yard work seemed anything but heavenly. I’d briefly flirted with the idea of gardening after my transformation. I’d discovered my aversion to all things dirt, bug, and germ had practically disappeared, so why not garden? The impulse had lasted a whole two seconds, right until the reality of home ownership had sunk in. Houses were a lot of work.

I followed her inside, reminding myself that Gladys was due a little joy. Even if she found it in unusual places like gardening all day in the Texas heat.

She welcomed me into her kitchen and offered me a seat at the table. “Would you like a drink?”

“Ah, no. I think I’ll pass.” It seemed a wise choice, since the last time we’d discussed beverages she’d been rhapsodizing over her recently planted herbs and how they’d add a nice kick to some bloody concoction she planned to enjoy. My stomach rebelled, and it wasn’t even the blood this time. Those herbs had been planted atop a corpse. Ick.

Some of my disgust must have shown, because Gladys gave me a sympathetic look and said, “Does b-l-o-o-d still make you sick?”

Because if it did, spelling the word would make everything better. I swallowed my smile. “That’s actually getting a little better.” I lifted my hand, cutting her off before she could offer me a blood-infused beverage. “I’m still not partaking.”

A small crease appeared between her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “It’s a shame, really. You’d feel so much better if you did, and you might not have all those—” Her eyes widened, and she pressed her lips together.

There was a missing woman to find—probably. I really should focus on that. But I couldn’t resist. “What might I not have?”

“I shouldn’t say.” Her tone was firm, but I could see she was conflicted.

I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “You know, most of my exposure to enhanced living has been through the Society’s emergency response unit, and they’re light on vamps. And you know my roommate Wembley? He and I don’t really talk about that kind of thing.”

She blinked, her gorgeous, long lashes fluttering. “Yes, and he’s a…different sort of vampire.”

An uneasy feeling settled into the pit of my stomach, and this time it had absolutely nothing to do with blood or dead-guy herbs. Something about the way she’d said “different” had me on edge. Gladys hadn’t been judgmental or cliquey in my previous experiences with her. Something was up, and if Wembley had been found wanting as a vamp, I could hardly be faring much better.

Most of my oddities and non-vampish quirks I’d kept to myself—primarily at Alex’s urging—but not all of them. My aversion to blood and my stunted baby fangs, were two big ones I hadn’t been able to hide.

When she didn’t elaborate, I asked, “What makes you say that?” I asked the question with a friendly smile that I let inch up to my eyes.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She clasped her hands together on the kitchen table. It was a careful, tidy gesture. Everything about Gladys had been careful and tidy before she’d been turned, before she’d divorced her husband…her bullying, control-freak husband.

I really thought she’d overcome the nasty ex and her unconventional vampire transformation. The Divorced Divas club that she’d started seemed like ample evidence of her recovery. She’d even started dating. And that thought triggered even more unease. I hoped her new beau didn’t have anything to do with her recent shift in attitude.

Without uttering a word, I widened my eyes and gave her a confused look. With a little luck, and the pressure of absolute silence, maybe she’d spill the beans.

It took almost a minute of excruciatingly awkward silence before she caved. Her perfect posture drooped ever so slightly and she said, “Blaine doesn’t think Wembley’s a very good influence.”

Bingo. The boyfriend, Blaine, was the bad seed. And if he didn’t approve of Wembley, I didn’t want to know what he had to say about poor little broken me. And that name, why did it sound so familiar?

“Blaine? That’s the man you’ve been seeing?”

Her back straightened. “Yes, he’s been so helpful. He’s been a comfort amidst all of the changes I’ve been going through.”

Apparently, I was chopped liver. It wasn’t like I’d rescued her in Bits, Baubles, and Toadstools as she’d tried to consume mass quantities of fake blood, fangs hanging out for all the world to see. Oh, right—that was me.

With a saccharine smile pasted on my face, I said, “I’m so glad you’ve come this far. I remember when you couldn’t be within twenty feet of a man without screaming bloody murder.”

Gladys tipped her beautifully coiffed head and said, “Yes, it’s difficult to have s*x with a man if you can’t be in the same room with one.”

I inhaled so fast that I choked, and then I started to hiccup. Leave it to Gladys to be uniquely logical. I took a breath and held it, hoping the cure worked better for vamps than humans.

The woman had shrieked like a banshee when men approached her, not but a few weeks prior. Unlike my transformation, which was a complete blank thanks to a stout dose of roofies, Gladys retained bits and pieces of her transformation, and it had changed the way she saw men. Apparently, that hurdle was well and truly cleared. I clutched my side as the hiccups persisted.

That small crease appeared between her eyebrows again. “I don’t think vampires are supposed to hiccup.”

I dropped any attempt at superficial politeness, and, in between uncomfortable spasms, said, “This vampire hiccups.”

The hiccups from hell that would never end were giving me a stitch in my side to rival the one I’d gotten when I’d attended spin class. The one time I’d attended spin class.

Gladys squinted—an odd sight, given vamps have exceptional sight—and said, “Are you crying?”

Nuts. The worst case of hiccups ever, because they were making my eyes water, and that was definitely something vamps didn’t do. Tears were a big no-no, especially mine, since they tended to burn my face.

“No. Of course not.” I looked at her like she was a crazy woman—then hopped up and excused myself to make an emergency phone call. Waving my phone, I said, “It’s Alex. Important Society business. Be right back.”

Then I booked it to her bathroom. I had to flush my eyes or I was going to end up with red streaks down my face, and then that secret non-vampish thing about me would be out. I swallowed a groan. There were so many these days.

I dried my face off, checked for signs of burn marks, and blew out a sigh of relief when there were none. I healed faster than my former human self, but those burns took a while to fade away.

After a quick inspection, I opted to powder my cheeks to hide any slight redness I’d missed. As I left the bathroom, I hovered for a second on the threshold. My hiccups had disappeared. The moment I’d been thinking of something else, they’d simply vanished. Some things hadn’t changed when I’d become a vamp, and that was oddly comforting.

Gladys was seated at the kitchen table, but while I’d been in the bathroom, she’d retrieved a bottle of water for me. She gave me a worried look. “Is it Bitsy? Did they find her?”

“Ah, no.” I slid into my seat. “But that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Why do you think Bitsy is missing?”

“But I don’t think she’s missing.”

Uh-oh. I steeled myself for yet more of Gladys’s brand of logic. “So, what exactly is the issue?”

Her eyes widened, and in a pleasantly confident voice, she said, “Oh, she’s dead. I’m sure of it.”