Zero was on the list, despite his outward slavish devotion, then Tick Tock, Rattler, and Doc completed our suspects. Vlad he kept as a potential alternate.
While I’d been eating breakfast, Bones had finally called Don to tell him he’d arrived. My uncle asked about Tate, of course, and got a brusque response that he was still unshriveled “for the moment.” I could just picture tiny gray hairs being yanked from Don’s eyebrow during that conversation. Don loved Tate, but he was also a realist. He knew what would happen if Tate was guilty of this crime. Vampires didn’t do probation.
To reinforce Mencheres’s description of a slow recovery, Bones moved with notable sluggishness compared to his normal prowling strides. We spent the afternoon on the couch while Mencheres brought him up to speed on what had occurred when he was presumed dead. In brief but unsparing detail, Mencheres described how Patra had crashed the event at the opera house. My mother gave up pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping and sat in a nearby chair. When Mencheres was finished, she broke the loaded silence.
“What a real bitch, Catherine. You should kill her.”
Bones let out a snort. “I intend to do the honors myself.”
And in the meantime, we’d see who here tried to contact Patra to let her know Bones was alive. Don had arranged for tapping of all the phones, and even interceptions of the wireless signals coming out of the house. Computers, text messaging, and anything else aside from homing pigeons were confiscated. Security purposes, Mencheres coolly stated, and no one dared argue with him. When the traitor made his move, he’d have to do it by phone, and then we’d catch him. Now we just had to wait.
“Bones, you are still pale,” Mencheres said. “You should feed and get more rest.”
“Right.” Bones tugged my hand. “Kitten, I want to show you something.”
I followed him downstairs to the basement, passing through several rooms I hadn’t bothered to explore in the past few days. At least a third of this house was underground, a good vampire and ghoul analogy. What you saw on the surface was only the beginning, much like the species themselves.
Two vampires bowed at the waist before they held the wooden double doors open for us.
Several people, all human, glanced up when we entered what appeared to be an entertainment area. Some of them were on a large sofa watching the plasma TV, others played on one of the four billiard tables, and five looked to be engaged in a game of poker.
“What is this?” I whispered.
Bones’s wave encompassed the room. “This is a vampire’s version of a kitchen, luv. Caring for humans in exchange for their blood is how many vampire households operate. I wanted you to see it.”
“Dibs on the redhead!” a freckled young man called out, coming forward with a grin. “You’ll like me, I taste the best.”
“You think I’m here to feed on you?” I gaped when he tilted his head and bared his neck.
Bones chuckled. “He does indeed. Sorry, Neal, but she’s not going to bite you, and you don’t taste the best,” he corrected him before laying a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll do, however. Though you should eat fewer onions.”
I watched as Neal went to Bones, who sealed his mouth on Neal’s neck and bit him like he was a walking cupcake. Less than a minute later he stopped, closing the holes and giving Neal a companionable chuck on the chin.
“Less garlic as well, mate. I’ve drunk Italian chefs who didn’t have such a reek about them.”
Neal’s smile didn’t slip. “Best pizza I’ve ever had, Whitey, and it was loaded with onions and garlic. Sorry.”
Bones gave an amused snort. “Toothbrush, lad. Familiarize yourself with it or you’ll never get turned. No, don’t get up,” as one of the girls rose from the couch. “We’re taking a quick walk and then we’ll be off.”
My mother would pass out if she knew this was underneath her, I thought dazedly. Living snacks, all within biting reach.
“Who are these kids?” I asked low. None of them looked much past their twenties.
Bones led me through another set of rooms. There was a library, computer area, even an underground Jacuzzi. And every few dozen feet there were bedrooms. Some were occupied, some were empty, and a few with closed doors had the unmistakable sounds of sex coming from them.
“Oh, they’re from all sorts,” he replied. “Some are college students, aspiring artists, runaways from bad homes, street children, or budding apprentices. Neal’s one of those. He wants to be a vampire, so he’s showing his commitment by being a meal and doing small errands. Whenever you have a group of vampires who live in a large house, you generally have one of these situations.”