It wasn’t quite nine p.m. when I tapped on Eli’s door and heard my partner laugh, his voice a soft caress. “Come,” he said louder.
I opened the door and stuck my head in. His room was spotless, so well organized I wouldn’t know anyone lived there if not for the slender, muscle-bound man stretched out on the bed and the ereader on the bedside table next to the nine-millimeter. I looked at the gun and at him and he shrugged. “I know. We have babies in the house. It’s locked up when it isn’t on me.”
I wanted to fuss but decided not to comment. I said, “We have a paying job—missing persons. I need to check out a restaurant. You wanna come along?”
“Gotta go, Syl. I love you. Yeah, tomorrow.” He laughed, his face changing, going all soft and romantic. You could have knocked me over with a feather. I had never seen Eli laugh, not like that. And I love you? When did they go from I’ll show you my gun if you’ll show me yours to I love you?
Eli shut off the cell and grinned at my dropped jaw. “What? Never seen a man fall head over heels before?” I blinked as he holstered his weapon, strapped a small .32 above his boot, strapped a short-bladed knife to his inner arm, and grabbed a jacket. “We looking for vamps?” he asked.
I clicked my jaw shut. “No and no. Rachael and Bliss went missing this morning just after two. Looks like they were at a party, working without Katie’s approval.”
“Let’s go. You can fill me in on the way.”
We informed the other two adults where we were going, with orders to call us the moment any news about Molly came through, and went out the duct-taped front door. “The replacement windows and door glass will be here tomorrow,” Eli said. “And I’ve been thinking about ordering some of the vamp shutters. What do you think?”
“Estimates would be nice,” I grumbled as I strapped in and Eli started the motor. “But don’t forget we’ll have to go through the Vieux Carré Commission. And I promise, it’ll be a pain.” Dealing with bureaucrats always was, and every upgrade we made to our base of operations was a permanent loss, unless covered by Leo or Katie. We didn’t own the building and I was iffy on tax law about real estate upgrades. And I hated that I had to even think about such things. Business. When did I become a businesswoman? Eww.
The SUV was nondescript and slightly battered, its internal lights worked only when you flipped a switch, the engine was powerful enough to drag several hundred horses behind us, and the back was modified to hold an abundance of weapons under lock and key. The blades and firepower were intended to kill rogue-vamps, Naturaleza vamps, and vamps who didn’t abide by the restrictions set up in the Vampira Carta—the legal code that the Mithrans had lived by for centuries. Tonight, the SUV was carrying only us and the weapons we wore, nothing special. Well, that I knew of.
Guilbeau’s, pronounced G’bo’s, was in the French Quarter, a new restaurant in an old three-story brick building, replacing a business that hadn’t survived the dearth of tourists after Hurricane Katrina. There was valet parking, and a red-vested boy who looked as if he were twelve years old raced out into the damp night and took the keys, driving away as we pushed through the revolving door. The restaurant had a venerable air, as if it had existed since Jean Lafitte’s time, with deep burgundy carpeting and a roped-off area for patrons awaiting a table. The place smelled heavenly, if God were a carnivore and liked his meat seared and bloody. I had just finished my supper and my mouth was already watering.
Piano music played in the background; just ahead I could see a black baby grand and the black pianist, also wearing black, his fingers running lightly across the keys. Another man, wearing a tux, stood behind a little desk, like a pulpit poised at the wider entrance to the restaurant proper. I started for the guy, but Eli held me back, a hand on my upper arm. “Let me,” he murmured.
I shot him a glare, but waited. Eli approached the guy, who I guessed was the ma?tre d’, and moved his jacket back as if to display something. They murmured for a bit, the words obscured by the music, something classical and springy that made me think of bunnies hopping through tall grass, before Beast swiped them with her claws and chomped them with her killing-teeth. Eli stepped back and whispered into my ear, “The general manager has been notified that we’re here, and would like to see last night’s and this morning’s security footage. He’s remarkably agreeable.”
“Uh-huh. You wearing a fake badge?” I asked.