“Yeah,” Alex said. “I sent you some stuff.”
I opened my own laptop, which felt increasingly out of date after seeing the kid’s electronics. The folders he sent were neat and orderly, the files organized under headings that were easy to follow, easy to read, and comprehend. I hit PRINT and added paper to the printer. I e-mailed the entire batch to Reach and dialed his number. When the line opened, he said, “Nice work. Leo is saved by the famed vampire-killer.” I heard the sarcasm and him clapping in the background.
I didn’t reply or rise to the bait. Instead, I said, “This one is for our old fees, not the exorbitant prices you’ve been charging me.”
“And if I disagree?” When I didn’t reply, he sighed and said, “Fine. What?”
“I just sent you a file. I want to know how it’s organized. I want you to run a search through it for anything with the name of the Enforcer in Asheville. See who it ties into. See what you can dig up.” I hung up and turned to Alex. “The name of the Enforcer in Asheville was Ramondo Pitri. You do the same assignment. We’ll see how your skills stand up to Reach’s.”
The kid’s eyes glowed. “Sweeeet.” He went to work, fingers clacking on the Seattle vamps’ Apple, his own laptop, and the two electronic tablets that still functioned, all four devices at once. Eli stared at his brother, then at me, and shook his head. Despite my demand that Alex had kitchen duty, he started cleaning up my kitchen. I liked that in a man.
Fifty-two minutes later my cell rang. At the same moment, Alex hit SEND. “Done,” he said.
I opened my cell and said, “Thanks, Reach.”
“I’ll e-mail the info to you,” he said.
I opened Alex’s new file and smiled. I had a new name to work with, a vamp named Hieronymus, which I couldn’t even pronounce. It seemed that Big H was mentioned in dozens of the files, as the next vamp-master to be challenged and attacked by the mystery vamp. At last I had a name and place to start. I compared and the same name popped up on Reach’s search too. I looked at the two men sitting in my kitchen. “You’re hired. Dawn is close. You start at noon. There are four bedrooms upstairs. Don’t take the one over my bedroom. Don’t play loud music. Get some sleep.”
“I’ve got some ordnance in the truck,” Eli said.
“As long as it isn’t combustible or fragmentary explosives, you can bring it inside.”
From his expression I could tell he was trying to figure out what to do with the explosives. I shook my head. Soldiers and their toys. With a full stomach and as much security in place as I could manage, I went to my room, stripped, and fell into bed next to my own ordnance.
My official phone informed me that I had a text from Adelaide. “Mom is dying. They all are. Maybe three more days, if we bleed the blood-servants dry. Please help.”
I texted back “OK. Two days. I’ll find something for her in two days.”
I hoped. I pulled a pillow over my head and was asleep instantly.
*
I woke with my hands pulling a weapon from a shoulder holster tangled on the bed. There were people in my house and it sounded like they were tearing down the walls. Then I remembered the two men I had let into my home the night before. Derek had vouched for them, but . . . Really, could I get any more stupid?
I rose, brushed my teeth, swiped a hand along my braided hair in lieu of combing it out and rebraiding it, and dressed in a pair of wrinkled cotton pants and a T-shirt. I stuck three stakes in my hair and strapped a holstered .32 on my ankle—hopefully overkill, but making up for possible stupidity earlier. I unlocked my bedroom door, glad that I had at least turned the small thumb latch.
There were boiled eggs in a pot on the stove and I cracked and ate three for breakfast, watching the current changes in my world. Alex had taken over my kitchen table with his laptop and e-whatchamathingy tablets, the Seattle laptop, and my laptop. Cheeky kid. I sniffed him as I passed and said, “Take a shower. You stink.” He grunted, which was no surprise.
On a scratch piece of paper, I wrote out the names I wanted researched, starting with Hieronymus, and ending with all of Derek Lee’s men, including the ten New Guys. “These guys? Their names are on my laptop under a file named Derek Lee. Reach and I did deep background on Derek’s Vodka Boys prior to the Asheville gig, and the new Tequila Boys just last month. Maybe you can come up with something new.”
“Sure. Okay. Do I have to be legal?”
“Yes.” I slapped the back of his head. “Totally legal. You’re on parole, remember? But you can be creative.” At which the kid grinned like I had offered him an “all you can eat” dinner at a pizza joint. “Main thing I need first,” I said, “is for you to find out where this Big H vamp is located and anything you can about his organization. You can use the Internet, access my own files, and the files from the NOPD’s woo-woo room.” I added a request for him to look over all building renovation permits requested within fifty miles of New Orleans. After the events of yesterday, it was clear the mystery master vamp was bringing his fight to Leo’s home turf. If a vamp was moving in, he’d need real estate with vamp-requirements: steel-protected windows and reinforced doors, a room with easy exit via a hidden passageway, and updated electronics. There wasn’t time to build from the ground up, but I added a request for an expanded search, starting over the last six months, for new buildings that might work for a vamp. I tapped the table. “No huge hurry. Tomorrow would be nice.”
“Tomorrow?” His voice squeaked, that teenaged thing they do when their voices change at puberty. He blushed, half in anger.