Even though that was the goal, Fabian sounded almost sad at that last part. Unlike humans, vampires could see ghosts, but by and large they ignored them. Being dead didn’t mean people automatically got along.
“Thanks, mate,” Bones said. “Keep a lookout to make certain they don’t have any unpleasant surprises waiting for us.”
Fabian’s features blurred until his entire body disappeared.
“We were only supposed to meet with one vampire,” I mused. “What do you think of our contact having a buddy with him?”
Bones shrugged. “I think he’d better have a bloody good reason for it.”
He got out of the car. I followed suit, giving the silver knives concealed by my sleeves a slight, reassuring pat. Never leave home without them was my motto. True, vampires were keen on protecting the secrecy of their race and this was a crowded, public place, but that didn’t guarantee safety. The knives didn’t, either, but they sure tipped the odds in our favor. So did the other two vampires parked farther down the street, ready to jump into action if this turned out to be something other than a fact-gathering chat.
Scents assailed me as I approached the courtyard fountain. Perfumes, body odor, and various chemicals were the strongest, but underneath was another layer I’d gotten better at deciphering: emotions. Fear, greed, desire, anger, love, sadness . . . all those manifested in scents that ranged from sweetly aromatic to bitterly rancid. Not surprisingly, unpleasant emotions had the harsher aromas. Case in point: The vampires seated on the concrete bench both had the rotten-fruit smell of fear emanating from them, even before Bones gave them a quelling glare.
“Which one of you is Scratch?” he asked in a crisp voice.
The one with gray streaks in his hair stood up. “I am.”
“Then you can stay, but he”—Bones paused to give a short jerk of his head at the other, skinny vampire—“can leave.”
“Wait!” Scratch’s voice lowered and he moved closer to Bones. “That thing you’re here to talk to me about? He might have some information on it.”
Bones glanced at me. I lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “May as well hear what our unexpected guest has to say,” I commented.
“I’m Ed,” the vampire spoke up, with a nervous look over Bones’s shoulder at me. “Scratch didn’t tell me he was meeting you guys here.”
From Ed’s expression, I guessed that between my crimson hair, the large red diamond on my finger, Bones’s English accent, and the tingling aura of power he emanated, Ed had figured out who we were.
“That’s because he didn’t know,” Bones answered coolly. His emotions, accessible to me ever since the day Bones changed me, were now locked down behind the impenetrable wall he used in public. Still, anyone could pick up on the edge to his voice as he went on.
“I take it introductions aren’t necessary?”
Scratch’s gaze slid to me and then skipped away. “No,” he muttered. “You’re Bones, and that’s the Reaper.”
Bones’s expression didn’t soften, but I smiled in my best “I’m not going to kill you” way.
“Call me Cat, and why don’t we find some shade where we can talk?”
The sun’s rays weren’t lethal to vampires as mythology claimed, but we were easily sunburned. Expending some of our supernatural energy just to heal from the strong summer rays was pointless. A French restaurant with outdoor seating was nearby, so the four of us found a table under an umbrella and sat down as if we were old friends catching up.
“You said your Master was killed a few years ago, and she left no one to look after the members of her line,” Bones stated to Scratch, after the waitress took our drink orders. “A group of you banded together to watch out for one another. When did you first notice something odd was going on?”
“Several months ago, around fall last year,” Scratch replied. “At first, we just thought some of the guys skipped town without telling anyone. We kept an eye on each other, but we weren’t babysitters, y’know? Then, when more of us went missing, people who’d normally say something before taking off . . . well. It got the rest of us worried.”
I didn’t doubt it. As young, Masterless vampires, Scratch and others like him were on the bottom of the pecking order in the undead world. I might have some issues with the feudalistic system vampires operated under, but when it came to protecting members of their line, most Master vampires were pretty damn vigilant. Even the evil ones.
“Then, more ghouls started showing in the area,” Scratch went on.
I tensed. This was why Bones and I had come to Ohio. We’d also heard about a recent influx of ghouls in my old home state, and reports of missing vampires.
“Hey, it’s an undead playground here,” Scratch continued, oblivious to my uneasiness. “Lots of ley lines and fun vibrations, so we didn’t think anything about all the flesh-eaters showing up. But some of ’em act real nasty to vampires. Harassing the Masterless ones, following them home, starting fights . . . it got us thinking maybe they were behind the disappearances. Problem is, no one gives a shit since we don’t belong to anyone. I’m amazed you’re interested, frankly.”
“I have my reasons,” Bones said in that same impassive tone. He didn’t even glance at me. Centuries of feigning detachment made him an expert at it. Ed and Scratch would have no idea that the reason we were pumping them for information was to see if my World’s Weirdest Vampire condition might be the reason that some ghouls were acting hostile—and why vampires were disappearing.
“If you’re looking for money, we don’t have much,” Ed piped up. “Besides, I thought you retired from contract killing when you merged lines with that mega-Master Mencheres.”
Bones arched a brow. “Try not to think too often, you’ll only hurt yourself,” he replied pleasantly.
Ed’s face tightened, but he shut his mouth. I hid a smile. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth—especially one that bites.
“Do you have any proof that ghouls might be involved in your friends’ disappearances?” I asked Scratch, getting back to the subject.
“No. Just seems more than coincidence that whenever one of them went missing, they were last seen at a place where some of those asshole ghouls were.”
“What places?” I asked.
“Some bars, clubs—”
“Names,” Bones pressed.
Scratch began to rattle off a list, but all of a sudden, his voice was drowned out under a deluge of others.
. . . four more hours until I get a break . . .
. . . remember to get the receipt for that? If it doesn’t fit, I’m taking it back . . .
. . . if she looks at one more pair of shoes, I’m going to scream . . .
The sudden crash of intrusive conversation wasn’t coming from the mall shoppers around us—I’d tuned that out even before we sat down. This was coming from inside my head. I jerked as if struck, my hand flying to my temple.
Oh shit. Not again.