chapter Eleven
Nate stared at his mother and prayed he wouldn't call her a complete insensitive bitch at his sister's wake. He just bit his tongue and listened to her litany of complaints.
"I can't believe you chose this funeral home. It's in such a rough part of town. I swear I saw graffiti on the building across the street. I was afraid to leave my Mercedes in the parking lot."
He had chosen that particular place because it was close to his house and the police station, and no other reason. In his mind, funeral homes were all the same, and it wasn't exactly a crime-ridden neighborhood. It just wasn't plunked down in the middle of two-million-dollar homes, which was what his mother would have preferred.
"This isn't really a lot of flowers either. And I can't say I care for the arrangement of lilies with baby's breath. This isn't prom."
Nate felt a dull pounding behind his eyes and an overwhelming stabbing pain in his chest. He had no explanation for how this woman had given birth to a person as amazing as Kyra had been, or how his mother could show so little grief at losing her daughter. She truly was more concerned with appearances than the fact that Kyra was gone forever. They would never hear her laugh, never see her get married, never have the joy of watching her raise her own children. She was gone. Dead.
And yet his mother still walked the earth, serving no purpose that he could tell other than to irritate the hell out of him. It was an injustice he didn't understand and was having a damn hard time swallowing.
As they greeted guests, accepted countless condolences, and stood for hours and hours, his mother sniped and pecked and clawed at him every chance she got, griping and complaining and criticizing, her sharp words scraping at his raw nerves until he thought he was either going to demand she shut the fuck up, or he was going to do the unthinkable and walk straight out of his sister's wake. He held on, pulling every ounce of patience to keep it together until he thought he absolutely couldn't stand another second.
That's when he looked up and saw Gwenna Carrick enter the room. She was wearing a simple black dress, her hair pulled back into a smooth knot, her gaze moving around the room. When she spotted him, she looked at him with such sympathy, such understanding, that he cleared his throat to get rid of the lump that was suddenly lodged there.
She walked straight over to him and took both of his hands and kissed his cheek. "How are you holding up?" she murmured.
"I've been better," he said truthfully, squeezing her hands. Seeing her helped, though, and he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because her sympathy was legitimate, her own grief so palpable when she had discussed her daughter. Maybe it was also because she'd taken the time and trouble to find out where the wake was, when he hadn't told her, and she had stopped by even when Nate knew she had a big party at her brother's casino she had promised to attend.
Maybe it was because he liked Gwenna Carrick in ways he didn't exactly understand or totally trust. But the bottom line was that when he was with her, he just felt better.
"Who's your friend, Nathaniel?" his mother said, touching his elbow.
Nate sighed, letting go of one of Gwenna's hands, but keeping the other, and pulling her into his side. "This is Gwenna Carrick. Gwenna, this is my mother, Sylvia Thomas, and my father, Art Thomas."
"I'm so sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas," Gwenna said.
"Thank you. How do you know Nathaniel?"
Not very subtle, but Gwenna didn't seem to notice. "We met through a mutual friend."
Intriguing way to put their first meeting at a murder scene. Gwenna was quite the diplomat. Knowing his mother would probe mercilessly until she got whatever she was looking for, Nate nudged Gwenna a little. "Can you excuse us, Mom? I need to speak to Gwenna privately."
His mother looked ready to protest, his father saying nothing as usual, his face an expressionless mask, but Nate just walked away, carting Gwenna with him.
"Thanks for coming," he said to her as they moved toward the back of the room.
"You're welcome. And you know how very sorry I am that you've lost your sister."
He did know that. Her eyes spoke it loud and clear. "Thanks. Can you stick around for fifteen minutes? I can leave then, thank God, and I'd like to see you, just for a few minutes. I know you have your party thing to go to, but maybe we could grab some coffee." He just wanted—needed—to be with her.
"Sure. Absolutely. I'll just take a seat in the back here and you can get me when you're ready."
Nate kissed her smooth forehead. "Thank you."
Half an hour later Nate was sitting on his back patio with Gwenna, stretching his legs out and yanking off his tie. "I won't keep you, I promise," he told her. "I know you need to go. I just need a minute to decompress."
"It's fine," she said, sitting in the chaise lounge next to him and crossing her feet at the ankles. "This party will go on all night long so no one will notice if I'm not there at eight on the dot."
He had nothing to say, really, but neither did he want to be alone. It was comforting to sit beside Gwenna, to let his body relax one tight muscle at a time, and know that she wouldn't chatter needlessly, wouldn't question him, wouldn't say stupid platitudes, or focus selfishly on herself.
The weather was cool but dry, and his backyard was quiet, peaceful, despite his mother's concerns about crime. It was a nice working-class neighborhood, and he had gotten into his house before real estate had exploded in Vegas.
"You might have noticed that my mother isn't exactly collapsing in grief," he said after a minute, because he needed to explain.
"Everyone expresses grief differently."
"True. But she doesn't really feel it. My mother is a piece of work. My father cares, he's just a workaholic who worships success and the almighty dollar. In his heart, he does care. But my mother… she honestly doesn't give a damn about Kyra or I. She cares about what people think of her, of her social status, but she is actually incapable of love. And she's a pathological liar." Nate suspected he sounded a little whiny, but he just needed to explain. Maybe needed someone to believe him, see what he saw so clearly. "She'll lie about anything to get what she wants. You know how I told you she went to Australia because she thought Kyra was in remission?"
Gwenna nodded.
"Well, I actually think she did it on purpose, knowing Kyra would die. That way she didn't have to deal with her actual passing, and she had the added bonus of extra sympathy from people that she wasn't here."
"That's horrible."
Nate tipped back his beer bottle and took a long swallow. "Yeah, well, she's not a nice lady, my mom. Sure you don't want a beer?"
"No, thanks."
"You don't eat or drink enough," Nate told Gwenna, looking at how thin she was as she stretched out. He didn't think he'd ever seen her put a bite of food in her mouth.
She gave him a rueful look. "I drank plenty last night."
He gave a soft laugh. "Yeah, you were a little shit-faced. I hope you don't think I was taking advantage of that fact on the street there."
"You absolutely were taking advantage and you know it."
Now he grinned. "You're right." But hell, she'd been so eager, and his resistance was seriously down when it came to her.
She reached over and whacked his arm. "Shame on you. But I'm glad you did. I totally wanted you, and it was very sexy."
"I like that you tell the truth, Gwenna. I despise liars… and people who manipulate, tell you one thing and mean another. Just tell the goddamn truth, you know?"
"You're a very black-and-white kind of man, aren't you?"
"I guess I am." Nate drained his beer. "It's easy to start picking each action apart and judging and suggesting that maybe this was wrong or wasn't wrong because of x, y, or z, but it's all just justification. There is right and there is wrong, and most of us just lie to ourselves when we do something that's wrong and try to claim there was a reason it was okay. But wrong is wrong."
"I know what you mean. So what happened last night? Who is the person they found at the concert?" she asked quietly.
There were things he shouldn't share, reasons he needed to play it straight, but he could give her the basic facts. The media was bound to pick up on it soon, since two murders with the same MO could be spun out in the news as a serial killer. "His name is Johnny Walker. And yes, I got a call about an hour ago that when his computer was recovered from his parents' house in Sacramento, it showed he was a member of the vampire slayers' loop as Death Angel, or something like that. I'm sorry, I don't remember exactly. My brain is fried."
Cracked, fried, and scrambled.
"Oh, this is just awful. I don't understand what the connection is… I mean why loop members? And if Johnny didn't live in Vegas, what was he doing here?"
"That is the million-dollar question. Don't worry, I have every intention of solving that little puzzle along with a few others. We'll catch our killer. He's on the loop. We just have to find him." He turned to her. "And thanks to you, we'll get there quicker. Thanks for forwarding all the names and your thoughts."
She bit her lip. "You're welcome. It's the very least I can do. And you know, Nate, I just find it very odd that Slash was at both locations—or at least mentioned both locations—where a body was discovered. I've got a bad feeling about him."
"Me, too."
They sat in silence for a minute, Nate wondering if it was wrong to see Gwenna again. He wanted to. Felt an intense, edgy desire to make sure she didn't leave without confirmation there would be a next time for them. Not as detective, citizen, but as a man and a woman. He was falling for her like a ton of fucking bricks. Maybe it was the timing, maybe it was the way she looked at him with those big blue eyes and oozed compassion, or maybe it was the fact that the sex was all-consuming, irresistible, but Nate knew he was going, going, gone.
But whether that was a good idea or not was a huge-ass mystery.
"I should let you go."
"Yeah, I guess I should." She sighed and made no motion to get up. "You know, I really like your house and yard. It's just right, isn't it?"
It was two bedrooms, one bath, and a tiny rectangle of a backyard. It was just right for him. Any more and he wouldn't be able to keep up with cleaning and maintenance. "It works for me."
"When I was married to Roberto, we had this big fancy villa in Italy and another house in London. They were pretentious, uncomfortable. I like this much better."
"Thanks." He thought it was bizarre that she came from the same world his mother had scratched and clawed to get into, and yet Gwenna seemed to want out. "The ex leaving you alone these last few days?"
She shrugged. "No. He'll be at this party tonight. He's rather put out that I refused to go with him."
"Maybe you should take legal action. Get a restraining order." Or maybe Nate should have a little man-to-man chat with him.
Gwenna stood up. "Oh, that's not necessary. I told you Roberto would never hurt me, and no sense in getting his back up. It is what it is."
"Can I see you again?" he blurted out, suddenly afraid this was it. She was walking out. "Tomorrow night, like we planned?"
But she smiled at him. "That would be brilliant. And I'll see you at the funeral. I wouldn't let you go through that alone, you know."
That kicked him where it counted. He started to stand up, but she stopped him by bending over and grabbing the end of his tie in her fist. "I'm rather fond of you," she said, before giving him a warm, lingering kiss.
Damn, was the feeling mutual.
It took all of three minutes for Roberto to spot her when she walked into the Inauguration Ball. Gwenna barely had a chance to buss her brother on the cheek and offer her official congratulations in public for his winning the election, when Roberto descended on her. He was furious and she knew it. He had expected her to be waiting for him at 6 p.m. sharp, wearing a blue dress.
It was nine thirty, she had managed to evade his escort, and she was dressed in black. And damned if she didn't feel a little gleeful about the whole thing.
"A word, if you please," he whispered after he gave her a polite, public greeting for anyone watching. "Let's head to the bar."
"No, thank you." She smiled vaguely at a middle-aged man she recognized from somewhere. Preservation of the Undead Council? She wasn't sure. Sad to say, but she didn't keep up on politics. "I don't need a drink."
Roberto made a sound of impatience. "Don't be impertinent."
"Who, me?" She met his gaze full on and gave him a large smile. "I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing."
"Why didn't you tell me Brittany had her baby?"
So that was what bug had got up his butt. "It wasn't my place to do so."
"She's my daughter. That baby is my grandchild."
"Poor thing."
Whoops. Had she said that out loud?
Roberto turned a nasty shade of red. "You're completely out of control."
"It's not your job to rein me in." But Roberto had redirected his attention toward the door.
"Of all the fucking nerve," he said, the irritation he had displayed toward her gone, replaced by cold, calculated hatred.
His words made her shiver. She was used to his impatience, his bossiness, his annoyance with her. But this expression on his face was different—harder, a true anger, and it was a little scary.
Roberto said, "I'll kill him."
"Who?" She turned toward the door, alarmed at his shift, wary of that disdain in his voice.
"Ringo Columbia. He made sloppy work of the last job I gave him, stole a couple grand in heroin from me, and now has the audacity to show up here? Security needs to escort him outside. And then I'll kill him."
It was a sign of how utterly furious Roberto was that he had just admitted out loud to her that he'd had heroin in his possession. Roberto was always vague about his business dealings and preferred to tell her when they were married that he was involved in trade, nothing more. What shamed her now was that she'd known intellectually he was a bootlegger, but had chosen to pretend it wasn't true. Now he had obviously moved on to drug dealing, which made Gwenna wonder if Ethan knew. Politics and illegal business practices weren't a good combination.
Security was already talking to Ringo, who looked strung out and half-asleep. There was a woman holding his hand, and it was most definitely not his wife, Kelsey. This woman was tall, intriguing, exotic as hell. The kind of woman who walks into the room wearing designer clothes and an aloof expression, while all the men drool, and all the women seethe and instantly despise her. Gwenna confessed she was a little irritated herself by that display of confidence, the way the woman just scanned the room calmly, unperturbed by the bodyguards swarming them.
"Who is that with Ringo?" Something about the couple made Gwenna's skin crawl, and it was a disturbing sign of just how much when she found herself reaching out and gripping Roberto's sleeve for some kind of bizarre protection.
He put his hand on the small of her back, and moved in front of her. "Go find your sister-in-law. I think it might be wise for you and she to retire to the ladies' room for a few minutes."
"Why?"
"That's Sasha Chechikov. Gregor's wife."
"The guy who lost the election to Ethan?"
"The very same one."
"Why is his wife here with Ringo? Isn't she mortal?"
"Yes, she is. And as to why she's here… that's a very interesting question, my dear, and I don't know the answer to it. Now leave, Gwenna." He gave her a hard, commanding look.
If she wasn't so disturbed for reasons she didn't understand, she would have told him where he could stick his commands, but she didn't bother. She found she had no desire whatsoever to hang about. In fact, she had done her duty. She had showed up, kissed her brother, and she desperately wanted to leave.
Turning, she nearly bumped into a couple of women who were watching the doorway and murmuring in low voices. "I can't believe Kelsey married him," the brunette was saying, shaking her head and fingering her diamond pendant.
"Well, you know ever since Kelsey had all her blood drained and was left for dead, she's been nuts. Not that she wasn't nuts before, because she was, but since she was drained, she's like incapacitated. You know they say that Donatelli did it…"
The woman with curly blond hair stopped speaking when she realized Gwenna was staring at her. "Are you okay? You look a little pale."
"Sorry… I've skipped feeding for the last few days. I feel a bit faint."
"There's an open bar. Go get something to drink."
"Thanks." Gwenna turned and walked quickly off. Roberto couldn't have drained Kelsey… she just couldn't believe he could be so cruel. Not to mention that surely Ethan would have told her his suspicions. Then again, Ethan preferred to think she was incapable of handling unpleasant truths and tended to shield her. So she supposed it was entirely possible that Roberto had been the one to leave Kelsey for dead.
But that aside, the conversation had also triggered a possible theory for the loop killings.
Heading straight for the balcony, Gwenna dodged and weaved in and out of vampires young and old, smiling and nodding and giving cursory greetings. When she stepped outside in the cool spring night, she pulled her phone out of her bag. Edging away from an amorous couple sharing a cigarette and heated looks, she dialed Nate, hoping like hell he wasn't in bed already.
"Hello?"
"It's Gwenna. Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"How did those boys die? Do you know?"
"Strangulation. Then they were drained of blood, though we're not sure how. That's not a clean job normally."
"There were puncture wounds on their necks, weren't there?"
Nate was silent for a second. Then, he just said, "It's possible."
"Oh, God." Gwenna put her hand over her eyes and leaned against the wall for support.
There was only one explanation for what was going on.
She was not the only vampire on the slayers' loop pretending to be mortal.
And that other vampire was a killer.