The information on Tower and Zena was sketchy, but they were listed as being over three hundred years old. The record did mention that Tower had known Laurel for many of those years, and I wondered how close they might have been. Would Tower aid and abet Laurel if she came to him for help?
Ray’s fact sheet held the most information. At close to two hundred thirty, he was a few years older than me and was of direct Spanish descent. He had, in fact, lived in Alta California in the days that made me think of Zorro. He had studied medicine in the 1800s, law in the early 1900s, and still held his license to practice law. Had Ray known Ike back on the West Coast in the old days? Was Ray Ike’s sire?
I pulled up Laurel’s information last. A former slave, she’d been turned in 1863 while escaping in the Underground Railroad system, and had lived in the North until the late 1980s. She’d come south gradually, joining nests, then moving on. She hooked up with Ike ten years ago.
The records didn’t list any known regular companions for Laurel, or for any vamps in Ike’s nest—except each other. I left the printouts on the desk and then almost went back into the VPA files to research Saber. I wanted to. My hands poised over the keyboard, but a glance at the clock changed my mind. It was nine thirty in the morning, and I was fading. Instead, I e-mailed Old Coast Ghost Tours to tell them to take me off the schedule for the next three days. Probably more time than I needed, but I’d been working almost nonstop for months. I could use the break. And, yes, I did feel the tiniest bit guilty for the short notice, but I squashed it. I’d filled in dozens of times for other guides. Someone else could jolly well fill in for me. With a last glance at the photos, I tiptoed into the bedroom to close the blackout drapes, quietly opened drawers until I found what I wanted, and traded my jeans and top for one of Saber’s T-shirts.
As I crawled into bed, I kept wondering about the boy in the picture. Should I ask Saber about it? Could I admit to being that nosy? Would he tell me about it on his own?
Should, could, would swirled in my head for only a few minutes before I drifted to sleep. I bolted out of bed at three in the afternoon, just as soon as I realized Saber wasn’t in bed with me. I charged down the hall toward the living room, only to come to a whiplash halt at the office doorway.
“Where’s the fire?” Saber flashed a tired grin.
He was dressed in shorts and a short-sleeved button-up shirt, sans his sling. He looked worn but not unwell. I sagged against the door casing, my heart still racing. “Geez, Saber, I was worried you’d gone out.”
“I did, but only for some Starbloods. It’s in the fridge.”
“You drove with your cast? On pain meds? Saber, I could’ve picked up Starbloods later. And where’s your sling? You’re supposed to keep your arm elevated so it doesn’t swell.”
He looked at his swathed arm where it rested on the desktop. “It is elevated.”
“It’s supposed to be higher than your heart.”
He slouched down in the desk chair until he was in danger of sliding out of it. “How’s that?”
My lips twitched, but I shook my head. “Not good enough. Come on, at least lie on the couch.”
“Don’t you want to hear my report?”
“Absolutely,” I said, marching over to him. “But you can tell me in the living room.”
I went to take his good arm to get him moving, but that close to the desk, I couldn’t help but glance at the photos. When I looked at Saber, he met my gaze in silence, and I saw the wheels spinning in his head. Then the moment passed.
“I’ll come peacefully as long as you’ll leave that shirt on.” He winked. “It’s making me hot.”
I laughed as he wanted me to do, and settled him on the couch with pillows from the bedroom. (Note to self: Add throw pillows to the shopping list). After downing the Starbloods he’d made a special trip to buy, I cleaned my teeth to a minty fresh shine and rejoined Saber for my briefing.
“Good work on the research last night,” he said when I plopped in the chair opposite him and tucked my legs under me. “I’ve learned a little more this afternoon, and we just might catch a break.”
“Well, don’t leave me in suspense. What did you get?”
“First, I called Jackson. The carving on the weapon is too intricate to give him a good print, and the techs haven’t found unaccounted for hair or skin or anything else I can compare with DNA samples the VPA keeps.”
“Any word about the carvings on the knife?”
“Nada. Jackson sent an e-mail with some good shots of it, and I forwarded those to Neil.”
“I doubt Neil’s checking his mail.”
“He’s checking. He gave me his cell number in case anything came up with the house, so I gave him a heads-up.”
“Can I see the photos?”
He passed five sheets of paper across the coffee table, and I quickly examined each one.
“Does the style look familiar?”