Under Suspicion

“Actually, it’s because I’m gluten intolerant.”

 

 

Will followed me into the kitchen while I pulled open the fridge, willing a turkey breast and a hunk of Brie to magically appear. My powers of astroprojection being nil, I was greeted with the usual selection of blood bags, condiments, and a carton of vanilla soy milk.

 

I shook the carton, then upended it in a glass.

 

Will winced. “Is it supposed to be chunky?”

 

I tossed the carton in the trash. “Do you think I could pass it off as chocolate chip?” I blew out a sigh. “Hey, Sergio, what do you like on your pizza?”

 

 

 

 

 

We were all sitting around the dining-room table—Vlad, glowering at Sergio; Sergio, oblivious, enjoying his fourth piece of Veggie Madness on a gluten-free crust; Nina, working a bag of AB negative and typing away on my Mac; and Will and I trading uneasy glances between a half-decimated all-meat, extra-cheese pizza.

 

I wiped my grease-soaked fingers on my napkin and pushed away from the table. “Okay! So, are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?”

 

Nina raised her eyebrows. “Sophie, you may have put on a few pounds, but I wouldn’t call you an elephant.”

 

“I think she is talking about him.” Vlad’s dark eyes went to Sergio, who popped his last bit of pizza in his mouth and wiped his hands on a napkin. Sergio’s back stiffened, and his eyes held Vlad’s.

 

“What about me?”

 

“I thought you said there wasn’t an issue between vampires and werewolves?” Will asked.

 

“Hey, before you guys start comparing incisors, and before I completely kick Nina’s ass for calling me an elephant—”

 

Nina held up a single finger without looking up from my laptop. “I called you not an elephant.”

 

“I’m talking about the fact that Sergio was shot with silver bullets. Kale was plowed over in an intersection. Bettina was hammered in the streets. Someone tried to drive a stake through my heart. What else needs to happen for you to believe that someone is out there? We’re seriously being Van Helsinged, and no one is paying attention.”

 

“Who has it in for demons?” Will asked.

 

I huffed. “Who doesn’t?”

 

Will’s eyebrows went up and Nina sighed. “There is always someone hunting vampires. Buffy wasn’t exactly an original idea.”

 

“There’s always been people after us,” Sergio said.

 

“Yeah. They’re called dogcatchers!” Vlad snorted.

 

“Guys!” I shouted.

 

Nina finally looked up from the laptop, clicking it closed. “Okay, if someone is out for demon blood, what are we supposed to do about it?”

 

“Um, maybe find out who wants you dead and why. If this guy knew that Sergio was a werewolf , and that silver bullets would actually kill him—”

 

“Then he’s probably got a pretty decent foothold in the Underworld,” Will finished.

 

“Right. Because most people just pretty much assume the whole werewolf-silver-bullet thing is legend,” I said.

 

Vlad blew out an exhausted sigh. “Still more trouble in Gotham.”

 

“We were shot at.” I thought yelling and stamping my foot with each word would get the weight of the issue across, but Vlad just straightened his ascot to Thurston Howell-perfect—quite a feat since the man had no reflection to check—and looked at me.

 

“I’m really sorry about your incident, Sophie, but I fail to recognize how this affects me. Or”—his eyes cut to Nina—“us.”

 

Nina frowned. “Are you sure it wasn’t gangbangers? Maybe they picked up the bullets by mistake.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and narrowed her coal black eyes. “Bastard gangbangers. We could do the city a real service if the UDA would just lift their ban and let us eat them.”

 

Vlad wrinkled his nose. “Ew. I don’t like gangbangers. They’re usually so thin and stringy.”

 

“It wasn’t gangbangers.” I dug in my pocket and picked out the one shell casing I had nicked from Will’s stash. “This bullet isn’t something you inadvertently pick up at Walmart.”

 

Vlad examined the shell casing and gave it a small sniff.

 

“Anything?” I asked.

 

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a dog.” Then, “Do you keep Skittles in that pocket, too?”

 

Nina leapt off the couch and snatched the casing from Vlad’s fingers. “A silver bullet. How odd. Maybe one of my characters gets shot with a silver bullet!”

 

Sergio leaned over, flashed a big grin. “You’re a writer?”

 

“Novelist, actually,” Nina said, oozing pride. “I’ll read you something later.”

 

“Hello!” I sprang up from the couch. “My clients go missing, a banshee is bashed up with the message about eradicating ‘her kind,’ and now someone shoots at me and Will with silver bullets. Don’t you get it? Someone is trying to clean up. Someone knows about the Underworld and is trying to clean up.”