Under Suspicion

“Not here. We should go home.”

 

 

Nina cracked her neck and brushed her waist-length hair over one shoulder. “I guess there’s nothing exciting going on tonight, anyway. Let’s go.”

 

I watched the stoplight change in front of us, and watched the largest, gaudiest Cadillac I have ever seen coast to a stop a few feet from me.

 

“One sec.”

 

I beelined for the car and rapped on the driver’s-side window. Steve stared out the windshield, trying his hardest to ignore me.

 

“Steve!” I yelled, pounding.

 

He finally relented and rolled down the car window. I saw that he had a stack of phone books wedged securely on the leather bucket seat where he sat. I crossed my arms. “Some protector you are.”

 

A blush washed over Steve’s face, tinting his cheeks a sort of pocked mauve. “There you are, sugar bun! Steve ran out to grab some coffee.”

 

I raised an eyebrow. “You ran out on me and I almost got fanged, you asshat! You left me alone in a vampire den!”

 

“Steve ran out for comforting hot beverages.”

 

“I didn’t need a hot beverage! I needed a wooden stake!”

 

Steve clicked his tongue and wagged his head solemnly. “Steve can’t please everyone.”

 

 

 

 

 

When Nina and I got back to the apartment, I sat her down at the dining-room table and paced, wringing my hands, wondering how I was going to tell my very best friend that her new beau was hunting demons.

 

“My God, Sophie, sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

 

“Okay.” I sat, taking a seat and sighing heavily. “Here it goes—Harley is dangerous.”

 

Nina rolled her eyes, stood up, and rummaged through the refrigerator. “Do we have an AB pos?”

 

“Didn’t you just hear me? Harley is dangerous, Nina. He is behind all the demon issues. He got rid of Mrs. Henderson and attacked Bettina. Have you even read his book?”

 

Nina popped a straw in her blood bag and her cheeks went hollow as she sucked. “Of course I’ve read his book. Most of it.”

 

“Most of it? Most of it! Nina, it’s practically a blueprint to kill demons!”

 

“Sophie, Harley doesn’t believe in demons. His books specifically tells people that they don’t exist.”

 

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “No, his book specifically tells people that demons can’t exist.”

 

“So?”

 

“So don’t you find it a little suspicious that suddenly demons start disappearing right when Harley and his demons-can’t-exist book comes around?”

 

Nina sucked out the remainder of blood and then crushed the bag, pitching it into the trash. “Yep, it’s a coincidence.”

 

“Or it’s Harley making sure that the world agrees with the findings of his book.”

 

Nina’s newly red lips cracked into a bemused half smile. “You actually think that Harley is going around playing Whac-A-Mole in the Underworld so no one proves him wrong? Sophie, that’s completely ridiculous. He’s an author, not a killer. I’ve talked with him. He’s spent his entire career debunking things. He doesn’t believe in the Underworld. He can’t see through the veil. He had dinner with me, for God’s sake, and trust me—as far as Harley is concerned”—Nina’s fingers slid over her hips and thighs—“I’m all woman.”

 

“That’s fabulous—and disturbing. But all the evidence points to Harley.”

 

“Is that so, Columbo?”

 

I stomped into the living room and snatched Harley’s book from the floor, where I left it, opening to the page with the weaponry photos. “Notice anything?”

 

Nina glanced nonchalantly at the pages. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

 

“Think about it, Nina. Harley makes millions based on this debunking thing. What would happen if his loyal public found out that we—you—really do exist and that their beloved guru was the actual sham?”

 

Nina’s eyes went up as if the answer were written on the ceiling. “Um, I’d say that if Harley actually did uncover the Underworld, and its fabulous inhabitants”—Nina stretched out her slim, long legs and kicked them onto the table—“he would be an instant celeb.”

 

“Like that Scottish guy who proved that Nessie really does exist?”

 

Nina frowned. “Who was he?”

 

“Exactly! No one knows who he was, because he’s in a loony bin!”

 

Nina tugged on her lower lip. “I’m still not seeing the connection here, Sophs.”

 

I blew out a tortured sigh and held up my index finger. “One—Harley Cavanaugh inks a one-point-seven-million-dollar deal—”

 

“One-point-seven million dollars? Where did you hear that? Did he tell you that?” Nina’s eyes went big. She turned to me and grabbed both my hands. “Did he tell you that because he’s planning on buying me a ring?”

 

“I read it on his website,” I huffed. “Now listen. Harley Cavanaugh inks a huge deal.”

 

“One-point-seven million,” Nina sang.

 

“To write a book proving that vampires and whatnot don’t exist.”