Keri Arthur - Embraced By Darkness

I hesitated, wanting to ask more, but also not wanting-to alienate her completely. I might need to question her again later. So I simply said, "Thanks for your help, Jodie."

She didn't answer, just went back to looking out the window. I headed out of the hospital and into the fresh air as quickly as I could. After sucking in several deep breaths to wash away the lingering aroma of antiseptic, pain, and hopelessness that always seemed to haunt hospitals, I began the long walk back to where I'd parked my car. As I walked, I took my phone out, hit the vid-button, and dialed the cow.

She was as happy as ever to sec my smiling face.

"Now what the hell are you after?" she said, voice flat and annoyed.

I restrained my grin. I really did like this woman's flat-out bitchiness. "Want you to check out a club for me. I need background and trouble reports."

"What club?"

"Mirror Image."

She raised perfectly plucked eyebrows. "That's the weird one that allows humans and nonhumans to mix, isn't it?"

"Yep."

"Is it connected to the murders?"

"I don't know."

"I'm not going to pull reports on a club just because you're curious about it," she said, in that snotty way of hers.

"It may be connected to a missing persons case I'm investigating. I'm just covering all the bases."

"Oh, I'm sure you're doing more than that, wolf girl." She sniffed. "I'll send whatever I can find."

"You're such a darling, Sal."

She all but snarled at me. I chuckled and hung up. In that instant, I felt it again. The cold chill of evil. An evil that hungered to kill, and rent, and tear, not talk.

I swung around, and saw it. Not the thing I was sensing, but the car. It had veered across several lanes of traffic and was coming straight at me. I had a brief glimpse of dark hair, thin features, and a grin of sheer delight before I was diving out of the way. I hit the concrete hard, rolled to my feet, and ran for the nearest street pole, my heart racing quicker than my feet. The roar of the car engine didn't get any closer. Instead, the car bounced off another and continued on, scattering pedestrians as it continued down the footpath before swerving back out into the traffic. I didn't bother chasing it. I might have vampire speed, but that car was moving way faster than I ever could, the driver weaving in and out of traffic like a madman.

I dusted the dirt off my hands and knees, then got out my phone again.

"This really has to stop," Sal said. "You might enjoy hearing my dulcet tones, but I have better things—"

"Fucking shut up and put me through to Jack," I said.

"He's in a meeting—"

"I don't care. Put me through."

She muttered something under her breath, then the phone made odd noises as she patched me through.

"This had better be important, Riley," Jack said. "I was in a meeting with the director—"

"Someone just tried to run me over," I snapped. "And I think whatever is killing these people might be following me."

I heard a chair slide back, then footsteps as Jack walked out of whatever room he was in. "Okay, explain."

"Remember the truck yesterday? Well, today it was a car. I caught a glimpse of the driver and I didn't recognize him. It wasn't accidental—he was aiming for me. I got the plate number."

"Give me it, and I'll do a check."

I gave him the number, then said, "It'll probably be stolen."

"No doubt Now tell me about this thing following you."

I blew out a breath, and leaned against the street pole. "When I went to the first murder yesterday, there was a sense of evil lingering there. A gloating sort of evil, if that makes sense. It faded, so I figured maybe it was either my imagination or some leftover emotion I was sensing. But I felt it today at the second murder, and again now, just before that car tried to mash me between its wheels."

"Do you think we're dealing with a vampire?"

I hesitated. "I don't know. In some ways, it feels like I'm sensing emotions rather than anything real or solid."

"And you felt it before the car came at you?"

"But not before the truck. I don't think whatever it is I'm sensing is connected to the run-over attempts, if that's what you're thinking."

"Can you feel it now?"

I hesitated, and looked around. The air was rich with exhaust fumes, gas, humans, and eucalyptus—not my favorite scents, but better than death any day.

"No."

"So you can't positively say it's not connected, then."

"Other than the feeling that it's not, no I can't."

He grunted. "I'll talk to Cole, see if he noticed anything unusual that didn't make his report. In the meantime, you be careful."

"Don't worry," I said dryly, "I have no intention of damaging the Directorate's investment."

"Good," he said, and hung up.

So much for concern over said investment. I shoved my phone back into my pocket, and continued on to my car.

It took me half an hour to drive over to Callie Harris's parents' place, only to discover they weren't actually there. But Callie's sister, Jenny, was.

"So how can I help you?" she said, tucking a long strand of brown hair behind her ear with fingers that shook.

I sat down on the chair opposite hers, and said, as gently as I could, "I need to question you about Liam and Callie's relationship."

"There's nothing to know. They were in love and getting married."

"So they had no problems? Never fought?"

Tears glittered briefly in her eyes. She blinked them away furiously. "Everyone argues. Even people in love."

"Do you know if they argued over anything recently?"

She looked away. "No."

"If you know anything," I said quietly, "even something small, it may just help track down their killers."

She didn't say anything for a moment, looking down at her clenched hands. "How could something they fought about help track down her killer? It didn't mean anything. They'd worked through it, and the wedding was going ahead."

I raised my eyebrows. "It didn't mean anything" was usually a metaphor for "I made a mistake of the sexual kind." "So Callie had a one-night stand?"

"At her bachelorette party." She hesitated, then said in a rush, "She was drunk, it really didn't mean anything, and she was so ashamed of herself afterward."

"When was the party?"

"Two days before… before—" She stopped, gulping down air.

I waited a moment, then asked, "And she told Liam about it?"

"She had to. I mean, how could she not? There were ten of us there. Someone would have told him eventually, and that would have been even worse."

Worse than being torn apart by a cuckolded fiancé? I didn't think so. "You didn't try to stop her straying?"

She blushed and looked away. "I didn't know. Not until later."

Because she was too busy getting laid herself, I bet. "Where did this all happen?"

For some odd reason, I was expecting her to say Mirror Image, but she didn't. "At a friend's. She owns a house down Fairhaven way, right near the beach."

Then the friend had some money. Fairhaven had a million dollar plus price tag. "Who was the man she slept with?"

She shrugged. "One of the strippers."

"There was more than one?"

She looked away again. "There were ten."

One for each of them, then. Which meant it was not your typical bachelorette party—not if they catered to everyone's sexual needs. "Do you know the name of the company?"

"Nonpareil."

Not one I'd heard of, but then, I really didn't have a whole lot to do with humans and their sexuality. "Did you arrange it?"

"No, Cheryl, the other bridesmaid, did." She hesitated. "You don't think the strippers had anything to do with her murder, do you?"

"Probably not." If only because I doubted strippers would have been a link to the Essendon case. But then, who knew? Maybe the wife had needed to recharge her sexual batteries, or had been to a party that had employed a stripper recently.