Eliza Ford: Cause of Death: Unnatural

"Poppy tea?" exploded Jennifer with a giggle. "That sounds ridiculous."

That sounds very, very interesting, thought Em. "Do you know if this dealer's got a name?" she asked Bec.

Bec shook her head. "Nope, but I hear he hangs out around the old warehouses up that end of town. Why, you looking to buy?" She smiled.

"No, but I might talk with your boy about it. It could have something to do with those bodies we found outside the club."

"Do you think you could get us in there?" asked Jennifer, her short attention span showing again. "Come on Em. You had a personal invitation, and now you've got a hundred excuses to go there whenever you like because of the case. Surely you can get our names on the door. I'm busting to see the place."

Em resisted rolling her eyes. She smiled and stood up. "I'm just going to the ladies," she said. "Get me another vodka will you please, Jennifer, and then I'll get the next round. I'll be back."

She needed to think. The women's restroom was empty. Em sank into a chair in the corner next to a potted palm tree and a small table with a selection of cheap perfumes. It looked like a suitably comfortable place for brooding.

So, Alina had a drug dealer who specialized in blood and its fixings, and who hung out in the old warehouses. Em was pretty sure she knew exactly who that would be. She was overdue to pay him a call, actually. It made sense that this might be the dealer Alina was in league with.

Will was one of those useful mortals who came from a long tradition of serving the darker energies of the Family and the lower vampires. There had always been humans like Will - procurers - even in the days when life was cheaper and vampires had no compunctions feeding off the general population. These days, people like Will were essential for any of the Family who chose to live around the edges of a mortal existence, and for the lower vampires who didn't want to spend their new lives running from the law.

Will was the local caterer, for want of a better word, and Em was one of his regular customers. Sure, she could get by without the red stuff, but a girl's gotta get her fix every now and then, right?

Alina and her host of dancing vampires had the same requirements. Poor Will, business must have exploded for him lately. She hoped he was keeping up with demand. Had Alina offered him a deal he couldn't refuse, or had she coerced him into the role? Em had no idea, and that brought her to the other mystery in this whole affair.

Until these headaches of hers had started a few weeks ago, Em could confidently say she knew everything that went down in this town, mortal or supernatural. To be laughed at by her own girlfriends for not knowing about Alina's new club and its kinky secrets was not just embarrassing, it was worrying. At first she'd thought the headaches were just that - headaches. And why would she worry? Vampires don't get migraines, they don't get brain tumors - she just thought she was working too hard.

But when it became clearer that someone, or something, was causing the headaches Em thought it would simply be a matter of finding out who it was. That was proving to be more difficult than she'd expected, and she wasn't used to being this ineffectual. It was irritating, and it was worrying. The more Em thought about it, the more she had to admit that there was someone in town who was more powerful than her. And that thought was very unnerving.

She'd have to talk to Jarek about it. Could he feel it too?

Talking to Will should definitely be the next step. Will would know Alina's secrets, he might even know who this new power was. She'd love to just show up at Will's, sort it out and close the damn case, but she knew that Bec's lieutenant and Robert would probably put two and two together soon enough and the team would all be down at the warehouses looking for Will anyway. She may as well do it all on the level. Explaining her hunch about 'the dealer' connected to Alina's would be easy. It would be more challenging to lead a search for his location without revealing that she goes there every few weeks herself. But what was she saying? She loved a challenge.

Em sighed. There she was planning to dupe Robert again. The man didn't deserve it. He might be a bit of a geek, but he was blisteringly intelligent, sophisticated, and, if she admitted it, had a sense of humor as dark as her own. She was beginning to realize his curious desires might plunge just as deeply into the dark. That was appealing. She probably owed him a little bit more than smart conversation and clever flirting. But he wasn't Nick.

Nick wanted her to attend this family lunch he'd invited her to. What was it? A nephew's Christening, or something? Now, that was getting serious.

And Jarek, of course, just messed up all of that...

The slam of the bathroom door hitting the wall broke into her thoughts. Em got to her feet. The sound of slightly drunken giggles and the scuff of stumbling high heels emerged from the other side of the doorway.

"Oops!" came Jennifer's voice, overly loud. Em went to help her friend before she walked into something pointy.

And then there was Jennifer, Em reminded herself, and the vodka. Gotta work on that too.

"Emilia, daaarling, you're back!" This evening Alina had squeezed her voluptuous frame into a metallic silver satin sheath dress with a split up one leg that revealed rather an off-putting amount of thigh. A black feather boa was draped around her shoulders and a ludicrously large tiara perched on her black beehived hair. The razor sharp retort that Em historically delivered whenever she met Alina died in her mouth as she surveyed the woman's outrageous outfit. Alina was just so different like this. Em doubted her father would even want her back.

"And who have you brought us, my dear?" Alina continued, eyeing Jennifer hungrily.

Jennifer had finally convinced Em to bring her along to the club, against Em's better judgement. It was late in the evening and Em was there to try to find Alina's live-in drug dealer, not that she was going to tell Alina that. She'd told Jennifer she could get her in, but she was on business. As soon as she was done, she'd be going. After that Jennifer had better behave herself.

"Yes, mom," Jennifer had said, rolling her eyes, and Em had felt slightly guilty.

"This is Jennifer. A friend of mine," said Em.

Alina shook the end of her boa playfully under Jennifer's chin. "And isn't she an angel. Where did you get her?" she said.

Jennifer looked pleased, and slightly bemused, but Alina threw an arm over her shoulder and squeezed her tightly. "Any friend of Emilia's is welcome here, my dear. May I steal her, Emilia? Let me give you the VIP tour, Jennifer. I'm sure you'll just adore my little place."

Jennifer had time to flash Em an I-owe-you-one smile before Alina swept her away to the bar and into the milling throng of the club.

Em flashed a tendril of dark energy into Alina's mind. She's mine, Alina. Don't you dare do anything to her.

In the distance, Alina waved a hand airily in Em's direction and the thought came back to her: Keep your knickers on, Emilia. I'm just having some fun.

Em sighed and turned to survey the club. The burlesque show had already finished, the music was loud, and the patronage were concentrating on their poisons of choice. The tables and chairs had been cleared away and the dance floor was full, grinding.

Em let her energy flow loosely across the crowd. She was going to search the room her own way. Soul-searching, she called it. Every soul was different, and most carried the marks and scars of their owner's lives. This drug dealer, she was only assuming it was Will, would feel different. Drug dealers always did. There were others in the general populace - doctors, butchers, lawyers, plumbers - who had some darkened corners on their souls, but they were just corners. In the soul of a drug dealer that darkness was a blackness that soaked through and through. They made their living from twisting the spirits of mortals, from buying slavery and addiction with bittersweet honey, and from hiding in the shadows. That left a mark on the soul that stood out like a beacon.