Chapter 32
Alric stared at the text on his phone. The sender’s name was unknown, but the message was short and sweet. I don’t know where she lives, but I know her daughter-in-law’s whereabouts.
He read the words again, then called the number listed.
The phone rang twice before a man picked up. “Hello?”
“Are you sure she’s related to Mara?” Alric asked.
“I’m sure.”
“Where is she staying?”
“There’s the little matter of a reward first.”
“You’ll get it. Where are you?”
“In New York. Meet me at Pike’s in New Jersey tomorrow night at ten. And bring the money.”
“How will I know you?”
“I’ll be the only one not wearing black,” the man said, and disconnected the call.
A slow smile spread across Alric’s face as he slid his phone into his back pocket. All that time and money wasted on hunters and detectives, he mused. But, no matter. Tomorrow night at ten, if luck was with him, he might have something to bargain with.
* * *
Alric arrived at the appointed place at nine-thirty. Pike’s was a high-class Goth club that catered to the rich and famous who wanted to mingle with the strange and bizarre. Two walls were black, two were gray. The bar was ebony-colored marble veined with gold, the tables covered with alternating black and gray cloths, each one adorned with a white vase of blood-red roses.
He took a place at the end of the bar, his gaze sweeping the room. He counted four vampires in the crowd—three male and one female. As his informant had said, everyone wore black.
At exactly ten o’clock, a vampire dressed in navy blue slacks and a light blue jacket sauntered into the club. He glanced around the room, then headed toward Alric. “You got the money?” he asked briskly.
“You got the information?”
The vampire nodded. “Let’s see the cash.”
Alric pulled a fat envelope out of his coat and lifted the flap, exposing a sheaf of one hundred-dollar bills.
“She’s staying at the Windsor Hotel with another female. For the last two nights, they’ve attended one play or another and then come here for drinks afterward, usually around ten-thirty, eleven.”
“What does she look like?”
“She’s young, real pretty, with dark blond hair. Her name’s Sheree. You’ll know her when you see her. I’m not sure who the other woman is, but she’s a looker, too.” The vampire held out his hand.
“Good work.” Alric slapped the envelope into his palm. “You won’t say anything about this to anyone, will you?”
The man shook his head. “Nice doing business with you.”
“Uh-huh.” Alric waited until the vampire left the bar, then followed him outside. As far as he was concerned, the only people you could trust to keep a secret were dead ones.
* * *
Alric leaned against the bar, a glass of red wine in his hand. A glance at his phone showed it was ten-fifty. He was beginning to think his informant had sold him a pack of lies when two women glided into the club.
He whistled under his breath. They were both lookers, all right. And both vampires, though not particularly powerful. They looked around, then headed for a small table in a far corner. Perfect.
Leaving his glass on the bar, he strolled in their direction.
* * *
Sheree sipped her wine, then put the glass aside. “So, what did you think of Cassie the other night?”
“I liked her,” Abbey Marie said. “And I’m guessing Mara does, too. I mean, seriously, did you ever think the Queen of the Vampires would throw a bridal shower?”
“Not in a million years,” Sheree admitted. “But she’s always been full of surprises. I’m just glad Father Lanzoni has finally found someone. So, what shall we see tomorrow night?”
Abbey Marie thought a moment, then said, “There’s a revival of Les Miz that looks good.”
“I hate sad endings.”
Abbey Marie grinned at her friend. Sheree had the kindest heart of anyone she had ever known. “Well, Cinderella is playing off-Broadway. How about that?”
“Better. This trip is the best birthday present I’ve ever received. I’m still surprised that Derek . . .” Sheree’s voice trailed off as she sensed a vampire standing behind her. A moment later, he was beside her, a small dagger pressed against the side of her throat.
“What are you doing?” Abbey Marie gasped. “Do you know who she is?”
“Not really.”
“Abbey, don’t tell him anything.” Sheree glared at the stranger, her heart pounding with trepidation. He was one of the ancient ones. She could feel his power coalescing around them, preventing those nearby from noticing what was going on at their table, preventing her and Abbey from transporting themselves to safety. She thought of contacting Nick through their blood bond but decided against it. At least for now.
“Since you’re a vampire, you must have heard of Mara,” Abbey Marie said. “Well, this is her daughter-in-law. I suggest you go away and we’ll forget this happened.”
The vampire snorted. “I forget nothing. I have a score to settle with the much-vaunted Queen of the Vampires. All I want is her whereabouts.”
“Abbey, don’t tell him anything,” Sheree said again.
The vampire increased his pressure on the knife at Sheree’s throat, hard enough to draw blood. “Shut up,” he hissed. Glaring at Abbey, he said, “You’d better tell me what I want to know right now, or I’ll cut her damn head off.”
“All right!” Abbey Marie cried. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just leave her alone.”
“That’s better.” He eased the pressure against Sheree’s neck but didn’t remove the dagger. “Where is Mara?”
“The last I knew, she was at her home in the Hollywood Hills.”
“What’s the address?”
“I don’t remember. It’s the only house on Crow Haven Lane.”
“And the priest? Where does he live?”
“I don’t know,” Abbey Marie said, fighting tears. “He moves around a lot.”
The vampire stared at her, eyes blazing with hatred.
And then he was gone.
Abbey Marie grabbed a napkin and pressed it against the wound in Sheree’s throat. “Are you all right? I should have called Nick, but I was so scared of what that monster might do.”
“You made the right decision.” Sheree smiled grimly. Nick was very protective of her friend. She’d been pretty sure the vampire wouldn’t kill her. Whoever he was, he was a dead man, because if Mara didn’t kill him, Derek and Nick certainly would.
* * *
Alric strolled down the street, oblivious to the lights and the crowds. He chuckled softly. The Queen of the Night had been right under his nose the whole damn time. Filled with exhilaration, he crossed the street, heedless of the traffic as he plotted his next move.
He glanced up at the sound of screeching tires in time to see a long-bed truck bearing down on him. Before he could vanish, the vehicle slammed into him.
Pain engulfed him as he felt bones shattering, breaking, before he pinwheeled through the air, then skidded across the road, leaving pieces of skin and bone behind.
Barely able to move, he dragged himself into the darkness.