Last Vampire Standing (22 page)

“And give it to someone else? Like Laurel or Marco?”

Jo-Jo shrugged. “He might support a female as a nest leader, but he is old-fashioned.”

“You mean he’s a chauvinist.”

“That would be Vlad.”

“Okay, so let’s think. Some vamps live in nests, but others live independently. Is that right?”

“Right.”

“And maybe all vamps who live in nests contribute to the household, as it were. Ike’s vamps probably do the same thing, come to think of it.”

“I’m with you.”

“Then what difference does it make if Vlad
is
the power behind Ike?”

Jo-Jo shrugged. “I don’t suppose it makes any real difference. If Ike is paying fair tribute, and stays submissive to Vlad, there’s no special reason to get rid of him.”

“Hmmm. Then I wonder why Ike is frightened.”

Jo-Jo stiffened. “I did not tell you he was fearful, my lady.”

“You didn’t have to.”

020

Pandora hopped out of my truck at home without Jo-Jo ever knowing she had hitched with us. I wondered if any of what Jo-Jo and I had discussed about Ike and Vlad meant squat to Pandora. Or related to Triton’s being in hiding. I couldn’t see how either vamp would be a big, bad threat to the shape-shifters, but if Pandora had gleaned useful information, more power to her. The indoor flying lesson with Jo-Jo was short and, well, short. Ten-foot ceilings aren’t exactly the friendly skies. I levitated perhaps six inches off the floor, and jump-hovered an entire foot on four tries out of ten. I was still a bust in the walk-fly event, but even Olympians have their specialties. Jo-Jo gave me the rah-rah talk and urged me to keep practicing.

“You must own your power, Princess,” he told me. “You can do this and more.”

“Like what?” I huffed a breath of frustration. “What the hell else am I supposed to be able to do?”

“You don’t know, Highness?”

I sighed. “The crazy killer we caught in March ranted about me coming into my powers when I was no longer, um—”

“A virgin?”

I blushed, but I wanted answers. Answers that maybe only another vampire could give me.

“Right, but here’s the thing. I didn’t wake up and, bam, I was the proud owner of superpowers. I mean, is there a check-list of powers I should know about?”

“Honestly, Highness, I’ve heard those of the House of Normand could kill with a mere thought.”

I snorted. “I never saw Normand do it. You don’t know
any
thing about instant powers?”

Jo-Jo frowned. “Flying is standard. Enthralling and unen thralling. Strength and speed, of course.” He shrugged. “The virgin myth aside, most of the powers just take an effort of will. You want them to awaken, and they do.”

Ah, no wonder. When it came to vamp power, I spent enough time in denial to make it a second home.

“Did I answer your question, Princess?”

“More than you know. Do you want a ride to the regional airport tomorrow night?”

“Vince and Jessica insisted on driving me.” Now Jo-Jo blushed lightly. “Princess, I know I’ve been kind of a pain, but thank you for everything. I owe you.”

“Just become rich and famous and rub it in Jemina’s face.”

I was brushing my teeth at four on Sunday afternoon, when Saber strolled into the bathroom jingling a set of keys.

“You ready to go see Neil’s house?”

“Your house,” I corrected, giving him a toothpaste grin. “Did you call an agent in Daytona yesterday?”

“Yep. She came over to see the place, and we settled on an asking price.”

“Did she mention staging?”

“She did, and I told her my lady friend is an HGTV freak who would help with that. You
will
help, right?”

“I’ll do anything but clean toilets and windows.”

He kissed my mint-fresh mouth, and twenty-five minutes later we pulled into the driveway of a light yellow cinder block one-story house landscaped mainly with tall palms, azaleas, and sea grapes. The wood trim was cocoa, and a large, slightly bowed front window marked the house as circa 1940s or ’50s. Inside, though, the floor plan was wonderfully open, and I saw Maggie’s touch everywhere. In the living-dining room, contemporary-style crown molding and thick baseboards in white set off warm mocha walls. The kitchen boasted granite countertops and stainless steel appliances, and it looked onto a deck with a hot tub and a beautiful fenced backyard.

The laundry room was in the two-car garage, but Saber didn’t mind that. A fair-sized full bath was down the hall, plus two goodsized secondary bedrooms and a large master suite. The bathrooms were fully renovated, too, with warm slate tile. I guess I’d been quieter than I thought throughout the tour, because Saber caught me in his arms before we left the master suite.

“Well, what do you think?”

I grinned and kissed him. “You’re right, it’s perfect.”

“You’re not ticked that I don’t want to live in your beach house?”

“The way you feel about spiders and snakes and vines? Honey, you couldn’t
handle
the beach house.”

He was so jovial on the way back to my place, I almost hated to bring up business. But, hey, Triton was still in hiding, a sniper was still on the loose, and something was rotten in Ike’s nest.

“Saber, what did Donita talk with you about last night?”

“Just about her concern that Laurel is out of control.”

“Not breaking news, but she may be more out of control than Donita knows.”

“Give.”

I filled him in about eavesdropping and told him Jo-Jo’s theory that Vlad was backing Ike. Saber smacked the steering wheel with his hand. “Damn it. If that’s true, I need to get a task force together to clean house.”

“Why?”

“Nests are limited in size specifically so no one vamp or group of vamps can set up a major power base. It’s like the difference between a small business and a conglomerate. The more power one vamp wields, the more lawless he can be.”

“So keeping the nests small is a sort of damage control?”

“Exactly. How accurate do you think Jo-Jo’s theory is?”

I shrugged. “It made sense. Maybe you should talk to him before he leaves tonight.”

“Are you taking him to the airport?”

“He’s riding with Vince, but you could go to the motel or call him.”

He lifted a brow. “Do you work tonight?”

“Yep, at eight.”

“Then I’m sticking with you.”

Sunday night seemed even hotter and muggier than it had been during the day, so I wore my lighter emerald Regency gown for work. Kevin Miller was there again, and so were Caro and Leah, carrying part of his equipment. Saber raised a brow at them and whispered, “When did Kevin pick up the groupies?”

“On Friday’s tour. Cute, aren’t they?”

“If they keep him from bugging you, they have my vote.”

Only ten other tourists were there, and they appeared to know each other well. The highlight was Gorman’s absence. Turned out that the ten people who knew each other were fans of the
Ghost Hunters
television series. They not only asked Kevin what he was doing, they documented their personal experiences and helped ask questions to elicit spirit answers via electronic voice phenomenon—EVP. Kevin just might’ve been a bigger attraction than the ghosts, and he promised to post the night’s findings on his MySpace page.

Saber fell back partway through the tour to make a call. I presumed it was to Jo-Jo, especially when I heard Saber say, “Break a leg.”

Most of the group left at nine forty-five. Kevin, Leah, and Caro stayed, Kevin insisting that I see the video he’d taken on Friday night.

A shiver shot up my spine as Kevin ran the video showing a shadow rise from the ground behind me on the screen. In the same frame, a dog I didn’t remember seeing in the plaza raised its hackles and growled until the owner jerked on its leash.

“You didn’t sense that presence?” Kevin asked me.

“No, but it gives me goose bumps now.”

Saber frowned at Kevin. “Is it harmful?”

“I don’t know. I’ve sent it to one of my professors for her opinion, but she may not be back from vacation yet.” He fast-forwarded to another scene, this one taken on the bay front showing the white mist floating over my head.

“I still think,” Leah said, “that’s a good force of some kind. Maybe not an angel, but good.”

Kevin closed the DVD player and stuffed it in one of the bags he carried. “Ms. Marinelli, I know you tell the tour groups that the ghosts here aren’t malevolent.”

“I say that because it’s true. Fay is as cranky as all get out, and our ghosts might pull pranks, but none of them are outright hostile.”

“But you are a sensitive. Are there places that bother you to go into? Like the old drugstore?”

I shuddered. “The Spanish hospital is difficult.”

“So you see or sense the spirits there, and they bother you, for whatever reason.”

“That’s fair to say. Why?”

“It’s just odd that you have some recognition of the other ghosts in town but don’t feel either of these energies that are strong enough to be showing up on video.”

“Odd? Kevin, I think it’s downright weird and totally creepy that I can’t sense these things, but I can’t explain it.”

“Well, I asked both of those energies questions, and my EMF meter beeped at least one of the times I asked. Maybe I’ll get some EVPs.”

“Better get started on that before the”—Saber paused—“spirits erase anything.

“Oh, right.” Kevin turned abruptly and herded Caro and Leah down St. George Street.

“Nice job getting rid of them,” I said. “Any reason why?”

He nodded at the tour substation, and Pandora emerged from the shadows.

“Trouble?” Saber asked her.

Go home,
I heard in my head.

Pandora didn’t say more, but she didn’t have to. Not after she leaped to the cottage roof in full panther size to keep watch. I changed into jeans, a scoop neck T-shirt, and tennis shoes, and then occupied myself by folding laundry, even though my hands shook. We didn’t question why Pandora wanted us at the cottage, but waiting for the unknown was maddening. Saber watched the news, took out the trash and recycling for me, and paced to manage his stress. At one forty Monday morning his cell phone rang. He put it on speaker so I could hear firsthand.

“Saber, Captain Jackson. Where are you?”

“St. Augustine.”

“Get to the vampire club. I’ve got a mess on my hands.”

“Human victims?”

“No. Ike’s dead. Damn near decapitated, and that Laurel bitch is ballistic.”

021

Police cars and crime scene tape cordoned off Hot Blooded and most of the block. Pandora, who was waiting on my patio for us after the call, paced in the backseat of Saber’s SUV as he looked for a parking space. He found one a block from the club, grabbed some gear from the cargo area, and stuffed the items in his windbreaker pockets. We wove our way through the crowd of gawkers drawn by the flashing cruiser lights. Jackson must’ve given orders to let us both in, because the officer at the police checkpoint ticked my name off the list without so much as a glance.
I will scout,
Pandora said in my head and trotted off before I had a chance to respond. We found Jackson standing behind an older model white car, a grayish color to his black skin.

“Saber,” he said, then nodded at me. “The body’s in the car, but you may not want Francesca to see it.”

“No problem,” I told him, holding up my hands, and backing up a step as both men donned rubber gloves. I thought I saw Pandora skulking under the front bumper of the car but didn’t worry she’d get in the way. Thankfully, Ike’s body hadn’t released the kinds of fluids in death that a human’s would have. The smell of his relatively small amount of blood loss made me queasy enough. Overhearing Jackson murmur to Saber about Ike’s position in the car, and his head hanging by a thread of tissue, gave me all too vivid a picture of the crime scene. Jackson called for an evidence technician, and a short woman in a jumpsuit hurried forward. I heard the snap of a paper bag, something dropped inside it, and then more murmuring before the men and evidence tech headed for me. The woman carried the grocery-sized bag and stood a little apart.

“Here’s the rundown,” Jackson said. “The officer who was first on scene was on routine patrol when he heard screams from the parking lot. He found Donita Ward, aged thirty-five, on the ground just outside her passenger door, in hysterics.”

“Where is she now?” Saber asked, stripping off the gloves.

Jackson tipped his head toward an EVAC unit. The back ambulance door yawned open, and I made out the figure sitting just inside huddled in a blanket. She was so terribly still.

“Is she all right?” I asked Jackson.

“She’s in shock. The first officer got a preliminary statement, but it’s pretty garbled. You can talk to her,” he added, anticipating my next question, “but Saber suggested we have you look at something first.”

Saber handed me a mask and hairnet. “I want you to look at what appears to be the murder weapon,” he said. “You might want to wear a mask to cut the odor a little.”

I didn’t think a mask would help—not being as gaggy as I am about blood—but the hairnet would cut the chance of me contaminating the evidence.