The Coveted (The Unearthly) (9 page)

Chapter 9

“What the hell
, Gabrielle?” Caleb had waited for me outside the Politia’s headquarters the next morning. On Saturday mornings we were required to come in for training, and in this case, to discuss the ongoing investigation. “You made out with Andre? The guy who left me to die?”

The guilt that I hadn’t felt yesterday slammed into me. When he put it that way, I sounded weak-willed. Maybe I was. “I did tell you it was a vampire orgy.”

“I sincerely hope you’re kidding about that.” He looked as though I’d kicked his puppy.

“I am,” I said. I could hear his heartbeat. It pounded away in his chest. Along with it was the smell of adrenaline. Confronting me was physiologically doing the same thing to him that whispers in the graveyard yesterday did to me.

He rubbed his face. “I’m going to be honest here for two seconds and just let you know that seeing those pictures fucking ripped my heart out.”

There it was. The confession that he had feelings for me. “I am so, so sorry,” I said. More than anything, I was sorry that there was such a thing as unrequited love. Because from the cold sweat breaking out along Caleb’s skin, and the smell of cortisol
—
a.k.a., stress
—
what he was feeling had to be unbearable. Meanwhile, my heartbeat was as steady as ever, and other than guilt, Caleb’s presence did nothing to me.

“Why him?” Caleb asked. “And why now?”

Because he’s my soulmate and because we’re investigating the murders together.
But Caleb didn’t know either of those two things. He never overheard Theodore’s confession, and he wasn’t in the room when the chief constable all but told me to renew my relationship with the coven.

I toed the dewy grass beneath my feet. Behind me staff entered and exited Castle Rushen’s main entrance. “Chief Constable Morgan told me these murders have threatened the truce between vampires and the Politia. And if the truce is broken, then the Politia will hunt down all vampires. Including me.”

Caleb’s face paled. “They wouldn’t really do that . . .”

I gave him a look. “Then what would the Politia do with monsters they couldn’t control?”

He said nothing, which was answer enough.

“The chief constable encouraged me to mend my ties with the coven, so now I’m also working on the investigation with Andre. That’s why we were together.”

“You’re working on the investigation together?” The hurt was back in his voice. “That’s why you met up yesterday? To work together?”

The guilt sat heavy in my gut. “Caleb, I had to. This is bigger than you and me. The lives of hundreds of vampires
—
as well as any future victims the killer chooses
—
are at stake.” Oops, bad pun.

“Whatever Gabrielle,” he said, his voice defeated. He threaded is hands over his head and walked a few steps away from me. “I just don’t care anymore.”

I reached out for him. “Caleb?” He turned. “I want you to care,” I said, “just not about me.”

His eyebrows were raised and the skin of his forehead was wrinkled.

“I’m a mess, and my life is a mess,” I said. “You should want more for yourself than something as destructive as a relationship with me.” I hadn’t realized the words were true until I spoke them.

“I just want to date you.”

The town was awakening. The sun had risen above the buildings and slowly scared off the chill of the morning.

“Nearly every girl at school would take you up on that offer. And you choose to go after the only one who wouldn’t.”

He winced at my words. “I can change your mind.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. “You won’t. I’m never going to be with you.”

His brows pinched together. “I
will
change your mind,” he said defiantly.

I came so, so close to telling him Andre and I were soulmates, but I bit back my response at the last minute. That information seemed like it could be dangerous in the wrong hands, and as much as I believed Caleb could keep a secret, I wasn’t a trusting person by nature.

I gazed up at Castle Rushen, wanting to be anyone else for a day. In one of the towers a shadow moved. Someone had been watching us.

Something about this situation reminded me of those stories of ancient Rome and Egypt. The ones where friends betrayed each other and family members plotted against one another.

I wasn’t safe. Not by a long shot.

***

We met Maggie in her office, although
office
was perhaps an overstatement.
Broom closet
was a more accurate description for the tiny room the three of us crammed in.

“What do you guys have for me?” she asked, folding her hands in front of her. I took in the scattered papers littering her desk. Most were bits and pieces of cases she was working on. Amongst them was today’s paper. The headline still focused on the attacks.

“Judging by what the victims had on them at the time of their death and their supernatural ability, they were likely attacked on their home turf,” Caleb said, “This means that they probably were there by chance, rather than lured there or killed somewhere else and placed there.”

I tore my gaze away from the newspaper to stare at the boy next to me. He was a natural at this. He wouldn’t need my help solving this case with an inquisitive eye like his.

Maggie nodded. “That’s an important detail you caught there. It does seem as though the individuals were not picked out beforehand. This tells us that this isn’t personal
—
the killer never knew the victims. It also indicates that the killer was probably waiting at these locations, though we haven’t been able to find any footprints to corroborate this.”

Her focus moved from Caleb to me. “What have you gathered from your research so far?”

I remembered the strange atmosphere of the crime scenes. “At least one of the murders took place near an entrance to the Otherworld. I don’t know what the supernatural community thinks of cemeteries, but to me they seem to be a place where two worlds also meet
—
that of the dead and that of the living.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Some in the supernatural community do consider cemeteries to be a literal place where the world of the dead meets the world of the living,” she said, pinching her lower lip with her fingers. “Churches are another.”

Her brow furrowed. “That idea has been largely forgotten, even among supernaturals, since that belief is often associated with dark magic. The only people who still hold those beliefs are often those such as our second victim, the necromancer, who still practice the dark arts.”

She jotted down a note. “That’s a good lead, Gabrielle,” she said.

I tried to not let the compliment get to my head, but not going to lie, I was patting myself on the back.

For the next hour we discussed the case and the media frenzy surrounding it. At the end of the discussion I was more familiar with the crimes and the victims, but the only new piece of information I learned was that the community now considered me a suspect
—
just like the chief constable predicted.

It was actually a logical conclusion
—
I was the newest vampire and had the least control of my baser impulses. The only problem with that theory was that I didn’t happen to be a sick freak.

“That’s it,” Maggie said. “Make sure to continue to research these murders and not to discuss this with anyone outside the investigation.”

Caleb and I stood up. I grabbed the door and held it open for him before I began to follow.

“Gabrielle?” Maggie said.

“Yeah?” I paused in the doorway.

Maggie reached out
—
that’s how small her office was
—
and ran a hand along my covered arm. She stopped only when she grasped my hand.

As soon as I realized what she was doing, I jerked my hand away. “You need my permission before you go rifling through my mind,” I snapped, surprisingly unraveled by the thought of her poking through my recent memories.

“Actually, I don’t,” she said. “Not if I believe one of my officers could harbor important or dangerous information.”

I took a step back into the room and let the door swing shut. “So what is this? Am I now spying on the coven for the Politia? Because my continuing relationship with vampires seems like the only important or dangerous piece of information that the Politia might be interested in since you last touched me.”

Maggie’s eyes narrowed.

I continued. “And spying wasn’t part of the agreement I made with Chief Constable Morgan. So I think you do need my permission when it comes to this. That is, if you want me to continue to work for you.”

She smiled at me, but there was no warmth to it. “I’d suggest keeping your distance from the king of vampires. We wouldn’t want you getting too close to a man accused of dozens of international crimes.”

I turned my back to her and opened the door. “Accused, but never charged,” I said over my shoulder. I left her office before she had time to respond.

The soles of my shoes slapped against the wood floors as I made my way down the hall and out the door.

For the second visit in a row, I left the premise disturbed by what the Politia wanted from me. One thing was apparent: they were not to be trusted.

***

Rain pummeled my bedroom window. I glanced out at the monochrome view; the gray stone of Peel Castle blended into the stormy sky, which blended into the gray ocean beyond.

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Leanne asked, shoving odds and ends into her bag. “To my club’s Samhain party?” The party was the reason why she was furiously packing. She had to get there a few hours early to set up.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said, stepping over Oliver’s garish bed. We still hadn’t had time to corner Paul into de-conjuring it, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure how possible it was.

“Oh, by the way, I picked up the mail today, and you got a letter.” Leanne swiped an envelope from her desk and tossed it over to me. I didn’t fail to notice her bloodshot eyes and the purple circles beneath them. Her recurring nightmares were taking a toll on her

I caught the letter, disbelieving her. I never got mail
—
my mother and I always emailed each other.

I ran my thumb over the thick cream-colored paper. Sure enough, my name was written in rich, curling script, and beneath it, my address. I flipped over the envelope. Huh. There was no return address.

I hesitated before I opened it. These days an increasing number of people wanted to do me harm. Sending me an anonymous piece of mail seemed suspicious.

It’s a letter for crying out loud, and you’re a scary siren-vampire badass.

Using that airtight logic, I slid my finger under the seal and ripped it open.

Inside, on a matching cream-colored card, someone had typed up a poem.

Death will strike before Halloween,

The mark of the damned, the killer unclean,

If you walk the old corpse road where the dead ley,

Sprites and devils might snatch you away,

Go to the Braaid and you’ll lose your soul,

For an entrance into hell, such is the toll.

I skimmed over the poem. The words prickled my skin. I turned over the card. A gold
C
had been embossed on the back. Cecilia.

Of course she sent me this, and of course she couldn’t just state her message like a normal person. She’d done this before a few months ago. These poems were her cryptic way of communicating with me. Only as usual, they were vague and didn’t make too much sense.

“What’d you get?” Leanne asked, placing her new bag of candy next to her backpack.

I looked at the poem in my hands again. “Just a message from my childhood nanny.”

Leanne hitched her bag over her shoulder and grabbed the candy and an umbrella. “Oh, that’s nice.”

That was one way of putting it. The note gave me sense of deep foreboding. The last time she’d sent me a note, I’d almost died.

***

Two hours later my door opened and Oliver sashayed in as I finished getting dressed for the seer club party. I zipped up my boots and shrugged on a blazer.

“Ready to go girlfriend?” he asked. He eyed me up and down and opened his mouth.

I held up a hand. “Save it Pixie Sticks.” Oliver’s mouth formed an indignant O at the nickname. “I’m not changing, so you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

If it was up to Oliver, I’d only wear designer clothes.

“I was just going to say that I thought you looked nice.”

“Uh huh.” I grabbed my keys and an umbrella and pushed Oliver out the door before he could get any ideas about doing my makeup for me. I already swiped on mascara, and that was as much as I was willing to do.

“Pixie Sticks . . . how insulting.”

We glided down the stairs and left my dorm. “I’m sure it must feel awful to be the target of a nasty nickname,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Outside the rain was coming down in torrents. I clicked open the umbrella, and was promptly booted out from under it.

“Hey!” Rain pelted against me. I was going to look like drowned rat tonight. Meanwhile Oliver huddled underneath the center of the umbrella.

“I’m sorry Gabrielle,” he said, “but I can’t get my hair wet. You’re just going to have to suck it up. The walk isn’t too far.”

I snatched the umbrella’s handle away from him, and he yelped. “Don’t piss off a vampire.”

“Bite me,” he said, snatching the umbrella back.

“Don’t tempt me.” I yanked the aluminum column of the umbrella a little too hard and the whole thing crumpled in on itself.

“
No
.” Oliver yelped again as the rain pelted down on him. “Damnit Gabrielle!” We sprinted across the soggy lawn. The scarecrow perched next to the castle’s main doors looked a little limp standing amongst all those pumpkins. I could empathize; I felt the way it looked.

As soon as we made it inside, I tossed the umbrella into a nearby trash.

Oliver’s once stylized hair now clung to his skull. “You had to ruin it for the both of us, didn’t you?” he said.