Tooth and Nail Page 6

  “What are we doing?” I said. “We’re just going to sit here all night?”

  “We can do little until my associates have gathered the necessary information. It won’t be long.”

  I tapped my fingers against the arm of the couch. In some other part of the house I could hear a clock ticking. A quiet echo of Rachel’s sobbing came down the hallways. I suddenly felt very damp and very cold, though the two vampires seemed comfortable enough.

  I sighed, trying to relax my muscles. It didn’t do much good.

  Lockhart was looking at me. Not staring, really. Just quietly studying. I met her eyes.

  “Can I ask you something?” I said.

  “Please.”

  “Can the vampires survive a war with the ogres?”

  She didn’t answer right away. Atwood suddenly seemed very interested in cleaning the spots of mud off her sleeves, but Lockhart just stared into the middle distance.

  “Some of my kind would say so,” she said after several seconds of silence. “They would say we could crush them in a matter of days.” She paused. “I believe they would be underestimating the ogres as a foe. The ogres are more than mere thugs. They are clever. Crafty. You saw how easily they were able to approach us at Doyle’s Reach. If they had ambushed us then, we would have lost many swains.”

  “Maybe a vampire or two as well,” I suggested.

  “Perhaps.” Lockhart didn’t seem to like that idea very much. “And beyond that, they are a resilient people. They possess an innate resistance to sorcery. Our usual methods of waging war would be minimally effective against them. We would have to resort to…cruder practices.”

  “Like?”

  She smiled. “Tearing off their heads, for example.”

  “But you know how that ends, don’t you?” I leaned forward in the chair. “You can’t fight a war like that in secret. Not these days. You’ll be outed. Best case, you and all your brood will be forced to abandon Lost Falls. Worst case, the Unaware won’t be so unaware anymore. They’ll come with stakes and fire. And you’ll all end up like Selene.”

  Lockhart didn’t argue. She knew I was right. “Bounding Rabbit is no fool. Her kind face those same dangers. It will not come to that.”

  “Can you say that again with a little more confidence?”

  “What do you want from me, Mr. Turner? My people are grieving. I am grieving. Selene’s loss is devastating for us all.”

  “But not for me,” I said. “To me she’s just a dead vampire.”

  Carlotta Atwood stopped examining her sleeves and started glancing toward the door. For some reason she seemed to be in a hurry to get out of here.

  Lockhart, on the other hand, just stared at me, her eyes cold. When she opened her mouth, I swore I could see fangs extending.

  “Speak carefully, cunning man,” she said.

  I pointed at her. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. That anger. That look in your eyes is what’s going to start a war. It’s going to get you all killed. You’re too damn close to this. We need to find the truth of what happened at Doyle’s Reach. Not what you want to be the truth. Not what helps you deal with Selene’s death. The Truth, with a capital T. You can’t do that.” I pointed at Atwood. “Neither can she. Neither can Booker, and neither can any of you.” I paused. “I can.”

  “It’s not—”

  “Not my place,” I interrupted. “You keep saying that. But you know I’m right. I can guarantee you that right now, on the other side of town, Early is having this same conversation with the ogres. This has gone beyond the need for independent observers. You need independent investigators.”

  Lockhart stared at me a few seconds. Her eyes were still cold, but when she licked her lips I saw her fangs had retreated. She glanced at Atwood, asking a question with her eyes.

  “Some won’t like it,” Atwood said to Lockhart softly. “Booker and the others. They’ll say we should handle it ourselves.”

  Lockhart exhaled sharply. “Booker can go stand in the sun.” She turned back to me. “If I grant you this, and you fail, I will be the one who suffers for it.”

  “Then give me what I need to make sure I don’t fail.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Access. Information. But most importantly, trust.”

  “Trust?”

  I nodded. “Maybe I find out that ogre in the truck isn’t the only one at fault. Maybe I find out that Selene was involved with something she shouldn’t have been. Can you accept that?”

  “Selene wouldn’t—”

  “That wasn’t the question.”

  Her nostrils flared. “Yes. I can accept that.”

  “And what if someone else is involved? Another vampire, maybe.” I pointed at Atwood. “If I tell you that Carlotta here arranged for Selene’s death, will you trust me? Will you do what needs to be done?”

  Atwood’s eyes widened in surprise. With a creak of leather, Lockhart’s fingers tightened around the arms of her chair. She leaned forward, held my gaze.

  “If you bring the evidence, I will take Carlotta’s head to Bounding Rabbit myself.”

  “Good.” I settled back into my chair, playing it cool. Inside, my heart hammered against the cage of my ribs. My mouth had gotten away from me. What the hell had I talked myself into?

  Early was to blame for this. Somehow, he was to blame. I never got into shit like this before I met him.

  “All right,” I said. “Tell me about Selene Eventide.”

  Lockhart smiled, the first real smile I’d seen her give since we left the restaurant. I even imagined I could see some true sadness in her eyes.

  “That,” she said, “I can do.”

  8

  Selene Eventide, Lockhart told me, was like a sharp blade in a dark alley.

  Of all the vampires in Lockhart’s brood, she cared the least for the politics, the jockeying for power and status. Her style was simpler. More direct.

  It was apparently generally acknowledged that Eventide was the scariest motherfucker in the brood. Three times in the last eight decades she’d had to hunt down and execute a rogue vampire on Lockhart’s orders. Each time she’d gone after them alone, just her against the dissident and whatever swains they had gathered around them. In each case, she’d returned with the head of the condemned vampire, and few injuries of her own.

  That, it sounded like, had not made her popular among Lockhart’s brood. The vampires were perfectly happy scheming against each other, even putting each other in harm’s way. And most wouldn’t bat an eyelid at the death of a human, or a ghoul, or a goblin. But to sully your fangs with the blood of a fellow vampire, without even a public execution to make it more palatable, that just wasn’t kosher.

  That had left Eventide with few friends or alliances within the brood. Only Lockhart, it seemed, really trusted her. I got the feeling that even that was a marriage of convenience. Every good leader needs some asshole to carry out their dirty work. Someone who can be hated, feared.

  Despite all that, though, I thought I detected a tone of real respect in Lockhart’s voice. Eventide had been unwavering in her loyalty over the decades. Lockhart had never had to fear that Eventide would challenge her for the leadership. She had simply done what was required of her. I suppose that appealed to someone like Lockhart.

  Eventide had only ever had one swain at a time. Another rarity among vampires. For the last eight years, Rachel had been that swain. I could no longer hear the woman’s sobs echoing down the mansion’s hallways, but I had no doubt she would bear the pain of Eventide’s death for a long time.

  Maybe, if Rachel was in a state to talk, I’d be able to gather some more details about Selene Eventide. Enough to corroborate what Lockhart was telling me, at least. But for now, a picture of the dead vampire was starting to form. A dangerous woman, unloved even by her own kind. Strong, but isolated. She would not have been easy to kill—her record made that much clear. What I’d seen in Doyle’s Reach seemed to support that. She had not died easi
ly. Whoever had done it had either been very dangerous themselves, or they’d caught her by surprise. Both, probably.

  I thought of the scene at Doyle’s Reach, of One-tusk behind the wheel of the truck. He didn’t seem well-prepared to take on a vampire like Eventide. And the injuries he bore didn’t strike me as those he’d receive in a drag-out fight with Lockhart’s top enforcer. But then, I’d only given him a brief once-over. Early would be better able to make a judgment on that.

  Still, I was pretty sure there had to be someone else involved in the fight at Doyle’s Reach. Another ogre, maybe. That was what Lockhart believed. Perhaps that mystery ogre had been the one going toe-to-toe with Eventide, while One-tusk was just the getaway driver or something. That might explain why most of his injuries seemed to be due to the crash.

  The night wore on as Lockhart told me about Selene Eventide. The rain outside showed no sign of abating. I could hear it hammering at windows in other rooms, desperate to get in.

  At some point, probably after I started shivering, Lockhart thought to call for her elderly swain to get the fire started. I stood to help, but the old lady waved me off and got to work herself. She was doing a better job than I would have, so I just stripped off my wet coat and sat down again. A few minutes later, the swain had the fire blazing away, and I laid my wet socks out in front of the fireplace. I was even starting to get some feeling back in my toes.

  Shortly afterward, more swains began to drift in and out, bringing drips and drabs of information. Before we’d left Doyle’s Reach, a few of the swains had sought out the potion dealer’s neighbors to see if any of them had seen or heard anything. By the sound of things, no one had been very talkative—not even those few who were Strangers or Aware nominally under the protection of the vampires. Maybe they just hadn’t seen or heard anything. With the rain, that was certainly possible.

  One neighbor had been watching her favorite crime show on TV when she heard a distant crash outside. She’d taken it for a thunderclap, but it could’ve been the sound of the truck hitting the tree. The woman had guessed it would’ve been around 7:30, not much more than an hour after sunset.

  Eventide must’ve been in a hurry to get all the way out to Doyle’s Reach that early in the evening.

  There were also a couple of vague reports from people saying they thought they’d heard shouting in the distance. This, apparently, was not an unusual enough sound in Doyle’s Reach to warrant any investigation on the part of its citizens.

  As the flow of information began to taper off, I felt my eyelids beginning to droop. Lockhart must have noticed as well.

  “Get some rest, Osric,” she said. “I’ve had a room prepared.”

  I shook my head, trying to shake myself awake. “No. I’m fine.”

  “You’re no good to me half-asleep. At least rest until morning. That’s when we’ll need you most.”

  She had a point. Lockhart and all the other vampires would have to retreat into their basements when the sun was up.

  Maybe I’d actually get something done without Lockhart breathing down my neck.

  Nodding, I excused myself. Lockhart offered to call her swain to escort me to my room, but I figured the elderly lady had better things to do than babysit me. I headed off down the hall alone, following Lockhart’s directions.

  A few seconds later, as I made my way down the quiet hallway, I caught the sound of soft whispering up ahead. I couldn’t make out what was being said.

  As I got closer, I realized the voice was coming from a doorway off to my right, next to a framed portrait of an elderly man in Victorian-era clothing. The door was ajar, and through the opening I could see warm, dim light coming from a bedside lamp.

  Curious, I crept closer to the doorway and peeked inside.

  It was a bedroom. Small, by the standards of the rest of the mansion, but still larger than my bedroom back home. A king-sized bed covered in a white duvet sat atop a thick rug. Next to the bed a lamp glowed, illuminating black wooden furniture.

  In the bed sat Rachel, Selene Eventide’s swain. She was no longer crying, but her face was still red and blotchy. Trails of tears glistened on her cheeks. She sat cross-legged with a pillow pressed to her abdomen and a wine glass in her hand. Red wine sloshed about inside as she twitched and trembled.

  Perched next to her, his hand on her knee, was Nolan. It was his voice I’d heard. His back was to me, but now that I was closer I managed to make out his words.

  “You cannot let the despair swallow you,” he was saying. “Feel it. Suffer it. But it will pass. I promise you that.”

  Rachel shook her head, her eyes staring blankly toward the end of the bed. “I…I can’t.”

  “You can,” he said. “You will. I’ll help you. I…”

  He paused. Sensing me, he turned toward the doorway. His eyes met mine.

  We stared at each other in silence for a second. Then Nolan turned back to Rachel and touched the hands that clasped her wine glass.

  “Drink. It will help. Drink.”

  He helped her lift the wine glass to her lips. She took a long sip, her hands shaking so much a few drops of red wine splashed onto the pure white duvet cover. Neither of them seemed to notice.

  “Good,” he said, then he took the glass from her and set it on the bedside table. “That’s good. Here. Lie down. You need to sleep.”

  He helped lower her into bed, then he pulled the blanket across her. As he reached to switch off the bedside lamp, her hand darted out and grabbed his wrist.

  “Leave it on,” she whispered. “Please.”

  He nodded. “Of course. Remember what I said. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He touched her shoulder one last time, then turned and headed for the door. I stepped back as he left the room and gently closed the door behind him.

  “Sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

  Nolan shook his head and led me away from the bedroom. “Thank you for standing up for her before. Mistress Lockhart means well, but it can be difficult for her to truly understand the nature of humans.”

  “I was a bit worried I’d gotten you in trouble.”

  He smiled a little at that. “No, I think I’ll be all right. Tonight has been stressful for everyone.” He glanced back toward the bedroom that held Rachel. His smile faded.

  “Lockhart said I could talk to her when she’s ready.” I jerked my head toward the room. “Any idea when that’ll be?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure. To be honest, this is my first time seeing something like this firsthand.”

  His face took on a pained expression as he spoke. Sympathy pain, maybe, like that gut-wrenching feeling when you watch someone else break a leg. I couldn’t fully comprehend what Rachel was going through, but maybe Nolan had some idea. He was an addict just as she was, after all.

  Nolan sensed me looking at him and turned to meet my eyes. “I’m…glad Mistress Lockhart brought you with us tonight. Things may have gone poorly without you.”

  I rubbed the back of my head. “Shucks, pal. You’re making me blush.”

  He smiled, then glanced down the hallway. “I take it Mistress Lockhart has provided you a room for the night. That must mean you’ll be helping us out.”

  “You’ll get that junior detective’s badge yet,” I said with a grin. “You guys are going to need all the help you can get on this thing. I convinced Lockhart to let me investigate. Not sure what I was thinking, but there you go.”

  “I want to help,” he said without hesitation.

  I paused. “I appreciate the offer, but isn’t that up to Atwood, not you?”

  “Mistress Atwood will let me assist you. I’m sure of it. She wants to avoid war as much as Mistress Lockhart does.”

  “I mean, that’s great, but I’m not sure how much help you’ll be. No offense.”

  “If you hope to navigate this world of ours, Mr. Turner, you’ll need a swain at your side. Mistress Lockhart will be putting out fires and trying to rein
in the more radical elements in the brood. Mistress Atwood will have tasks to attend to as well. They will not be available to help you. Besides, in less than…” He checked his watch. “…three hours, it will be dawn. The vampires will be little help until they reemerge at sunset.”

  The guy had a point. The vampires would be trapped during the day, but the ogres suffered no such limitations. They would be working to put their own spin on this mess.

  I studied Nolan. He was probably right—if I was going to do this, I needed an insider with me. Someone who knew how the vampires worked. Someone who knew what questions to ask, questions I wouldn’t think of.

  I was under no illusions. Anything I uncovered, Nolan would feed back to Atwood. And from there, to Lockhart. He was a nice enough guy, but he belonged to the vampires, body and soul.

  But that was unavoidable. And I figured Nolan would make better company than most of the other swains I’d met. Hell, I doubted I could get through a beer with Isaac without breaking the bottle on his smug face.

  “This thing’s already a shit show,” I said. “And I get the feeling it’s going to get worse before the end. If I were you, I’d want to stay the hell out of the splatter zone.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” he said. “Or else you would have already left.”

  I grunted. “A wise guy, huh?”

  “Mr. Turner,” he said, “Rachel is my friend. Swains don’t tend to have many friends, but she is mine. You heard her before, didn’t you? You heard her pain.”

  I nodded silently.

  “I do not want that pain to be without meaning. You understand?”

  Sighing deeply, I raised my hands in surrender. “Hell. Fine, you’ve talked me into it. Now can I please get some sleep? Your boss might spend all day in a coffin, but we’ll have work to do.”

  He smiled and inclined his head. “Of course. I’ll go speak to my mistress and ensure she doesn’t mind me helping you.”

  “You do that.” I turned to go, then paused. “Hey. One thing. You’re the expert on vampires. What are they going to do to Eventide’s body?”