Save the Last Vamp for Me (4 page)

With all of us in contact, either Leglin or I could pop us all out of there in a blink.

It wasn’t as though I doubted Mr. Whitehaven’s judgment, but I’d rather be safe than sorry if the case turned out to be some elaborate hoax to get me into the Barrows. I had vampire enemies, and didn’t trust Lord Derrick any further than I could throw him without my telekinesis. Kate had tried to research the vampire, and had come up empty, so we didn’t know much about him.

Plus, Stone could break me in half, and as much as I protested being thought helpless, physically I was the weakest in our foursome. The guys and Leglin might be able to move as fast as vampires, but I wasn’t going to count on that.

The vampire led us down a path of stone, bordered on each side by a hedge. Over the hedges, I could see gardens spreading out. I looked up at the eternally moonlit sky and the few streaky clouds. “How does anything grow down here without sun?”

“Magic, Miss Jones.”

Of course. The Barrows was a pocket realm, and by then, I should’ve been used to the fact pocket realms had their own skies and weather, not to mention rules. It was kind of hard to comprehend though, because I also knew we were in a cavern, and that there were smaller caverns and tunnels beyond it, running all over, under the city.

I stopped thinking about it, because the end result was always a headache. It’s magic. Best to leave it at that.

Instead, I focused on the castle ahead, a two-story pile of gray stone with a nearly windowless tower rising from the center. Though I’d never been inside, I could guess at the layout thanks to trips inside a few other castles. At least two levels of cellars; even in the Barrows, vampires seemed to prefer sleeping underground. The first would be more of dungeon than storage or sleeping space. The deeper level would house Derrick’s minions during their required six hours of deady-bye.

Two more vampires, dressed in blue satin coats, short pants, and white shirts loaded with lace, stood at the ten-foot-tall double front door. They bowed as we climbed the steps, and opened the doors. Once through, it felt as though we’d stepped a few centuries back in time. We were in the main hall, facing a wide staircase that led up to a landing, with sets of stairs on the left and right going up to the second floor. Vampires love their high ceilings, or more likely, they can’t resist spying on new arrivals through the railings. I definitely felt eyes on us from above.

“This way, please.” Stone led us to the left of the stairs, and past them. There was a matching set of stairs on the other side. He stopped in front of a set of heavy-looking wooden doors about halfway down the hall. “My master will meet with you in here.”

“In here” proved to be a library. We filed inside and the vampire shut the doors, leaving us to look around. Two couches, upholstered in red velvet, faced each other across a low round table in the center of the room. A window directly across from the doors gave evidence of how thick the stone walls were, since there was plenty of room to climb up and lounge while reading. Which someone regularly did, judging by the number of decorative pillows and throws scattered on the ledge.

A fireplace big enough for me to walk into sat centered on the right wall. Other than it and the window, you wouldn’t have known there were stone walls because the rest were covered by floor-to-ceiling shelves built from dark wood. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, directly over the round table.

I traded looks with Nick and Soames, and we split up to look at the books on the shelves. Leglin, after a glance from me, followed Soames. My first scan of the shelves at eye level put a smile on my face. “Someone sure loves reading vampire romances.”

“Research,” Nick said.

“What?”

“They read them to find out how humans think they’ll behave, and by behaving that way, they become better hunters.”

“That’s cheating.” Or so I felt. “Do shifters read paranormal romances too, to learn how to pick up humans?”

The guys answered a little too quickly. “No.”

“Uh-huh.” I squatted to take a look at the contents of the lower shelves. “You do too.”

“No, we don’t.” Nick bent to look at a lower shelf.

“Do too.”

“Don’t.”

I laughed, convinced he had, but refrained from throwing another “Do too” at him.

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T
en minutes after Stone shut the library doors, he opened them and stepped aside to bow Lord Derrick into the room. When Derrick followed his minion into the library, the vampire lord looked like a skinny kid in comparison to Stone’s muscular bulk. I wondered if the big vamp had been eavesdropping.

Derrick carried a sheaf of manila folders in one hand, and something long and wrapped in a dark blue towel in his other. Nick stepped in front of me. “What’s that?”

“One of the murder weapons. I thought Miss Jones might find it useful.” The master vamp laid the wrapped bundle on the table. “If you’ll join me in sitting, I’ll review the information we’ve gathered.”

I ended up facing Derrick across the table, flanked by Nick and Soames. Leglin sat at the end of our couch, while Stone stood behind the other, at his master’s left shoulder. We each took a folder—Derrick had four—and I opened mine immediately. Inside were sheets of paper with small photos paper-clipped to the corners.

The papers had short biographies, date and manner of death for each murdered vamp, as well as a list of their known associates. I paused on the third one, though two others looked vaguely familiar to me. The third one, I knew. “This one didn’t have a problem killing people.”

Derrick said, “There’s a difference between killing prey and turning a willing volunteer.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s unsurprising you would have a strong dislike toward Lord Merriven after such tragic circumstances. Yet I can assure you that he was a firm proponent of treating humans as donors.”

I realized I was smiling down at the photo, and stopped. The vampire was the same one who’d turned Ginger and then treated her like something he couldn’t scrape off his shoe. Regardless of what people thought, I didn’t go around staking or burning vampires at whim. If I did, he’d have been truly dead long before now. Regardless of Derrick’s assurance, Ginger had told me otherwise in regard to her master, and in lurid detail. But I let it drop because vampires are arrogant, stubborn creatures, and because the killer, or killers, had chopped off his head. He’d been old enough to turn to dust. “Did anyone take photos of the scenes?”

“Yes. Stone, would you check on the printing progress?”

“Of course.” The big vamp left the room. I looked through the rest of the file, checking each victim’s manner of death and resulting remains. Three others had been old enough to turn to ash, but the last two hadn’t.

The corpses of both bore the description of “fresh” which meant they’d been new vampires. “Do you know when Lira and Dalton were turned?”

“Within the past three months, judging by their final states.”

I looked up again, meeting Derrick’s gaze. “They weren’t power players, not being that new.”

“Both were turned by Lady Esme. They were reportedly favorites of hers.”

I glanced at the folder again. She was the first victim. “The only reason I can think of to kill them would be if they knew who killed her. But they weren’t killed at the same time. Lira was a week later, and Dalton was the last one, five days ago.”

“That was my thought as well, Miss Jones.”

Stone returned, handing over a thick stack of photos to Derrick, who immediately began separating them into two piles. I closed my folder to watch. Nick and Soames continued looking through their copies. “What psychic abilities do you have?”

“Telepathy is the most common among my people.”

Leaning back, I crossed my arms. “That’s not what I asked.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Derrick agreed with a faint smile. “I have two others.”

I pushed. “And they are?”

“I wouldn’t be where I am today if everyone was aware of what my abilities are, Miss Jones. A lesson you should take to heart, especially if you’re still collecting them yourself.” Derrick finished sorting the photos, straightened both stacks, and slid one across the table. “Those are your copies.”

I glanced at the towel-wrapped bundle and decided to try a slightly different question. “Do any vampires you know of have psychometry?”

It was the ability to handle objects and pick up, for the lack of a better word, memories from them. The theory was that the energy of something was affected by the energy of whatever else it came into contact with, leaving behind impressions. I often saw images, heard sounds, and less often, could smell or taste things. Some of those impressions didn’t stay long, while others were permanently embedded. Often the less savory ones.

Unfortunately, it didn’t always work the first time, and when it did, the results were often a confusing mess that took time to sort itself out into anything useful. Less often, psychometry would result in clear, vivid visions.

He answered, and threw me a bone while doing so. “None that I’m aware of, and that includes me.”

I could mark off one ability for him, if he wasn’t lying. I knew he was scary powerful with telepathy, and his refusal to say what his other two abilities were tickled my curiosity something fierce. Maybe I’d find out before we solved the case. “Will we have access to the scenes?”

“Of course. Stone will show them all to you, whenever you’re ready.”

“Thanks.” I tucked the photos into my folder. “You know, we researched you back when Zoe was missing and your goons came after me the first time. Didn’t dig anything up. Where do you stand in the hierarchy?”

The vampire lord smiled. “I’m merely an inquisitive cog in the machine.”

“You’re the Council’s personal investigator.”

“That is a role I play at times, yes.”

I glared. “You’re frustrating.”

Derrick’s smile widened. “I’ve been told that. Would you care to handle the weapon now?”

No, I wouldn’t, but it was part of the job. “Sure.”

Nick took my folder while Derrick slid the wrapped weapon in front of me and flipped the towel away to reveal a sword. I studied it for a minute. Greasy ashes clung to its double-edged blade. The grip was leather-wrapped, and there was a carnelian set in the pommel. The guard was straight with typical, rounded ends.

After my first few attempts to describe swords using phrases like “long pointy parts” and “part above the handle”, Mr. Whitehaven had taught me the correct names for each element as well as some of the different types of swords. This one was sometimes called a short bastard sword. I glanced at Derrick. “This was used on him, right?”

He didn’t ask which “him” I meant. “Yes. It was left at the scene of his death.”

Interesting. Why leave the murder weapon behind? Even if the killer knew that no vampires had psychometry, there were spells that could recreate scenes of an item’s last usage. Unless he or she had spelled the sword against them, if that were possible. I’d have to ask my witch buddies about that.

Leather was something that tended to absorb “memories” best. “Do you know how old this sword is?”

“It was made in the fifteenth century, though I haven’t been able to determine an exact date.”

Great, it was somewhere between five and six hundred years old. I sighed. “I may have to take it with me.”

“Why?”

“Because the older the object, the more history it has, and some of the old things like to show me all of their history.” I frowned at the sword. “In chronological order.”

Lord Derrick’s eyes widened as he sat back. “I’ve never heard that about psychometry. Only that the most recent events might be retained.”

I wondered what “recent” meant to a vampire. “I don’t know if that’s true for everyone or not, but that’s how it sometimes works for me.”

“Fascinating.” He looked at the sword. “The grip’s wrapping is likely the newest item.”

I already knew that, because that was the most likely to wear out part. The carnelian would be second, because jewels could loosen, fall out, and be lost or replaced at the whim of each new owner. It still depended on how long each had been part of the whole though. Instead of responding, I put my hand above the grip and closed my eyes before touching it.

Nothing.

I gave it a few seconds before opening my eyes to change positions, and put two fingers on the carnelian. Nothing again. Crap. Taking a deep breath, I moved my hand over the ashy blade. I really didn’t want to touch the ashes while trying to use this ability, but they more or less ran the entire length of the blade. If they’d been caused by fire, it wouldn’t be a problem, but he hadn’t burned to death.

“Is there a problem?”

I looked up at Derrick. Yeah, there was a problem. I didn’t want to learn anything more about Ginger’s former master than I already had. What I knew was awful enough. “Just hoping I don’t cut myself.”

He smiled. “We’ve already fed.”

“Sharing isn’t caring.” I closed my eyes and put my hand down. Cool metal and vampire grit. Ugh. When they didn’t burn, their ashes felt like sand, the larger, heavier sort used to cover playgrounds.