Angels of Darkness

“And what is everyone else seeing?” he asked.

She didn’t even glance at the few other people in the coffee shop. “My feet are firmly on the floor. I’m wearing black pumps. Boring black pumps. And your muscles are so tense.”

Her toes rubbed against his inner thighs. Biting back a groan, Marc caught one of her feet. Still cold, but to a Guardian, that wasn’t necessarily unpleasant. Not unpleasant at all.

“What are you doing, Radha?”

Making him pay for that long-ago hurt? A little friendly teasing? Something more?

He’d take anything she dished out, but he damn well wouldn’t respond until he knew what she wanted in return.

“I’m having fun.”

“Working me up?”

“Am I?” Her eyes began to glow, the gold flecks brightening, casting their own light. Not an illusion at all. A Guardian’s eyes did that when they were affected by a deep emotion. “Can a celibate warrior be worked up?”

By Radha? She could probably get a rise out of a stone.

“Marc.” It was a soft warning. “I’ll cover your eyes.”

She drew her foot back. Reluctantly, he let it slip from his grip—realizing that his eyes had begun to glow, too, but that she’d cast an illusion to conceal the green light.

Jackson set two frothy cappuccinos in front of them, swiveled a chair around, and straddled it. “So, agents. It’s my turn, huh?”

Word had obviously been getting around. Marc wasn’t surprised. But he did wonder what had been spreading. “So you know what we’re here for?”

“Somebody died, and you think it’s connected to Jason Ward. So you’re here hoping that someone remembers some little detail, like a stranger hanging around.” He rested his crossed forearms on the table, leaned in. “So, fire away. I can tell you now, I barely knew the guy.”

“But you met him a couple of times?”

“Not officially met, but I saw him. He never came in here, at least not while I was working, but he was in the bleachers at a few games. I was benched, so I had time to look at the crowd.”

“Was he at the homecoming game?”

Jackson’s eyes narrowed, as if looking backward. Slowly, he nodded. “Yeah. I remember him there. But I didn’t see him the rest of the night.”

“You knew Jason was Miklia’s brother?”

“Nah. Not then.”

“You knew him from the video store?”

Jackson shook his head. “That was closed by the time we moved here.”

Strange. Why recall one stranger in a crowd? “Why did you notice him, then? And remember him?”

As if uncertain, Jackson looked from Radha to Marc, before sighing. “All right. It’s not like this is a secret anyway, right? Everyone knows that Ward had those fangs made. Cosmetic dentistry or what-ever.”

That had been the explanation the coroner had given. “Yes.”

“Well, I saw him up in the stands once, cheering. I saw those teeth”—he glanced toward the counter where his mother stood, then leaned in and lowered his voice—“and it creeped me the fuck out. You know what I’m saying? The next game, he wasn’t there at first. Then, in the fourth quarter, he suddenly shows up and I thought he was the devil or something. Stupid shit my mom would slap me up the back of the head for. So when I heard about those teeth, that there was a real reason behind them, it was kind of a relief.” He sat back again. “I felt sorry for Miklia, though. That was rough for her. A stake through the heart—what is that?”

Probably the least efficient way to kill a vampire, so it was all about setting the scene, and the impact it would have on the family who found him. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. Did you see Miklia the night of the dance?”

“For homecoming? Yeah. They came in once, wearing those dresses. I think before they went to the dance, because they asked if I’d be there.”

“Did you go?”

“Nah. Dances aren’t my thing. I worked that night, just so that I had an excuse to get out of it.”

So far, then, Sam had been the last to see them. “You were friends with her then?”

“Not really.” The kid shrugged, but his emotions skittered about—a little uneasy.

“But you know her well now.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t say that. I see her a lot—she comes in here practically every night—but we don’t talk much.”

That uneasiness was still there, but Marc didn’t think the boy was lying to him. He glanced at Radha, saw the confusion creasing her brow.

Delicately, she said, “We were told that you were bumping uglies.”

“Truth?” Surprise and amusement sent Jackson rocking back with a laugh. “No, nothing like that. I don’t have time for that. Moving here, the injury—it set me back. But I’ve already got a postgraduate year at a prep school lined up back East, so I’ll have a chance to get in front of the recruiters again. I don’t have time for girls, especially not ones into the crazy shit they are. Who said that we hooked up?”

Crazy shit? Marc met Radha’s eyes. “We can’t divulge—”

Jackson waved it off. “Ah, it doesn’t matter. Maybe someone saw us together in the gym last fall, back when she was looking for advice about getting into fighting shape, building up her endurance.”

What the hell? “Fighting shape?”

He nodded. “That’s what she said. I was like, whatever. It’s all the same to me.”

“Was this before or after her brother died?”

“After,” he said immediately. “I mean, that was the only reason I agreed. I’ve got work here, correspondence classes, my own workouts, regular classes . . . I don’t have time to be a personal trainer. But she asked, and her freak brother had just died, so what the hell was I supposed to say? She and her friends are a little freaky, too, but at least they aren’t going to the dentist for fangs. Oh, bam!—I just got it. Did this other guy killed have fangs, too? Is that the connection?”

“Yes,” Marc said. He’d told the sheriff the same thing, so the lie would be consistent. But at last they were getting to the reason for Jackson’s uneasiness. “What do you mean, freaky?”

“Not the good kind of freaky, you know what I mean? No, they bring in all kinds of books, sit around here reading them.” He leaned forward, lowered his voice again. “And I’m not getting into their business, but after a while, I see a page here, a drawing there. It’s all demon shit. What is it called? Occult. Occult shit. They’ve been coming in for months, reading that stuff.”

How many months’ worth of reading would the city library have on their shelves? “All of it from that little library?”

“No, that old librarian there wouldn’t carry something like that. Check this. I went in there once to pick up The Lightning Thief for my little sis, and that old lady told me to be careful, that the Greek god stuff might lead to practicing voodoo—then she called my mom, in case I didn’t pass that warning along. The old lady got an earful then.” Jackson laughed, sat back again. “Nah, Miklia and the others have some volunteer thing worked out, and they use the library loan system. She told me that once when I asked how she could stand volunteering for the old bat—it’s just so that they have easy access to the books they want.”

“Do you overhear what they talk about here?”

“They don’t talk. They just text each other.”

Marc’s gaze shot to Radha’s face. Her grin appeared, widening to the edge of a laugh. He could barely stop his own.

“Seriously?” she asked.

“Yeah. I asked her if she thought the music in the shop was too loud for a conversation. She said, ‘You never know who is listening’—all serious and shit.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway. If you want to stay and talk to them, they’ll probably be here around five thirty, just after the library closes. I should probably get back to work. There’s a rush that comes in right at five.”

It was almost that now. Marc didn’t have anything more for Jackson, not right now. He looked to Radha. She shook her head.