“You know him.” It’s not a question. Evan’s expression tells me it’s true.
“His name is Owen Cooper.” Evan jerks the sheet wrapped around his waist tighter. His expression is filled with both frustration and anger. “Where the fuck are my clothes?” His voice rises, giving vent to anger the only way he can.
I lay a hand on his arm. “I’ll see if I can find them.” I head for the single closed door I haven’t yet opened. “Let’s see what’s behind door number four.” When I open it, there’s only an empty bed inside and a closet, also empty.
On my way back to the lab, I notice a trash can marked HAZARDOUS WASTE pushed underneath the sink against the back wall. Incineration would be a neat and tidy way to dispose of evidence. I lift the lid. There’s a suit lying right on top. I pull it out and shake it. Shirt, tie, and shoes are bunched inside and fall to the floor. The suit is well tailored, looks to be the right size. Probably Evan’s. Under the suit in the trash can are other men’s clothing, black jeans, black T-shirt, leather jacket. Owen’s maybe? I quickly gather them up. The women’s clothes are nowhere to be found. Pierce must have already disposed of them. I make a side trip into the lab and grab two sets of scrubs from the shelf. Not exactly designer duds, but somehow I don’t think the vampires will complain.
“What were they going to do with us?” Evan asks when I reenter the room.
I realize the others have all quieted, awaiting my response. “Dr. Pierce discovered that vampire organs could universally be transplanted into humans. And because a vampire’s organs regenerate—”
“She could do it over and over again.” Isabella, still wrapped in a sheet, places a hand over her abdomen where I saw the web of scars.
I wonder if even now the scars are becoming fainter, skin knitting itself whole.
Zack is speaking. “Until the silver poisoning made it impossible.”
Evan’s eyes are hard as he accepts his clothes from me. They are focused on Pierce’s body. “Is she the one who did this to us?”
I nod.
“Who killed her?”
I gesture toward Isabella. She and Amy are standing together, talking softly. “When Isabella awoke, she was mad from starvation. It was pure reflex.”
Evan looks me in the eye. “If she hadn’t killed the bitch, I would have.” He drops the sheet and quickly steps into his clothes.
I approach the women and hand them the scrubs. Neither looks uncomfortable as they both drop their sheets, too, and slip them on. Vampires have low inhibitions. I’m the one who turns away. Accepting sheets to cover themselves was obviously for my benefit. Certainly not Zack’s. He’s quietly speaking with a naked Owen as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The only creature less modest than a vampire is a shifter.
Zack’s handed Owen four bags of blood.
“Thanks, man.”
The vampire still hasn’t made an attempt to sit up. He gulps the offered blood eagerly, draining the first bag in seconds. He seems to be fumbling with the second, and without hesitation, Zack breaks it open and hands it to him. This time, he drinks more slowly. Within minutes of finishing the second bag, he’s able to climb out of the coffin. Some of the wounds on his body where the silver blanket came in contact with his flesh have already started to heal. Owen stretches. He looks to have been in his midtwenties when he was turned. He has light brown hair and a sinewy build, which at the moment is prominently on display.
I toss the remaining clothes I have to Zack so he can give them to the vampire, then turn to Evan, who has been staring at Owen. “Does he need more blood?”
Evan doesn’t answer. He’s fully dressed now, down to the knotted tie and polished shoes, clothes wrinkled but presentable.
He heads toward Owen. “You still look like shit, my friend,” Evan tells him. Then to me, “He’s going to need one, maybe two more bags.”
“How do you two know each other?” Zack asks.
But Evan’s eyes don’t flicker from the younger vampire. “You were taken with me?”
Owen nods.
I leave to fetch more blood. When I return, Owen’s on his fourth. He finishes it off and tosses it to the side, wiping the blood from his chin with his forearm.
Then he sees the clothes in Zack’s hand. He grins and reaches over to grab the leather jacket. “I thought for sure this was toast,” he says. He pulls on the jeans, ignores the T-shirt, zips on the jacket. “I feel better already.”
Evan breaks into bag number five and offers it to him. His hand goes to Owen’s shoulder and gives it an encouraging squeeze. “You’re going to be fine.”
Zack looks from one to the other. “If you two were taken at the same time, why does he look so much worse?”
Evan doesn’t answer, his expression calm, expectant. I get the impression he knows, but considers this Owen’s tale to tell.
“I’d been detoxing . . . again . . . trying to kick drinking straight from the tap . . . again.” Owen tosses the empty blood bag onto the floor. “I hadn’t fed in seventy-two hours.”
Evan holds up the last full bag, a questioning look on his face.
Owen shakes his head. “I’m good.” Then to Zack, “Evan is my sponsor. He was going to take me to an Emporium. I was due to start back on the bagged stuff.” He turns back to Evan. “Dude, who the fuck did you piss off?”
“You saw what happened? You tell me,” Evan says. “I don’t remember anything except leaving the office two nights ago. I was on my way out when you pulled up.” He passes a hand over his face. “I never sensed anyone near me. The next thing I knew, I woke up in a coffin.”
“You were walking. There was a pop and you dropped, like a fly. I got out of my car and headed toward you. That’s the last thing I remember.”
“You didn’t see anyone?” I ask.
“Not a fucking soul,” Owen replies.
“When did you last see Barbara Pierce?” I ask Evan.
His eyes flick to her body. “At my office, when she visited the afternoon before the benefit. It was the only time I’d ever met her. I usually dealt with Alan directly. We had a lunch meeting scheduled and he was going to hand-deliver my tickets for the benefit. But he got stuck dealing with some last-minute details. So his mother stopped by to drop them off instead.”
“That’s the day you disappeared.” From Zack.
“Did you serve anything to eat or drink while she was there?” I ask.
“We all had tea.”
“Maybe she slipped some slow-working drug into your tea. Then waited for you to leave the building,” I suggest, saying it to calm Evan. To try to contain this. It’s Mager who brought the vampires down. I’m sure of it. But it’s not up to Evan or anyone else in the vampire community to exact justice upon him. Mager may be a despicable criminal, but he’s also human.
Unfortunately, Evan isn’t buying it. “Too much left to chance. Based on what Owen saw, I’d say she had help.” Evan’s jaw tightens as he looks around. “An operation of this size? She had to have help. Is Barakov in on this? Or Alan?”
He tone is sharp. He
I can’t blame him. But I can’t let him.
“No,” I reply. “Alan told us Barakov didn’t know anything about what his wife was doing. His only involvement was to give her the idea about silver’s effect on vampires.” I sweep my hand around. “This was all her own idea.”
“And you believe him?” Isabella asks.
“He couldn’t have lied,” I reply simply. “I know.”
“And yet Alan knew something, because here you are,” Evan says.
“He only recently found out what his mother was doing.”
