“It sounds like Draco has been a bad vampire,” I muttered.
“He has,” she replied in a smooth purr, effortlessly standing up from the chaise. She prowled toward me, coming to an abrupt stop less than a foot away from me. “And if it’s in your power to remove him from this earth, I believe I would find myself in your debt.”
“And how are we supposed to do that?”
Her gaze drifted down to my décolletage. “I know of a witch who can help.”
“Great, there are witches too?” I asked, getting blank looks from both Sawyer and Roxanne. I shrugged, unrepentant. “This has been an enlightening few days.”
Roxanne smiled like a viper. “Oh, you have no idea what else is out there.”
I held up my hand to stop here. “All I cared about was unicorns, and apparently, they’re not real.”
“They were in the Dark Ages,” the vampire replied, licking her fingers. “Absolutely delicious to eat.”
I blanched. That was like watching Bambi and then saying, ‘Let’s have venison for dinner!’ Argh, I felt sick.
“Alistair will have the witch’s details for you. If you rid this earth of Draco Vasilli, Cat McKenzie, I will be at your disposal whenever you need me.”
I didn’t know what to say. It was like having a tame tiger on standby. Thankfully, Sawyer saved me from awkwardness.
Bowing ever so slightly to Roxanne, he said, “Come on, Cat.”
I followed behind him, cursing when more scones came to life on the walls with a burst of flame. They illuminated the way up the stairs, revealing well-worn stone with dips in the center where centuries of foot traffic had worn them away. When we got back to the top, I screamed when Alistair appeared out of thin air.
I clutched at my chest. “Jesus Christ! Can you make a sound when you move? Please?”
The vampire gave me an amused look before saying to my partner, “The mistress said you needed this.” He handed him a piece of thick, folded paper.
Sawyer tucked the information into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Thanks.”
With a nod, Ali added, “Your weapons are where you left them on the front table.”
We re-armed ourselves, then left the house. I practically crawled onto the back of Sawyer’s bike in an effort to get us out of there even sooner. I wasn’t ashamed that I clung to him as he drove back down the driveway and out onto the main road, the headlights on his bike the only thing chasing the shadows away.
“When do we have to go and see the witch?” I asked.
Please say never. Please say never.
“I’ll call them tonight, but I don’t think it’ll be until tomorrow if I’m being honest.”
“I like honesty.”
He chuckled.
Fourteen
“We’re not done yet. We’re going out.”
I glanced up at Sawyer. “Now?” He opened his mouth, and I cut him off. “I know, crime doesn’t sleep.” Heaving a sigh, I stood up. We’d literally only come back to the office for a minute to divest ourselves of the stakes. I’d been slumped down in my chair for precisely thirty-five of those glorious sixty seconds. The office was empty, but not the building itself. There were still about two dozen cops working in other departments, all not getting involved in supernatural work.
“Where are we going?”
“The witch’s place. She returned my call and said she could meet us now.”
I stared forlornly at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost nine.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, did you have somewhere else to be? Got a hot date?”
I went to cross my arms, but stopped when my shoulder screamed at me. Settling my hands into my lap, I said, “And what if I did? I certainly wouldn’t be telling you.”
He leaned closer to me, making my heart rate lurch. I did my best to ignore his dark chocolate and smoky whisky scent. His sinful mouth curled up in the corner. “You don’t have a date. Come on. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can all go home.”
The witch, as it turned out, lived in my building. I was definitely going to have to look for somewhere else to live. On the plus side, I only had to climb one flight of stairs to get home. Hello, silver lining.
Sawyer knocked on the door with all the authority of a cop on a mission. It opened up a moment later, and the woman on the other side looked like she hadn’t bathed in a month. She kind of smelled like that too. Her dirty gray hair was loose around her face, but there were clumps of it that stuck up at odd angles. She couldn’t have been any older than fifty, but the way her shoulders rolled forward made it seem as if she’d seen a few more years on this earth than that. She would’ve been beautiful thirty years ago, but that beauty had long withered away.
“Ms. Flynn? Sharyn Flynn?” Sawyer asked.
She bobbed her head, her greasy hair sliding into her eyes. She shoved it out of the way with an impatient noise and narrowed her cool blue eyes at us.
“Who are you?”
“Alistair sent us,” he replied. “I’m Detective Taylor and this is my partner, Officer McKenzie. We were hoping you could help us.”
“Cops?”
“PIG,” Sawyer replied, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out a thick envelope, no doubt stuffed with cash. Had PIG foot the bill for the informant, or was this money from Sawyer’s own pocket? “For your trouble.”
She reached out with greedy fingers and stepped away from the door. I looked longingly in the direction of the elevators, wondering if I could simply go home and get the report later. Judging by the glare Sawyer gave me, that would be a hard no.
It was a struggle not to throw my arm over my nose when I stepped into the apartment. It smelled of blue cheese that had been left on a radiator for a week. I
