“I’ll see what I can do.”
Which was her way of saying she’d do it. “Could you also get the RSPCA out? There’s a dog here that doesn’t look as if he’s seen a feed for a while, and a few chickens that need to be rounded up.”
“Someone abandoned their dog? Bastards. I’ll get right onto it.”
I raised my eyebrows at the anger in her voice. Sal was a dog lover? Who’d have thought? “Thanks, Sal.”
I hung up then headed back to the dog, filling up the bowl so he at least had fresh water. Then I grabbed a long bit of wood and went back inside the house.
My skin began to burn the minute I neared that room. I broke off a bit of the wood and jammed it under the door, just to ensure no one could rush up and slam it shut behind me. Then, using the rest of the stake, I pushed the netting aside far enough to step inside. Even though the silver never touched my skin, the room still felt like hell. I was just too sensitive to the metal to be able to stay here too long.
I walked over to the desk and opened the laptop. It wasn’t connected to power and the batteries were flat. I reached underneath and shoved the cord into the socket, so the cleanup team could have a look at it when they got here. Then I shuffled through the magazines and books, but they were all computer and mechanical in style, and didn’t tell me much about the man who had been reading them. Under the bed I could see glimpses of nudes, so obviously his parents hadn’t been recalcitrant in catering to his needs—but again, it begged the question, why lock him up? If he hadn’t been crazy beforehand, he sure as hell would have been after thirty years of being locked up in a room filled with silver.
There were several newspapers near the bed, so I walked over and picked them up. Three of them had an article that had been circled in red ink.
The first was about a mugging in Brighton, and I couldn’t see any connection to the murders until I read halfway and saw the mention of the eyewitness.
Ivan.
The second—and oldest of them—was about a charity fund-raiser, and came with a photo of several men and women. One of those women was circled—Cherry Barnes.
The third article was tiny, little more than a rave about the hot new chef working at Hot Rabbit. Underneath was a picture of the owner—a big, balding man named Ron Cowden. A big, red-ink cross had been scrawled across his heart.
It wasn’t one of the men who had already died. It was someone new.
Papers in hand, I carefully edged back through the netting, then dropped the wood and ran to the car and the phone.
“What now?” Sal said, in a long-suffering voice.
“I need an urgent trace on a man named Ron Cowden. He apparently owns a restaurant called Hot Rabbit.”
“Why?”
Sometimes, this woman could be a real pain in the ass. Which is why she did it—she knew it bugged me. She could be as big a bitch as me when she wanted to be. “If he’s not dead already, he could be the next victim of our invisible vampire.”
“Vampires aren’t—”
“This one is,” I cut in. I glanced at my watch. I’d better get moving, otherwise I was going to be late for my party. “Let me know if you find him. And we might have to bring him in if you track him down.”
“It shouldn’t be too hard, but I’ll let Jack know extra accommodation might be needed.”
“While you’re talking to Jack, let him know that Cherry Barnes is probably a victim of the invisible vampire.”
“Will do.”
“Thanks.”
I hung up again, then got back into the car and headed home. Rhoan wasn’t there, and neither were the school photos from Liander. I grabbed the phone and gave Liander a call.
“Hey,” he said, “you missed a great lunch.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Can I ask you a question about the photo?”
“Yep. Fire away.”
“Was there a Ron Cowden in it?”
He paused, and paper rustled in the background. “Nope. There’s a Jake Cowden, though.”
“Could he have been a brother?”
“Maybe. I didn’t really have much to do with him.”
“Did he have much to do with that bad crowd you mentioned?”
“Not that I’m aware of. He was a fairly quiet kid. Kept mostly to himself.”
Well, there goes
“Denny someone?” Amusement ran through his tones.
“Sorry, I actually don’t know his last name.” And I hadn’t yet even checked out the police report.
“There’s a Denny Spalding in the photo, if that helps. And the other two, as well. Though, of course, there’s no guarantee that these three are the ones you’re looking for.”
“You know anything about them?”
“Cherry and Denny, no, but Ivan was fixated on vampires. Said he wanted to take the ceremony and become one, one day.”
“He did take the ceremony, but unfortunately, someone cut off his head and let him burn in sunlight.”
“Well, that wasn’t very nice of them.” He paused, and must have taken a drink, because I heard him swallow. “He wasn’t a member of the gang, either. But he was one of the few friends Jake Cowden had.”
“So what the fuck is the connection between all these people?”
Liander snorted. “Like I’m supposed to know?”
I grinned. “Sorry, just thinking out loud.”
“Seems to be a family trait.” He paused again, then added, “While we’re talking families, I’ve got a question for you.”
“Question away.”
“How would you feel about me moving in with you and Rhoan?”
I blinked. Talk about being caught totally off guard! “I think that would be great, but I’d have to ask why you’d want to move in to our dumpy little apartment when you have a totally beautiful house of your own?” Not to mention a nifty little apartment above his studio.
“Because I want to ask Rhoan to live with me, and he’s just not going to leave you any time soon.”
“That’s not—”
“That is, even if neither of you have ever talked about it. You’re each the only pack member the other has, and I think it’s going to be difficult for
“But it’s not like we need to live in each other’s pockets.”
“No, but can you honestly say that if you met your soul mate tomorrow, you could walk away from your apartment and Rhoan to go live with him?”
I opened my mouth to say “of course,” then actually stopped to think about it. Rhoan and I might not live in each other’s pockets, we might be able to go days—weeks—without seeing each other, but his scent was always around me, completing that part of me that needed pack, needed family. And as Liander had said, he was all I had, all I would ever have when it came to pack.
Even when I had decided to commit to Kellen, the thought of moving totally out of my apartment and away from Rhoan had never really crossed my mind. Yes, I’d contemplated staying with Kellen, but I’d never taken it that one step further. Had never thought that I wouldn’t maintain my place here as well as share space with Kellen.
Maybe Kellen had realized that, too. And maybe his problem hadn’t solely been with the job and my inability to give it up.
“For a man who plays with makeup, you’re surprisingly insightful.”
