Angel: Private Eye Book One (21 page)

If the rumors were correct, you had to pay
$1000 to get in, let alone to buy your meal.

“What– what are we doing here?” I
asked.

“Brunch,” Theodore said with a slow smile.
“Do keep up, Miss Luck.”

“I don't– I don't understand,” I
began.

I was rapidly losing the ability to speak,
because I was rapidly losing the ability to think. My thoughts kept
flitting in and out of my consciousness like clouds being chased by
a hurricane.

I could barely walk, though Theodore didn't
seem to care, as he kept that cold grip locked around my elbow and
pulled me forward. Even if I fell to my knees or fell flat on my
face, he would just drag me.

Though there were two very human looking
doormen at the front of the hotel, neither of them said a word as
the vampire dragged in the helpless human. Nor did they point out
that my mom jeans and flouncy sweatshirt really weren’t up to the
dress standards.

Instead, they nodded, bowed and opened the
doors.

There were several extremely important
people hanging around in the atrium, several politicians, one
anchorwoman from the 9 o'clock news, even the mayor. And none of
them did a thing.

I was hardly in a happy state here. Not only
was I disheveled from being kidnapped by two golems, but I knew my
face was pale with panic. And yet, did they stop to call the police
or ask if I wanted help to crowbar the vampire off my arm?

Nope. They ignored me.

They smiled at Theodore and swiftly turned
back to continue their banal conversations.

“What– what's happening here? Why isn’t
anyone helping me?” I stuttered.

Theodore chuckled low. “Because they can't
see you, Miss Luck.” He pointed one slender white finger towards a
reflective panel on the wall.

I gasped. What I saw was Theodore walking
with me, except I didn't look anything like me. I was dressed in a
stunning blue gown that slipped down to my ankles and moved around
like wisps of smoke caught in a gentle breeze.

I had what looked like $3000 designer heels
on, and my hair was bunched into sensual curls that spilled over my
shoulders and looped around my neck.

I had what could only be classed as a
simpering smile on my face as I stared adoringly up at
Theodore.

“What the hell?!” I screamed as Theodore
tugged me past the reflective panel and I could no longer make out
my reflection. “What is that?”

“A little show,” Theodore said as he leaned
over and patted my hand endearingly. “And a little reminder,” he
switched his gaze to me, and it was very much like the polite
pussycat suddenly showing its claws, “You can scream, you can
shout, and you can try to escape, Miss Luck, but nobody will see
you, and nobody will help you. Now all I ask is for a few hours of
your time. I assure you that while your reflection is not real, the
food here is. And I will be more than happy to treat you too an
expensive brunch. Oysters, champagne, chocolate – anything you
please.”

“Let go of me,” I said, mustering all the
strength I could and packing it behind each word like C4 behind a
wall.

It didn't work.

Theodore turned his head from me and nodded
at a prominent doctor.

I began to shriek. “Help. Somebody help me.
Can't you see what he's doing? Help,” I screamed so loudly, my
voice became hoarse.

But nothing. Nobody even turned around.

I screamed so loudly that the guy beside me
should have clutched his hands over his ears. But he didn't even
twitch.

Theodore began to chuckle once I was done.
“Now, now. You'll hurt your throat, and I won't enjoy my meal,” he
said very pointedly, showing his teeth.

I shivered and tried to jerk away from him
with such force I very almost broke his grip.

I shouldn't have very almost broken his
grip, because he was the undead immortal vampire with the strength
of 100 men and I was the frumpy unkempt woman in the
sweatshirt.

I watched him jerk his head towards me,
watched him crumple his brow, and watched him slice his calculating
gaze towards my wrist.

He redoubled his grip until we reached a
table set against the window.

The view was stunning. Though we hadn't
travelled up any floors, somehow we were on the very top floor of
the building, and the view was just as expansive as you would
imagine.

The hotel was set roughly in the center of
town, and it offered a beautiful 360 panorama of the glistening,
sprawling metropolis.

For almost half a second, I let the view
take away my attention.

Then Theodore Van Edgerton leaned in,
pressed an elbow into the white silk tablecloth, and placed his
chin in his hand.

He began to stare at me. He looked me up and
down, from the hem of my torn old sweatshirt up to the top of my
scruffy hair. “You must tell me, dear, what exactly does William
Benson want with you? Are you his new toy? Or does he have
something more interesting in mind for you?”

On the word interesting, Theodore showed his
teeth. All of his teeth. And though we were hardly under stage
lights, they glinted as if somebody had shone a torch in his
mouth.

I doubled back, shifting so hard against my
chair, I could have fallen off it. Yet the thing felt as if it was
bolted to the floor.

Theodore suddenly brought up a finger and
tipped it to the side as if he were keeping time. “No, no, Miss
Luck, you really can't escape. As I said, I have too much to ask
you.” With that, Theodore reached into his pocket and brought out
two tiny pieces of string. He proceeded to sit them down on the
pressed, ironed, and white tablecloth.

He made a fuss of straightening them, then
he tapped both with the tips of his ring fingers.

They sparked to life, charges of magic
wriggling through them, turning them into the string equivalent of
writhing worms.

Instantly I recoiled, but I wasn't quick
enough. For those wriggling worms of string turned into massive
lengths of rope that shot across the table, wound around my wrists,
and tied me to the chair.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, so loudly
I could have shattered the glass windows that swept around the
room.

Theodore laughed melodiously. “Now, now,
Miss Luck, there's no need to scream like that. I promise not to
hurt you.”

“What are you doing tying me to a chair,
then?!” I shrieked.

He leaned back and gestured expansively.
“I'm just reminding you that I want two mere hours of your time.
Now, it's not going to be that hard to enjoy my company while
answering a few of my questions. I assure you, Miss Luck,” he
reached out a hand, and suddenly my hand wriggled out from under
one of the ropes and slammed onto the table. I hadn't chosen to
move, but the ropes had chosen to move for me. Theodore leaned
forward and clasped my hand as if he were a lover about to recite a
tender poem. “Just two hours of your time.”

“I don't know anything. I don't know why
Benson has an interest in me,” I outright lied.

Theodore tilted his head slightly to the
side, then kept on going as if his head was a ship that had
suddenly taken on too much water and was listing dangerously. “You
do understand that vampires can tell when a person is lying, don't
you, Miss Luck? Only those with the greatest training can possibly
fool a vampire. And, Miss Luck, you don't have great training or
natural talent. Nor, I am afraid to say, do you have particularly
alluring looks.” He leaned back and crossed an arm over his middle
and began to tap his chin. “I've known William Benson for
centuries. He doesn't waste his time with those not worthy of his.
So I'll ask once more, why exactly is William interested in
you?”

I clenched my teeth. “He's not interested in
me.”

“You misunderstand. Why is William paying
you so much attention? What exactly can you do for him?” Theodore's
face suddenly stiffened. All that false good humor that had been
curling through his tone and puffing up his cheeks, was gone. Now
he looked at me exactly like a snake ready to strike.

I could barely swallow, and my body was
shaking so badly under the magical ropes I was sure I was going to
give myself burns. “I don't know why William is interested in me,”
I lied again. As I did, I made a fatal mistake. I glanced down at
my pocket. The same pocket that now had a vial of my blood in
it.

I had no intention whatsoever to look at it,
but something happened to me as Theodore stared at me. It was
almost as if I was compelled.

He chuckled once more. “You really are quite
easy to manipulate, aren't you, my little mouse?”

I stiffened at that revolting term.

“Now come here.” He leaned forward, gripped
one hand on the table, and slipped an arm close to my side. His
fingers pried back my jacket and plucked the yellow biohazard pack
from my pocket.

It wasn't a fast move. It was slow, so slow
that as he slipped the packet from my pocket, he took several
seconds to stare right into my eyes.

I shifted back as far as I could, screwing
up my lips and scrunching my nose in revulsion.

He remained there, a few centimeters from my
face, and chuckled. Then he pulled back and sat down.

He ran a tongue over his teeth, paying
particular attention to his canines as if he were checking how
sharp they were. “What have we here?” he said in a singsong voice
as he played experimentally with the packet.

He brought it up and sniffed it in a single,
delicate move. “Smells like blood,” he said. The way he said blood
– the pitch his voice took, the way his face stiffened – it was
undeniable. It was the same tense, almost primal move I'd seen
Benson use before.

It reminded me like a punch in the gut that
I was currently in the presence of a vampire. A bloodsucking
parasite with unstoppable hunger and an unstoppable urge for
violence.

I stiffened.

Theodore kept running a tongue over his
teeth until he set the packet down and opened it, not by the
ziplock at the top, but by ripping into it.

The move was so quick and snapped, he was
like a tiger eviscerating its prey.

I gave a soft shriek and shifted back.

He pushed a hand into the torn remnants of
the packet and pulled out the vial of my blood.

He twisted it around in his fingers, an
almost indescribable look in his gaze.

Just when I thought he'd uncork it and chuck
it down his throat, he laid it carefully onto the table, then he
steepled his fingers and shot me an odd look. “If I were you, Miss
Luck, I would answer me.”

I didn't answer. I couldn't. All I could do
was watch him and wait for what he would do next.

“Are you ill, Miss Luck?”

Though I seriously didn't want to answer, I
found my lips moving of their own accord. “I'm not ill.”

“Then what exactly are you doing taking your
bloods?”

Again that word punched from his throat. It
wasn't so much violent, as menacing. Menacing in that true sense
you don't really get these days. Not the kind of bottled up,
premade fear you find in crappy thriller movies. But the true
menacing of old. The prospect of running through the woods only to
hear the crack of twigs behind you and a short sharp pant by your
ear.

I began to shake my head nervously,
compulsively, as if that would somehow get me out of here.

“Were you going to deliver this to William
Benson?” Theodore asked.

Halfway through shaking my head, I suddenly
stopped. It was as if the muscles in my neck twanged and became as
stiff as steel poles.

Before I knew what I was doing, I began to
nod.

Theodore looked at me, looked at me in a way
I'd never seen anyone look at me before. It wasn't so much
calculating, as deconstructing. It was like he suddenly turned into
a scientist and started tearing me back, cell by cell, to discover
what he would find beneath.

He reached forward, plucked up the blood,
and carefully placed it in his pocket.

My eyes drew wide as I realized it was in a
position that could easily be broken. And if it were broken, my
blood could kill Theodore.

It was hardly a concern I should have,
considering the guy had dragged me into this fancy restaurant and
tied me to a chair. But I'd signed a contract not to give my blood
to any vampires. And what was more, I was not a murderer. Even of
the undead.

“You– you shouldn't do that,” I began to
stutter. “It's dangerous,” I managed.

He brought a hand up and softly patted the
vial.

I winced as if the thing was seconds from
cracking and splashing everywhere like a blood bomb. “No– no—” I
began. “You really shouldn't do that. Please, just listen to
me.”

He brought his hands out and gestured wide.
“Why, I'm here to listen to you, Miss Luck. Why don't you start
from the beginning? Why are you giving vials of your blood to
William Benson? And why are you so scared of this?” He pushed a
hand into his pocket and plucked out the vial, swinging it back and
forth in his hands.

I shivered and receded as far as I could
into my chair. “Please, just be careful. That... you don't know
what you're handling.”

“Then tell me what I'm handling,” his voice
suddenly dipped low in a menacing growl as he locked both arms on
the table and leaned forward. The table was quite large, yet
somehow he was right by my face again, a snarling mass of teeth and
terror.

While I was 100% certain that Benson didn't
want me giving my blood to any vampires, I was pretty certain he
didn't want me sharing my condition, either. Especially to
Theodore. After all, Benson had gone to painful lengths to warn me
off the guy. But what option did I have?

“Miss Luck,” Theodore hissed. “I’m running
out of patience.”