Angel: Private Eye Book One (5 page)

“I…” I suddenly couldn’t take my eyes off
him. My lips wobbled open.

“Your race,” he prompted once more as he
stared at me with all the force of a laser right between your
eyes.

“…
I don’t know,” I heard
myself answering.

Cortez snorted. “Now is when you stop lying
and start telling the truth. You do understand powerful vampires
can tell if you’re lying, right? There is precedent of using their
testament as permissible evidence in court. If you’re—”

“She’s not lying,” Benson said through the
strangest tick of a smile as he tilted his head to the side.

It would be impossible to deny the curiosity
flaring in his gaze. It felt like a rapidly growing fire a few
inches from my face.

Cortez stiffened. “Are you sure?”

Benson suddenly dropped to a knee, locked a
hand on the desk beside me, and leaned in close.

I squeaked in what was categorically the
most pathetic noise ever made by anyone ever. “What are you
doing?”

“What race are you?” Benson asked. His voice
wasn’t so much satin on skin anymore – it was warmth. Blessed pure
warmth. It was like jumping into a hot bath after being chucked in
a frozen lake.

“I don’t know,” the words slipped out of my
mouth with such ease it was like someone else was speaking
them.

Benson remained there – just a few
centimeters from my face – for a few more seconds.

Then he turned away. He straightened up,
smoothed a large, strong hand down his shirt, and stretched his
neck. “She doesn’t know. Plus, I got more than close enough to
smell her – I don’t know what she is, either.”

I cringed at the admission he’d smelt
me.

…
But then a ray of hope
hit my brain like a torch lighting up the dark.

Benson had no idea what race I was.

He also wasn’t looking at me like I’d
murdered one of his vampires in cold blood.

Oh, heck no – the only emotion flickering in
his cold but nonetheless enthralling gaze was interest.

Plain and simple.

I kept a hand locked on my torn collar and
tried not to squeak again.

“So she’s not a witch?” Cortez questioned
with a heavy breath.

“Definitely not a witch.”

“And she didn’t hex the victim’s blood?”

“No.” Benson kept watching me out of the
corner of his perfect eyes.

“Then how the hell did he die?” Cortez
huffed, annoyance clear.

Benson paused. “There are certain races
whose blood is, ah… unpalatable to vampires.”

“Unpalatable? The guy exploded and turned to
ash on the sidewalk. I call that real unpalatable. But that’s not
what I’m getting at. I need to know if she,” Cortez extended a
stiff finger towards me, “Knowingly, purposefully killed that
vampire.”

Benson paused.

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

He now held my life in his hands.

….

“No. I don’t believe she knowingly killed
the victim. He unknowingly killed himself by partaking of something
he shouldn’t have.” Benson swiveled his gaze back to Cortez, but
not before letting it linger on the dried blood splashed over my
collar.

It took a second. A full second.

Then it hit me.

William Benson was on my side.

I crumpled into my hands as I took a
shaking, sobbing breath. “I didn’t kill him. I had no idea what was
happening.”

Cortez hardly looked happy as he blew a
breath through his teeth. He was, however, softening. Imperceptibly
at first, it was clear he was starting to re-evaluate how much of a
brute he’d been to me.

He wasn’t quick enough, though.

Benson crossed his arms, turned, leaned
against Cortez’s desk, and appeared to size me up. “That isn’t to
say Miss Luck here didn’t commit a serious crime.”

I sucked in a breath, locking it in my
throat until I felt like I was going to choke. “What?”

“How long have you known you are an
otherworlder, Miss Luck?” Benson asked, that same smooth
manipulative note behind his voice.

Now I was starting to get used to it, it was
easier to detect. Maybe in the future I’d even be able to find some
defense for it, too.

Not now. Because right now I doubted I had a
future.

My lips parted open of their own accord.
“Nine months.”

“Were you told – like others in your
situation – to find out what race you belong to?” Benson asked.

I nodded.

It had been in the letter that had come back
with the genetic test. I had a legal obligation, apparently, to
discover just what kind of otherworlder I was. If I was a vampire,
I needed to know that before I started sleep walking and snacking
on the neighbor’s jugular.

“Have you made any moves to find out what
species you belong to?” Benson continued to question me.

The simple answer was no. I’d stuck my head
in the sand and tried real friggin’ hard to pretend nothing had
happened.

“You understand that’s a crime, don’t you,
Miss Luck? There’s a reason you were obliged to discover what you
are – so accidents like this didn’t happen,” Benson continued.

Something managed to spark past my fear and
guilt.

Just a lick of rage.

It ignited in my gaze before my better
judgement could damp it out. “Accidents? He shoved me up against a
wall and tried to bleed me dry,” I spat.

I thought Benson would brush my pointed
comment away. He didn’t. Instead he dipped his head low in
understanding, the beginnings of what almost looked like compassion
smoothing his lips into a frown. “I’m not denying the vampire
attacked you.”

“Really?” Tears started to touch my eyes,
that cold sensation you get when you’re about to cry spreading
through my chest. “Because five seconds ago you wanted to book me
for first-degree murder.”

“As I’ve said, you didn’t kill that vampire.
Knowingly. And should he have survived, considering his crime
against you, he would have been punished accordingly. What matters
now, though, is what you are. You have an obligation to find out.
And, considering the severity of this situation, the impetus to
start searching, rather than sticking your head in the sand.”

I shifted away from him, not wanting to hear
a word of this.

“Like it or not, Miss Luck, some substance
in your blood killed that vampire. While some would say he deserved
his fate for attacking you, and I would personally agree with such
a statement – it doesn’t change one fact. You have the ability to
kill, and you don’t know why. I call that dangerous, don’t you?
What if you had unwittingly donated blood to the hospital, only to
kill a host of vampire children? Or one of the vampire paramedics
working in the otherworld section of town could have attended to
you, only to wind up dead for their efforts.”

I cringed, sinking away from his words as I
locked a hand over my eyes.

“Again, Miss Luck – I feel nothing for the
loss of that vampire. If he was so base and primal to have been
unable to control his desires, then it is fitting that he
ultimately succumbed to those same desires. You, however, are a
different matter.” He arched his neck, staring down his nose
imperiously at me. “Don’t you want to find out what you are? Or
would you prefer to be controlled by the fear of finding out?”
Something awfully strange happened when he said controlled. His
voice became so quiet I shouldn’t have been able to discern it. But
I could. Oh mama could I hear it. It shook up my legs and dove deep
into my belly.

I crammed a hand on my stomach and looked up
at him with wide, shaking eyes.

“I offer a truce.” Benson, still staring at
me, reached a hand into his pocket and pulled something out.

It was a parchment of paper. One that
rightly shouldn’t have fit in his pocket, considering the rather
tight and appealing way his pecs sat flush against the fabric.

“W-what is that?” I asked, flashing my
terrified gaze up to his.

“A contract.” He smiled.

“A what?”

“I will agree not to press charges against
you for failing to find out what race you belong to, if you agree
to my terms.” He smiled. And oh boy oh boy was it one heck of a
smile. Equally as charming and compelling as it was victorious.

My gaze immediately flashed over to Cortez.
Though the guy had been exactly zero help to me so far, deep down,
I doubted he was bad. “Can he… can he do this?”

Cortez shrugged. “Sure. He’s not just a
representative for the vampires in Hope City, but all the
otherworlders.”

“You mean,” I brought a hesitant hand up and
pointed at the contract as if it were going to jump down and bite
me, “If I sign that, I won’t be in any trouble?”

Benson still smiled. “I’ll ensure you aren’t
charged. All you have to do is agree to the following: you will not
willingly or knowingly give your blood to a vampire. You will also
assist me in finding out what you are.”

My stomach lurched so badly it practically
swung a 360 around my spine. “What?” I choked around a dry
mouth.

“I have considerable skills, Miss Luck. With
some investigation, it shouldn’t be hard to find out what you are.”
Benson looked blank, finally controlling his smile until it was
little more than a tiny curl at the edges of his lips.

I swallowed. Real hard. If the roof had just
flown off and a screaming rock band had descended from above, you
would have still heard my gulp over the cacophony.

I swiveled my gaze back to Cortez.

Again he shrugged unhelpfully. “If it were
me, I’d take the deal.”

Really? He’d sign a contract with a vampire?
Worse – a smiling vampire who was holding all the cards?

I crammed a hand on my stomach and tried to
think. It chose that exact moment to rumble.

“Are you hungry, Miss Luck?” Benson asked
perceptively.

Goddamn he was good, because on the word
hungry, his gaze did not tick up to the open wound on my neck.

“I haven’t eaten since this morning. I spent
the whole day looking for work,” I muttered truthfully as I kept
massaging my stomach in an attempt to make it shut the hell up.

“You are in need of employment?” Benson
asked smoothly. “I take it you were… affected by the recent changes
in work law.” He picked his words carefully. He also picked his
expression carefully, because I had to try real hard to see the
well-hidden flare of anger as he talked about the changes to the
law.

I nodded.

I was way past lying to this guy. Do that,
and he’d only descend slowly to one knee and lean in until our
noses almost touched.

My gut tightened at the mere thought of it,
then the treacherous thing gave another grumble.

I pretty much folded myself like a contorted
piece of origami as I tried to shut my rumbling gut up.

“I can offer you a job,” Benson said out of
the blue.

My eyes widened. “What?” Hope and surprise
caused my tone to jack up high like a toot on a kazoo.

He smiled once more. Oh lordy lord, his
smile could be used to sell anything. Toothpaste, cars, even
death.

I could imagine someone dreamily falling
into that smile and agreeing to anything.

“This, you must sign,” he pushed the
contract onto the desk and slid it towards me, leaning to the side
and plucking a black Parker pen from Cortez's drawer. “And once
you’ve signed it, we can talk about what work you’d like to do. I
have many organizations, I’m sure we can find something in your
current field of expertise. Which is?”

“I’m a librarian,” I said as I reluctantly
accepted the pen and stared from it to the contract.

…
I couldn’t not sign it.
Not sign it, and I’d end up in an otherworlder jail.

In other words, Hell.

But would signing a contract indebting me to
William Benson the III be just as impossible to escape as
prison?

He locked a finger on the edge of the
contract and slid it closer until it was right under my nose.

Closing my eyes, I signed it. In a messy
squiggle that half fell off the page, but it was still a
signature.

As soon as I put my name to the paper, a
charge of white sparks shot through it, a few escaping up the pen
and biting into my fingers.

I yowled, dropped the pen on the floor, and
sunk back into my chair.

Benson let out a soft chuckle as he leaned
down, thoughtfully picked up the pen, and returned it neatly to
Cortez’s desk. “Don’t worry about the sparks, Miss Luck – they are
just binding you to the contract. They may leave a tickle for a few
minutes, but it will subside.” Benson leaned down, plucked up the
parchment, rolled it up into a neat tube, and tucked it into the
pocket of his jacket.

When he smoothed the jacket across his
chest, it looked as if the bulky roll of paper had disappeared.

I could only wish. In all likelihood, it
would have been spirited away to some vampire vault somewhere, to
live out eternity and bind me to this man for good.

I brought up a hand and smashed it over my
lips in a jerky move as I realized what I’d just done.

Benson suddenly pulled back his jacket and
tugged out another parchment of paper. Again he slid it towards
me.

“But I just signed—” I began.

“A work agreement. Once you sign it, I
promise to find you fitting, well-paid work in your current
profession, or perhaps something more stimulating.”

My mind really didn’t like the emphasis he
used on the word stimulating. It was the verbal equivalent of
running your hands down someone’s cheek.

My stomach, however, did kind of like it,
and gave a pleasant tingle.

He tapped the contract with one finger.
“Sign it, and I’ll even ensure you have lodgings and board.”

It was a hell of an offer.

“I’ll put you up in one of my apartment
blocks in Morgana Street.”

Holy crap, Morgana Street was in the center
of town. There was only one apartment block on it, and it was
categorically the chicest place to live in Hope City.