“Do you know where we could find her?” I asked.
I was expecting her to say that Ariadne had gone underground or that she and some minions had taken over an abandoned warehouse downtown, but I watch too much TV. Beatrice said simply, “Of course. She has a residence in Orange County.”
She wrote an address on a napkin, passing it over to me. “If you speak to her, I would appreciate if you did not mention my name. The two of us have”—her lip curled, and though she was currently human, for a moment, I saw the predator beneath—“bad blood.”
Five minutes later, Cruz and I were in the coffee shop’s parking lot, trying to figure out our next move.
“What are we doing? Are we going to Orange County, or are we going home to bed?” I asked him. I was starting to sway. And not pay attention to my choice of words.
He gave me a bemused look, and I rolled my eyes.
“Our separate homes, idiot.”
“I don’t want to waste any of your time. Not with that deadline in front of us.”
I sighed. “I know. But it’s two thirty in the morning, and we’re both tired. It might not be the best time to hunt down an ancient jilted vampire.” And life on the line or not, I didn’t feel like going from downtown to Long Beach to Pasadena to Orange County. That is just waaaaaay more of LA County than any one person should have to see in the same night.
But Cruz’s voice was firm when he said, “I don’t think we have a choice.”
I sighed. “Fine. But you’re driving.” I tossed him the keys, and he fumbled to catch them as I grabbed the passenger-side door.
When we’d pulled out of the parking lot, he spoke up. “Something doesn’t fit with the Dashiell theory.”
I tried to stifle a yawn. “Hmm?”
“Look, if this Ariadne person really wanted to hurt Dashiell, and she had access to a null, why wouldn’t she just, you know, have the null go stand by Dashiell and then shoot him or whatever? Why go through all the trouble?”
“Maybe she really likes decorative murder.” I shrugged. “She
is
a vampire.”
He shook his head. “Nah. If she was close enough to those three vampires to kill them, then she’d be too close to the null, too, right? She’d be a human. And unless she’s fundamentally a lumberjack, there’s just no way a woman could have mutilated those bodies like that.”
“Hey,” I protested, but it was halfhearted. I was too tired to fight sexism on behalf of female serial killers.
“You know what I mean.”
“Maybe she had someone else do it, or maybe she knows someone else who may have wanted to. Or maybe Beatrice is sending us on a wild-goose chase.” Beatrice is probably the nicest vampire I’ve ever known, but my trust in her only extends to questions about as serious as
Do these jeans make me look fat?
“That doesn’t bother you?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Jesse. In the last few days, we’ve seen a gruesome triple murder, I’ve been kidnapped, your life has been threatened,
my
life has been threatened, I got punched by a gorilla vampire, and nobody has gotten enough sleep. Why would it shock or offend me that the vampires are playing mind games? Haven’t you read Anne Rice? They live for this shit.”
“Ugh,” he said, frustrated. “You’re so...”
“What?” I sat up a little straighter. I was awake now.
He was silent for a moment, then said, “You’re, what, twenty-three, twenty-four? You talk like some of the detectives I know who are in their fifties or sixties and think they’ve seen everything human life has to offer. They’re numb from it. But those guys have had thirty years on the force. How are
you
this jaded?”
I didn’t answer him, just looked away. I felt my eyes starting to close again before I could come up with a defense.
Scarlett drifted off for a few minutes, jolting awake when Jesse pulled off the freeway. He followed Beatrice’s directions to Ariadne’s house, which qualified as at least a mansion, if not a palace. Four stories tall and made of deep-red brick, it stood out even on a street that was lousy with mansions. Every house on that Orange County street had a gate, but Ariadne’s was the only one that was standing open.
Jesse stood by, a little amused, while Scarlett rang the bell and then jogged a few steps back. A vampire opened the door, and he tried not to gasp. Beatrice had appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties, which sort of fit with the way Scarlett had described her and Dashiell. But this girl appeared to be twenty at the most, although her outfit may have affected his estimate. She’d gone completely goth: black hair, black lipstick, tiny gold nose ring, and sort of a black layered look, with tights, a short skirt, and at least three shirts. She looked like someone that vice would arrest on Hollywood Boulevard.
She looked them up and down and motioned them closer. “Hello,” the vampire said, twitching a bit. Jesse realized after a second that she was switching over to humanity. She turned to look at Scarlett. “I’m Ariadne, as you must know. You must be Scarlett Bernard. Great pants.”
“Uh, thanks,” Scarlett said, sounding a little nervous. “You’ve heard of me?”
“Sure.” Ariadne shrugged. “They’re so rare, your kind. Who’s your friend?” She nodded toward Jesse.
“Sorry, this is Officer Jesse Cruz. I’m sort of helping him with a problem.”
Jesse stepped forward, unsure if he should reach out for a handshake. He didn’t really want to touch this woman, human or not, he decided, so he kept his hands by his side. “Nice to meet you, ma’am. I was wondering if we might have a few minutes of your time?”
“Of course,” Ariadne said, smiling genially. “Please come in.”
She led them deeper into the house. It was overdecorated, like his parents’, but where their house always smelled of spices, lilies, and dog, this one stank of age and decay. It looked like something straight out of Dickens. But although the furnishings were old and uncared-for, Jesse recognized them as very expensive. If Ariadne had this much money, why was she answering the door herself? Shouldn’t a vampire who was this rich and powerful have a legion of servants?
The three of them finally reached a Victorian-style sitting room, and Ariadne gestured to two elaborate blue silk armchairs, perching herself on the edge of the opposite matching couch. As if reading Jesse’s mind, she said, “You’ll have to excuse my lack of proper hospitality. My maid is on an errand, and I’m afraid I’m between butlers right now.” She smiled slyly, displaying a mouthful of sharp little teeth.
She was seriously giving Jesse the creeps, and that was as a human. He glanced at Scarlett, but she was just looking at him expectantly. His cue.
“Ma’am,” Jesse began, “I’m investigating several murders that took place in La Brea Park a few nights ago. Did you hear about that?”
“Oh, yes, I get all the papers,” Ariadne said happily. “I understand that it was quite the bloodbath.” She licked her lips, just like Gregory.
Jesse thought of the scene in the park and tried not to shudder. “Did you know the victims?”
Ariadne gazed pensively at the ceiling for a moment, frowning. “Let’s see...Joanna and I were friends, of course. I was terribly sad to hear that she had passed.” It was such a perfectly normal thing to say about a dead person, but sounded so strange coming out of her black-lipsticked mouth. “I never thought much of her boyfriend, Demetri. Oh, and everyone knew Abraham, of course.”
“Can you think of a reason why anyone would want to harm any of them?”
“Why, my dear boy, of course I can. Can’t you?” she said demurely, looking up at him through her eyelashes. When Jesse remained stone-faced, she sighed. “Fine. Take all the fun out of it.” Her eyes turned to Scarlett. “How much do you know, Miss Bernard, about our internal structure—or lack thereof?”
“Almost nothing,” Scarlett answered cautiously.
“As I imagined. Most vampires, including Dashiell”—the name was said with a hint of scornful hissing—“prefer to keep any of our history from the humans, even those in our employ.” Ariadne rolled her eyes a little. “But I’ve always found their need for secrecy a touch excessive. Who on earth would believe you? Besides, it is so easy to control humans’ minds. Well, most humans.” She licked her lips again and gazed over at Jesse.
He couldn’t help a little involuntary shiver, but managed to resist scooting closer to Scarlett, his protection.
“I’m assuming your young man is privy to our world, if he is accompanying you?”
Scarlett nodded.
“Well, then this will be educational for both of you.” She smoothed her black layers down as though they were the finest of gowns.
“Once, vampires had a governing council, a consortium, which made important decisions on behalf of all vampires. It was this consortium that decided that we would remain a secret from the humans. When the New World was discovered, however”—she gestured vaguely to the room—“the world became too big for a single source of authority to manage, and the consortium fell. There are now precious few vampires old enough to remember it at all. Without it, we took to governing ourselves.” Her eyes darkened. “For decades, vampires fought over territory, both here and in the older countries.
“After dear Mr. Stoker published his book, however, we knew we had to find a more stable way of life or face extinction. When the dust finally settled, each major city was ruled by a cardinal vampire, who was responsible for all the vampires in his territory. Some, like Dashiell, even tried to care for all the needs of the Old World, including the wolves.” She wrinkled her nose with distaste.
“What if the cardinal vampire wasn’t suited?” Jesse asked, fascinated despite himself. “What if they abused their power, or did things that humans noticed?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “It happens less often than you might think. If you’re powerful enough to control a city, you’ve been around long enough to understand the importance of discretion. Our kind cannot exist without it. But if a cardinal was unfit for some reason, neighboring vampires would group together to help a new candidate usurp the old.” She leaned forward, eyes suddenly bright with an intensity that was all her own. “That, you see, became our one rule, besides keeping our existence secret. No petty jostling for position. To maintain order, you didn’t just need a leader who would lead, you also had to have followers who were willing to
follow
. If a vampire kills off a master of the city just to gain his power, the vampires in the area will rise up against him.”
Scarlett asked, “What kinds of things are grounds for taking over a territory?”
Ariadne leaned back into the couch, her eyes dancing. “I expect you already know that, Miss Bernard. Revealing ourselves to the humans. Inability to keep one’s vampires in line. Failure to take care of those vampires.”
That rang a bell.
Jesse interrupted. “Ma’am, are you suggesting that the vampires in La Brea Park were killed so someone could take Dashiell’s place?”
She smiled at him, her legs dangling from the sofa. “Yes.”
Jesse looked at Scarlett, whose face gave away nothing, and back to Ariadne. “Why are you telling us this? You must know you’re going to be a suspect.”
“Because,” Scarlett answered, understanding blooming on her face, “it wasn’t her. She didn’t kill those people, but is afraid that whoever did will make a play for Dashiell’s spot and win. Unless we expose them and stir up enough trouble. In which case, Ariadne could take over instead.”
Ariadne said nothing, just smiled her pleased little smile at Jesse. Even as a human, she was very, very frightening.
At that moment, Jesse’s cell phone vibrated, and he gave a little jump and pulled the phone out of his pocket. The caller ID was for dispatch, even though he was off duty. Jesse stood up and paced a few steps away from Scarlett and the vampire. “Excuse me, please.” He flipped it open. “Cruz.”
He was being called in for overtime. As he listened to the dispatcher, he saw Scarlett answer her own phone.
They hung up at nearly the same time, and Jesse glanced at Ariadne, who was holding her hands up and studying them curiously, probably unused to feeling human. He looked at Scarlett. “Let me guess,” she said. “Another murder?”
He nodded, and they said in unison, “The comic book shop.”
When they were on their way to the van, Ariadne leaned out of the doorway and called after them, “Do give my regards to Dashiell
and Beatrice, won’t you? Tell him I hope his writing is going better.”
Jesse looked at Scarlett questioningly, but she just shrugged and gave Ariadne a wave.
As he drove the van north, Jesse was wide-awake again, thinking about the new murder. He hadn’t gotten any details, other than there was a dead body and the officers on scene thought it was related to La Brea Park. Was Ronnie the victim? Was it because he had talked to them? And if so, what exactly had he said that was so important? Jesse replayed the conversation in his head, but other than the thing with the second null, Ronnie hadn’t really had anything new to say.
And that was another thing—why kill him
after
he’d talked to the police? If the killer knew Ronnie had been at the site before the police came to interview him, then he should have wanted to kill Ronnie right away. And if Jesse and Scarlett had led the killer to Ronnie, then killing him still didn’t make sense. If Ronnie had known something really important about the murder, the cops would have shown up at the killer’s door immediately. The fact that they had talked to Ronnie and still hadn’t discovered anything should have made the killer feel more comfortable, not less. The whole thing was weird.
“Did you see any video cameras?” Jesse asked suddenly.
“What?”
“At the comic book store. Were there any video cameras?”
“I don’t know. But hang on, I can find out.” Scarlett fished her cell phone out of her pocket and placed a quick call. She was shaking her head as she flipped the little phone closed. “Will was the one who called me about the murder. He got this weird text about a cleanup. He says no cameras. He’s been there a bunch of times to see Ronnie, and the wolves always notice that kind of thing.”
“Can we be sure?”
“If Will says so? Definitely.”