“Neither do we,” Lysander responded. “As I said, we are trying to fix a small problem that we did not start. My intention was to come here, pick up my old documents, and leave.”
“Whether or not you started something is beside the point. You said someone sent you a warning of some kind. At some point or another, you pissed off that person or clan or whatever you call yourselves enough to do that. This murder here, with the people living in this house, goes too far. You’re risking it becoming public.”
“You are holding us accountable for someone else’s actions?” Lysander asked. “We are not even sure that it was a vampire who committed this crime. For all we know, you could have a human serial killer on the loose.”
“You will have to excuse me if I’m not very sympathetic after seeing that room full of dead bodies. Anything, no matter how loosely related to us, is a danger. We work hard here to maintain order and keep the Acta Sanctorum out of town.”
“Those dead bodies aren’t ours,” I blurted out, feeling very annoyed by Connor’s pompous attitude.
Connor didn’t respond to my comment. He narrowed his eyes for a brief moment and then folded his arms and returned to addressing Lysander. “I realize your kind have to kill; however, I’ll not have a vampire war springing up in my backyard. I’m sure you know what will happen.”
“Yes, we have had many run-ins with the Acta Sanctorum. It is not our intention to do anything that risks our secrecy. The thing that was sent to us was not just a warning. It was a Pandora’s box. Once opened, it released a terrible evil that has already taken the life of one of my clan mates. In my two thousand years I have never run into anything like this. I hoped to find the answer, or at the very least, some clue on how to defeat this thing, in my old writings.”
Connor leaned forward in his chair. “A real Pandora’s box?” His eyes widened slightly. “That I should like to see. I’ve heard many old legends about them. Do you have it?”
“No. We couldn’t bring it with us. I fear the thing it released might be attached to the box. We left it back in Las Vegas.”
Connor’s shoulders slumped and he sat back into the cushions of the chair. “And what about finding the responsible party? The one who sent you the box?” He asked, his voice taking on some concern.
“My first goal is to seal the box again, but yes,” Lysander said with a nod. “I need to find the one who sent it to us. And I assure you, the responsible party will pay with their life.”
“How soon can we expect you to leave?” Connor said with another quick glance at his watch.
I was shocked at his attitude. He seemed not to have a care at all for what we were dealing with. He just wanted us out of his hair.
“My writings were not in the cellar. Without them, we are back to square one, I’m afraid.”
“And what was in those writings?”
“History.”
“Your personal history?” A note of curiosity played in his voice.
“Yes, specifically, the early part.”
Connor cocked his head to the side and tapped his chin with his forefinger as if considering something important. “Who else would know where to look for your writings?”
“I believed that my writings had been lost or destroyed by my former mate. The one who told us of their location is named Edmond,” Lysander said with a growl. Though time had passed, the anger was still there.
Edmond? But surely he wouldn’t have set us up
. When we last saw him, he’d helped us escape from Kallisto’s coven and the fire. He was grateful to us for sparing his life, and had told Lysander where to look for his lost writings as a peace offering.
For the briefest moment I saw Connor’s eyebrow arch before settling back down. That name meant something to him, but it appeared that he didn’t want to admit it. “I’m sure there are plenty of vampires out there named Edmond.”
Lysander nodded and leaned forward, dropping his voice to a whisper. “He was consort to a powerful vampire named Kallisto.”
“Then I suggest you locate this Edmond and take care of
your
problem.” He dug into his pocket, pulled out a small thin metal container, opened it, and slid out a crisp white business card. “I’ll expect you to be out of my territory in the next couple of days. If it takes longer, you will let me know.” He handed the card to Lysander.
“We don’t plan on staying,” Lysander said curtly.
Connor rose to his feet and so did the two wolves. They trailed behind him as he walked swiftly to the door and left without another word.
“Nice guy,” I said sarcastically as the door slammed shut behind him.
“He’s an Alpha; they have to posture and dominate the room they are in. I am willing to bet that was his attempt to be cordial.”
I grimaced. If that was cordial, I wondered what rude would be like. Lysander must have read my mind, because he answered me before I could get the question out.
“Wolves are usually short on words. For them, body language matters, both in their wolf form and in their human form. You have to learn to read between the lines.”
I scrunched up my face in confusion. I hadn’t noticed anything about the way he was sitting or gesturing that signaled anything pleasant.
Lysander sighed. “He gave us his calling card, in case we stay longer than expected. That means he is not against offering us help if necessary.”
I didn’t see it the same way, but then again I had never dealt with a wolf before.
“He will not come out and offer help. He wants us to ask him for it.”
“Got it. That makes him the big hero coming to our rescue.”
“Yes, if he decides to help at all. With wolves, it is all about image.”
Nicholas appeared at the front door, covered in dirt and grime. “Good thing this house is completely surrounded by trees. Less chance any neighbors spotted me.”
“Where are the bodies?” I asked.
“Best you don’t know.” He shot me a cold stare then turned to Lysander. “Are we done here?”
The walk back to the motel took considerably less time than the walk to the house. Lysander seemed to be moving with renewed purpose and a better sense of direction. When we arrived, Fallon was fast asleep on one of the beds. She barely stirred as we entered. For a moment I found it oddly comforting that she had become so accustomed to having vampires around. The first week she lived with us, she barely slept at all.
Lysander took a spot at the table and pulled over a small pad of paper with the hotel’s logo on it. Then he grabbed a pen, bit the cap off, and started writing.
I’d seen him do this a million times. That’s what Lysander did: He wrote things, usually history.
I walked behind him to peer over his shoulder. His writing was more chaotic than usual, and his script lacked the fancy scrawl he used in his books, but I could still make out some of what he was listing. He had written Edmond’s name down as well as a few other names I didn’t recognize. Below those were names of places, cities, and countries.
When he paused for a second, I took the opportunity to speak up. “So do you really think it was Edmond?”
“He would be the most obvious suspect, but why him? And for that matter, why now? It has been months since we last saw him. He could have had plenty of opportunities to strike.”
“So then it’s probably not him.”
“We can still keep him on the list; but no, I don’t think he would have done it. Whoever did, though, would have had knowledge of that secret hiding place.”
“You said you built this house, though. Isn’t it your hiding spot?” I asked.
“In the early days, I used it to sleep, safe from the sun. Back then people were nosy, and it looked very strange that I only came out at night. I felt safer sleeping in a hidden cell. So yes, originally it was my spot. However, I have not lived here since Kallisto ran me out of town. I maintained ownership of the property, but the house is no longer my residence.”
“We killed off Kallisto’s coven, though… well, the Acta Sanctorum did, at least. Who else would have known about the hiding spot?”
“All of the vampires I sired were taken by Kallisto.”
“Did any ever leave her?”
“Have you considered the possibility that the Acta Sanctorum is involved in this plot?” Nicholas flopped down on the open bed and covered his eyes with his hands.
“I have,” Lysander replied. “But why kill the humans and leave them in the cellar?
Saints
don’t kill humans. Whoever did this was immortal. They set it up to appear like a human crime, but they left a trail straight to my secret spot. I do not like all of this uncertainty.” Lysander’s eternally youthful face looked so old at that moment, as if each fine line had been enhanced.
“We’ll figure it out.” I tried to sound reassuring, though I knew I was failing miserably. We were counting on Lysander to be the one to fix things; if he didn’t know what to do, then we were fucked… to put it mildly.
He reached out and stroked my arm. “Thank you.”
“How about our good buddy Santino?” I asked. “We could call him down here. Maybe he knows something. Or maybe he can help us track down who’s involved?”
“Not a good idea, sweetheart. Santino may be an ex-Saint, but he has a lot of enemies in the supernatural world. With the wolves so close, and already angry at us, that would be asking for trouble.”
“What about the wolves?” I asked. “Did you see the way Connor perked up when you mentioned Kallisto? And he said something about a legend with a Pandora’s box.”
Lysander met my eyes with a knowing look. “Yes, he did seem very interested when I mentioned the box. And he did give us an invitation.” Lysander pulled out the small card and stared at it for a moment. “If they would be willing, perhaps we could discuss the Pandora’s box. At the very least we might get a history lesson.”
“Maybe they can sniff around and find the scent of the vampire too. They do that, right?”
“Don’t treat a wolf like a dog, Alyssa, they’ll kill you before you can say ‘Fetch.’” Nicholas laughed as he said the last line.
It was nice to hear his old snarky tone. I couldn’t imagine what he must be going through without his mate. He’d been eerily calm these last few days, like a bomb about to go off. A laugh was a good sign. It meant he was still capable of happy emotions and maybe not as volatile as I’d originally assumed.
“Yes, we should definitely consider asking them for help, but we will need to wait a night or so before approaching them again,” Lysander said. “But if they agree, remember it will be on their terms.”
“Got it,” I said. “Wolves like to run the show.”
After our discussion, it was agreed we would contact Connor within the next couple of days, to avoid wasting too much time. With that business solved for now, we were left with a free evening to hunt, and I was starving.
Lysander droned on and on about vampires he’d had dealings with in the past, continuing on his quest to recall and list any potential enemies. Fallon looked so peaceful sleeping in her bed. I figured she wouldn’t miss me if I was gone for an hour or two… maybe more. Nicholas, an elder who didn’t need blood as often as I did, sat on the edge of the bed in front of the TV, surfing channels—probably looking for news reports or something like that, as was his way. I doubted he would want to go see the town and hunt… with me. I was currently the least favorite of his clanmates. That left Lysander.
“How about a little trip into the city?” I asked him with a sly smile. “Grab a bite to eat. See some of the sights?”
We hadn’t hunted together since we officially decided we were mates. It made things awkward. Sure, hunting wasn’t a sexual thing (I don’t get off on death), but petty jealousy, on both sides, seemed to creep in at the oddest of times. Lysander had a preference for female victims. Even though he hunted criminals, it would set my blood boiling to see any beautiful woman in Lysander’s arms. They might be moaning in pain, but that made no difference to me. The only woman moaning and squirming in Lysander’s arms should be me. The same could be said for him, about my taste for male victims. Not that most criminals were regularly on the handsome side, but Lysander always seemed to point out dirty, strung-out thugs for me to take down. Needless to say, it created a necessity for hunting to be more of a solo experience. Our age difference and Lysander’s overprotective nature were enough to cause problems in the relationship without adding jealousy into the mix.
Boston being unfamiliar territory though, I really wanted to have someone join me. And I definitely wanted to do a little sightseeing.
“Boston is not like home, sweetheart. You won’t find the same all-night lifestyle here. But yes, we can take in the sea air and maybe share a meal by the docks.”
Like any human tourist, I wanted to see all Boston had to offer. We took the metro line to the heart of the city and started with a stroll through the Boston Public Gardens. In Vegas, we had plenty of parks, but this one stole my breath away. With a backdrop of the gorgeous Boston skyline hugging the borders of the expansive park, it felt like an urban oasis — a pure and clean slice of paradise amid the congested concrete jungle.
The weather was crisp and signs of autumn were all around. The yellow of the streetlamps amplified the warm colors of the turning leaves, making some look like gold. Even in the dim light, I could make out the crimson, plum, and ochre of other trees.