He contemplated running back into whatever area lay behind the hidden door; you could see it on his face. He didn't want to talk to us again, but he knew better than to run. Instead he stopped where he stood, put his hands on his hips, and started tapping his foot impatiently. Gosh, if he was in such a hurry, he could have come over to us. Thompson smiled at me and we walked toward Jean Phillipe, slowly.
"I told you I don't know where Matt is. Why are you bothering me again?" French accents started bothering me. What is so hard about "bothering" why did it have to come out "bozzering"? Can you say annoying?
"We do, Mr. Margeaux. He's at the city morgue," Thompson said. "Do you know who would want Matt dead?"
He wasn't a nice man, but the news of Matt's departure from this world shocked him. He wasn't a good enough actor to register that kind of surprise. He didn't look sad, just shocked. Then I saw something cross his face I recognized at once, realization. He knew exactly who killed Matt. The question being, would he tell us?
"
Non
, I don't know anybody who would want him dead." I guess he wasn't. Prick. "If you would please excuse me, I need to tell his girlfriend Veronica."
"Is she your charming bouncer we met out front of the club? By the way, what brings you here? How come you're not still bartending over at the Carnival?" I even said Carnival with a fake French accent. I impressed myself, mine was way better than Lou's had been. Thompson's elbow in my ribs let me know he wasn't impressed. Maybe I did need a babysitter.
"I own this place too," he said, only this came out "zis". "I had been there only because Matt understandably did not show up for work. Lou is fine in the dining room, but horrible behind the bar. As to your other question, yes, Veronica is my hostess here."
"So you have no idea who would want Matt dead?"
"Other than the little Verminator,
non
."
"What about Cicero?"
"Matt had never met Cicero, why would he want him dead?" He used his crooked little smile. I had had enough. I looked into his eyes and sought out his power, only this time I intended to.
His power spread out before me, a good sized body of choppy waters reflecting the summer moon. Jean Phillipe was a master vampire and I hoped this worked on him. If it didn't, I hoped Thompson would bail me out. I just hoped he could tell when and if I found myself Mayor of Indeepshitsville. I let the club fade away until only he and I floated alone. I tried to speak to him but I couldn't. Instead I thought at him, "Tell me who you're protecting.” I saw his fear and then I smelled it in the darkness. I could see him struggle against the power I poured out with the thought, and lose. His thought drifted across the room and settled itself in my mind, "Cicero". Maybe not him directly, but he ordered Matt killed, probably after seeing the newspaper. I suspected it and he confirmed it. Jean Phillipe feared he would be next. Everyone had orders not to talk to the police. He feared me, but Cicero had turned into a nightmare who would get them all killed. I had what I wanted and let go of Jean Phillipe's mind.
I found myself staring out of my own eyes back in the club with the music blaring all around me. Jean Phillipe lay on the floor like he had fallen after I let him go. Thompson reached down and helped the fallen vampire up to his feet.
"
Non
, what did you do?" He stared at me with a horrific look on his face. He had slipped beyond afraid and into the realm of terrified. Only this time I had become the focus of his fear. When a supe becomes afraid around me, the smell is intoxicating, but his terror delved into the realm of irresistible. I had to clench my fists together and dig my talons into my palm to make the pain wash away the hunger I had for the French vampire. "Who are you? What are you? You shouldn't have been able to roll my mind like you did," he started babbling. I needed to get out of here and fast.
"Thompson, I need to leave now," I told him out of the side of my mouth.
"In a minute, I have a few more questions."
"Now!" I had heard someone yell at the Grand Canyon on a television show once and remembered how it echoed on and on until it faded. My "now" came out exactly like I cried it over a canyon ten times the size. It echoed off the walls of the club and bounced back at me a hundred times before finally stopping. For the first time since it had opened, the club had gone silent. The music still blared only because there wasn't a DJ to stop spinning the record, but not one soul made a sound.
I looked over at the bar and the three deep patrons had stopped conversing and turned to the source of the horrific cry. I looked down over the balcony and all the people dancing had stopped to look up through the hole in the second story floor to see what had happened. Now I really needed to leave. I didn't care if Thompson stayed or followed, but I turned and walked down the stairs, through the revolving door and out into the night.
I felt better once the outside air hit my skin. The cool air helped clear the intoxicating smell of fear from my nose, but the hunger didn’t remained. I heard the clip clop of a size fifteen shoe from behind me and I knew Thompson had joined me. He laid a hand on my shoulder and asked if I felt alright. I wasn't. I had to eat and do it now. The only food in sight was the meaty hand on my shoulder. I gave no warning to Thompson; I just grabbed his arm with my talons and struck. I felt my fangs pierce skin and muscle and settle into his bone. He tried to pull his wrist from my mouth, but couldn't.
The blood hit my tongue and made me gasp from its deliciousness. I rolled it around and swallowed it as fast as I could. I could feel Thompson's fingers pushing against my lips trying to break my hold, but he couldn't. There wasn't any pain and I could have ignored his feeble attempts to force me away if I had wanted to, but I did. I did want to. I felt horrified I had attacked a fellow agent let alone my temporary partner. Comprehension overcame hunger and I let go with both my mouth and hands. I backed away muttering, "I'm so sorry," over and over again.
He straightened his back and shivered as I backed away. I looked at his furrowed brow and his sweaty skin and I just collapsed on the wet Chicago pavement. I didn't pass out like I wish I had, merely fell to my butt and brought my knees up to my chest. I hugged my legs and began rocking and crying. It had been a while since the last time I cried, and I couldn't stop the tears. I felt it drip down my face and stain the sleeve of my jacket red. Bloody tears welled from my eyes. What the hell had happened? What the hell kind of monster was I turning into?
I looked up and the people waiting in line stood staring at us with a horrified expression on their faces. Those looks made me cry even more. Then I saw Veronica. She smiled at me like she wanted to have sex with me. She tilted her head back and ran her hands all over herself. I buried my face in my arms so I couldn't watch anymore. This whole night had come straight out of a nightmare.
Then I felt something I hadn't expected. Massive arms, smelling of sage, wrapped themselves around me. Thompson lifted me off the pavement and held me to his chest like a small child, and I buried my face against his warmth. I stayed there until I felt him settle me into my seat inside the Suburban. He had carried me all the way back to the parking garage and not said a word. I felt my dislike of the man change into something a little more positive. I just hope he didn't hate me more. I had attacked him, and by all rights he could have me kicked out of the FBI. At this point I wondered if I cared. I couldn't stop myself from making one mistake after another.
I fell asleep in the vehicle and then woke briefly as Thompson carried me into Michaels' apartment. I remember flashes of a concerned Michaels opening the door and leading Thompson to my room. I remember him laying me down on my bed and Pete covering me up with a blanket and somebody taking off my shoes. I heard a little of their conversation as Thompson gave a brief synopsis of the evening while they watched over me. Then I remembered nothing.
Chapter 18
I must have fallen back into my normal routine of waking with the waning sun. I literally felt it slip over the horizon, and my eyes opened. I rolled my tongue around in my dry mouth and could still taste the last vestiges of Thompson's blood, which brought the events of last night back into my mind. I groaned like a wounded caribou.
Michaels jumped up from the floor and looked around the room and quickly groaned as the pain in his head kicked back up. I laughed in my head at the absurdity of him groaning from a head wound, and me groaning from being a fucking moron who didn't deserve the badge she wore. He looked down at my blanket-covered form and asked me, "What's the matter, are you okay?"
"No, I'm an idiot. Are you okay?"
"No, my head hurts."
We both started laughing at the same time. Free therapy rules. "Will you help me find a job?"
"What are you talking about?" He looked utterly confused.
"I attacked Thompson last night and fed off of him. I couldn't help it. Some weird shit happened to me last night, and before you ask, I'll tell you later. I don't even want to think about it right now. Well anyway, I ended up making Thompson a late night snack. When Reese finds out I'm going to have to start collecting an unemployment check."
"Did you know you're a dolt, Fangs?"
"Huh?"
"Agents take care of each other," he started. I gave him a what-are-you-talking-about look. "Thompson called Reese last night and told him he had to open a vein for you because you almost attacked a vampire in a club last night. You should have heard him. I've never heard anybody yell at Reese before. Anyway, a couple of paramedics came by while you slept and dropped off some Lycanthrope blood. It's in the fridge if you're still hungry."
"Huh?" My head swam in a river of confusion. Thompson called Reese and stuck up for me? "I thought he hated me," I told Michaels.
"Yeah, he told me you had been a bitch when he first started working with you, but he told me he found you pretty fascinating and pretty funny. Oh and he said you're cute too."
"Huh?" I really needed a thesaurus for my birthday. I understood what Michaels said, I just didn't believe it.
Michaels just laughed at me and told me to get ready. Thompson would be here around seven-thirty to pick me up since I left our Suburban at the office. I shooed him back into his bed and made sure he took his medication. Once he settled in I gave him a kiss on his forehead like my aunt used to do when I had been little. He kind of looked at me cross-eyed like I had a screw (or two) loose so I gave him the finger, laughed, and went to go shower and change. I had just finished when my cell phone started ringing. "Hello?" I glanced at the caller I.D. and saw Thompson's name.
"I'm downstairs whenever you're ready," his deep voice grumbled out of the cell.
"Be down in five," I said and flipped the phone closed. "Pete, I'm leaving," I called out to the other bedroom.
"Be careful, Fangs!" I heard him groan, so I knew he hurt his own head from yelling.
I made it down to the Suburban in just a few minutes, much less than my allotted five. I knocked on the window and I heard the doors unlock. I pulled the handle and climbed into the seat next to Thompson. "Good morning, kid," he grumbled at me.
I smiled at him and looked out the window at the dark sky. "You're a night owl too?"
"I've been working nights my whole career."
"How long have you been an agent?"
"I did eight years in the Army, and then joined the FBI about sixteen years ago. Been a hell of a ride," he said and smiled as he thought over his experiences.
"Thanks for last night big man. I owe you big time. If you catch me being a brat again smack me," I said and lowered my eyes in embarrassment.
"Just keep being interesting, kid. We'll get along fine. Just try not to bite me again okay?"
"Did it hurt?" He pulled the massive SUV from its parking spot.
"No, I liked it a lot, just don't ever do it again. Ain’t never been bitten by a vampire before."
I smiled and we rode in silence. I could tell by the route he took he planned on stopping by the office. I figured it might be wise to do so. I should probably check in with Reese and thank him for sending over the blood last night. What I had taken from Thompson would last me for a day or two, but now I wouldn't have to worry about my next few meals. We pulled into the parking garage and Thompson got a spot right next to the elevator.
"How do you get such good spots all the time?"
"I sacrifice chickens to the parking gods."
I laughed at his joke and he stared at me like I had two heads. Maybe he wasn't joking. Oh well, to each his own. Maybe I should start trying it. We made our way into the office and the sea of desks remained mostly empty, just a few agents talking on the telephone and working on laptop computers. Thompson didn't stop by his desk on the way, merely followed me to Reese's office. I knocked twice on the frame and walked right in. He was on the phone again as usual. He gave me and Thompson a dirty look and held up his one index finger like he wanted us to wait.
"Sir, this is getting ridiculous, we have to get them to print a retraction," he said and paused listening to whoever was on the other end of the line. "No, sir, she wasn't. It's not the point, sir," the conversation went on. "Yes, sir I will. No, sir, have a good night," he said and finally hung up the receiver on the phone. "Do me a favor will you, Ashlyn?”
"Sure, what?"
"When you're out in the public, please think about
what you are doing in front of witnesses
!" The pitch of his speech rose in crescendo about mid sentence and by the time he finished he escalated to yelling. I heard the door creak closed and then click closed. At least Thompson didn't want the rest of the office listening.
"What are you talking about, sir?" I stared at him blankly. Apparently I had done something wrong, but for the life of me I had no idea what. Then it hit me. I watched as Reese tossed yet another newspaper in front of me on the desk. I looked down on the front page and saw a stock photo of me at the news conference. The picture wasn't a big deal, the headline on the other hand might have been. It read, "The New FBI". At least it's what you saw when you glanced at it, but if you looked closely at the words written in a font size about twelve points smaller than the garish headlines in between the "F" and "B" and after the "I" you could read the words, "anged, rutal, and nterrogator". If you read it all together, today's headline read "The New Fanged Brutal Interrogator". “Nice,” I thought.