The Scene (29 page)

              “Not yet. All I’m saying Dylan is just because he gives you a smile and nod, doesn’t mean he’s a saint. In fact, ‘enemies closer’, right? What better way to throw you off his trail than to get close to you. What killer would make friends with the good guys? The ones who are hiding in plain sight.” He had a point. A damn good point. 

It made me feel really fucking stupid to think Cyrus might have used me to kill more girls. Everything in me told me he didn’t do this; everything but my generally silent brain that is. My brain was screaming at me, telling me I was wrong about Cyrus Atossa. A few days ago
, I hated him, and then I wanted to sleep with him. Now I’m on the verge of accusing him of murder. Maybe it was my damned insecurity, maybe he was a villain and my subconscious knew it, maybe I was the one going bat shit crazy. Either way, the longer I didn’t have to gaze into those unadulterated green eyes, the more I resented the hell out of Cyrus for making me question myself and my sanity. If Cyrus wasn’t involved, who was? Malcolm? He had serious control over his minions; maybe he had some of them fetching his hooker blood for him. Or maybe Dominika? That was becoming a distinct possibility. What about Regina?

             
“That still doesn’t tell us who knocked off Reggie,” I said unexpectedly.

             
“No, it doesn’t. But we can theorize that whoever did it held some kind of grudge. The manner of death, location, all of it, isn’t random. What if she was involved somehow? Linked to the killers and threatened to rat them out. They kill her in a way that sends a message to us, to the other vampires. Van Helsing style.” He flashed a smug grin.

             
“That is very likely now that you mention it. Who else would kill someone as if they were a vampire but bloodsucking obsessed freaks?” We nodded in unison.

             
A few quiet moments passed before Mike’s phone buzzed.

             
“This is Mike.” He drives me nuts answering the phone like that. “Eight is fine.” One ended conversations drive me nuts too. “Yes, and make sure you are in attendance. I have a few questions for you as well.” He was using his big boy words. “Yes.” He sighed heavily covering the receiver of the phone. “Hey, have you talked to Tatum today?” It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me.

             
“No, haven’t talked to her since last night.” My brows furrowed questioning him.

             
“No. She hasn’t.” Long pause. “I see. Yes, it is a little concerning. I’ll look into that for Dylan.”  He said my name in his most condescending voice. “Thank you, Mr. Atossa. We will be seeing you in a few hours then. Bye.” He hung up with a little added force.

             
“Why was he asking about Tatum?” I asked worriedly trying not to think of the bloody neck fountain again.

             
“Apparently, no one’s heard from her since she left Malcolm late last night.”

             
“I wasn’t aware they had that type of relationship. The call-the-next-day kind.”             

             
“He didn’t elaborate, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she left in a hurry, knowing Tatum. Only said she hasn’t been contacted since last night. You called her today didn’t you?” he asked calmly.

             
“Yeah, it went to her voicemail. She’s probably avoiding the world; wouldn’t be the first time.” Genuine worry was beginning to seep in.

             
“Keep your phone on you just in case she calls.” I saluted him like the good soldier I am.

             
We were to meet with Cyrus and Malcolm at eight o’clock in his office at Embrace. The one and only time I had ever set eyes on that office my best friend was flailing around naked searching for clothing. I wasn’t looking forward to being in his presence again. I was disappointed in Tatum and it was entirely his fault; sort of. Now she wasn’t answering my calls, or his I guess, and no one knew where she was. I wondered if anyone had tried her at home. I decided if I didn’t hear from her tonight, that would be my next move. Normally I wouldn’t think twice about Tatum falling off the grid, but I wasn’t exactly in the trusting mood as of late. In the long run, I just hoped she didn’t lose her head.

             
“So, Tatum really sucked your blood?” I let my head fall back on the couch as I rolled my eyes.

Seriously
?

             
“Shut the fuck up, Mike.” I stood and headed for the bathroom to ready myself to meet with the ginger vamp and Cyrus, The Slave Boy. I could hear him laughing even after I shut the bathroom door.

             
So Tatum drank my blood. At least I still had my head. 

CHAPTER 28

              The once brightly lit building was now shrouded in deep shadows. Torn remnants of yellow police tape flittered around like morbid butterflies. There was no bouncer guarding the door tonight, no velvet rope blocking the entrance. The red carpet had been hauled away as evidence. For obvious reasons, Embrace was not allowed to open its doors tonight. It looked like a ghost town. I had never really paid attention to the areas surrounding the house-like building, until now. When you’re surrounded by silent darkness, your survival instinct is to remain overly aware of your surroundings. Watching for the boogeyman through the crack in the closet. No boogeyman. Yet.

             
“Were we supposed to go through the front door?” I asked, as Mike and I stood side by side staring at the front of the darkened entrance.

             
“I was told we’d meet at Malcolm’s office at Embrace. Where’s that?” My stomach tightened.

             
“Follow me.” I tugged his shirt sleeve as I made my way to the side of the building.

             
If my memory served me correctly, just around the side of the building should be a small tight access road where we could find those metal stairs. Embrace sat lonely on the corner, sitting a bit back from the road. I was noticing the other buildings were similar to this: old houses. This whole area was probably once a neighborhood before it was zoned for commercial use. A few of these buildings, or houses, were boarded up and posted with signs warning the impending demolition. They’ll probably be torn down and replaced by cookie-cutter stucco strip malls and parking structures. Mike and I passed under the golden streetlight that had washed over Cyrus and I the night before. I walked with purpose toward the darkened corner. Mike’s long legs struggled to not over step mine and speed past me. He was taking my lead; good boy. Around the corner, just as I’d remembered, lay the clanging metal stairs.

             
“There.” I pointed at the solemn door at the top of the steps.

             
“How did you know…?” He let the question trail off. Probably not really wanting to know all there was to know. Not now at least. Sometimes too much information at once clogs the brain functions.

             
I made my way up the clanking steps without answering his question. He followed obediently behind. His footfalls echoed mine at twice the decibels resounding off the adjacent buildings. I balled my fist and used it to beat on the heavy door. Unlike the first time I had visited this door, it opened almost immediately.

             
“My darling, Dylan.” Flashy white teeth sparkled inside a beautiful mouth.

             
“Can the cheese, Cyrus, this isn’t the time.” I pushed past him into the office.

             
“Detective Petersen.” The smile remained plastered on his perfect face as he addressed Mike.

             
“Mr. Atossa.” Mike showed only a furrowed brow and a straight face.

             
Malcolm was perched on the corner of his oversized manly desk. His shoulder length hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. From this angle, he looked as if he were wearing a fox skin cap. He wore a very nicely tailored suit done all in shades of emerald and bronze. If it weren’t so obvious the suit had cost more than I made in a few months, I would have said he looked like a fancy leprechaun but apparently someone more knowledgeable than me said it was fashionable.              

             
“Dylan Hart, I did not expect to see you this evening.” He had the humility to look a bit embarrassed. Just a bit.

             
“Mike, Detective Petersen, asked me to come tonight. I have some questions for you myself,” I said as I stepped further into the manly office.

             
“No you don’t,” Mike said standing to my left now. “No she doesn’t.”

Malcolm offered the two of us a seat in the large leather chairs placed directly in front of his desk. “Thank you, Mr. McTavish, but we’ll stand.”  And we did; in the same damn spot.

I would have taken the seat. Damn Michael.

             
“How can we be of assistance to you, detective?” Malcolm was sitting behind his oversized desk in his equally oversized chair.

Cyrus had moved to stand behind him like a good little lap dog. This office looked like a smaller version of the one he had at Sween. Oversized dark brown desk. Matching leather chairs and light brown walls. The only thing the office was missing were the suits of armor and broad swords that adorned the walls in his office at Sween.

              “First, can you tell me why there was a dead woman on your red carpet at seven this morning? We can move on from there.” Mike had whipped out his handy dandy notebook, pen poised.

             
“Why would you assume I would have any knowledge of that poor girl’s death?” His face looked confused, but his voice was very terse. As if he wasn’t too happy we were there.

             
“Cut the shit, Malcolm, she worked for you. You sent Cyrus all the way to Fresno to recruit her. Obviously, she meant something to you.” I had moved forward to lean my hands on the desk. Mike sighed loudly. I was fairly certain he was holding his forehead behind me.

             
“She did work at one of my establishments, yes. How did you come to discover she had been requested specifically?” Malcolm adjusted himself in his chair. The leather squeaked under his weight distastefully.

             
“Her coven in Fresno spilled the proverbial beans. I know everything; all I need from you is confirmation of details.” I tried hard to portray dominance.

             
“Why? So you can publish your precious book? So you can exploit our kind, make money off the tragedy of these poor girls’ demise.” He said this as though it would cut deep to the core.

             
“Not exactly.” He was right, to a point. “Why was Regina left dead on your doorstep, Malcolm?” I cut to the chase.

             
“If you are implying I had something to do with it, I can assure you I did not. Your friend, Tatum, was with me all night. If we could contact her, she could explain the…details.” His once modest exterior had transformed into arrogance.

             
“You knew I would be here. You knew the police would be asking questions. That’s why you were so desperate to get ahold of Tatum today. You bastard. Why her? She doesn’t need to be involved in all this bullshit.” I felt bile crawl up the back of my throat as my mind flashed to the scene from my dream once again. I swallowed hard, trying to push back the disgust and fear that was trying to take over.

             
“She involved herself months before any prostitute had been exsanguinated. If you were unaware of this, perhaps you should take it up with her. My sexual relations aside, is there anything else I may assist with?” He sat calmly, hands folded neatly on his desk.

             
“Yeah, who is Diego?” I finally had enough of the standing crap and sat down.

             
“I do not know of any Diego.” Cyrus shifted slightly behind the huge leather chair as his master denied any familiarity.

             
“What about a Fredrick Wells?” Mike finally piped-up.

             
“No. The name does not sound familiar. Cyrus, do you know the man they are speaking off?” Malcolm spoke over his shoulder.

              “Uh…I think Reggie had a friend named Diego, but I don’t know who he is.” He was telling the truth about as much as I’m a petite little flower.

             
“So when are we gonna cut the lying shit and get to the goddamned truth, cause I don’t have all night.” I sat calmly as well, crossed my legs, and folded my hands in my lap.

             
I could see Mike out of the corner of my eye; he was holding his forehead again. I would lay down a thousand dollars he was regretting asking me to join him. I could give a fuck.

             
“If, perhaps, there were a member by the name of Diego, or Fredrick, what makes you assume I would have intimate knowledge of his whereabouts? And as for this Regina business, I have an alibi; there is nothing more I can do for you. As it is, your people have closed my doors for the evening costing me thousands of dollars in revenue.” The bastard had the gall to act as if his dear money was the chief concern.

             
“She was killed in a very interesting manner, sir. We were hoping you would be able to provide some kind of insight as to why, or who would do this.” Mike finally took the seat next to mine leaving Cyrus the only being still standing; he looked awkward.

             
“I have only the information that was released on the news this evening. Beheaded, am I correct?” Mike only nodded once. “Why would you assume I would know about beheading?” Malcolm laughed lightly.

             
“It’s what was not released we’re concerned with. The young woman also had a large, sharp, wooden object lodged into her chest.”

             
“Jesus, Mike, just say stake. She had a stake in her heart and her head had been lopped off. Why would someone do that to her?” I sat forward dramatically.

             
“I have no idea. Honestly, this concerns me. You understand this could potentially threaten my entire coven. My clients who feel this to be a safe haven would not feel comfortable with this.” His stone face was finally showing a hint of emotion. Fear.

             
“I understand, but for the time being, I need you to keep this under wraps. We can’t have this information leaking to the media, or even your people for that matter. This situation is still under investigation.” Mike flipped his book closed and jammed it into his pocket.

             
“I will not speak a word of it. Perhaps it would be best to close, temporarily, until this has been rectified.” Malcolm was finally beginning to understand the weight of the situation.

             
“Scared you that much? So much you’d risk your profits. I find that hard to believe. You know Diego, and I can prove it. You were seen leaving Macabre Saturnine with him and two others last night. I came here with Cyrus looking for them when we walked in on the two of you rocking the Casbah.”

             
“Ms. Hart,” he smirked and chuckled lightly under his breath, “I am not certain as to your experience with sexual encounters, but how do you imagine I made it all the way back here with your Diego and meet with Ms. Price before you entered? In my experience, that timeline is implausible to say the least.”

             
“Number one, I would prefer not to imagine anything. Number two, a quickie in the office couldn’t take that long. Furthermore, I may not be the slut of the year, but if I know Tatum, she could have had you up and down and half way to happy town before you had time to introduce yourself. So yes, in my opinion, you had plenty of time.” I stared him straight in his lime green eyes.

             
“I see. You may ask Ms. Price yourself if you require solidarity. Or, if you wish, you could view the video surveillance footage. I spent my evening here, in my office, with my female friend.” He spread his hands palms up as if he were displaying the desk.

             
“I was informed that you had left with Diego and his friends last night; maybe my source was misinformed.” I continued to stare him down. I would get him to crack if my life depended on it, at this point it may.

             
“Perhaps.” He sat as still as stone. I wasn’t even sure he was breathing. I stared him down as menacingly as I could. If I had my gun with me, I would have used it.

             
“Mr. McTavish, I believe that is enough for this evening. Thank you for your time.” Mike stood; I stared up at him in shock.

Why are we leaving?

             
“Of course. If you need anything further, please contact Mr. Atossa to set an appointment.” Malcolm stuck his hand out to shake.

             
“Oh, and if you wouldn’t mind staying put for the time being; I’d rather not have to hunt you down. You as well, Mr. Atossa. I may have further questions for the two of you. Also, if you see anything strange, or come across anything you think I should be aware of, please call me. Anytime.” Mike handed them both a business card with his cell number scribbled on the back.

             
I refused to make eye contact with any of the men in the room as I made my way to the door. I could feel movement at my back as I followed Mike down the clanging stairs. I made myself look straight ahead as I descended to the bottom, before a hand clamped my shoulder.

             
“I have nothing to say to you.” I turned to find Cyrus at my back as I had suspected.

             
“I have plenty to say to you,” Cyrus said seriously.

             
“What’s the hold up here?” Mike called from a few feet ahead.