Under Wraps (22 page)

He stirred and his arms tightened around me, his lips gently nuzzling my hair. “Back to sleep, Lawson,” I heard him mutter.

“I can’t sleep with you in here,” I said, wriggling out of his grasp. “Isn’t there some sort of police rule about not sleeping with your partners?”

“Only if you’re HR. Now can you turn it down? I’ve got to be up in two hours.” He nestled his dark head against my pillow, his breathing immediately going even and soft. “Besides,” he added, his voice low, “you’re awfully comfortable.”

His palm stroked my naked back and I saw stars.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmured. “Relax. Just don’t try and get fresh with me.”

I glared over my shoulder, seeing the apple arc of his cheek as it pushed up in a smug grin.

“Parker,” I tried. But as his palm worked its gentle circles down my spine every single synapse in my brain was firing; every nerve ending was on red alert. I was completely convinced that spontaneous combustion was a very real probability lying there in my bed with Parker Hayes.

I extracted myself from Parker’s warm arms, slipped into a nightshirt, and blew out a long sigh.

“Parker,” I started, “this has to end here and now. Look, I really do like you. First of all, you’re an excellent detective and I am thrilled to be working with you. But that’s just it. I really don’t ever mix business with pleasure. It’s not that I don’t want to—to have a personal relationship with you; it’s just that I think it would be a better idea if we kept our relationship on a professional level, at least for the duration of the case. Maybe after that we can try something, you know, start with a regular date and all. Do you understand, Parker?”

Parker answered me with a long, low snore, his eyelashes fluttering softly.

“Christ,” I said, flopping back down on the bed.

The sun was streaming through my curtains, and I blinked, yawning, stretching my arms across my empty bed. I sat up with a start.

Had I imagined Parker here last night?

“Hey,” Nina padded into my room and sat daintily on the edge of my bed, handing me a steaming mug of coffee. “So, you’re welcome,” she said, grinning.

I took the mug and eyed Nina. “I’m welcome for what? The coffee? Thanks.” I took a big swig.

Nina shook her dark hair toward the empty side of the bed. “No, silly, for your roll in the hay with Coptastic. Though I must say—you two were very quiet. Didn’t hear a word.” She narrowed her eyes. “Or a squeal.”

“Ugh, Nina!”

Nina’s pale face fell. “Oh, was it not good? I really thought he’d be good.”

“He was fine,” I said, then, holding up my palm, “not that anything happened.” I took another sip of coffee.

“Boo,” Nina said, frowning.

“I can’t believe you forced him in here!”

“Give me some credit,” Nina said, tucking her thin legs underneath her. “I don’t force. I’m not scary. Okay, well, yeah, I’m a little scary. But let me tell you—Officer Hot Stuff did not need to be asked twice to come in here with you. Besides”—she stretched—“I needed a little alone time. You norms can be exhausting. So it was all for naught?”

I rifled through my drawers, collecting my clothes for the day. “I’m not answering that. Sex is just not my priority right now. Finding this killer is.”

“Sex is always a priority. Especially when you’ve got a tasty delicacy like Parker Hayes to snack on.”

I eyed Nina. She rolled her eyes. “All I’m saying is that if I can’t have sex with Parker someone should.” Nina stood up. “You coming into work today?”

I showered and dressed quickly, then met Nina in the living room. I looked around. “Where’s Vlad?”

Nina shrugged. “With Lucy, I think.”

“Is that … safe?”

Nina looked up at me. “I was just asking,” I said quickly. “You’re the one who said he was kind of troubled.”

“Troubled, like he dresses like a Halloween store bargain bag. Not troubled like he’s going to feed on a teenaged glampire. He’s smarter than that. Pickier.”

“Great.” I grimaced.

“I’ll be sure to check on him when we get into work.” I glanced at Nina and she sighed. “And I’ll check on Lucy, too.”

We drove to work in silence until Nina pulled up at a red light and looked at me, exasperated. “Really, you’re not going to tell me anything?”

I grinned. “That’s why you were so quiet this whole ride?”

Nina frowned. “I was giving you space. Space over. Really, nothing happened?”

“Really.”

“But you love him,” she moaned. “You’re attracted to him, right?”

“Okay, yeah, I’m attracted to him. But who wouldn’t be? He’s a warm body—a warm, delicious body with chiseled muscles and a head of hair just screaming for your fingers to run through it….”

Nina snapped her fingers in front of my face.

“Oh.” I grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. What I meant was, yes, Parker Hayes is attractive in a hot-model kind of way. But I know nothing about him.”

“You know he’s a cop, so that’s good.”

I frowned. “I’m starting to have a real hard time figuring out who the good guys and who the bad guys are lately. Being a cop doesn’t prove anything.”

“You know”—Nina pressed her foot on the gas and gnawed on her lower lip—“I wouldn’t expect you to know this—I mean, I’ve been around a lot longer than you have—but there is a way you can find out a few things about ol’ Parker Hayes.”

My eyes lit up. Another spy mission? Ages-old romantic insight? Sometimes it paid to have a roommate who’d been around the proverbial block seven or eight hundred times.

“Really? How?” I asked.

“Try talking to him. I find the classic question-answer approach works wonders in this kind of situation.”

“Wow. One hundred and forty-five years and that’s all you’ve got for me?”

Nina rolled her eyes. “Fine then. You just leave it to me. I’ll pin down Parker Hayes.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Metaphorically! God, you breathers take everything so literally.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” Nina had her small hands on her hips, her black eyes wide.

“My God.”

I was staring at the chaotic remains of the UDA offices. The glass partitions that separated staff from clients were cracked and in some places, caked with yellow goo mingled with drying blood. The velvet ropes that demons so patiently waited behind were shredded, and someone had tossed a potted ficus so hard it was sticking like a spear out of one wall.

“What happened here?” I asked, my feet crackling against the spray of plaster on the floor.

“Oh, Sophie, Nina, it’s you two.” Lorraine crawled out from underneath one of the half-crushed desks, and Costineau curled around my legs. I reached down and scratched him, then helped Lorraine to her feet.

“Hello, ladies,” Lorraine said sweetly, picking bits of drywall off of her blouse. “Did you get your invitations to my Tupperware party? There’s a whole new line of product. It’s called Calypso Cool.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said, my brow furrowed. “Lorraine, what happened here?”

Lorraine pulled a Post-it note from her hair and bit her lip. “Well, things got a little out of hand last night.”

“I’ll say,” Nina snorted. “Look at this place! Who did this? Zombies, right? I knew we should have barred them from the Underworld. Let them stay up top where they belong. They have no manners.”

“It wasn’t zombies. Well, it was … zombies, witches, a centaur family, a couple of trolls. Basically, our whole clientele went a little”—Lorraine’s eyes raked the destruction—“batty.”

“Why, though? Why now?” I wanted to know.

“Well.” Lorraine wringed her hands. “It seems that someone let on that Mr. Sampson is no longer in control of UDA.”

“That’s not true!” I protested. “He’s still in charge. He’s just …”

“Indisposed,” Nina finished for me.

“Who would say that?” I asked.

Lorraine smiled thinly. “Vlad.”

“Vlad?” I groaned.

“What, exactly, did Vlad say?” Nina asked.

“Well, it seems he was holding a Vampire Empowerment meeting in the lunchroom. Something about taking back the Underworld, laying our stake to what rightfully belongs to demonkind up top …”

“Oh, hell.”

“It was rather interesting, actually.”

My eyes bulged.

“From an historical angle,” Lorraine quipped. “I don’t believe in all his separation-of-demon-species propaganda or anything like that, but it did seem to rouse the masses—some of them.”

“I’ll say,” I said, scanning the room.

“But anyway”—Lorraine leaned in, lowering her voice—“then word got out that Sampson has gone missing and that he did so right about the time that the murders in San Francisco went supernatural. After being a bit incensed by Vlad and the Movement, well, I guess our clients and staff started to think that if the head of the UDA doesn’t have to keep order, why should they? I mean, the rule is you go rogue and the Underground sets you straight. But if the leader of the Underground has gone rogue …”

Nina’s coal-black eyes were wide. “Whoa.”

“And the demons started to get anxious.”

Nina and I nodded.

“And then we were so short-staffed …”

I swallowed guiltily.

“It was like a powder keg, and Mr. Sampson going rogue, well …” Lorraine smiled weakly. “I guess that was just the spark that they needed.”

“What happened to Vlad? Where is he now?” Nina asked.

Lorraine shrugged, gesturing to the half-crushed desk from which she had climbed out. “You’ll understand when I say that keeping an eye on your rabble-rouser nephew wasn’t high on my priority list while demonkind was tearing apart our offices, screaming about Sampson going rogue.”

I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. Was I the only one who had any faith in Mr. Sampson at all?

“So everyone in the Underworld thinks Sampson is responsible for the murders, too?” I could hear the hysteria rising in my voice, yet again.

Nina took both my hands and led me to the remains of a waiting room chair. She sat beside me, her brow knitted.

“Sophie, I know how much you care for Mr. Sampson.”

I looked at my knees. “He’s been the best boss I’ve ever known. The only boss.”

“Look, I know better than anyone that people—even people we love—aren’t always what we think they are. Sometimes the demon in us takes over. Sometimes it’s just too hard—or too exhausting—to control anymore. Maybe Mr. Sampson had had enough.”

I shook Nina’s hands from mine and stood up. “No. No, I don’t buy that. Just suddenly, after all this time? And why the eyeballs? The blood, huh? Why the heart? Has Mr. Sampson not only become a crazed killer but some kind of disgusting part collector, too?”

Lorraine cleared her throat; up until that moment, I had forgotten she was there. “Add demon skin, crossbred blood, and the Sword of Bethesda and he’s not collecting, he’s creating.”

Both Nina and I swung our heads to gawk at Lorraine as she casually stroked Costineau.

“Creating?” Nina asked, disgusted.

My stomach rolled. “Like Frankenstein? Body parts? He’s making a monster?”

Lorraine wagged her head. “No. Well, not exactly. He’s not making a demon—he’s creating a pathway.”

“That’s what the Sword of Brunhilda is for? Creating a pathway?”

“Sword of Bethesda,” Lorraine corrected. “It’s a special, jeweled sword. Forged specifically for the purpose of opening portals, charmed by Irish Meers, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.”

Nina crossed her arms in front of her chest. “So this stuff—the eyeballs and sword and stuff—it does what, exactly?”

Lorraine shrugged, nuzzled the cat. “The pathway, once open, will give the opener ultimate power—over demons, humans, whoever. Very enticing, but very dangerous. Most demons are too smart—or too frightened—to dabble in that kind of stuff, but to some the draw is just too great. That kind of power is … alluring.”

“Black arts,” Nina said with a shudder.

“No. Whatever is a shade darker than black—that’s what he’s working to open with the sacrifices. This kind of magic makes the black arts look downright PG. This kind of stuff will suck out your soul or what’s left of it. If you have any humanity—and some demons still do—it drains that out, too,” Lorraine informed us.

“But,” I said, licking my dry lips, “we haven’t found any demons hurt. Or”—I winced—“skinned.”

Lorraine smiled. “Actually, if Mr. Sampson is working the spell, he could use a bit of his own pelt. He is, after all, a demon, too.”

My mouth dropped open, a whoosh of air escaping. Nina rushed to my side, closing the gap between Lorraine and me. “But Mr. Sampson is not going to do that.” Nina’s eyes were hard and she swung her head toward Lorraine. “Is he, Lorraine?”

Lorraine shrugged. “I was just making an observation.”

I hugged my elbows. “No, I just can’t imagine Mr. Sampson doing something like this. And for more power?”

“Ultimate power,” Lorraine corrected. “Over anything.”

Nina raised her eyebrows. “He already lords over the entire Underworld.”

Lorraine didn’t meet my eyes. “Maybe he was ready to move on.”

“He has always been fair. And the whole Underworld looks up to him—he was
voted in
as president of the UDA. He didn’t even ask for it. He isn’t power hungry! Not enough to”—I looked sadly at the ruins of UDA—“not enough to cause this kind of destruction. He had to know what leaving UDA would do to our clients.”

“Maybe he just didn’t care,” Lorraine said quietly.

I bit my lip, pausing, before knocking on Parker’s office door. With Sampson going missing, the murders, and the imminent heart attack that was Parker Hayes, I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. I popped another Tums, chewed, and rapped on the door.

“Come in.”

Parker was hunched over his desk, his big hands cradling his head.

“Oh, Lawson, it’s you,” he said without looking up.

“Did you hear about UDA?” I asked, taking a seat across from him.

Parker nodded, and I saw that his eyes were bloodshot. His tie was crooked and his face was pale. “The chief let me know earlier. I don’t know how we’re going to put all this together. I don’t know if we’re looking for a vampire, a werewolf, a troll, the bogeyman …” He wagged his head, blowing out a sigh.