Текст книги "Retribution"

Автор книги: Jeanne Stein

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

CHAPTER 33

IT’S RAINING WHEN I WAKE UP WEDNESDAY MORNING. I’m in bed listening to it beat against the windows and the deck and wishing I could pull the covers up over my head and go back to sleep.

Then I think about Culebra and those girls and I roll out of my blanket cocoon and propel myself up.

The newspaper is on the front porch next to its plastic sleeve. The exposed half of the paper is soggy and drips all over the floor when I carry it in.

Shit.

I get it over to the kitchen counter and spread it out. Page one headlines blare “Police Officer Killed. Fire at Cosmetics Company Warehouse Claims Life.” Piecing together the story from rain-soaked newsprint, there isn’t much to learn that I don’t already know. The article says the warehouse was destroyed along with all the product being prepared for next week ’s gala launch of Eternal Youth, the heralded new antiaging cream. An unidentified spokesperson for the company issued a statement saying how devastated they are about the fate of policeman Mario Ortiz, who died a hero when he entered the building to make sure no one was inside. Their condolences go to his family. Second Chance management plans to have the factory back up and running in the next few months.

Not happening.

Simone Tremaine, president and CEO of Second Chance, was not available for comment.

I’ll bet. Burke has gone to ground.

I tap a fingernail against the paper. The article claims all the product was destroyed in the fire. I saw somethingbeing loaded into trucks when I arrived at the warehouse on Monday. And there was nothing at all on the conveyor belts just before the fire broke out. Burke stockpiled her precious cream before she had the place torched.

Not that she’s going to have a chance to sell it. I’ll make sure of that.

Williams calls just as I’m about to step into the shower. “I got the product analysis back,” he says.

“And?”

“A lot of stuff with chemical names I can’t pronounce along with one I can. Animal glycoprotein.”

“Animal glycoprotein? What the hell is that?”

“Vampire blood.”

“ Animalglycoprotein? How can that be vampireblood?”

Williams pauses a long moment before he says, “You seem unable or unwilling to accept the fact that we are no longer human, Anna.”

His words send a tremor through me. “I am not an animal.”

He waits even longer this time to respond. “And you are not human, either,” he says at last. “But this is not the time for debate. The point is, she was using vampire blood in her cream.”

“Where would she get an idea like that? Didn’t you say you’d never heard of vampire blood having any topical application?”

“I also remember saying just because I hadn’t heard of it didn’t mean it might not be possible. We now know it is. The extraordinary results she was getting must have been due to the infusion of vampire blood. It has to be. The remaining ingredients in the cream are found in every commercial product on the market.”

I get another shiver of disgust. Explains the smell I detected—raw meat.

Williams continues, “I also found out from an associate that Burke seems to have disappeared. He said Simone Tremainehas disappeared and I didn’t correct him. The PR rep for Second Chance has no idea where she is. The fire is being investigated as suspicious, possibly an insurance scam, though the same rep swears the cream is legit. They claim they lost everything in the fire, including formulas and the names of test subjects.”

Not everything. I saw those trucks. To Williams, I reply, “Convenient, that. What about the security guard?”

“No record. He’s an employee of Nelson, has been for several years.”

“Then I’ll be paying them a visit.”

Williams releases a breath. “I wish I could go with you, but my place is with Brooke.”

Certainly out of character for Williams, placing concern for a human over his own desires, but I ’m not going to argue the point. I don’t want to spark more animosity between us.

A bit of the conversation I had with Gloria flashes into my head. “Is it true cosmetics are not regulated by the DA? ” I ask.

Williams launches into cop-speak. “The FDA’s legal authority over cosmetics is different from other products regulated by the agency.

There’s no premarket approval process. The exception is color additives.”

“Great. You can use blood but not red dye.”

“Not really. Burke took a huge chance. Maybe she realized it.”

“And had the place burned to the ground.”

“Odd, considering the success she seemed to be having with the cream.”

Maybe not. Something obviously went wrong. Like the fact that the test subjects were attacking people. Or maybe it was my involvement. Still, she’s got a fleet of semis full of the stuff somewhere. Perhaps Jason can shed some light on that.

There doesn’t seem to be anything else to say. I ring off, promising to call Williams as soon as I’ve had my talk with Jason Shelton.

BY THE TIME I HIT THE ROAD, THE RAIN HAS LET UP, but clouds still hang heavy over the beach, blurring the line between sea and sky. As usual, the commute is a bitch. Southern California drivers don’t make exceptions for road conditions. They forge ahead at well over the legal speed limit, figuring if they ignore the standing water on the freeway, it can’t hurt them. Unfortunately, I’m forced to slow to a crawl twice on my way to the Nelson Security office because some jackass in an SUV hydroplaned himself into an accident.

It’s always an SUV.

By the time I get to the address listed for Nelson Security, I’m a coiled spring of aggravation. I’ve experienced enough shock, horror and frustration the last couple of days to be wound so tight, I can’t wait to come face to face with Jason Shelton.

I’m ready to kick some vampire ass.

CHAPTER 34

NELSON SECURITY HAS ITS MAIN OFFICE LOCATED in a strip mall in Chula Vista. Not a particularly nice office in a not-so-nice neighborhood. Two Hispanic teens in baggy jeans and dizzyingly white T-shirts lounge in front of the 7-Eleven next door. They eye me first, but it’s my car that holds their attention. And not in the car-enthusiast kind of way, but the wondering-what-they-can-get-for-it-from-the-neighborhood-chop-shop kind of way. I’ve seen the look before.

I make a point of sounding the beep on the Jag’s remote. I have a state-of-the-art alarm system. Not that it did me any good when a pack of werewolves attacked it a few months ago. These guys don’t look like werewolves. And I can keep an eye out through the window while I’m inside.

There’s no one behind the reception counter when I walk in. There is a two-way mirror behind it.

Shit. Let’s hope I can keep the attention of whoever comes out to greet me before he or she notices I’m casting no reflection.

And wouldn’t it be nice if that someone was Jason Shelton.

No such luck.

A woman pushes through a door to the right of the desk. She’s about thirty, a little thick through the middle but with the biggest breasts I’ve ever seen. They strain at the buttons of a pink cotton blouse like two overripe melons. It’s hard to keep my eyes off them, but I force myself to look up, noting that she has beautiful green eyes and a great smile. I doubt many men have ever noticed, either.

“Good morning,” she says. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for an employee of yours. Jason Shelton.”

She sniffs. “Welcome to the club.”

The reply raises my eyebrows. “He doesn’t work here anymore?”

“Good question. He never quit, just hasn’t shown up for work for the last two weeks.”

“Great.” I let a whine of irritation creep in. “And his phone has been disconnected. He’s my cousin. He invited me to stay with him for a few days but this is the only address he gave me. Shit. My place is being fumigated. I can’t believe he forgot.”

She raises a shoulder. “Sorry, I can’t help.”

I blow out a breath. “How about giving me his home address? Maybe he hasn’t left town, just got a new job. It really isn’t like him to walk out without giving notice. I could tell him he needs to get in touch with you.”

She eyes me. “We area security company. We don’t give out employee’s personal information.”

Okay, lie number one didn’t work. I blow out an exasperated breath and reach into my jacket. I pull out a small leather wallet and flash a badge—quickly.

“Okay, I’ll be honest with you. My name is Cordelia Case. I’m an undercover cop working a robbery detail.”

I repocket the badge before she gets a good look at it. Otherwise, she’d see it was a tin sheriff’s badge I’d picked up in Deadwood on vacation three years ago. David and I have used it in our work. No one yet has looked at it closely enough to realize it’s a fake.

Green eyes, here, is no different. However, her expression does change from suspicion to concern. “You think Jason—?”

“We suspectShelton is involved in a series of burglaries. Most of the houses involved belong to your clients. The robberies started two weeks ago. About the time you say he stopped showing up for work. The address we have for him belongs to his dead mother. We ’re hoping you’ll be willing to cooperate. Save your company the embarrassment of being implicated.”

She raises an eyebrow. “We haven’t had any reports of burglaries.”

Smart cookie. “We’ve encouraged the victims to keep it quiet. When our investigation is over, you’ll be given full credit for cooperation.

And exonerated from any hint of complicity.” A pause. “Of course, you have to swear you won’t mention this to anyone until we have Jason in custody.”

She fixes me with a steely gaze that makes me think she may ask to see the badge again “Not even my boss?”

“Especially not your boss.” I lean over the counter and lower my voice. “He’s not out of the woods yet himself.”

Her eyes widen. Then abruptly, she turns away from me and heads for the desk.

I barely have time to dive below counter level, out of mirror range. I fumble with my shoelaces until I hear her once more at the counter.

When I straighten up, she’s walking her fingers through a Rolodex. She pulls out a card and hands it to me.

“This is the address we have for Jason. You’re sure we’ll get exonerated when Jason is arrested? My boss will kill me if I keep this from him and something goes wrong.”

I raise my right hand. “You have my word.”

Now to get out of here before she thinks too long about my story or turns around and glances in that mirror.

I’m almost at the door when she calls out for me to stop.

I freeze.

Shit.

I swivel to face her, prepared to bolt.

But she’s looking at me, not at the mirror. “When you arrest Jason,” she says, “think you can get him to return the magnetic car signs?

Those things cost us fifty bucks a piece.”

“Absolutely.”

Back in the car, I release a long breath and take a look at the card. The address is here in Chula Vista, but at the other end of town.

Since the streets are still slick with rain, I forgo the freeway and take surface roads. Might take me a little longer to get there, but I don ’t need any more frustration.

Jason’s address is an apartment complex on H Street right on the boundary between Chula Vista and unincorporated San Diego County. It’s close to the freeway and there’s the constant drone of fast-moving traffic in the background. With the rain, the sound is muted and rhythmic, almost like the sound of the ocean at my place.

That’s the only romantic illusion. The place is a dump. Reminds me of the apartment Trish lived in with her mother. Could have been built by the same developer. The building is squat, two -storied, flat-roofed. The place is in bad need of a paint job. Asphalt tiles curl like withered leaves exposing the tar paper roof underneath. I wouldn’t be surprised if residents in that top floor aren’t scurrying around to find pots to catch the leaks.

Jason’s apartment is on the ground floor. I pick my way through a courtyard littered with broken bottles and fast -food containers. His door sports an unpainted patch, as if someone kicked it in and nailing up a square of rough plywood was the extent of the repair work. Fits though. Anything else might have spoiled the trashy ambience of the place.

I stop outside the door and listen. First I hear music, both the volume and type of which surprises me. It ’s soft jazz, played at a softer level. I would have expected something along the lines of heavy metal played at an ear-splitting decibel.

Then I hear voices—two. Male and female. The man is being gently persuasive. It takes me a second to realize what he ’s being persuasive about.

When I do, I put my shoulder to the door and burst through.

CHAPTER 35

JASONSHELTON’S VAMPIRE FACE IS UNLIKE ANY I’VE seen. The pupils of his eyes haven’t turned catlike the way mine do, but cornea and sclera blend together so there’s no white at all. It’s like looking into black marbles. He has two needlelike fangs that descend past his lower lip. He’s clutching something in his right hand. His face looks normal except for the fangs and strange eyes.

We stare at each other for a moment, he looks as shocked by my appearance as I am by his.

The only light in the room is streaming in from the broken door. Heavy black-out drapes cover the window. We appear to be in a living room, though the only pieces of furniture are a bed and a dresser. The music comes from a radio perched on that dresser. Next to a half dozen condoms.

Condoms? Since when do vampires use condoms?

The smell of sex is strong.

“Jason Shelton?” I ask.

That galvanizes him into action. He lets something drop to the floor and scuttles over the bed like a crab.

“What are you?” he rasps by way of answer.

What am I?

I reach down and pick up the thing he’d dropped. It’s a capped syringe filled with a pale gold liquid.

Is this the way he’d subdued the girls after he turned them? Am I too late to save this one?

The girl I’d heard through the door has backed herself into a corner. She’s naked and her small, emaciated body looks frail in the dim light of the room.

I face Jason, send out a probe. Let the girl go.

There’s no response. Just a wild-eyed, creepy stare out of those onyx eyes.

If you let the girl go, I won’t hurt you.

Not exactly a lie. I’m not sure what kind of monster he is, but I don ’t intend to hurt him. Exactly. I intend to kill him when I get the information I need.

Still, no response. Nothing. Just like with the girls at the safe house, there’s no psychic connection.

“Let the girl go.”

That provokes a reaction. Jason reaches out and the girl rushes to him. He grabs her arm. She yelps as he pulls her close. “I asked you what you are.”

The girl finds her own voice. “Kill it, Jason,” she screams. “You’re a vampire. Kill it.”

Kill it? If I wasn’t so angry, I might find the situation funny. I take two steps. Jason pulls the girl closer, shielding his own body with hers.

“Nice move, Jason. Very brave.” I grab his fingers and bend them back until he releases the girl. I spin her away from him. “Get your clothes on and get out.”

She plants herself in front of me. “No. I want to be a vampire. Jason said—”

I smack her across the face with the palm of my hand. “It’s not life he’s offering you,” I snarl. “Now get out.”

She backs away, rubbing her cheek but still not making a move toward the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. Maybe if I scare her enough, she’ll get the idea.

I reach out and grab Jason by the neck, lifting him off his feet. I bite his cheek, tearing a piece of flesh from the bone and spitting it back at him.

Jason is screaming and clutching at my hands with his own. I turn toward the girl, show her the beast, let her see and feel the full fury of my anger.

That gets her moving. She grabs her clothes and runs out.

I would have let her get dressed.

Now that she’s gone, I turn my attention to Jason.

“Where is Simone Tremaine?”

He gasps and continues to snatch at my hands, finally croaking, “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

I put my face close to his, lap at the blood on his ruined cheek. Whisper, “Think about it, Jason. The woman you’ve been turning girls for. The woman who bleeds them to death. Where is she?”

I release my grip on his neck enough to allow him to speak.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“Wrong answer. Guess I have to use a little more persuasion. You like to fuck?” I tighten my hold on his neck with one hand and grab his balls with the other. They’re slick with sweat and sticky with the girl’s sex. I can barely restrain a gag reflex.

But I manage. My fingers tighten and squeeze. “Better think fast, Jason.”

Jason flies into a full-blown panic. His legs flail, his face reddens and his breath comes in short, rasping gasps.

And I’m not even squeezing hard yet.

“Please. Stop.”

The hammering of his heart thunders in my ears. I’m afraid he’s going to have a heart attack. Reluctantly, I relent.

I release him and he falls to the floor, curling into a fetal position, using one hand to cover his head and the other his genitals. I give him a second to catch his breath, then haul his ass up and throw him on the bed.

“I’m not going to waste any more time with you. Get your pants on. We’re going to see a friend of mine. Between us, I’m sure we’ll find a way to loosen your tongue.”

Jason looks up at me but makes no move to get up.

“Did you hear me? I said get dressed.”

His eyes have morphed back into a human’s and his fangs retracted until they no longer peek through his lips. The expression on his face is pure terror. “I can’t go outside.”

“You can and will.” I grab his arm, give it a shake. “Unless you want me to carry you out naked and throw you into the trunk of my car, you’ll get moving now.”

“I can’t.” He pulls away and scoots himself back until he’s huddled against the headboard. “I’m a vampire.”

“I don’t know what you are,” I say. “But if it’s vampire, you can and will go outside. One way or the other.”

His eyes dart to the door. “The sun. I can’t go outside from sunrise to sunset.”

“Get with the program, moron. Vampires adapted to the sun centuries ago.” I pull the curtains back. The rain has stopped and a weak sun peaks through storm-tossed clouds. I hold out my hand and expose it to the light. “See? No problem. Now quit stalling.”

He makes no move to comply. I’m done fucking around. I reach across the bed and yank him to his feet. “Don’t say I didn’t give you the chance to ride in front.”

He struggles against me, but his strength is no match for my own. I snatch up a pair of jeans from a nearby chair and thrust them at him.

“You can put these on in the trunk.”

He’s yelling at me to stop, but I ignore him. I’ll take him to the park and work on him there. I’ll bring Williams the syringe. Maybe if he has that analyzed, it will be a clue to Burke’s whereabouts.

At the doorway, I give Jason a shove that propels him through the door and into the daylight.

He stumbles once, and turns toward me. His hands fly to his face, letting the jeans fall. His eyes have turned again. It ’s the last thing I notice before his body explodes like a camera flash in a burst of white-hot light.

CHAPTER 36

THE SMELL OF SULFUR DRIFTS ON A GUST OF WIND. A smell and a pile of ash. It’s all that’s left of Jason Shelton.

Reflexively, I jump back. Even seeing what happened, I can ’t wrap my head around it. I stare at the crumpled pair of jeans that a moment ago was clutched in Jason’s hands.

Jason saidhe was a vampire. Yet I had no connection with him psychically. He was certainly not as strong as any other vampire I ’ve come in contact with. The girls he turned for Burke seem to have no powers, either. Now this. Will the same thing happen to them if they step into the sun?

God. I’d better warn Rose.

I step gingerly around the spot where Jason stood. I’d have killed him in a heartbeat once I got Burke’s whereabouts from him. But this is the second vampire immo lation I’ve seen in two days. Ortiz’ death was horrible enough but I understood it. This is completely beyond my comprehension.

My hand shakes when I try to fit the key in the Jag’s ignition. I don’t know whether to call Rose or Williams first. I do decide to wait until I’m away from the apartment to do it. I pull over on a side street a mile away.

The sight of Jason spontaneously combusting the moment he stepped into daylight has my heart pounding.

What was he? A vampire subspecies?

I pull the paper Williams gave me yesterday with Rose ’s address on it. He’d also jotted a phone number and I punch it into my cell phone. Rose picks up on the second ring. Her “hello” resonates with worry and ratchets my own anxiety up a notch.

“Rose, this is Anna. What’s wrong?”

Her voice is shaking. “I don’t know what’s happening. They’re dying, Anna. Three this morning. I thought they were all getting stronger.”

“Which three?” I’m thinking of Rebecca and how she clutched at my hand.

“Three of the weaker. We had a steady supply of hosts for them. They were feeding. But something happened. They grew weaker instead of stronger. Then, this morning, they started dying.”

A picture of Jason bursting into flame flashes through my head. “How, Rose? How did they die?”

Rose’s breath catches. “I don’t know. They were feeding. Then they just stopped. It was as if their hearts gave out. They were alive one minute and dead the next. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Different from Jason. Because they weren’t exposed directly to sunlight? I remember the room and the large windows.

“I’ll come over. But I have to talk to Williams first. Rose, don’t let them go outside. And keep the curtains pulled. Better yet, take them all to the back room.”

“Why?”

“They’re not like us. I don’t know why, but they can’t be exposed to daylight.”

“That makes no sense.” But her tone is halting.

“Trust me. None of this makes sense. Just please, keep it dark.”

She draws a quick, sharp breath. “God, Anna. The curtains are open now. The ones who died were in the living room—closest to the windows.”

She clicks off without saying good-bye.

I don’t have to guess why.

WILLIAMS IS UNCHARACTERISTICALLY QUIET WHEN I call him next to fill him in on the events of the morning. He has no explanation for what happened to Jason or how daylight could have affected the girls who died. I tell him about the syringe I found in Jason’s apartment.

Maybe whatever Jason used to sedate the girls after he changed them is the reason for their weaknesses. Williams agrees to meet me at the park. He’s with Brooke now but says he can be there within fifteen minutes. I ask him to have the witches try another locator spell, and he says that he will. With Ortiz’ death, he never got around to asking them yesterday. His voice is heavy with guilt.

I should care that he forgot. Should rail at him for forgetting Culebra. But he had other things on his mind.

Ortiz.

A rare moment of compassion stills my tongue and I hang up without rancor.

I’ve never felt so helpless. It’s been three days since Culebra fell under Burke’s curse. I’m afraid to call Frey for an update. He’s put his life on hold and his own health at risk. If I don’t come up with something fast, I may lose two friends.

Williams is at the elevator when I step out. The bank of telephone operators that occupies the center of the supernatural command center is bustling with activity. The telephones are manned by an army of psychics, real psychics, extraordinary men and women possessing heightened sensitivity to things outside the sphere of scientific knowledge. Their clients include the power brokers of the world.

Today, however, I detect a different timbre to the buzz of conversation. What’s going on?

He steers me away from center. I have our people working to locate Burke. If the witches can’t find her, maybe someone else can.

He’s set the psychics on Burke? His guilt that another night may have brought Culebra that much closer to death is showing. No matter.

I’ll take all the help I can get.

He pushes open a door to a side room. The same three witches I met two days ago are assembled around the same pentagram. A map is laid out and one of the women, Min Liu, dangles that diamond on the end of the silken string. As I watch, the diamond jumps and skitters across the map but it fails to light on any particular location. Frustration is painted on Min ’s face. The other two watch, each holding a candle and chanting in low voices.

Susan Powers looks up when we enter. She touches the young Hispanic woman’s arm. Ariela Acosta motions us in.

“It’s not working, is it?” I ask.

Min lets the charm drop. “I’m sorry. The witch is protecting herself.”

“She’s put up a powerful blocking spell,” Susan says. “There is nothing we can do.”

I sink into a chair and cover my face with my hands.

Culebra is fighting for his life.

Ortiz is dead.

It’s my fault.

I should never have confronted the witch at the restaurant. It only alerted her to the fact that I was on to her. Now she’s gone into hiding and I’ve exhausted any lead I might have had to find her.

There’s a knock on the door. Williams answers it and a man hands him a slip of paper. He opens it, looks over at me and shakes his head.

Even his army of psychics has drawn a blank.

Weariness washes over me. I feel the anxiety and unhappiness of the three women standing nearby. Their empathy only heightens my own sense of futility.

I can’t think of anything else to say. I pull the charm from inside my blouse. “You may as well have this back.”

Min stays my hand with a touch of her own. “No. Keep it.” Her eyes flash with determination. “Don’t give up, Anna. We don’t intend to.”

Williams is watching, too, strangely silent.

These women don’t know me, but he does. He understands how foreign this is to me.

For the first time in a long time I don’t know what to do. No idea. No plan. No way to save Culebra.

Williams leaves me alone in the room while he escorts the witches out. Jason is gone. The file is gone. Burke is gone.

I wish once again that I had done things differently —made a copy of the test subjects’ information instead of stealing the original file.

That act set in motion all that followed, including Ortiz’ death.

I have one last hope. Maybe Gloria has a contact number for Simone Tremaine.

But that hope is dashed when the operator at the Four Seasons tells me that Gloria has checked out—on her way to Europe for Fashion Week.

Gloria wasted no time coming up with alternative photo opportunities now that the launch party for Eternal Youth has been canceled.

Either that or she wants to distance herself, literally, from the fallout of an arson investigation.

Shit. Arson will be the least of Gloria’s concerns if the cream is linked to the murder of those test subjects.

Williams comes back. His black mood matches my own, partly because of the helplessness we feel and partly because of the guilt. It puts us both on guard.

“How is Brooke doing?” I ask finally.

“Barely making it. I wish I could do more. Ortiz will be buried with full honors on Friday.”

Buriedis a euphemism. We both know there is nothing left of Ortiz to bury. I feel cold, suddenly, remembering.

“It’s a good gesture. Ortiz deserves it.”

My mind drifts back to Jason. I remember the syringe. I pull it out of a jacket pocket. “I don’t know what this is. I think Jason was about to use it on the girl he had in his apartment. The girls at Rose ’s all said they’d been sedated. Maybe this stuff is the reason they’re different.”

Williams takes it from my outstretched hand. “I’ll send it to the lab.” He steps aside when I stand and start for the door. “What are you going to do now?”

The only thing left for me to do.

“I’m going to see Culebra. And Frey.”

“What will you tell them?”

I close my eyes and turn away. I don’t know what I’ll tell them. I’m afraid it might be good-bye.