Her Vampire Temptation (Midnight Doms Book 8) Page 8

  “What do you know about him?” I step closer.

  “Alain. Please. I really don’t get in anyone’s business.” He puts up his hands.

  I snarl. “This could be life or death.” I look at him, sending him the depth of my concern. Hoping he’s receptive to reading the emotion. That he’ll care.

  He blinks, then clears his throat, and steps back. “Okay. Just this once, I’ll get involved. But I don’t know much. He offered me some amazing blood to taste.”

  “What kind of blood?”

  “Human blood.” Slash gives me a duh look. “From a girl.”

  “What girl?”

  “I don’t know. But dude, it was sick. It was, like, the best blood I’ve had in years.” He licks his lips, and I swear, his fangs are ready for action. He looks ravenous just thinking about it. “I’ve never even had it that good. I can’t wait for more…” He trails off.

  “More?”

  “Well, he said I could have more if I did some work for him.”

  I cross my arms. “Where did he get it?”

  “Do you ask every vamp where they obtain their blood?” His shoulders are high. His chin tight. Like he knows Karl is into something that’s completely non-legit, even by vampire standards. I was right—Slash has morals that match mine. He’s not as impartial as he seems.

  “Not the decent ones, no.” I narrow my eyes. “How did he give it to you?”

  “In a vial.”

  “Like from a blood bank?”

  “No, it was fresh. Clean. I mean, it came in a glass vial with a cap, like the ones at blood banks. But without the yellow gunk at the bottom. And I could taste the vibrancy. Full of adrenaline and endorphins, man. This wasn’t sick person blood. This was revved up blood.” He sort of laughs but stops, seeing my expression.

  “What did he ask of you?”

  “Nothing. It was a gift for doing some work for him.” Slash rubs his face.

  “What kind of work?”

  “He said we’ll meet later this week to go over details. The blood was sort of just a nice doing business with you gift, I guess.”

  “Or to get you hooked.” I groan and turn away, running a hand through my hair. “So you do what he wants without questioning it.”

  “Do you really think he’s doing something dangerous…” Slash trails off. But I can sense the unease from his mind.

  “Yes. I do.” I turn back to pierce him with my gaze. “And in a case like this, not taking sides is taking a side…with him.” I step closer. “I’d recommend against that.” My voice is low. “He’s not known for his benevolence. I need to know where he got that blood.”

  Slash blinks again, rapidly. He lowers his voice. “He could have gotten that blood from anywhere. We all get blood. Lucius Frangelico has fresh blood at Toxic every night. Everyone gets blood.” He trails off.

  “Lucius gets his blood from willing donors,” I snap. “Who are compensated quite nicely for their contributions. This could be something else entirely.”

  “I did feel that there was something different about Karl,” Slash admits. “I mean, vamps are weird and dangerous. Each in their own way. But he’s got something else going on lately.” He shakes his head. “Even his face.”

  I think about Karl’s ruddy face. Yeah, that was the skin of a vamp full of blood, a plump tick engorged and ready to pop. And chances are, he didn’t get that blood anywhere legit.

  “So…this.” I show Slash the card again.

  “I can track it.”

  “Tell me where it leads. And fast.”

  “I hope I’m going to get compensated.” He sounds glum.

  “Knowing you’re doing the right thing is its own reward,” I chide him. But then I grab the black velvet bag from the counter. “Have I ever let you down?” I roll my eyes and hand him the sack.

  When he opens it and finds the polished skull inside, inlaid with diamonds, he whistles, and his face lights up. “The Cleopatra! Where did you even find it?”

  “That’s my own business.” It wasn’t easy, is the answer. “But I know that Anton gave you two fainting goats in exchange for his new license, and Andrius gifted you one of the Dead Sea scrolls for a Russian passport, so I had to keep up.” I smile. “Since you accept anything but money for your work.”

  “I can make my own money.” He laughs. “I prefer the unusual. It keeps life interesting.” For a second, he gets that look—the one that I see all too often on Martin’s face. But it passes; I assume he’s still young enough, either in actual age or at heart, not to see his forever life as an imprisonment.

  “Do it now.” I point at the computers. Martin has abandoned his nearly as soon as he started the tutorial.

  “Fine. Give me ten minutes.” Slash slides up to his laptop and starts working.

  I look around and find Martin sitting on the patio, head in his hands. Clearly, he’s going to need more time to get used to the digital age.

  I find this more funny than I should, given the current situation with Karl, and it makes me laugh out loud.

  Martin looks up and glares at me. “Fuck you.”

  “Perfect intonation. A+.” I sit beside him. “It’ll come faster than you think.”

  “Is he helping?” Martin shrugs one shoulder. “With the other thing?”

  “Yeah.” I pause. “I’m positive Karl’s behind the disappearances of the women. I can sense it.”

  “Because you made him?” Martin’s voice holds curiosity. “Is that why you can still sense things about him that others can’t?”

  I nod. “There’s still an odd bond with him.”

  “Do we have that? What am I thinking right now?” Martin pulls a face.

  I laugh again. “You’re thinking that you’re glad we’re friends.” I punch his shoulder. We do have that.

  Absolutely. “Wrong!” But he sinks back into his chair, smiling.

  Slash calls over. “The IP address is locked down hard, and it will take me a day to get it figured out. I can do it, though.” He likes a challenge.

  “Call me when you have it. Don’t tell Karl that I’m asking.” I stare at Slash. “But reach out to him and see if you can get more info. Ask him for more of that blood.”

  “I don’t want him to get suspicious.” Slash taps his foot rapidly. “I’m an IT guy, not a fucking double oh seven.”

  “Watch some Bond movies,” I snap. “Do it in a non-suspicious way.”

  “He’s fun.” Martin raises his eyebrows and points to me. “You can see why we’re friends, no?”

  Slash scowls. Then sighs. He scratches his nose. Mutters, “Better get another skull out of this,” and gives me a meaningful look.

  I laugh. “Deal.”

  “Whatever.” Slash starts to pack up his gear. “You,” he points at Martin, “are hopeless. You’re going to need one on one tutoring for, like, a year.” He sounds frustrated. “In the meantime, do. Not. Talk. To. Civilians. They will totally tell that you’re not legit.”

  Martin puts a hand to his chest. “You wound me.”

  “You wound yourself with your horrible skillz.” Slash scowls.

  “Enough of that.” I clear my throat. “I will teach Martin keyboard basics. You just track Karl.”

  Once Slash is gone, I turn to Martin. I sigh. “Well, that was exciting.”

  Speaking of exciting: Bri. I can’t get her out of my mind. What will it take to forget her? Or to find her again?

  Chapter 10

  Bri

  I’m tucked into a chair in a lab room, waiting for my blood draw tech. My repeat blood test. After working with Dr. A. last night, I’m still full of the excitement of working with such a renowned researcher. It almost makes me not so scared to be here right now.

  It also nearly makes me forget about the odd headaches I’ve been having lately and the memory issues. I’m terrified they’re some new neuro symptom, telling me that my XP is getting worse. I called Dr. Su, and she said it’s probably just stress. But I don’t like “
probably.” I want “definitely.”

  Suddenly, I hear lowered voices in the hall.

  “So did they have it?”

  “...detective coming in half an hour…”

  My interest caught, I get up from the chair and tiptoe to the partially open door to hear better. Through the crack in the doorjamb, I see a woman in a suit and lab coat, probably the lab manager, talking with a coworker.

  “Yes, they have a warrant, so we’ll give them the information they want.”

  “And all three did have their blood drawn here?”

  The manager puts her hand on the coworker’s arm. “I can’t tell you the details. Just that we’re complying with the warrant. Sharing our records with the police.”

  “Someone asked me about Margaret Bly on the phone.”

  “Please keep telling people we never violate HIPAA and don’t give out personal information. And keep this confidential. Nobody else needs to know.”

  Margaret Bly? I know that name.

  She’s one of the three women who were supposedly taken by the Night Stalker. Does this conversation mean that all three women had their blood drawn here at Gila Diagnostics?

  I shudder. What a weird coincidence.

  On a whim, I pull out my phone and Google Margaret’s name.

  I find tons of articles, all copying the same original news story about how she disappeared. How her friends said she complained about a creepy man in black looking through her windows a day before she was gone. How she was smart and friendly and successful.

  “Oh no.” The part about the man in black makes me shudder.

  I remember, at least I think I remember, that I saw a man in black the other night. It’s one of those weird memories that cracks and fragments when I try to think about it and comes back and tugs at the corners of my mind when I’m thinking about something else.

  For a while, I thought it was just a dream. Or my imagination.

  But what if he was real? What if he wants me next, for some unimaginable reason?

  What would it mean if all of the missing women were clients here at the blood draw place?

  Hmmm. It would definitely be wrong to break into Gila Diagnostics’s system and find out. Not that I could do that—I’m a programmer, not a hacker. But my gut tells me I have to follow this.

  And I think I know someone who can help.

  Later on in the evening, when I’m home with a cotton ball on my vein, held in place by a slice of masking tape, I message my on-line friend Slash.

  @Slash: What’s up?

  In a second, he replies.

  @Bri: Hey girl. Working a job. You?

  I stare at his avatar, a hand-drawn cartoon picture of a young man with brown hair and glasses. He never posts a real pic and keeps his personal data well hidden. For all I know, he could be a middle-aged woman.

  But whoever Slash is, he’s wicked funny. Ever since we met on an IT discussion board last year, we’ve been online friends. Supposedly he lives here in Tucson, too. And from what we joke about, I sense that he is sort of hacky. At least, he’s the hackiest person I know.

  I’ve asked Slash before if he wants to meet up for coffee, but he always says no. Still, our online connection is fun.

  @Slash: I want to ask you a huge, dangerous favor. #InternetBuddiesRock

  @Bri: Intrigued. No promises. What is it?

  @Slash: I want to find out if the women taken by the Midnight Stalker had their blood drawn at Gila Diagnostics recently.

  @Bri: Oh, is that all? #YouCan’tAffordThat #BitchPlease

  @Slash: lol. I can pay up to $25 dollars, haha. #SoWorthTheJailTime

  @Bri: Why do you want to know?

  @Slash: Just something I heard today. Made me curious.

  @Bri? What did you hear?

  @Slash: That the police have a warrant to check if all three were patients there. So…can you find out?

  @Bri: That’s illegal, so absolutely not. #KeepingItLegit

  @Slash: aha, got you. #YouCan’tDoIt #Lame #Weak #Loser

  @Bri: Not going to tell you how to do your job, but blowjobs go over better than insults. Just saying.

  @Slash: Not going to tell you how to enjoy your body, but in-person BJ’s are way better than virtual ones. Just saying.

  We enjoy dirty banter together, without expectation or commitment. Part of the reason I feel so free to joke like this is precisely because he never does want to meet. It makes it safe.

  I assume the conversation is over, but later on, my phone pings with a text. I don’t recognize the number. It says, “Call me.”

  The phone buzzes again. “It’s about your request from this afternoon.”

  OMG! Is it Slash?

  I want to call, but: What if Slash is a weird pervert and by calling him, I open my life up to a stalker? How did he get my phone number? Clearly if he got my phone number, he is a hacker. Fuck! What if he really does want a BJ, and he’s gross and old and psycho? What if he steals me and locks me up and…

  Another buzz. “I’m not a stalker, and I’m not going to meet you in person, so relax. But I found out something pretty interesting. I promise I’m legit.”

  I bite my lip. Then I toss caution aside and call. “Hi?” This is Bri?” Might as well meet it head on, whatever this is.

  “Hey.” Whoever it is, he has a nice timbre to his voice. Very all-American, no accent of any kind. “This is Slash.”

  “Wow, this is weird. Didn’t ever think we’d actually speak in person.” So far, so good. No serial killer vibes going on.

  “Neither did I.” He sounds a little nervous. “But this is a weird situation. So I looked up the thing you asked about –“

  “Seriously?” I’m taken aback. “I mean, for real? And so fast?”

  He makes a sound. “I’m good at what I do, Bri.” He sounds irritated. “Anyway, you were right. All three did have their blood drawn at Gila Diagnostics.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s crazy.” I breathe in. “Wow.”

  “Yup. So, um, why’d you want to know?” His voice is casual, but I sense something behind it. Like he knows something I don’t.

  “Well, I was sitting and waiting for a blood draw, and apparently someone from the police station called the office reception woman trying to get information. So it made me curious.”

  “So you heard a conversation?” He asks it really quickly.

  “Yup. Like I texted you.”

  “What exactly did she say?” He sounds sort of tense.

  I try to remember. “I don’t know the exact words. She kept saying she couldn’t give out information, and she gave her supervisor’s name and number. I’m sure they’ll get a warrant if they need the info.”

  “Yeah, she can’t bypass HIPAA laws without cause. Anything else?”

  “Nope. Why are you so curious?”

  He relaxes his voice. “Just like to dig. See what I can find. Like you, I guess.” He laughs.

  There’s a silence.

  We both speak at once. I say, “So you called me because –”

  And he starts with “So I guess that’s all –”

  We both break off. “Thanks,” I say quickly. Another silence. “I mean, do you want to get coffee sometime?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says slowly. “Although I wish I could.”

  “Uh, okay.” I’m not sure what to say to that. “Why is it not a good idea?”

  “It just isn’t.” He sounds sort of sad now.

  “I don’t care what you look like. I mean, not that you look weird. Not that there’s anything wrong with looking weird.” Fuck me. “I’m not asking romantically. Because I’m seeing someone, sort of. I just, as friends…”

  “No. And don’t try to track my phone because you can’t. It’s a burner phone. So don’t try.”

  “I wasn’t planning to. It’s not even my thing.” I’m sort of irritated.

  “I know. I looked you up.”

  “Okay, that’s officially weird. And not fair
, since I don’t get to look you up.”

  “Not in a bad way. Just to make sure it was safe to call you.”

  “Glad to know I’m safe material.” My voice is dry.

  “Well, I’ll see you online.” Again, there’s that tone in his voice of regret.

  And he’s gone, leaving me bemused and a little uneasy.

  What should I even do with this information? I can’t call the police: “Hey, my hacker friend Slash found out this thing…”

  I don’t need to. If the police are already calling Gila Diagnostics, they’ll come back with a warrant.

  But now I can’t get rid of a new curl of worry in my gut. Margaret Bly saw a man in black before she disappeared, a creepy man. And as much as I want to convince myself that I imagined the man last week, I know he was real.

  Chapter 11

  Alain

  Slash is back at my house. It’s been a few days since the first time he came over, and I’ve invited him back to follow up. Martin is on the patio with a glass of whiskey, the doors open to enjoy the night breezes.

  “So, guess what I found out.” Slash adjusts his glasses. “All three missing humans, the women? They all had their blood drawn at Gila Diagnostics. Their records were destroyed during the break in.”

  “Excellent work!” I slap his back, full of relief that we’re getting somewhere. “How’d you get that information? Not from Karl?”

  “Not Karl. I haven’t talked to him yet. A contact put me onto it.” He opens his laptop. “So I hacked their system and got the information. And I also tracked down that website, finally. You’re going to want to see this. Both of you. I postponed my next class to do this for you.”

  Martin raises his glass and calls over. “The Internet And You: Don’t Fear the Future.” He doesn’t sound pleased. “I can’t say I’m disappointed it’s cancelled.”

  “You.” Slash nods toward Martin. “Need to practice logging into the dummy account I made you. It’s really not that hard.”

  Martin rolls his eyes. “The blasted buttons are too miniscule for my fingers.” He sips his drink. “I don’t understand the odd symbols.”

  Slash ignores this. “Alain. This is on the dark web. It’s that IP address—I unlocked it for you.”