Last Vampire Standing (17 page)

“Wait, Candy,” I interrupted, a quick glance at Saber. “Did you say Jemina?”

“Do you know her?”

“No, but she was Jo-Jo’s girlfriend. And his partner back in his vaudeville days.”

“That is one edgy vamp. Her movements were jerky, like she was bein’ controlled by a junkie puppet master needin’ a fix. Soon as she closed the metal door, she locked it, and we were jumped in the parkin’ lot not ten seconds later.”

“By how many?” Saber asked.

“Only two. Jim had his highest-grade silver knife and took ’em down before they did too much damage. We have new scars, and we’re gonna be sore as hell tomorrow, but we’re okay.”

I had a mental flash of slashed arms and oozing blood, and a sweet, coppery smell. My stomach heaved, but I willed myself to hold it together.

“Did Crusher kill them both?”

“Oh, yeah, with silver bullets to the brain. We called the disposal team to take them to our morgue so we can ID ’em and put ’em in the system as exterminated.”

“Candy, I hate to say this,” I began, still puzzling over part of the vision, “but it doesn’t seem like those guys fought hard.”

“Like they meant to kill us, you mean?” she said. “You’re right, but how did you know?”

“I’m a psychic empath. As you described the attack, I saw a few pieces of it happen, as if I were watching a movie trailer.”

“Well, you’re dead on, Cesca. Pardon the pun. Jim and I thought the same thing. It was a sacrifice fly, a diversion. Otherwise, vamps would’ve come pourin’ out of Vlad’s place.”

“Instead, Vlad let them die.”

We were all silent a moment. I wondered if Saber and Candy knew what Vlad had accomplished by sacrificing two of his people. Normand had done something like that once.

“Candy,” Saber said, breaking into my thoughts, “I don’t suppose you’ve had a team go sweep your office for bugs yet.”

“Not yet, but it’s on the list. Cesca’s place is clean?”

“Yeah, and so is my cell phone. I sweep my house every few days, and I’ll do it again tomorrow.”

“I don’t know what the hell is goin’ on, Saber, but I’m keepin’ an eye on the tracker readouts of every vamp in that nest. Anything looks the least bit suspicious, and I’m shuttin’ those suckers down.”

“I understand, Candy, but please call me first if it comes to that. Also let me know if any of the readouts show another vamp moving this way.”

“You still think it was a vamp who took those shots at y’all last night?”

“I know it was,” I answered, then mouthed
Pandora
at Saber.

“Good enough. Crusher says to call if you need backup.”

Saber disconnected, and we stared at each other for a long moment before he leaned back in his chair.

“Pandora confirmed the sniper was a vamp?”

I nodded. “Sorry I forgot to tell you. She didn’t get a description.”

“Damn. If those vampires had wanted Candy and Crusher dead, they would be. Vlad couldn’t afford to bring the whole VPA down on him, though.”

“So he sent vamps who were loyal enough to him to die. Normand did that, too.”

“How often?”

I shook my head. “Just once that I know of.”

“Tell me about it,” Saber said, taking my hand.

“Marco’s father pitched a fit that his son had been taken and turned. I’m not sure how the
comandante
of the
castillo
got involved, but he demanded retribution. Normand gave him the vamp who had supposedly turned Marco, and the
comandante
had the vampire publicly executed. They displayed the decapitated, sun-fried body for days.”

Saber frowned. “Why did the commander of the fort care about the son of a mere soldier?”

“According to Marco, his dad had been more than a soldier back in Spain. Marco bragged that his father and grandfather had been silversmiths, but that they’d been falsely accused of something. He never said what.”

“Sounds far-fetched for a skilled artisan to turn soldier.”

“Yes, except that Marco had links of silver chain he said his father made in a workshop at his house. And rumor in the Quarter was that his father gave small tokens crafted in silver to the governor.”

“What did you think?”

I grinned. “That Marco was a liar and a thief. I couldn’t believe he never got caught swiping the things he’d show off.”

“That’s another chapter that never made it into the city’s historic records.” He sat back in his chair. “Let’s go back to the ambush. Did you see anything else in your vision?”

“No, and I couldn’t see Vlad or anyone else when Candy talked about them. I just felt—” I paused to test the impression before I spoke the words. “I felt like I did in Normand’s court. Oppressed. Closed in. Controlled.”

Saber shrugged. “That’s the norm for vampire nests. Except for a few that are organized like companies or clubs.”

“Jo-Jo’s fraternities with fangs?”

He sent me a tired smile and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Look, before I forget, the Florida vamps are all present and accounted for. Tracker readouts show most of them moving around a fair amount.”

“What about Laurel’s tracker?”

“Her readouts have been stationary for a few days, but they would be if she’s confined to Ike’s residence. The odd thing is that they also flatline like a heart monitor would do.”

“Did mine do that when it stopped working in March?”

“Yes, but only for ten seconds. Then your signal stopped entirely. Laurel’s flatlines for an hour or two at a time then starts working again, so I’m guessing it’s an electrical short.”

I frowned. I’m no expert in electricity, but there was a clue here. I felt it.

“Saber, electricity makes a sound, doesn’t it?”

“One that’s usually too low or high for a human to hear.”

“I don’t think vampires hear it either. I didn’t hear my tracker go bad.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“The night the sniper shot at us, Pandora told me she’d been distracted by another signal. That she couldn’t find me.”

“When you were home?”

“I know, but I had the charm in a mug by my laptop, so that could cause interference. Plus, if a flatlining tracker emits an obnoxious beep that Pandora could hear, the sound could confuse her, couldn’t it?”

“So you think Laurel could’ve been the sniper?”

I shrugged. “I can’t see her up a tree, and I doubt she’s a card-carrying NRA member, but cell phone signals don’t seem to bother Pandora. What else could?”

“A whole list of things, I imagine, but I’ll order Laurel’s tracker records for the past few months to see if there’s a pattern, and tell Dave Corey to order a new tracker for her.”

“Good luck getting Laurel to have it implanted. She’s nasty to vampires. Imagine what she’s like with the average human.”

“Überbitch.”

“On wheels. I hope she’s still in Ike’s doghouse on Saturday. It sure would be nice if she wasn’t at the club for Jo-Jo’s act.”

Saber chuckled. “You aren’t a princess. You’re the queen of avoidance.”

“Well, Laurel is a royal pain.”

“Honey, you energy-sucked her once. You can do it again.” I shook my head. “Not and free her afterward. Nope, if I have to energy-siphon Laurel that much again, I’ll have to kill her. I don’t think I can do that.”

“When it comes down to life and death, you’ll be surprised what you can do.”

One advantage to being buried all that time was that I’d developed focus. After Saber went to sleep, I used that skill to block thoughts of everything except my design homework. I worked steadily until seven, then slipped into bed with Saber on the happy thought that we’d be house hunting again later.

I was raring to go Friday afternoon, but Saber had to leave a message for Jo-Jo before we left. Saber’s attorney friend had given his seal of approval to Vince’s contract terms and had checked on any complaints filed by former clients. There were none. Looked like Jo-Jo had fallen into a great deal.

Saber wasn’t as lucky. By six Friday evening, we’d seen eight houses in four neighborhoods. The three affordable ones needed major updating, but Saber and I could do some of the labor. I’d learned to use a few basic power tools when I’d hung around Maggie’s construction crew while they worked on her Victorian house and my cottage. The men and women might’ve been amused at having a vampire pelting them with questions, but they taught me to cut and install crown molding and do other carpentry projects. Also, we could contact Maggie’s contractor for help with major things like plumbing and electrical work. When it was clear to Amanda that Saber wasn’t ready to make any offers, she went to her car to make a cell call, then asked us to see one more property.

“This one is on the island, a bit south of where you said you want to be, but I promise you it’s special.”

She said “special” with an odd glitter in her eyes. Something more than Realtor-fee fever, but why did she lob that comment at me instead of Saber?

We followed Amanda south on A1A, past where the road narrowed to two lanes. She talked on her cell phone during the entire drive, and when she turned east ahead of us, Saber muttered a curse.

“Has she lost her way or been out in the sun too long?”

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s out of her little blonde mind if she thinks I can afford a house on the ocean side of the highway. I sure can’t afford a house with an ocean view.”

“Maybe it’s just an ocean peek.”

He wasn’t amused and was even less so when he pulled off the worn blacktop. He stared out the windshield and gaped.

“What the
hell
is that?”

From what I could see of the shape and window style,
that
was a 1950s bungalow. A tiny, ramshackle bungalow sitting amid a sandbox of dune weeds, overgrown shrubs, and vines that crawled up the exterior walls and onto the shallow-pitched roof. On the upside, the house sat smack in the middle of what had to be several ocean front lots. Contrary to all good sense and reason, I fell in love with it.

“Oh, Saber, talk about a clean slate!”

“It’s an eyesore,” he growled back. “I’m surprised the neighbors haven’t torched it.”

“They can’t. There are laws against fires on the beach.”

He leveled a look at me. “We are not getting out of the car. I don’t care what Amanda says. It’s not even safe to go look in the windows. The vines will strangle us if the snakes don’t get us first.”

“Come on, Saber. Think of it as an adventure.”

“I’m thinking it’s a waste of time.”

“But we’re here.”

“So are the rattlers and brown recluse spiders. Not to mention sand fleas.”

I snorted. “You’ve killed werewolves and vampires. What’s a little wildlife compared to that?”

He gave me his stony cop face. I threw up my hands.

“All right. But can I at least get some pictures for my design class?”

“You brought your camera?”

“No, I was hoping I could use yours.”

“Remind me to take that damn thing out of my car.” He sighed. “Okay, a few pictures, and we’re outta here.”

I leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, then twisted to fish his digital camera from the backseat floorboard. “Right, and we’ll stop by CVS on the way home so I can put the photos on a CD. It won’t take but a minute.”

“Cesca, it’s Friday, and it’s tourist season. It’ll take more than a minute.”

“Fine, then you can get calamine lotion for your sand flea bites while I get the CD. Come on, let’s go.”

We met Amanda on a mangled flagstone path leading to the front door.

“Sorry about the wait. A colleague was double-checking some facts on the property for me. Well, do you recognize it?”

“As what?” Saber snapped. “A perfect bombing range?”

Amanda kept her sales smile pinned in place. “I know it doesn’t look like much from the outside—”

“Amanda, it’s a wreck.”

“Actually, Saber,” I said, “now that we’re closer, some of the exterior paint doesn’t look that bad.”

“Don’t help,” he shot back. “Now look, Amanda—”

This time she interrupted him. “The house comes with three lots, and I promise it’s better inside.”

“So was the city of Pompeii when they dug it out, but I wouldn’t want to live there.”

“The house is one bedroom, one bath,” Amanda went on as she picked her way toward the door, “but the living area is generous, and the entire back of the house is an enclosed porch facing the ocean, accessible through both the kitchen and living area.”

“I’m betting that’s because the walls have collapsed,” Saber groused.

“Five minutes,” I said. “Pictures and we’re gone.”

Saber gave me a martyred grimace but came along quietly when I took his hand. Amanda opened the door with relative ease, considering the bush partly blocking it, and then we stepped into the gloom inside. The ceiling was higher than I expected, with exposed beams. The hardwood floors? Well, dusty was being generous, but they looked like oak and were solid. No obvious rot. No roof, wall, or floor cave-ins. The dingy white walls looked like salvaged wood planks nailed over drywall. I glanced at Saber’s granite face and started snapping pictures. Two slightly warped dark wood doors to the right of the living room were open. One was the bedroom, the other a small bathroom with filthy fixtures. I snapped off more shots of both rooms and gingerly opened the closet door. Not a bad size for a shoebox house, and no band of mutant spiders assaulted me.