Misguided Angel (18 page)

Now it was a Saturday afternoon, and the boys were indulging in their usual post-crew practice ritual: video games and lounging. Bryce had invited her to meet him at Froggy's town house. When she arrived she immediately excused herself to the powder room upstairs but crept into Froggy's bedroom instead. In the time it would take Red Blood agents to dust a fingerprint, she had already performed a thorough survey of Froggy's immediate surroundings and family background.

She had downloaded a copy of his hard drive to send to tech, and performed a test in the glom to see if she could find any clue in the spirit memory. If he had been the culprit, she would have been able to detect traces of guilt, horror, or violence in his immediate physical surroundings. Especial y if he had been handling devil flame, which left a distinctive smel years after it had burned out--the fire in Rio was stil smoldering. But the only thing she could detect was a malodorous waft from the laundry basket containing his socks.

She sighed as she slid back Froggy's bureau drawer. Just as she'd suspected, there was nothing extraordinarily good or terrible about the boy, who carried the spirit of a minor angel with a rather uneventful history. As for his cycle parents, the Kernochans had almost no interest in Coven business.

Neither of them had ever served as an Elder or a Warden; they were apolitical types who wouldn't be able to fight a Silver Blood if their lives depended on it. If once they had been God's warriors, they were now America's bankers. As far as she could tel , the only thing they were interested in was the stock market.

"Babe? You stil up there?" Bryce cal ed.

"Be down in a sec, sweetie," she cal ed. The girlfriend role wasn't one she had played before, at least not for an assignment, although she had had boyfriends, of course--everyone did nowadays. It was becoming terribly fashionable to play with those eternal bonds, to flirt with destiny. The older generation was taken aback by how casual the newest incarnation of vampires were with their heavenly duties. Look what had happened to Jack Force--

a real shame. What a waste. He would be put on trial to burn the minute he returned to New York. If the Coven stil existed, that is. Otherwise, Deming had no doubt that Mimi would hunt Jack down herself, even without a trial.

Deming was always careful not to get too involved with any boys, and to cut it off before it became serious. She knew as wel as anyone that once you found your bondmate and identified each other in the cycle, it was Game Over.

As for Bryce, his immortal history had checked out clean as wel , regardless of his dark angel profile. However, she noticed that his
affectus
was obscured, a cloudy white, which meant he was hiding something. Whether it had anything to do with Victoria's murder, Deming couldn't tel yet. She had to find a way to get closer to him somehow, so she could read his memory and find out what he was keeping in shadow. She didn't like to feel rushed, but with the Regent demanding daily reports, Deming had to find a way to ramp up her game.

The glom memory from Jamie Kip's apartment had backed up the eyewitness stories--Victoria had left Evan on the couch and hung out with Froggy and Bryce at the end of the party. There were no spirit traces that indicated an assault or a kidnapping in some way. If she had been taken against her wil , Deming would have sensed it. No. Victoria had left with a friend, but one who was no friend to her. Was it Bryce? Was that what he was hiding? Had his dark angel tendencies taken over? She did not want to be prejudiced against him, but it was hard not to be when there was no other explanation.

Deming made sure the room was as messy as she'd found it and climbed down the stairs to find Bryce and his friends sprawled on the couches in the Kernochans' shrouded family room. Like many wealthy New Yorkers, their home was fil ed with museum-quality, priceless art and antiques lovingly chosen by a decorator on a monthly retainer. Yet, as Deming understood, no one ever used any of those beautiful, perfect rooms.

Instead, the designer always left one windowless room in the back, fil ed with comfortable couches and a giant TV, which meant that ninety percent of life in the town house was spent in one crowded room, while the rest of the expansive apartment sat empty, ready for its close-up for a
Shelter
magazine shoot that would never be al owed. The Blue Blood elite kept low profiles--the better to keep the masses from getting wind of their privilege and rising up to chop off their heads. Even if Marie Antoinette had survived (she was currently in cycle in the European Coven as one of the world's most famous and demanding movie stars--with her taste for cake intact), the vampires had learned their lesson.

"We were thinking of heading up to Rufus's in Greenwich. He's having people over this weekend," Bryce said. "Chopper's going to pick us up in an hour. We're staying over; you in?"

An overnight trip, twenty-four hours with her mysterious new boyfriend and her prime suspect in the death of an immortal. This was the opportunity she was looking for. She gave him a bril iant smile and promised to meet him at the helipad with her bags ready.

THIRTY-ONE

House Party

The King estate sat on twenty acres of beachfront property in southwestern Connecticut. Rufus's father was one of those hedge fund types who had managed to make money off the recession instead of losing it, by betting
against
the economy. Deming wondered how much of that fit in with the Vampire Code to enlighten the human race. It seemed in the present, many of the vampires were not interested in helping humanity as much as they were interested in helping themselves to as much as possible.

It was dark when they arrived, the party already in ful swing. Deming fol owed the boys into the house to find the hal way littered with tossed-off backpacks and discarded clothing. Loud rap music was playing, accompanied by splashing noises. Rufus King, who had graduated the year before and was a freshman at Yale, greeted them with expansive hugs. "Hey, thanks for coming. Pool's in the back."

The house had an outdoor pool covered by a tarp, as wel as an indoor pool located in a glass atrium in the middle of the house. Deming walked with the group toward it. Bryce's friends were already in the water, so he immediately removed his pants, shirt, and socks and dove in with a loud whoop, wearing only his boxer shorts.

"Hey guys," she said, walking over to the clique of girls dangling their feet in the water.

"Oh hi, how was the copter ride?" Stel a asked, but then turned away before Deming could answer. No one else bothered to say hel o. Piper made a face before turning away. Piper had taken Deming's blow off the other day to heart, and had not been friendly ever since. But then again, Piper was exactly the sort of girl who would be annoyed that her new friend had found a boyfriend. Some girls were just built that way, and there was nothing Deming could do about it. Not that she cared. She wasn't here to make friends.

Deming felt a bit impatient for being stuck at a sil y party. She was only there so she could final y cross Bryce Cutting off her suspect list. After tonight, if Bryce's
affectus
didn't reveal anything related to the case, she would take another look at the case file. She had been convinced that she would find her kil er in this group of hedonistic self-centered teenagers, but after a week in their company, she began to think she might be on the wrong track. It annoyed her to have wasted so much time: Victoria's kil er was stil out there, and the Regent was counting on her to keep the Coven together.

She left the girls and found an empty bedroom, where she could change into her swimsuit. After she was dressed, she joined a bunch of kids who were gathered around the bar in the kitchen, surprised to find that a few of them were Red Bloods.

One of the boys looked up when she came near. "Hey, Deming, right?" he said. She had seen him around the Repository, arguing with another scribe who was stuffing books into boxes. The Regent was right to worry; the Conclave wasn't playing around. If Mimi couldn't find a way to stop them, they were going to take the vampires underground again.

"You're Oliver," she said, shaking his hand. "Mimi's friend." She had bumped into him once leaving the Regent's office.

Oliver's lips twitched. "That's a new one. She's not my friend here."

"Nor mine," she told him, and they shared a conspiratorial laugh.

"I didn't know there were going to be humans at the party," she told him, accepting a red Solo cup ful of grain alcohol and a dash of Mountain Dew.

The liquor was for the humans. It made their blood taste sweeter during the
Caerimonia
, for when the vampires would drink later.

"We're friends with Gemma Anderson, Stel a's Conduit. As for al the one-lifers on the guest list, I think this is one of those recruitment parties," he said, meaning the Blue Bloods had invited a group of humans they thought would make good familiars. A "tasting party," they sometimes cal ed it.

"Your hat's not in the ring, though," she said, noticing the smal bite marks on his neck. "Al the good ones are always taken."

Oliver smiled at that, but it was a wan smile, and it told her everything she had to know. Whoever his vampire was, she was no longer with him. Poor sap.

"Do you know Paul?" Oliver asked, turning to the guy hovering behind her.

"We're in Spirit of the Self together. Hi," Deming said.

"You mean Satan and Self-Interest," Paul said with a sly grin.

"The Devil wil have his due," Oliver quipped. "I took that class last year. You guys are on
Paradise Lost
now?"

Deming took a sip from her cup and winced at the taste. "Yes, Paul here thinks Milton was too kind to Satan. Made him too much of a romantic figure for us to love."

"It's the bad-boy syndrome; chicks dig it," Paul said, his bright eyes flashing. "Speaking of," he mumbled under his breath, just as Deming felt a cold hand on her bare shoulder.

"There you are," Bryce said. He didn't bother to greet the other boys. "C'mon, we're out by the pool."

"Excuse me," Deming mouthed to Oliver and Paul as she walked away with Bryce. "God, you don't have to be so rude," she chided as they slipped into the shal ow edge. "Just because they're Red Bloods, they're not completely useless. One of them's in the Repository."

She wrapped her legs around Bryce under the water. "There's a room upstairs . . . just for us," she whispered, breathing into his ear. "You're not . . .

bonded to anyone are you? Not yet, at least?"

"Nmm." He kissed her neck. "You?"

"Actual y, I'm a starborn twin. I don't have a bondmate," she told him. It was a rare thing in the vampire world, to have a trueborn sibling. Starborn twins were two halves of the same person, made from the same empyrean star that split and produced two spirits instead of one and were identical in every aspect.

Deming would never understand the laws of the blood-bound, of the celestial soul mates. Of those who were self-contained and yet incomplete. Many of the starborn became Venators, like Sam and Ted Lennox.

Once every hundred years or so she had a romantic relationship with someone who had lost their bondmate, but mostly she kept to herself. Starborn vampires usual y lived out their cycles alone.

But it didn't mean she had to be alone al the time.

"Meet me upstairs," she told Bryce. She was going to coax the dark angel out of his shadow.

THIRTY-TWO

Interrogation

Bryce loomed over her body, dark and gorgeous in the moonlight. She ran her fingers over his firm abdomen, tracing the line of each muscle. His kisses were deep and insistent, proving he was the kind of boy who always got what he wanted. Any other girl might have been thril ed, but after kissing for what seemed like hours, Deming was bored and impatient to get down to business.

He stopped kissing her neck for a moment and looked in her eyes. "Something wrong?" he asked huskily since she had stopped--what was she doing? Oh right, dutiful y moaning and clutching his hair.

"No, not at al . . ." she said, and decided to go for it. It was one of the reasons she was such an effective Venator. She didn't need to use the glom to get people to tel the truth. She
seduced
it out of them. She became their best listener, a shoulder to cry on, someone to confess to, someone who understood. And now, with Bryce on top of her, it was the perfect time to ask something he did not expect to hear. "I'm worried about Victoria, what Stel a said the other day. Do you think it's true? That maybe she's not in Switzerland and the Conclave is hiding something?"

"Who knows?" Bryce asked. "I mean, it's not the first time, right?"

"Did you know her wel ?"

"Vix? As wel as anyone did," he said as he bent down to kiss the nape of her neck. She shivered a little from the draft coming in through the window, but Bryce took it as a response to his sensual ministrations and pressed down further. "I mean, she was a friend. Part of the group. You know," he murmured.

"Do you think anyone might have--I dunno--had something against her? Maybe that was why she had to go away?" she asked.

Bryce crushed his body against hers, but instead of responding in kind, Deming kept her body rigid. "Sometimes when kids have a hard time at school, their parents wil send them somewhere else. Maybe Victoria was having a problem with someone--like Piper, maybe?"

He stopped his downward progression and wouldn't meet her eyes. She had chosen Piper's name at random and had not expected Bryce to react like he did. She felt his body turn cold al of a sudden. That was interesting.

"Piper didn't like her?" she asked.

"I didn't say that," he said, rol ing off.

Now she knew there was
definitely
something here. His
affectus
was a deep shade of vermil ion. She could see it al around his body, almost a physical reality. He was agitated, worried. He knew something about Piper and Victoria. Deming felt her heart rate quicken, but her face was a mask.