Requiem for the Dead (8 page)

"Okay," I said and slid the card over to Milo. "Am I supposed to know who these guys are?"

Reilly blew across the top of his steaming coffee. "Look harder."

Milo squinted at the text, then blinked hard. "Oh, I get it. Alucard. It's Dracula spelled backward."

"It is?" I plucked the card out of his fingers. Oh. It was. But what did that have to do with—shit. "You found the vampires."

"I did," Reilly said, then leaned against the booth with a self-satisfied smirk.

I had to admit (not out loud) that I was impressed. The vampire Families moved around the city like ghosts, appearing and disappearing with ease. Considering the artillery they were packing during the battle at Olsmill, they had money and access to some serious technology, but no one knew exactly where they came from or where they lived.

There were five ruling Families, each governed by a Father. It was the Fathers who'd joined forces with the Watchtower, then pulled their people out last month after the infection. While the occasional Blood was spotted around the city now and again, the vast majority had disappeared from the streets. And we may have just found their hiding place.

"It's a very clever front," Reilly said. "The company does actual communication consulting work, as well as running half a dozen call centers through its switchboard. From what I can tell, the company is located on three of the building's ten floors. The other seven, plus a few basement levels, house the rest of the vampires."

"How do you know all this?" Milo asked.

"Ah, but a magician never reveals his secrets, nor a PI his sources."

"And you're sure it's legit? You aren't being fed information that'll lead us into a trap?"

Reilly's jaw twitched; he actually looked annoyed. "I'd never pass along information that I suspected to be wrong. And what you choose to do with that card is, of course, your own business."

"Thank you," I said. "I'll make sure Astrid processes your claim." Code talk for she'd make sure he was paid.

"Much appreciated, Ms. Stone. Can I be of service in any other way?"

I fiddled with a creamer cup. "Personal favor?"

"Perhaps."

"If anyone comes to you asking about Chalice Frost, your personal investigation ended with the apartment in Parkside East. We've never had any of these conversations."

He shifted in the booth. "Well, technically I've never met Chalice Frost, have I?"

"No, you haven't." Something felt off all of the sudden, and I couldn't figure out why. He was being too careful with his words, and that made me nervous. "But you have met someone who looks a hell of a lot like her."

Milo stiffened. "Mentioned that fact to anyone lately?"

Reilly didn't reply, and a cold wash of dread raised goose bumps on my arms and shoulders. He didn't look guilty, exactly, just way too serious. And he hadn't denied Milo's question.

"When I was sixteen, my older sister Linda disappeared," Reilly finally said, about two seconds before I was apt to hit him. "She was a sophomore in college, smart and popular, but also prone to depression. There was no sign of a struggle, no suicide note, she simply left her dorm one night and was never seen again. Our parents went crazy with grief."

I gripped the edge of the table, afraid I'd lash out physically at him as my sense of dread and anger grew. I saw the ending to this story coming, but could do nothing to change it. The activity of the diner dimmed into the background as his words became my whole world.

"We never knew what happened to her," he continued. "To this day. Our parents died not knowing. Linda's the reason I became a cop, and she's the reason I find the answers other people can't."

Mouth dry, I swallowed hard before my tongue worked. "You sympathize with the Frosts," I said.

"Very much."

"Have you spoken to them in the last twenty-four hours?"

"I have."

I shoved the business card into my pocket. "Move. Milo and I are leaving."

"Ms. Stone—"

"Now."

"Evy," Milo said. He was looking over his shoulder, toward the front door of the diner.

My mouth fell open. A few steps inside the door, Stephen and Lori Frost were clutching each other and glancing around with eager expressions.

7:15 am

I sank down in the booth until the Frosts were out of my view, hopefully putting me out of theirs, and I resisted the urge to punch Reilly in the face for this little ambush. "Son of a bitch," I whispered. All the trust we'd been building between us these last few weeks crumbled.

"I didn't tell them about you," Reilly said, lips barely moving. "I asked them to meet me here."

I had to get out of there, but Reilly was in my way and slithering under the table like a child wasn't in my repertoire of tricks. I could use my Gift and teleport, but there was nowhere to go. No hiding places inside the coffee shop itself, and teleporting into the street was too dangerous. I could end up half inside someone's car. And Reilly didn't seem keen on providing a useful distraction.

Shit!

"What do you want to do?" Milo asked.

"Chalice!"

My stomach flopped to the floor. I remained hunched in the booth, at a complete loss as to what to say to the distraught parents bearing down on our table. In person, Lori Frost was an older, lighter-haired copy of her daughter, right down to a dark smattering of freckles on her nose and cheekbones. Next to her, Stephen was a thundercloud of anger and disbelief, and I had the oddest little-girl urge to hide under the table from his temper.

Some small parts of Chalice had remained behind when I took full possession of her body—images and physical memories of her life. Most of it had faded in the last few months until only vague traces surfaced in my dreams. But looking at them here, standing front of me, I felt a strange warmth in my chest. A tug that I didn't understand.

Lori hovered at the edge of the table like she was contemplating her ability to climb over Reilly and hug me, which made me extremely grateful to have Reilly as a buffer. She stared at me with leaking eyes, from my face down to—

I shoved my hands into my lap, heart thudding against my ribs, hoping she hadn't noticed the fact that my left hand was missing its pinkie finger. I so did not need her flipping out over nine digits when she had plenty of other things to freak out about. Words were burbling up in Lori's throat, but nothing came out that made sense.

"Where the hell have you been?" Stephen asked.

His tone tweaked my temper, and I sat up straighter in the booth. Grief and fear were hiding behind his anger, that much was obvious, but I didn't do well with people who bullied when they were afraid. "Here," I said. "Where have you been?"

He reeled. Okay, so maybe Chalice wasn't so lippy. "We've been trying to find you for months, Chal. You haven't called, you moved out of your apartment. You didn't even tell us Alex died."

My heart hurt a little at that one. In the first few days of my resurrection, Alex had been a good friend. He'd died trying to help me. I'd been able to give Alex's father some closure on his son's death, but I didn't know how to do that for these people. The obvious and true excuse of "I've been busy" seemed lame. Very rarely in my life had I been rendered completely speechless, but this was one of those moments.

"Stephen, please," Lori said. The words were choked with tears, and the noise was attracting attention from other diners. "You promised."

Milo slid out of the booth and stood up, facing Stephen, who he actually had an inch or two on, even though Stephen was far bulkier. "Is there something I can help you folks with?" he asked in a voice older than his age, and with far less patience than usual.

Stephen gave him a hard look. "You can allow us to speak with our daughter, is what you can do."

"Can I?" Milo folded his arms over his chest. "Don't you think the fact that she hasn't contacted either of you in six months speaks for itself?"

Lori gaped at Milo like he'd just slapped her, and I kind of felt sorry for her.

"What about school?" Stephen asked. "The apartment? Her job? How does a person just disappear off the grid like that?" He stopped glaring at Milo to look at me. "Are you in some kind of trouble, Chal?"

It was all I could do to not laugh. These days I was always in some kind of trouble, but it wasn't the kind he'd believe without a lot of therapy. And for fuck's sake, why couldn't I defend myself to these people? Had Chalice always felt so defenseless around them? So much like a child that all she could do was hang her head and nod along with whatever her father said?

"I'm beginning to see that this was a mistake," Reilly said.

"Of course it wasn't," Lori said. "She's our child. We've been worried sick."

"I didn't mean to worry you," I said, pulling the words out of nowhere. "But I've had a lot going on, and I just couldn't call."

"Oh, baby." Lori reached out a hand, but was too far away to touch me. "You always used to say you felt invisible to the world, and I'm so sorry I didn't see you better. Please don't push us away again. We love you so much."

My eyes burned. I wanted to say it back, to give them that much. A little sliver of the daughter they'd lost. I simply couldn't get the words out of my throat. It was a lie, and I didn't want to lie to them.

Milo's cell rang. He yanked it out of his pocket. "Yeah?" Listened a few seconds while the rest of us exchanged serious stares. "We're on our way." He hung up and turned to me. "We have to go."

He didn't look surprised or upset—only determined to get us both out of there, and I sent him a mental "thank you" for it. Reilly slid out of the booth without prompting, and I followed him out, careful to shield my left hand from the eyes of not-my-parents.

"Where are you going?" Stephen asked.

"Work," I replied. "I'm sorry, but I can't do this right now."

"Chalice—"

"I'm alive. I'm doing okay. A lot better, in fact, than the last time we talked. Please trust me about this."

"Have dinner with us tonight." It wasn't a question so much as a command.

"I can't."

"We're not leaving town until you sit down and talk to us."

"In that case, find a comfy hotel."

Lori's face scrunched up like she was about to burst into hysterical sobs. I angled around her and past her husband, and Milo came up behind me. We walked to the door like that, him a physical barrier between me and the Frosts. Reilly stayed quiet and stayed behind—good thing, too. I was angry enough at him to break his nose and not think twice.

Halfway back to the car, Milo moved up to keep in step next to me. I took a few deep breaths before I asked, "So what was the phone call about?"

"Nothing. When I saw who was at the door, I texted Gina to call me in exactly three minutes. Figured you'd want a retreat plan."

"Thank you."

"No problem. You okay?"

"Pissed as hell at Reilly for ambushing me like that."

"That stands to reason. I mean about seeing the Frosts."

"It was weird. I'm not their kid, not really, but feeling them bearing down on me like that made me feel like their child, you know?"

"You looked like you were going to cry at one point."

"Yeah, well, the last time my own mother told me she loved me I think I was five years old."

He made a soft grunting sound. "She did say it, though."

"I guess." I slipped my left arm through his as we walked. "So, you up for visiting a communications company on the other side of town?"

"Can't think of a better way to spend a Monday morning."

"Glad to hear it."

#

We had a long drive to the other side of town, which gave us plenty of time to call Kismet and explain the meeting at Sally's. She had a few choice curse words of her own for Reilly's ambush. Then she gave us directions to Alucard Communications, which had us going Uptown in morning rush hour traffic, so what should have been a fifteen-minute trek across town took nearly an hour.

I tried to not bring up Milo's earlier confession about Marcus. He didn't seem eager to talk about it, and my bringing up something personal made my own current Frost family drama fair game to his questions. But the longer we sat in traffic, not talking, barely listening to a pop hits radio station, the more my curiosity got the better of me. I needed to know something, but I also had to phrase it in a way that didn't make it sound like I thought that, a) Marcus was some sort of forceful asshole, or b) Milo couldn't defend himself.

Got it. "Milo, can I ask you one question?"

He flexed his right hand around the steering wheel, then sighed. "Yes. One."

"Did you kiss him back?"

"No. I was a little too surprised at the time."

"Do you wish you had?"

He gave me a sideways look. "That's two questions, Evy."

"I know."

His attention went back to the road, which left my second question hanging there. And something about his silence made me think the answer was yes.

Alucard Comm was north of Uptown, on the outskirts of where most of the city's higher end businesses and restaurants were located. The place reminded me of a military compound, with its electric perimeter fence and rolling front gate. The building itself was an experiment in modern art, with strange angles and architecture I couldn't hope to understand the aesthetics of. The exterior was mirrored to reflect the city around it and the sky above, giving no hint as to which parts were actually windows and which were walls. Seductive and scary, just like the Bloods.

I didn't have much of a plan in mind when Milo pulled up in front of the guard hut. An older woman with gray hair and a boring blue uniform stepped out of the hut, then crouched down to peer in through Milo's open window.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked.

"Not as such," Milo said.

"My name is Evangeline Stone," I said, leaning closer to his window. "This is Milo Gant. We're friends of Isleen."

None of the names earned so much as an eyebrow twitch from the lady guard. She eyeballed me, then Milo. "One moment." She disappeared into the hut.