"Better than okay." He looked down at my kimono. "Although you would appear to be at an initial disadvantage."
"You arguing?"
A slow grin as he pulled me to him. "No, not at all."
We didn't get the spell working, having exhausted our--or my--store of energy before a successful cast. It didn't matter. It used to matter. Success or failure at spell-casting practice used to matter a lot, to both of us, and we'd both admitted to hours or even days of frustration following a failure. But now that we almost always practiced together, it had become a game rather than a test. And, no matter whether we cast a new spell successfully or not, practicing together did have one definite advantage--it meant we never left a session feeling frustrated.
I'm Not Dead Yet
WE AWOKE AT SEVEN. JAIME POPPED OVER MINUTES LATER, and from the looks of things, hadn't slept more than an hour or two. While Lucas picked up breakfast, I took a quick shower. I'd just stepped out when someone rapped at our door. Lucas probably, with his hands full again.
"Could you grab that?" I called to Jaime.
I dressed, then opened the bathroom door to find Jaime standing there.
"Vampire at the door," she said.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
I sighed. "Please tell me it's not Cassandra."
"Short auburn hair? Looks about my age? Perfect makeup? Designer outfit?"
"Shit," I said, leaning against the wall.
"How about I don't invite her in?"
"Unfortunately, that doesn't work. Cassandra goes where she pleases, invited or not, wanted or not. Crosses, holy water, icy glares, nothing keeps her out."
"I heard that, Paige," Cassandra called from the main room. "Stop hiding in the bathroom and tell me what this is all about."
I walked through the bedroom into the living area. Cassandra was lounging by the window, taking in the sunlight and, sadly, not bursting into flame.
I turned to Jaime. "Cassandra, this is--"
"I know who she is," Cassandra said. "I have a television."
"Oh, but you two had already introduced yourselves--No, wait..." I looked at Jaime. "You didn't know her name. So how'd you know she was a vampire?"
"Easy. It's like you witches and sorcerers can recognize one another. I'm a necro. She's dead. So I can tell. Only dead things walking around are vamps. Well, there are zombies, but they don't smell like French perfume."
"Don't be ridiculous," Cassandra said, fixing Jaime with a glower. "I'm not dead."
"Of course you are. So you came all this way--?"
"I am not dead."
Jaime slanted me an eye-roll. "Sure, whatever. Now--"
The hall door opened. Lucas walked through, then stopped. He looked at Cassandra, then down at his tray of breakfast for three.
"Don't worry," Jaime said. "She doesn't eat. Well, she does, but even you aren't that hospitable."
"Ah, Cassandra, I presume," he said, laying the tray on the dinette table.
"Cassandra, this is Lucas Cortez," I said. "Lucas, Cassandra DuCharme."
Cassandra's gaze skimmed over Lucas, assessing and dismissing him in a millisecond. Anger darted through me, not so much at the insult as at the coolly confident way she did it, with a look that said, if she had wanted him, she could have him. Now I knew how Elena felt.
"Cassandra's just leaving," I said. "Seems she took a wrong turn on her way somewhere else."
"I'm not leaving until I get an explanation."
"First, we don't owe you an explanation. Second, if I thought you'd leave once we gave it, I'd tell you in a heartbeat. We're very busy, and as much as I appreciate your interest--"
"You said my name came up in reference to this case. I want to know who, how, and why."
"Don't know, don't know, and don't know," Jaime said. "It didn't tell us."
"It?"
"The spook."
Cassandra crossed her arms. "Spook?"
"Ghost," I said. "Or maybe not--we haven't determined that yet. A spiritual entity of some kind has been pestering Jaime and it has something to do with you. That's all we know."
"Me? Why on earth would a ghost want to communicate with me?"
"Maybe because you put him there," Jaime said. "Dinner coming back to haunt you. Literally."
Before Cassandra could answer, our room phone rang.
"Jesus," Jaime muttered. "Grand Central Station."
Lucas picked up the extension from the side table. He announced himself, then waited. His gaze flicked to me, a slight frown on his lips.
"Yes, of course, perhaps we--" He paused. "Oh, well, certainly then. Come up." Lucas hung up and turned to me. "That was Sean Nast."
"Savannah's--Kristof's son?"
"Yes, he has something to tell us, about the case. He was phoning from the lobby."
"You want me to skedaddle?" Jaime said.
"No need. He knows from the trial that you've been working with us. But perhaps..."
He looked at Cassandra.
"I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers," she said.
"Yes, I understand, but given the animosity between the Cabals and vampires--"
"It's not animosity," Cassandra said. "To have animosity, you have to acknowledge that the other party exists. You needn't worry. I will be as the Cabals wish me to be: invisible. Since no one can outwardly recognize vampires"--she shot a pointed look at Jaime--"there's no need for him to know what I am."
A knock at the door. Lucas opened it. Sean Nast walked in, followed by a man who could only be a Cabal bodyguard. Sean turned to his guard.
"Wait outside," he murmured.
"Mr. Nast said--" the guard began.
"Please," Sean said.
The guard nodded and retreated into the hall. Lucas closed the door behind him.
"Granddad's getting paranoid," Sean said. "I feel like I'm twelve again."
"Sean, this is Jaime Vegas," Lucas said. "Jaime, Sean Nast, Thomas Nast's grandson."
Sean grinned. "Hey, my frat watches you on The Keni Bales Show every month."
As they shook hands, Sean's gaze flicked to Cassandra.
"Sean, this is Cassandra," Lucas said. "Cassandra, Sean Nast."
If Sean noticed the lack of a surname for Cassandra, he gave no sign of it, only shook her hand with a "Pleased to meet you," then turned to us.
"Tyler Boyd is missing." He glanced at me and added, "That's the Boyd CEO's youngest son. He's seventeen."
"He's missing? Since when?"
"We aren't sure. Tyler went to his hotel room around eleven last night. When he didn't show up for breakfast, his dad sent someone to get him. His bodyguard was in the room, dead, and Tyler was gone. Mr. Boyd called Granddad and the Cabals have been out searching ever since."
"Good," Lucas said. "My father has excellent shaman trackers."
"That's the problem. They didn't call your dad, or anyone in your Ca--your family's Cabal."
"What?" I said. "But he went missing here, right? In Miami?"
"And the Cortezes have all the resources here, I know. It's crazy. I am so fucking--" He glanced at Jaime and Cassandra. "Sorry. I'm just fed up with their crap. Joey's dead and now Tyler's missing and all the Cabals can do is bicker about who's to blame and who's trying to take control of the investigation. Without your dad's trackers and CSIs, all we have is a bunch of VPs and bodyguards milling around the city, hoping to bump into Tyler."
"So you want me to call my father."
Sean rubbed his hand over his chin. "Yeah, I know you're on the outs with him, and I hate to ask, but I don't know what else to do. I tried phoning his company switchboard but, of course, they just kept routing me to some junior, junior assistant who won't even relay a message. If you have your father's direct number, I'll make the call."
"Your family wouldn't appreciate that. Better let me handle it."
"I'm not worried about what my family thinks. You can tell your dad I'm the one who told you to call."
"
I'll call him, because he has the resources to process the scene and search for Tyler. I won't, however, tell him it was at your instigation. You're angry, with good reason, but that's not a decision you want to make right now."
"I don't care--"
"Lucas is right," I said. "Not only don't you want to start a rift with your family, but you don't want to widen the one between your Cabals. It'll only make things worse."
Sean nodded. "Okay, but after you make the call, will you come to the Boyds' hotel with me? I came here because I wanted to get your dad involved, but also because I wanted to get you two involved. So far you've done a hell of a lot more than the Cabals."
"We'll certainly go," Lucas said. "But I believe it would be best if we arrived independently. Why don't you give Paige the hotel address while I phone my father?"
When Lucas was gone, Sean glanced at Jaime and Cassandra, neither of whom was making any attempt to pretend they weren't listening. He obviously had something else to say to me, so I offered to walk him down to his car. The bodyguard followed us to the elevator. While we waited, Sean gave me the address for the Boyds' hotel.
"So, you, uh..." Sean said as we stepped onto the elevator, "you've got someone with Savannah, right? She's someplace safe?"
"With friends," I said. When I saw him hesitate, I added, "Supernaturals."
"Good, good. I figured that. I tried mentioning it to my uncle, that someone should ask whether she's being protected, since she's a potential target. I can't mention it to Granddad. After...after what happened with my dad, he...well, we aren't allowed to talk about Savannah. My uncle wouldn't ask Benicio about her, either. I think they..."
"Would rather pretend she doesn't exist? After last spring, I'm just as happy if they do."
He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. I should have kept my mouth shut. Nothing stops a conversation deader than reminding someone that his family is responsible for sending your life swirling down the gutter.
The elevator doors opened. I motioned for Sean to wait as I jotted down an e-mail address.
"This is Savannah's," I said. "If you ever want to say hi, introduce yourself, this might be the easiest way to do it. If you'd rather not, I understand."
He took the paper. "I'll do that. I'd like to...make contact. It's not right, ignoring her." He folded the sheet into quarters and tucked it into his wallet. As he did, he looked down at a tattered photograph in his ID holder. "You wouldn't have a picture of her, would you?"
"Sure do." I took out my wallet, and flipped through my card holder, which was filled with photos. "Someday I need to break down and buy a purse-size photo album, like those little old ladies who show you all their grandchildren while you're waiting in line at the bank."
I took out two. One was Savannah on her first-ever horseback ride that summer; the other was Savannah, Lucas, and Adam shooting hoops near our place last month.
"Cute kid," he said, smiling. "Definitely got Dad's eyes."
"You can keep that one," I said, pointing to the horseback photo. "I have it on file at home."
He thanked me and we said our good-byes.
I returned to our room to find Cassandra and Jaime sitting at opposite ends of the sofa, Jaime reading her latest magazine, Cassandra coiled to pounce the moment I walked in.
"So the killer is targeting Cabal families?" she said. "The Nasts first, and now the Boyds?"
I gave her a very brief rundown of the events to date.
"The grandson of a CEO?" Her frown deepened. "So it's a revenge crime."
"Uh, yes. That's what we--"
Lucas opened the bedroom door.
"Did you get hold of your father?" I asked.
Lucas nodded. "He's on his way to the hotel with a team. I told him we'll be arriving shortly, and he's promised to clear the way for us. That should be simple enough. I suspect anyone with the authority to challenge him will already be out searching for Tyler. Shall we go?"
Cassandra stood and picked up her purse.
"Uh-uh," I said. "This is very serious--"
"I realize that, Paige. You're looking for a missing person. A vampire is a far better tracker than a shaman."
I hesitated and glanced at Lucas. He nodded.
"Good," Cassandra said. "You can explain the rest of this matter on the way."
Predatory Insight
LUCAS HAD RENTED A CAR THE MORNING BEFORE, SO WE no longer needed to borrow Jaime's. She stayed behind in the hotel room and promised to call if anyone else showed up. Now, normally, if we have a guest in the car, I'll sit in the backseat. It's only polite. But Cassandra brings out the rude in me, so I slipped into the front passenger seat and left her to wrinkle her Donna Karan in the cramped rear.
It took us an infuriating forty-five minutes to reach the Boyds' hotel. Not only was it on the other side of the city, but we hit gridlock in a construction zone and might have been even later if Lucas hadn't navigated an alternate route down back roads.
On the way, I gave Cassandra a fuller overview. When we pulled into the hotel parking lot, she was still asking questions.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," Lucas said. "At the risk of offending you, Cassandra, I must ask that you, again, not reveal--"
"I have no intention of letting them know what I am."
"Thank you."
"It might be even better if Cassandra waited here," I said. "Until we start searching."
"Good idea. Cassandra, if you--"
The door banged shut. She was already striding toward the building.
"Or maybe not," I said.
"If we don't impede her involvement, perhaps she'll satisfy her curiosity faster."
"And go home faster?"
He gave a small smile. "That would be the idea."
Troy met us in the parking lot, then escorted us into the hotel, which looked more like a luxury condo complex than any temporary lodgings I'd ever seen.
From the outside of Tyler Boyd's second-floor suite, one would never guess a murder had recently been committed there or that a crime-scene team was ripping the room apart. Only when the door opened did the noise within escape.
Two men were working in the living area, one taking photos and the other running a handheld vacuum over the sofa. A third man appeared from a back room, carrying what looked like a laptop case. He exchanged a hasty hello with Lucas, then hurried out the door.
The murdered half-demon guard lay sprawled across the remains of the coffee table, covered in glass shards and wood splinters. His head was twisted to the side, face fixed in a grimace. I fought the urge to look away from that dead stare. Beside me, Cassandra leaned over the corpse, eyes studying it with detachment. I tried to emulate her, to see this body not as a person but as a piece of evidence.
At first I thought the guard's throat had been cut. Then I saw a length of wire draped over his neck and realized he'd been strangled with it.
"Our coroner believes that was done postmortem."
Benicio's voice came from behind us. He looked at Cassandra. His gaze passed over her with curiosity, and perhaps a little interest, but when we didn't introduce her, he didn't ask. Maybe he trusted Lucas's judgment. Or maybe, knowing his son's eclectic collection of contacts, he didn't want to ask.
"Dennis has already made some preliminary observations." Benicio called the security chief from another room. "Dennis? Would you please share your findings with Lucas and Paige? And answer any questions they might have?"
"Of course, sir." Dennis motioned to the dead guard. "We think he was approached from behind and possibly injected with something. That would explain why he didn't fight back."
"Didn't fight?" I looked at the shattered table. "Oh, I see. The damage is from him falling."
"Falling very hard." Lucas knelt and prodded a black chunk by the guard's hand.
As I crouched I caught a familiar scent, one that brought back memories of Girl Scout summer camp. Burnt firewood. Pieces of charred wood surrounded the guard's clenched hands.
/>
"An Aduro," I said. "He grabbed for the table as he fell and burned it, meaning he wasn't dead when he collapsed."
Cassandra examined the wire embedded in the guard's neck. "No blood."
"Which indicates it was done postmortem," Dennis said. "Plus the fact that it's unlikely anyone could have garroted a man his size, with his powers."
"What about Tyler?" I said. "Did he escape or was he taken?"
Dennis waved us to the bathroom. We stepped inside. Benicio stayed in the doorway, looking on. Across the room, a slight, red-haired man examined the window ledge with some kind of electronic scanner. The window itself was broken. There were a few bits of glass on the inside, but most presumably had fallen out.
Lucas turned around to look at the broken door jamb. "So either Tyler was in here when the killer arrived, or he managed to get in here before being attacked. Then the killer broke into the bathroom, but--" Lucas turned to the window. "Tyler was already gone, out that window. Simon? Any indication that the killer staged the window break?"
The red-haired man shook his head. "No, sir. There are blood smears on one shard. I'll need a sample from the Boyds' lab to match it, but the DNA is definitely from their family, so I'm assuming it's Tyler's. There are no signs of struggle or blood in the bathroom. I found Nike prints on the ground below, imprinted hard, indicating someone jumped from this window."
"So we're assuming Tyler fled," Lucas said. "That's logical. I doubt the killer would take him out of the hotel. Too risky. He's always killed on-site before. He's not likely to change his methods now."
Benicio's cell phone rang. After a few clipped words, he hung up. "Tyler's been found." He saw my expression and added, "He's alive."
"Was he chased?" I said. "If he was, then the killer could still be in the area--"
"He's not," Cassandra said. "He's moved on."
"What?"
The barest eye-roll, as if her conclusion was so simple it shouldn't require an explanation. "He's a hunter. He strikes at the easy targets. When they're no longer easy, he finds another."
"So you think he chased Tyler--" I began.
"The moment the boy escaped, your killer abandoned him. As Lucas said, he kills on-site. He'll hang a girl in a tree or drape a boy over a car, but that's only for outrage value. He's a hunter. He kills them where he finds them, and he kills efficiently. When that other attack was interrupted, he left the boy alive rather than risk discovery. He's not about to chase this young man through the streets of Miami."